Chapter Text
5:04am
Aphelios bites at the skin of his fingernails, whatever cuticle remains. His black, sunken eyes stare fixed to the two monitors in front of him. Playing. Pausing. Playing. Pausing. Repeatedly. The backing track playing through his headphones sounds the same, no matter what changes he implements. Garbage. All of it. Yet, obsessively, he continues to pick it apart, along with his skin.
It’ll heal by sunrise anyways.
The song…that’s another story. It sounds half-baked, generic. Like some trash that a third-rate radio station would play, like something from his youth. What really pisses him off the most is the fact that the producer that hired him had already listened to some of it and called Aphelios a genius . Yeah, right. He could make this trash in his sleep. If he ever did sleep, that is.
This will fit his image perfectly! Aphelios doesn’t have a clue who the artist is. He never cares to know. He’ll get hired, told the notes they want to hit, the sounds they want to hear, and Aphelios implements it. He’s not sure how he got roped back into writing basic pop trash again. Then again, the pay isn’t bad. He does want a PS5.
With a sigh, he leans back in his chair. Eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he slowly spins around. The dark room is dyed blue from his LEDs, a quiet comfort to his burning retinas. He slowly closes his eyes, feeling the heavy weight of his sleeplessness. His body feels empty, too empty. His throat aches. Letting out a slow breath, the symptoms become all too clear.
A notification makes his phone buzz on the desk. It’s always on do not disturb , with the exception of one person.
[Lunie ✨ I’m here.]
Forcing his stiff limbs, Aphelios stands and stumbles to his apartment’s front door, kicking aside a couple of trash bags as he goes. He’s gotten a little lax with cleaning. It’s whatever. He stops himself just before opening the door, pulling his mask up over his mouth and nose. It isn’t to protect himself or keep anything from getting out.
Opening the door, his twin’s perfumed floral scent assaults his senses as does her smile. Alune is always way too awake for the early hours she shows up at his apartment for biweekly deliveries. She’s dressed for her day job, in office attire. Aphelios averts his gaze from the way her slicked back bun shows her graying hair and the way her smile accentuates the crows feet at the corners of her eyes.
He wordlessly holds out his hand for the mini cooler within her grasp, tucked next to her briefcase.
Alune’s smile falls, and she sighs. “What happened to a proper greeting? You look tired, Phel, and hungry.”
Aphelios affixes her with a flat stare. “I am.” His voice is rough from disuse. She was the last person he talked to using his voice, and that was exactly one week ago.
He shuts his mouth immediately after, the sting in his throat becoming apparent and slowly smoldering into a burning fire. With effort, he swallows down the saliva pooling in his mouth. Alune narrows her eyes at him as if she can see past his blank stare, and there’s an agonizing second where Aphelios fears that she’ll launch into one of her lectures about taking better care of himself, going outside more, etc. However, she only sighs again and holds the mini cooler out to him.
“Are you busy? You haven’t texted me lately.”
Alune’s words get muddled in his ears as he takes the cooler from her. His focus goes solely to the hinge of the plastic box, how barely detectable the scent within is but just enough to tempt him. Staring unblinkingly, Aphelios doesn’t hear Alune call his name or catch her worried look. It’s only when he feels a touch to his shoulder that he startles out of it.
“...Phel?”
Alune keeps her hand on his shoulder, the warmth bleeding into him. She’s closer now, closer than she ought to be. Try as he might to stop it, his eyes linger on her wrist. The skin translucent and paper thin, blue veins clear as day.
He can hear her heart pounding and the way the tempo is gradually increasing as realization dawns on her. The smell of her fear shocks him out of it.
Shame pools in his gut, overtaking the hunger, and Aphelios not-so-gently pushes her hand off of him. He backs up and opens the door to his apartment, meaning to make a quick escape from the situation.
“Phel!” Alune grabs the doorframe. “Wait, I–!”
He knows what she means to say. It’s the same thing she’s repeated for years. I’m not afraid of you. You’re my baby brother. You’ll always be my Aphelios. I don’t mind doing this for you. I know you don’t mean it. It’s okay. You can tell me anything. So on and so forth.
Aphelios says nothing, only takes her hand and pushes her gently away from the door and closes it. He hears her frustrated cry as he clicks the deadbolt. He waits. A few moments later he hears the click of her heels down the hallway and towards the elevator.
