Sweet relief washes over him and he is pulled in by a gentle tidal wave of meaningless dreams. He is free to enjoy them until being rudely awakened by himself coughing from a dry throat in desperate need of water.

    Groggy and half-aware, he swings his legs over the edge of his bed to set his feet on the floor.

   Something cold grasps both ankles and starts dragging him.

    "EY!!" He yelps in the darkness.

    A sly chuckle, "Sorry. Your ankles looked grabable."

    "LET. GO."

    "But they're so BIG and DENSE."

    Nyx's ankles receive a couple exemplary squeezes as if to support this statement. It's both annoying and puzzling, to the point that he can't formulate a proper response.

    "You're a big and dense!!"

    "I AM NOT! YOU'RE THE DENSEST OF DENSITIES YOU HUNK OF TACO-SMELLING FLESH!"

    "Back to screaming, are we? Guess I'll call the exterminator."

    "THERE'S NO SUCH THING!"

    As the boy attempts to kick him, Nyx finds Emory's ankle in the dark and gives it a rough shake, eliciting an unholy scream as if Emory himself were a sleep paralysis demon. "DON'T TOUCH ME YOU PERVERT!"

    "YOU'RE the perv! You grabbed my ankles like you wanted UNSOLICITED FEET PICS. Now let go, or I bite."

    "Tch." Emory sinks his teeth in, and Nyx's ankle burns. He's going to need the first aid kit, and fast.

    "OW."

    "TAKE THAT YOU CREEP."

    Nyx makes an attempt to kick Emory off his ankle, but the kid's got incredible jaw strength and determination. Since this doesn't work Nyx resorts to biting back.

    "Eeewwwwww YOU PUT YOUR MOUTH ON ME?!"

    "You put your mouth on me and it BURNS. What is that?!"

    "VENOM, DUMMY!"

    "WHAT."

    "VENOM." Emory bites Nyx again and venom flows into the puncture wound. Nyx feels a slight bit of panic as he remembers what happened at Mia's house a few weeks back when he'd first dealt with this kid.

    "Are you seriously trying to get me murdered?! HEY–" Nyx rears back his unbitten foot to kick the kid directly in the face, simultaneously trying to scramble from the boy's cold clutches. Emory clings to him like some unholy creature, growling.

   "You won't last long with that in your system!" he sneers. "Give up!"

   "The hell I won't...agh–let go and let me get some sorta disinfectant or something, y-you frickin' gopher."

    "I'm not a gopher," the boy laughs, but it sounds wrong.

    By now, Nyx has begun to feel the vaguely familiar effects of the venom; a dull, yet pulsing, fiery ache, slow-burning like acid. He squirms one last time, uttering a very unsavory curse word.

    "This is the last time I'm letting a homeless bum sleep under my bed. I worked HARD for this nice place an' you went and poisoned me?"

    Emory is wheezing, rolling on the floor clutching his scrawny sides, wholly amused by Nyx's use of profanity. "You, you said–"

    "I'mma say more than THAT, punk!"

    "Oh yeah?! Wait til your limbs freeze up!" He continues to lie on the floor, seized in a full-on belly laugh.

    Profanity is never that funny.

    Nyx takes this opportunity to crawl away, looking for his flashlight so he can inspect the wound. "What?! What'd I do to deserve this?! I even let you stay here to SLEEP!"

   "I DON'T SLEEP, YOU FOOLISH HUMAN!" Emory roars, sitting up at once.

   "And how was I supposed to know that?"

   "I don't know, maybe by considering my dark circles aren't makeup?!"

    "I never even–dude. I don't wanna die–"

    Nyx's limbs have finally begun to seize and he's down on the floor, twitching a bit. The helpless discomfort of it all is something he'd never even dreamt he'd have to experience in life.

    Please just let this be a bad dream.

   As Nyx writhes, Emory stares at him in consideration. "Maybe if you're a good sod I'll suck the venom out."

   "O-oh that's gross...please don't ever put your mouth on me again."

   Emory rolls his eyes. "That's how I fixed you last time. And anyway, isn't that how you'd treat a snakebite?"

    "They literally say not to suck on it..."

    "I don't know who's this they you speak of."

    "Owww...dang it I don't wanna die like this, not to some homeless bum..."

    "Shoulda thought about that before being a pervy weirdo. And I'm not homeless. How dare you assume my condition."

    "Pervy?! YOU'RE the one who SAT on me on some random street...a-and how are you not homeless? You won't leave my dang house!"

    "Wowww just because I won't leave doesn't make me homeless, fool!" He strikes Nyx across the face, completely ignoring the remarks regarding what went down at the station. "And if I recall properly, you said I could stay."

    "Touche. But only because I felt bad for you."

