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Jungle Pocket dragged herself through the hallway, a heavy bag in her moist, red left hand. It was quiet, dark, too late for anyone sane to be awake, nobody there to witness the unforgivable sin she so willingly commits for an equally as sinful being.
The too familiar abandoned classroom was looming right in front of her, and ignoring the tight knot in her stomach and the slamming of her heart against her ribcage, she opened the door, pulling herself inside. Peculiar smells hinting at Tachyon's usual experiments assaulted her nose, and yet she could only focus on the reading figure hunched over in her chair on the other side of the room.
It's only after Pocket set the bag on her desk that the figure reacted to her presence. Without looking up, she reached into the bag and pulled out the grotesque, uneven pieces of a limb, bloody remains that were dripping onto her desk and the floor.
Jungle Pocket couldn't bear to look as Tachyon started feeding on the small bits in her hand, not caring about the mess it made or the smudged blood on her mouth and chin whilst she wrote something down in her notes. Its smell was strong and crude, and yet Pocket was used to it at this point.
For a while, there was a strange kind of silence before Tachyon broke it. "Pokke-kun, why do you keep doing this for me?"
"Huh?" Pocket didn't know how to reply to that at first. How could she possibly put into words the sheer devotion she felt towards this sick being sitting in front of her, how she felt like she was burning alive every minute she didn't get her attention, how she would drop to her knees if it meant Tachyon would never let go of her?
"...Do you need to know?" She still couldn't bear looking her in the eyes, scared it would overwhelm her.
Tachyon then stood, much too close, cradling Pocket's face with an unexpected gentleness that contradicts her dirty hand and the implications of what they both did up to this point. Now that Pocket was forced to properly take into the deep reds of Tachyon's eyes, so eerily similar to the blood she saw almost daily, she felt like she would crumble to the floor if Tachyon stopped looking at her.
She started trembling and clung to her wrist with her bloodied hand to keep her close, staining the sleeve of Tachyon's lab coat. Don't let go, she thought, as if Tachyon would ever think of doing that now after all they did.
The deep-seated hunger in Tachyon's eyes never wavered, regardless of the fact that she wasn't even paying attention to the gore on her desk anymore.
"I might devour you next."
Jungle Pocket shivered as Tachyon's hands travelled to her neck, then closed her eyes, greedily tasting the iron and warmth stuck to someone she couldn't live without any longer, praying that she meant those words.