The thing is, Alune can say all those things. Hell, she can even mean them. But it doesn’t change the fact that there is something that will always separate the two of them. Something so monstrous that even her human instincts can’t help but feel fear.
She doesn’t even know half of it.
She’ll never see the way Aphelios crumbles in the entryway, bracing himself on the mirror for support as his breathing turns labored. Never catch a glimpse at what he hides behind his facemask. Tugging it down his chin, saliva and bitter venom pools from his mouth and down his chin in heavy rivulets, dripping from the two sets of razor sharp incisors aching in his upper and lower jaw. Aphelios forces himself to confront this sight every week, gazing at himself with red eyes.
Pathetic.
He can never stomach watching the rest. Turning away from the mirror, he tugs open the cooler, revealing the fourteen bags of O+ blood. On his better days, he’ll usually have the patience to warm it up, maybe even put it in a mug to feel more human. Today, however, Aphelios sinks his fangs directly into one of the pouches, tilting his head back as he gulps it down within seconds. Years ago he would have remarked on the stale taste, but now, having not tasted directly from the source in a long time, it quells his hunger sufficiently.
He downs a second one quickly after the first, and then Aphelios sits there in the dark hallway of his apartment. He stays as the warmth slowly returns to his body, until a part of him begins to feel whole again. He doubts he’ll ever begin to feel completely human again, but this is as close as it gets. Eventually, the only aches left in his body are those typical of a sleepless songwriter.
By the time he shuffles to his feet, sunlight peeks in through the gaps of the shades on the windows. A sign of the start of a new day for most humans. But for Aphelios, a deep-seated exhaustion fills his bones at the sight, and he knows he only has little time before his nocturnal body starts to shut down. Ever since he became like this, he’s always felt tired during the day, even if his schedule was normal. Probably due to some ancient instinct for monsters like him.
His liquid meals are stored in the nearly empty fridge. Aphelios saves his files, shuts down his PC, makes sure his blackout curtains are drawn. His sleep will be restless as always, but regardless, he curls up under his mountain of blankets with his noise-canceling headphones. Dead to the world.
“I’m guessing you finished that one track, considering you’re actually spending time with me right now.”
Aphelios snorts into his headset, pausing in his crafting to type into the Discord chat.
[aphelios if you consider playing minecraft hanging out then sure]
[aphelios yeah i did finish the track. it turned out okay in the end. still not something i would necessarily be proud of tho]
Ezreal laughs, some of his mic muffling the loud sound. He still hasn’t edited his mic settings like Aphelios has told him to hundreds of times, even though he tends to scream when they’re playing competitive games. Then again, living in a penthouse in Seoul, he probably never has to worry about receiving noise complaints.
“Alright, alright. I swear, I’ll make it back to LA one of these days when my schedule stops being so crazy. Idol life ain’t easy, y’know?” Ezreal whines, his blocky character wandering around aimlessly like it usually does when he gets distracted. He often has trouble talking and gaming at the same time, but Aphelios has never minded.
[aphelios i know. you’ll probably go on tour soon yeah? i can see you then :3]
“Yeah!” Ezreal exclaims. “Not sure if I’ll make it to the U.S., but we can meet up somewhere fun! Maybe in Europe? Make a trip out of it!”
Aphelios’ first thought is an immediate no . Holidays aren’t really built into his unique, vampiric lifestyle. He can’t be out in the sun much, has a killer diet, and harbors a general hatred for anything that makes him leave his apartment. But he would be lying if he said entertaining the thought isn’t fun. He hasn’t left the States since coming here in the early 2000s. He’s barely stepped outside of California.
A trip with Ezreal would be enjoyable. He’s the type of person to make anything exciting, and that’s what drew Aphelios to him in the first place. Ezreal was the first artist to spark his interest in a period of his life where his love of music was waning. A vocalist like no other, especially against other generic Korean idols. The album that he worked on along with Ezreal was one of the rare times Aphelios worked so closely with the artist the entire time.
Needless to say, Ezreal has become a dear friend.
[aphelios that sounds nice]
“Wow…I can practically hear the enthusiasm…” Ezreal teases. “Kidding! I know you mean it, Phel.”