    "I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!" The boy screams in Nyx's face. Poor Nyx can only flinch, most of his body too stiff to do much else. He can't even strangle the kid if he wanted to. He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away as the venom works up his leg. Emory watches as the venom causes the veins to swell in an unnatural way. This of course is a normal effect, and yet it disturbs him.

    When Nyx whimpers out that he can no longer feel his leg, the feral kid's ears twitch and he mutters, "Hang on I'll get you something."

    Nyx merely groans softly, "I don't want more poison, m-man..."

    "Ah shut up, don't you know the difference between venom and poison? If it bites you and you die, it's venomous. If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous."

    "They both KILL people, that's all that matters," Nyx grumbles.

    "Then shut up and die already." Emory gets up and moves through the dark apartment in search of anything that will reverse his venom's rapid effects.

    In the bedroom, Nyx jerks a little, face contorting a bit as the swollen veins begin to snake up to his waist and torso, and he mumbles beneath his breath, "Oh no...no, please, I don't wanna die like this...screw me bein' nice to strangers..."

    Emory scrambles through the apartment, knowing his time is very limited, leaving many things knocked over in his wake as he fumbles in the dark despite his impeccable night vision. He soon returns with a couple trays of ice cubes from the fridge freezer as well as some other items, and sits on the floor beside Nyx, who is very much panicking. Breaths become fast and heavy.

    "Wh-what're you doing? Weren't you just robbing the place?"

   "Shut up, you're only making things worse for yourself," the kid mutters, mixing baking soda with some other things in a small jar to create what is essentially a type of salve; he applies this substance to Nyx's veins and the puncture wound after cooling them with the ice.

    "Wouldn't have been this worse...or bad..if someone could keep his mouth to himself..." Nyx mumbles, barely audible. He visibly relaxes once the salve has been applied and has had a few moments to work. "W-wait that...oh...feels better, kinda? Wow."

    Crunching on a few fresh ice cubes as he works, Emory makes another mixture in another jar and hands it to Nyx, "You have to drink this."

    Nyx makes a face.

    "Come on, it's not urine or anything like that."

    "Riiight... I can't exactly hold it, still."

    With a huff and an eyeroll, Emory sets the jar aside. "You got straws in this place, right?"

    "D-drawer next to the stove...the one with all the silverware."

    "Okay." He rubs more ice and salve onto the veins and stands up, "Stay there big guy."

    "Can't do much else..."

    Emory easily navigates the kitchen and rummages like a raccoon, finally finding some straws and bringing them back to Nyx. "Pink, orange, or yellow?"

   "No green?"

   "Uh. No."

    "Yellow."

    Shoving one end of the yellow straw into the concoction-filled jar, Emory  forces the other into Nyx's mouth. "Now drink it or you can say goodbye to your faculties."

    Nyx makes a face, not liking taking orders from the very kid that poisoned him, but he drinks the awful mixture anyway, nose wrinkling up at the taste. It truly is terrible.

    "Give it a minute or two," Emory states, plucking another clean ice cube from the tray and munching on it, "You only had that off-brand cherry cough medicine, so I added some whiskey."

    "Oh yuck...that's why it tasted like literal death."

    A bitter laugh. "Death? Hah, you wish." He punches Nyx in the arm, "Feel anything yet?"

    "Somewhat... I think I can–" His fingers twitch a little, "Yeah... I feel em."

    The minute Nyx mentions movement, the kid grabs Nyx's fingers forcefully and begins to wiggle them one at a time.

   Nyx flinches when he's grabbed, "How'd you get venomous anyway? Your dad a snake or something?" It's half a joke, but at this point, Nyx is grasping at straws trying to figure out this kid's species.

    "I don't know!"

    "O-okay fine, fine...chill."

    "Stop asking me questions about things!" Emory snarls, shooting Nyx a glare as he relinquishes his rough grasp on the young man's fingers. 

    Nyx slowly flexes his hands, wincing, "F-fine, geez. Can't blame a guy for wanting to know."

    "Why do you need to know, huh? Why'd you help me in the first place instead of letting those guys beat me to death? HUH?!"

    Nyx blinks at him, "...wouldn't you have helped s-some poor sap you saw outmatched? If you can help someone, have th' power to... I-I think you should." His exhaustion and the remaining effects of the venom have caused his speech to slur a bit.

   "Tch." Emory sneers, applying the remaining salve to the receding veins. "Dumb idea."

    "Prob'ly..."

    "You regret it?" The kid's tone softens, and he sits crisscross on the carpet in a more relaxed manner.

    "It was my decision, I gotta live with it. I... I don't know if I regret it. I still dunno if you wanna see me dead."

   Emory shrugs. "Your morals are a bit aggravating."

