He couldn’t properly remember how long they held him in there. In that cursed cell, far, far away, under the church, never giving him any blood. They gave him some blankets, Father Pretzel even gave him his spare clothes at some point, but Bloody Mary didn’t wear them. Why would he? They were useless to him, bringing him no warmth whatsoever, his body cold as ice, like always.
He was somewhat aware of the state of his dress, dirty and torn, the same as he wore that Halloween night, but it didn’t bother him. He couldn’t get rid of them, especially not with his scent. That person, so warm, just like fire enveloping him in fight. Steak, the one and only, so warm, Bloody Mary could melt on the spot, from just a sip of his blood. But he could never get that close.
Red Wine, standing between them, guarding the source for his warmth from him like a dog, Pretzel almost always beside him, ready to drag Bloody Mary back, back to the church, to the dirty cell, where he was sure he would eventually be forgotten.
Looking back at that Halloween night, Bloody Mary really shouldn’t have been surprised, when he saw it. Those small, little, and almost invisible bite marks on Steak’s neck. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise, the two food souls knew each other for so long, and with Steak’s warm blood, and a vampiric food soul like Red Wine, it was only a matter of time until they cracked. Even Bloody Mary could see how attached to each other they were, and he almost never saw them. Ridiculous, both of them.
He couldn’t understand them. Having a chance to be with someone, who was able to warm you, how could someone willingly choose to stay in the cold, feeling of freshly fallen snow never leaving your skin, as you continued to tremble, unable to stay still for more than a minute? If Bloody Mary had that chance, he would take it in an instant.
Hearing an ugly sound of an iron gate opening, Bloody Mary opened his eyes, to meat the pair of darker ones, still standing in the door. Pretzel was looking at him, lying at the small bed, somewhat lost in thoughts, with more blankets tossed over his hand. Bloody Mary didn’t even try to get up, too weak to actually be able to stand, not to mention running of fighting with the entirety of the church people. His mind for a moment registered the absence of his iron maiden, before letting it go completely, and his eyes shut, too tired to look at the candle in Pretzel’s hands.
For a solid minute, nothing happened, before a light, he could see through his eyelids, softened a little. “He put the candle further away” his sleepy mind provided quickly, but he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to see his face, always the same, full of pity, as if Bloody Mary couldn’t control himself anymore, like he was no longer himself. Shadow fell upon him as an additional weight fell on his body, something soft.
“I told you to cover yourself. Blankets, keep them on this time.” ordered Pretzel, but his voice was weak, soft. Bloody Mary could feel his breath, too close to his face, but he didn’t move. No matter how much he denied it, Pretzel was warm, or at least warmer than anything around him. He could hear a faint echo of his heart, his blood pumping through his veins, to his fingertips, brushing Bloody Mary’s hair from his face. It was so close to him, so close, but so far away. He knew that even if he somehow managed to drink a bit, it would have been a small sip, at the best, before Pretzel would push him away. Certainly not enough for his weak, frozen body.
Instead, Bloody Mary slowly lift his hand, to make sure Pretzel wouldn’t see it as a threat, and placed his hand on top of his, holding them on his cheek, warmth spreading from the place where under his skin, Pretzel’s blood was pumping oxygen through his entire body. “If it’s just this, Pretzel might even let me do this” his mind provided once again, and despite his weakness, Bloody Mary opened his eyes.
Pretzel was just… there, shocked, until his eyes found Mary’s green ones, and that woke him from the trance. He quickly stood up, quickly but gently pulled his hand from Bloody Mary’s and turned around, until he was too far away to catch. At the sound of the iron gate closing, Bloody Mary’s eyes slipped shut again. No longer could he see the confused, but soft look in Pretzel’s eyes, nor the candlelight that was going to disappear completely any second, and leave him plunged in the darkness of the underground.
Without realizing it, Bloody Mary pulled the blankets closer and before falling asleep completely, a weak sigh left his dry lips,
“...Father… so… cold…”