He falls quiet for some time. All that fills Aphelios’ ears is the sound of the blocks he places as he builds their temporary house for this new realm they started, as well as the playlist in their Discord server that he plays on low volume. Japanese city pop. Ezreal’s pick.
“How have you been doing, Phel?” He asks suddenly, snapping Aphelios out of his building trance. “I mean, for real. Honestly.”
Aphelios begins to wonder if Alune put Ezreal up to this. God knows she’s been blowing up his phone every single day, asking if he’s eaten, if he’s gone outside, what his next project is. He knows he must’ve given her a good scare the other day, and to be fair, not much has changed. He still hasn’t stepped foot outside of his apartment in weeks, and every single evening consists of either composing, gaming, or rotting in his bed. She has a reason to worry.
Thankfully, Ezreal has never seen this side of him, and Aphelios plans on keeping it that way. He doesn’t know his curse, so he shouldn’t have to know about the side effects either. They’re close friends in Aphelios’ terms, and that means being held at arm’s length.
[aphelios i’ve been having a hard time with music. it’s getting boring again :c]
Not a lie, and Ezreal can relate.
“Ugh, I know how that feels!” Ezreal hops over to him in-game and starts squatting up and down aggressively. “I’m sure it’s worse as a composer. Writer’s block, yeah? Did you get another boring project?”
Aphelios smiles. It does feel nice, at least, to let out his frustration on this small part of his life that he can control.
[aphelios not yet. i’ve been trying to compose some things for fun in the meantime but nothing’s really sticking]
Ezreal hums as Aphelios goes back to crafting. “Damn…I wish I had a solution for that. Do you want me to see if anyone I know is looking for a songwriter? I’d only recommend you to the best! Don’t worry!”
It’s a bit of a gamble for Aphelios. Ezreal does tend to lean towards the generic K-Pop genre that Aphelios isn’t super fond of. Yeah, a job is a job, but if Aphelios is looking for inspiration, this isn’t exactly the route to go down. On the other hand, he does trust Ezreal to give his information out to those with great talent. It’d probably be just a one track kind of situation anyways. He doubts he’d end up working on an entire album with an artist like he did with Ezreal.
With a sigh, he types.
[aphelios sure, why not]
What does he have to lose?
Around a month passes, and Aphelios has all but forgotten about Ezreal’s promise to him. Nothing exciting happens. A couple of the songs he composed on his own were bought and snatched up by international labels. He makes silver rank in one of his favorite competitive FPS games, much to Ezreal’s jealousy and dismay.
Alune stops by every week as she usually does. Aphelios puts on a much better mask this time and spaces out his blood supply so he isn’t in such a terrible state by the time she helps replenish his stock. Of course, he still lies about stepping outside his apartment. He spins tales about grocery trips, late night walks, visits from non-existent friends.
It isn’t that he doesn’t want to confide in Alune about his problems. It’s more of the fact that she has her own life to take care of, and coming by in the early morning to drop off blood bank contraband is already trouble enough. Alune is almost in her mid-forties, a successful lawyer with a fianceé. And yet, she still worries incessantly about her baby twin brother who’s perpetually twenty-one. She shouldn’t have to, and so he will continue to lie.
Regardless, he has nothing new to tell her. Not until he receives a very important email one evening.
Mr. Aphelios,
I hope this email finds you well. My name is Leona Sol, a talent manager at Riot Music Group. You come highly recommended by a good friend of my client as a talented songwriter, and I was wondering if you would be interested in a long-term project for his next comeback.
We are interested in changing and improving his sound and image, and you seem like just the right person for that, having listened to your past successes in the industry. If this interests you, please contact me back at your earliest convenience, and we can discuss details.
Sincerely,
Leona Sol
After a round of furious googling due to his disbelief, Aphelios stares at the email in shock. She’s a totally real and legitimate manager at one of the biggest labels in the country. He’s a bit clueless to who this client could be, however. He knows True Damage is contracted to them, and Riot Korea manages K/DA alongside Ezreal, obviously. But to specifically mention that it’s a friend of Ezreal’s?
He opens Discord and sends Ezreal a screenshot of the email with multiple question marks. He doesn’t expect an answer anytime soon, but lo and behold, Ezreal seems to have enough time in his busy schedule to send a message back within minutes.