   "Saved your sorry bum." Nyx shoots him a crooked grin, now beginning to weakly stretch his legs.

    Emory looks uneasy, observing as Nyx regains movement. "I don't know why you'd do that."

    "Like I said...those who have th' power to do the right thing, should do it. Otherwise this world would be a complete mess...everyone selfishly using their strength to help themselves instead of others."

    "They do anyway." Emory raises his slit eyebrow, bemused. "I don't know what you're on, man, but the world's way colder than how you just described it."

    "I mean maybe a lot do...but I hope 'm not one of 'em. If even a few do what is right...it could inspire more."

    "I don't know man. There's a lot of people around here shooting up or passed out in a gutter someplace. It's not exactly the utopia you're describing. They're all off their hinges. But you're not?"

    "Yeah...but I did somethin' right, I hope. Maybe you'll go on to help a few more people. Or you'll just bite a bunch of 'em."

    Emory scoffs, "I don't help people. They don't help me. End of discussion."

     "Sorta started to figure that, I guess...you're kinda fond of hitting and biting."
   The boy squirms as he dares to admit a truth, "You're only an exception because...uh... I dunno, I don't exactly want your landlord to find you dead?"

    "Yeah? Why would my landlord finding me dead be a bad thing?" Nyx groans, sitting up a little to use the wall as support, rubbing one leg as feeling returns to it. Emory fishes out a couple more ice cubes and hands them to Nyx, his expression solemn and indecipherable.

    "Does he hate you enough to wanna see you dead? You seem like an upstanding citizen. Though I have no clue why you'd bother in this hellhole." Absolute bitterness toward the town saturates and weighs every one of the boy's words. He observes as Nyx rubs that one leg, and noting that the ice is not sufficient to keep the swelling down completely. Quickly, he rises to fetch ingredients for a stronger salve. Nyx is bigger and has received more venom than most of Emory's targets; factors he'd forgotten to consider while concocting this thing.

    "Eh... s'all I can afford right now, and my landlord is...fine, I guess. Not everyone can live in rich folk town," Nyx mutters, watching the boy leave. Really, though, for Nyx, it is merely like watching a shadowy figure moving about.

    "Not the kinda guy who brings you cookies I hope. One time, ours brought up some cookies or something and I could swear he put thirty different types of weed in them..."Emory's voice trails off as he disappears into the kitchen.

    "Nah...just one who shows up 'n threatens to sell my liver when rent's a few days late."

    "Seems about right. Here." Emory returns, handing Nyx one of the pastry things he'd tried to coax the feral kid with earlier. Nyx raises a brow at the treat, then eats it without complaint while Emory reassumes his place on the floor, mixing his ingredients together. He glances up at Nyx's expression and smirks, "You need sugar in your system to help you feel better."

    "Oh weird...you know, I would ask you how the heck you got poison teeth but I feel like you wouldn't take that well."

    "Your intuition precedes you. Would it suffice you to say I don't know and couldn't tell ya'?" the kid responds, oddly calm with an eyebrow raised as he rolls back the leg of Nyx's loose sleeping pants. The veins are still quite swollen and he rubs the stronger salve onto it.

    "Guess so..." Nyx grunts as he's manhandled, "Nice bedside manner." Sarcasm coats his words.

    Emory ignores this last remark, "Good because I literally don't know and that's why I'm outside a lot, okay? I'm not homeless." He gives Nyx's knee a quick jab with his bony elbow, inducing a sharp pain followed by sweet relief and the restoration of  fluid movement.

    Nyx hisses in pain, head tilting back, "Owww...oh wow, that fixed it. Right, not homeless... I'll keep that in mind..."

    Emory tosses his head with pride. "Of course that fixed it. I know my medical procedures. Through trial and error of course but I did learn them and that's the important thing."

   Nyx eyes the kid in suspicion, "Who were you trial-and-erroring on, my man?"

   "Myself," he answers brightly, the tone quite foreign.

   "Geez," Nyx smirks, then grins, then he's holding back laughter, "I'm imagining you biting your own ankles and screaming."

    "Well the first time it wasn't me. I hospitalized a kid. They..." he glances at Nyx apprehensively, fearful to continue. Fearful of what Nyx could do with such information. After a terse silence he shakes his head and mutters, "They put me outside for that."

    True to Emory's fears, Nyx is hoping to heaven that he hasn't been protecting and sheltering a murderer. Lord knows there are plenty of them in this hellish place, just hiding out in wait for their next victim.

    Nyx shakes these thoughts aside. "Poor kid..."

    "Yeah...uh...he got better though. It–it wasn't too serious or anything like that."

    "Well that's good."