[ez 💚 oh wow she really reached out to you! leona is great. i don’t think you’ll have any problems working with her!! :3]
Aphelios furrows his brows. Either Ezreal is dense, or he’s avoiding the obvious question on purpose.
[aphelios the artist, ez. who is the artist?]
[ez 💚 uhhhh i plead the fifth? hehe….]
[aphelios dude.]
Stewing in a small bit of anger, Aphelios watches the typing dots flash in and out. Why is Ezreal struggling to even name a name? Aphelios barely pays attention to the industry, so it’s not like it could be anyone that he has beef with or something. He doubts Ezreal would recommend him to someone basic and boring, though the fact that they’re signed to Riot already confirms that it’s a good fit for Aphelios.
[ez 💚 okay, okay. his name is sett, but PLEASE do not look him up!! let’s just say he has a lot of negative press rn. i promise he’s a good guy, and i really think you could help him out.]
Rolling his eyes, Aphelios ignores Ezreal’s request the second he reads the message. Turning back to his PC, he types Sett's name into Google. The suggested search options don’t give him much hope, and once the results roll in, he’s hit with endless headlines that have his tired eyes going wide.
Sett , Riot’s latest soloist, seen punching paparazzi outside of club
Why won’t Riot drop Sett already?
Sett picks fight with fan in the middle of his concert
Noise complaints from neighbors over endless parties in Sett’s LA home
Fans petition for Riot to give Sett better support
It’s honestly surprising to him that he hasn’t heard of this guy with this much bad press. Regardless, there’s multiple red flags here, and Aphelios can already feel a headache coming on just thinking about it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is the friend that Ezreal wanted to recommend him to?
[aphelios i’m surprised ur friends with this guy]
[ez 💚 ugh idek why i thought you would listen to me. look, he’s in a bad way right now, and no one wants to work with him because all they see are those headlines!!]
[aphelios is any of it true? i see there’s videos of some of it.]
[aphelios oh wow he really decked that guy across the face.]
Watching the ten second clip of Sett punching a paparazzo, all he can see is a big meathead who can’t keep his cool. Though he’s Vastayan, which is interesting. They usually aren’t in the limelight.
[ez 💚 well yeah he did punch that guy but phel i’m being serious! he’s a good guy and a great friend. i’m worried about his career and so is leona…so i told her about you…]
[aphelios ezreal im not gonna work with someone who might punch me in the face just because i do something he doesn’t like.]
[ez 💚 :( sigh fair enough.]
[ez 💚 they’d probably pay you an absurd amount tho. just for saying yes.]
He tosses his phone aside, sighing in frustration at Ezreal’s last message. He’s not in desperate need of money or anything, in fact he’s pretty well off at the moment. The PS5 he ordered the other day is supposed to come in tomorrow. Aphelios is excited to bury himself further into his apartment and play all the games he’s wanted to. And so, with that, he deletes the email from Leona. It would be more trouble than it’s worth.
“You turned down an offer from Riot?”
Yone sounds utterly shocked on the other end of the line, and Aphelios rolls his eyes. He continues chopping up the green onions as he replies quietly. His voice has been faring better, and Yone hates texting. Old man.
“Have you heard of Sett?”
There’s a shifting sound, and Yone says, “Oh. Indeed I have.”
“Exactly.”
The older vampire, as in centuries older, goes quiet, contemplative. Aphelios just knows he’s trying to cook up some advice like always. Yone tends to treat him like his personal charge, even though he wasn’t the one to curse Aphelios with this life. But he has been helpful over the years. Aphelios and Alune were clueless about many things until they came across Yone. Despite his immortal age, he’s an impressive DJ that only occasionally operates outside of Japan.
“Well, Aphelios, Alune has been telling me that you have had trouble as of late. Perhaps this could be a way to add some interest to your life.”
Aphelios sets the knife down calmly but with an audible clang. He glares at the phone on the counter as if Yone could see him. “I hate that she tells you things. I’m fine.” He’s even cooking for once. A rarity, considering he doesn’t need real food, and so he doesn’t bother. Tonight, he had a rare craving for spicy ramen, and even went through the trouble of having some groceries delivered.
“Really? I think you’re just surviving, rather than living. When was the last time you left your home? You can try and lie to Alune, but do not lie to me.”
It’s true, and Aphelios falls silent in response. He finds it hard to lie to the one person who can understand what he goes through. “It’s been a few months. I don’t see how working with some asshole will help.”
“Hm. Well, I can’t disagree with the fact that Sett seems…undisciplined. But I would agree that Ezreal wouldn’t recommend someone to you if he knew you couldn’t handle it. He’s a good friend. Don’t lose him.”
“I didn’t ask for a lecture.” Aphelios sighs and goes back to his prep work. “Why did you call anyways?”
Yone laughs. “Stubborn, always changing the subject. Alright, well, I was just going to let you know that I’ll be in LA for a project starting next month. I’ll be able to provide you support in person.”
“That could’ve just been in a text, old man.”
“If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to have this conversation with you,” Yone points out. “Either way, I would like to meet up with you and Alune once I arrive. Maybe then you will finally be honest with her. She knows you’re lying.”
Of course she does. No matter how much distance he puts between them, he and Alune have been together since birth. It’s impossible for Aphelios to hide anything from her. Luckily, she knows when not to push something, and this is something she can’t push him on. He will continue to hide the worst parts of himself from her. No matter what. He’ll protect Alune from this twisted curse.
“Is it so bad that I want to keep her away from the worst parts of me? She has her own life. She should keep moving forward without me.” He rubs at his throat, right over the scar. It’s beginning to ache from using his voice so much.
Yone goes quiet again, long enough that Aphelios has to check to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. This is one of the traits he likes about Yone. The man thinks long and hard before speaking, especially when it comes to giving Aphelios advice. It’s how he knows Yone truly cares about him.
“Are you still struggling with your hunger, Aphelios?” Of course, he asks the one question that Aphelios was hoping he wouldn’t.
“I’m not drinking from people again.” He pulls a pot from the cabinet with more gusto than necessary, a loud clatter echoing through the apartment. “Don’t even suggest it.”
Yone sighs. “You are denying your instincts, and it will only make it worse over time. Donated blood is only meant for emergencies. It’s not a sustainable diet. I wish you would consider allowing me to–”
“I’ve made it one decade like th-is.” He has to clear his throat multiple times. “What’s one more?”
He thinks about it. All the time. It’s impossible not to, once hunger rears its ugly head. It emerges from the back of his mind, in the furthest, darkest corner. How sweet it tasted, how it felt running down his throat, hot and soothing. The soft human flesh beneath his hands, his teeth finally being able to sink into something. The blood on his hands, warm and sticky. How powerful he felt. How it would fill a hole inside of him. How it would make him crave more, more, and more .
Phel.
Aphelios, you’re hurting me.
Please stop.
Stop!
“Aphelios, there’s a reason your old throat injury is acting up like this. If you would just listen–”
Yone can’t get another word out before Aphelios ends the call.
He crumples to the floor, his labored breathing echoing through the tiny kitchenette. Staring wide-eyed at the tiles below his feet, Aphelios holds his head and tries to gather control over the painful burn of his throat, of the venom flooding his mouth. He tries to replace the thought of hot blood running down his throat with anything else.
Think of ramen. Think of ramen. Think of ramen. This ridiculous mantra echoes in his mind.
But the monster within always wins. His body moves to the fridge, ripping it open and grabbing one of the pouches of blood that Alune had dropped off the day prior. He bites into the packaging, tearing it in his desperation, gulping the O+ down and belatedly feeling it run down his chin and stain his hoodie, seeping into the dark blue fabric.
Aphelios doesn’t eat ramen that night.
It’s been five months since he’s left his apartment, but a phone call changes it all.
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter what he smells, what he can taste in the air, the way the other tenants in the hall stare at him as if they’ve seen a ghost. He’s barely even breathing at the moment, and his body feels like it’s on autopilot as he speeds down city streets in a car he almost forgot he had. The only thing on his mind is Alune.
“Aphelios, it’s me, Soraka. Alune…she got in a bad car accident and…”
Aphelios didn’t need to hear anything else before putting on his shoes and asking what hospital.
His senses become all tangled once inside the hospital. The clogging, head-splitting smell of disinfectant is overtaken by his instincts. The scent of blood is insignificant compared to the way his body is screaming to him: Look! So many weakened humans! So easy to snap between our fingers and drain…! A younger version of him would’ve given in so quickly, but instead, Aphelios swallows down the saliva pooling in his mouth and pulls his mask further up his nose.