    "Eh. He's a jerk. Kinda deserved it if you ask me." Emory begins cleaning up the things he used to cure the venom's effects.

    "Gooootcha. What's it mean to be put outside, exactly?"

    "Being put outside? It's like...like being put outside." The boy blinks, incredulous.

   "Oh, uh....it's just the way you said it made it seem like some sort of weird procedure."

    "I mean it's kinda dumb, I dunno about weird."

    "Well uh...not everyone has venom and a desire to bite people."

    "That's self-defense," Emory reasons, chucking the last ice cube at Nyx.

    The older boy bats it away, "Oh yeah? Can you not self-defense on me anymore?"

   
     "That's actually all up to you. Don't threaten me and you won't have to deal with it."

"So gettin' up for water at midnight in my own apartment is a threat?"

The boy nods rapidly, real fear written in every movement. "You might've been grabbing a weapon or a slipper or something!"

"Why would I hurt you after saving you?!"

"Because you're a Wit?"

Nyx gives him a weird look, smirking a bit. "Bit racist, isn't that?"

"You tell me. Isn't it racist to treat a person like an animal just cuz he's different?"

Something raw is beginning to show through the boy's words, causing Nyx to realize that now is the time to start treading carefully. "Nah...don't judge a book by its cover and all."

"But humans are cruel."

"Am I?"

The boy stares directly at Nyx for a moment, then shakes his head clear, "I don't know. Are you? You could be faking." He finishes picking everything up and begins to leave.

"I don't know...why would someone fake being nice?"

Emory shrugs. "Ulterior motives."

"Not everyone's got em, kid. And anyway, I feel like nearly dying to your venomous would wipe away any mask of niceties."

"Some people are good liars."

"True. But not me." Nyx tries to stand up, arms flailing in the dark seeking support, and barely keeps his face from smacking into the floor as he falls. "Ugh...stupid numb legs."

"Yeah they'll be numb awhile yet. Best to sleep it off." Gathering the items, Emory carries everything back to the kitchen and puts it all in the sink.

"Ah nuts...will it be gone by morning? I've got work."

"Maybe. A hot bath with salts and essential oils can help too." Emory slinks silently back into the room and sits on the floor once more, like a dark little ominous creature.

"Pff I don't have enough room for a whole bathtub." Nyx attempts to army-crawl over to his bed, but with his legs being so numb and unwilling to obey his brain, he can't quite pull himself up onto the mattress.

They don't prepare you for this sort of thing at boot camp.

After a good five minutes of watching the poor lad struggle, Emory hops up and shoves Nyx onto the bed with surprising strength. "That's why you stink, huh. Don't have room for a bath."

Nyx grimaces, "Ey, I have as shower. Thanks for the boost."

"Sure." Emory now perches himself on the end of the bed, staring at Nyx with his wide curious eyes. Everything about this is unnerving, but Nyx tries to make it seem as though he is unbothered as he shoves his pillow into a more comfortable position.

As Emory continues to stare and observe, Nyx looks suspiciously at him, "What're you doing?"

Emory merely continues in total silence, his expression unmoving while his little pointed ears flick at every sound. Nyx sighs. He'd signed up for this.

"Don't bite my ankles again," he mutters, turning on his side. As his eyes apprehensively fall shut, he realizes just how exhausted he has become and tries not to think about what could potentially be his new housemate. A roommate wouldn't be such a bad thing, but this kid? This kid probably can't even get work...

"They don't taste good anyway," a whispering snicker flits through the darkness. Nyx cringes at the sound, but eventually he sleeps. And what a wonderful sleep it is: deep and dreamless, comfortable and silent, warm and safe. He sleeps like a literal rock, unaware that the boy at the end of his bed just continues to stare at him, wide awake.

At some point in the early morning, Emory leaves his post only once to steal some bread from the kitchen. Resuming his place on the end of the bed, he tears into the yeasty goodness. The bread is fresh, soft, aromatic. Those noodles Nyx made weren't enough to curb the absolutely furious claws of hunger inside him, but this should help. He could really use some protein right about now, but he doesn't want to just raid Nyx's cupboards. Raiding cupboards gets you beat, and he would know.

With the bread sitting comfortably in his stomach, he curls up at Nyx's feet and allows himself to relax. He may not sleep, but he can rest. So far, Nyx hasn't exhibited much threatening behavior—though that can always change—so the boy allows himself to let his guard down just a little. If Nyx is telling the truth about not hurting him, this should be okay. Maybe...no, it's not worth getting his hopes up. He'll just stay long enough to make sure the venom is completely taken care of, then leave Nyx to his happy little life. No point risking forming a bond with anyone, especially a Wit of all things. He'll take Nyx's kindness and cherish it the way he might cherish a rare sunbeam in this drab and rainy place.