He practically sprints to the room after being informed by the nurse at the check-in desk, and opens the door with such gusto that he startles the occupants. Aphelios doesn’t care though. Soraka stands from her chair and starts to say something to him, but he drowns it out. Dark eyes fall heavily on Alune’s sleeping form on the hospital bed. She’s covered in bandages, head-to-toe. Again, he can tell how badly she’s hurt just by how much the monster within him wants to tear her apart.
Everything around him falls apart as he crumbles into a nearby chair, reaching out to grab her hand. Alune’s hand, smaller than his, thinner skin, and slightly wrinkled from time. Aphelios’ own hand is shaking, and it takes him some time before he recognizes the fear . He’s always been afraid, afraid of something like this. Alune is so small, so frail, all because she is human. Not only will she age, but something could take her away from him sooner. Just one mistake, one accident, and she’s gone from him. Forever. His other half.
“Alune…” He whispers, clutching her hand tightly in his own.
Aphelios doesn’t mean to wake her, but Alune stirs on her own, fluttering open her eyes and slowly looking around until her gaze lands on his. “Phel?” Her voice is hoarse and weak, and Soraka hurriedly grabs her some water and rings for a nurse.
“I’m here, noona .” Aphelios smiles, even though she can’t see it. “Are you feeling okay?”
She ignores his question and beams up at him despite her weakened state. “You’re…You’re outside, Phel. You came to me. You came to see me.” Her smile is so weak, yet it’s the happiest expression he’s seen on her in a long time.
He can’t help but laugh a little at her words. “You’re on a lot of drugs, huh?”
“She got out of surgery a few hours ago,” Soraka interjects, hovering around his back. A bit of irritation seeps into his veins at the words.
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Aphelios’ words are cold and so is the stare he slides her way.
“It was during the day. I doubt you would’ve shown up.” Soraka’s response is just as icy.
He knows how Alune’s fianceé feels about him, and their relationship hasn’t improved at all throughout the years. He’s Alune’s freaky pale brother, who never visits, never seems to age, and is allergic to the sun. Aphelios was the one who begged Alune to never tell Soraka about his curse or how they’re actually twins. It’s easier this way, and he usually doesn’t have a problem with how Soraka treats him because of it all. She’s always civil and calm when they meet, for Alune’s sake, but he knows she loathes him and can sense that something’s off about him. Most people who are observant avoid him for that reason, and she’s one of them.
“I still deserve to know–” He’s interrupted by a weak squeeze to his hand, bringing his attention back to Alune.
“Please, don’t fight,” Alune begs. “I don’t care, Phel. I don’t care. I’m glad you’re here now.”
He melts under her adoring gaze and nods. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll do whatever I can to help, noona . I promise.” I’ll be good, I swear. He wants to beg to any gods out there. Just don’t take her away from me, please.
The nurse enters then, greeting the two of them. Aphelios moves out of the way, releasing Alune’s hand, allowing her to do her work. As she starts to ask Alune questions, his gaze meets Soraka, and she tilts her head in the direction of the door. Her face looks serious, so he sighs and tells Alune he’ll be right back.
Outside, in the hallway, Soraka goes to lean against the wall, and Aphelios does the same. She sighs and then slides him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Aphelios. I don’t mean to antagonize you like that. It’s…It’s just been a stressful day. I thought I was going to pass out when I got the call. The accident wasn’t even her fault.”
Staring down at his shoes, he tries to focus on her voice and not the sounds and smells assaulting him from the hallway. “Don’t worry about it. Please, what do you need from me? How can I help?”
“To put it bluntly, money. It would normally be fine, but Alune won’t be able to return to work for a while, and all of our savings have been mostly used on deposits for the wedding. I don’t make enough on my teacher’s salary either.” Aphelios glances over and sees Soraka wringing her hands. It’s clearly taking a lot for her to even ask.
“Alune would probably be mad at me for asking, but I’d rather her focus on healing than hospital bills.” Soraka looks up to meet his gaze pleadingly. “So, please, Aphelios, whatever you can contribute would help. I know…you’re not in the best place, so I’m sorry for placing this on your shoulders too but–”
Aphelios raises a hand to stop her. “You don’t even have to ask. Alune is my sister, so of course, I’ll help. Even if it’s more than hospital bills, please don’t hesitate to call me. Keep me in the loop. I’ll visit her as much as I can.” He pauses then continues. “Though I might be more busy from now on.”
“Busy?” Soraka raises a brow. He knows what she’s thinking. He hasn’t been “busy” in years.
“Yeah…I’m taking on a big project with a major label.”
The decision was made the moment he saw Alune in the hospital bed. It’s time for him to step up and support her for a change. Alune has always been his big sister, cheering him on since their youth, even back when he was something . It’s time that he pays her back tenfold.
He pushes off the wall, pulling the mask up further on his nose. “I need to make a call.” Better late than never.
Soraka blinks, probably wanting to ask questions, but she decides otherwise and nods. “I’ll go talk to the nurse and ask for updates.”
It takes him little time to find the restrooms, and the figurative mask slowly slips off when he finds the men’s restroom empty. Locking himself into a stall, the burn in his throat has become near unbearable, and Aphelios closes his eyes, trying to control his breathing. Too many voices, noises, smells, fluorescent lights. His head is spinning with both need and disgust. Two fingers tug his facemask down, and he spits up the bitter venom and saliva that has been pooling in his mouth into the toilet.
As he heaves, his shaky hands dig into his pockets for his phone. It only takes a few seconds for him to dig up Leona’s email from his trash folder.
This is Aphelios.
I’m sorry for taking so long to respond. I hope you are still interested in working with me as my schedule is now clear. I would love to meet up and discuss with you. I am free any evening after 5 PM.
My number is xxx-xxx-xxx. Feel free to give me a call.
Part of Aphelios wonders if Leona managed to snag another songwriter, but that doesn’t last very long. Despite how another, smaller part of him hoped he’d lucked out and didn’t have to work with this Sett character, she gives him a call only a couple days later after he sent the email. Of course, it’s in the middle of the day when he’s usually asleep, so it’s answered by a very sleepy nocturnal vampire.
Leona is very professional and calm during the call. It’s not what Aphelios would expect from someone who has to manage a person like Sett. Although, once the conversation goes from discussing Aphelios’ schedule and his previous work to the nameless client himself, Leona starts to sound very exhausted. He imagines she’s gotten to this stage many times only for songwriters to back out once they learn the client is prone to violent fits of rage.
“I’m willing to work with him,” Aphelios says, despite the nerves. “As long as he keeps his hands to himself.”
“I assure you, he would never.” Leona sounds confident at least. “I had him listen to your previous tracks, and he’s very excited to work with you. He wanted to thank you for giving him a chance.”
In his groggy state, Aphelios has the guts to ask, “So everything on the news sites is a lie?”
That earns him a frustrated sigh, and he can tell it isn’t exactly aimed at him. “There is some truth to the whole, of course. Sett hasn’t been in the limelight for very long, so he’s been struggling with…well, everything that goes along with it. He does have a short fuse, but he has never turned his anger on me or anyone he cares about. He has a good heart.”
That lines up with what Ezreal had been telling him, at least. He knows Ez wouldn’t lie to him, but it’s still reassuring to hear it from someone who works with Sett on the regular. Besides, Aphelios has had some experience with tabloids twisting stories about himself and others, though that was years and years ago. Regardless, he understands how frustrating it can be, to be scrutinized constantly and misunderstood. He can sympathize with that.
“Alright. When would you like to get started?” He’s already decided he’s in no matter what, anyways.
“We would like to schedule an in-person meeting with you as soon as possible. I think it would be best for you to meet Sett face-to-face.” Leona pauses, probably looking over her calendar. “Does this Friday work? And you said in the evening?”
Aphelios clears his throat, beginning to feel the strain. “Yes, I have a health condition that makes it difficult for me to function during the day. Friday works for me.”
“How about 7PM?” Aphelios decides that he likes Leona then. She doesn’t ask many questions and is focused mostly on business.
“I’ll be there,” he says, despite his stomach beginning to do flips. Having not left his apartment in months, and now he’s gonna have multiple outings under his belt in one week. He’s been doing well with a couple visits to Alune in the hospital, but now he’s going to the headquarters of a major record label to meet with strangers, one of which has a history of violence. To say he’s nervous is an understatement.
“Perfect. See you then, Aphelios.”