The Twitch

Smack

"Stop!"

Thud

"Forgetting!"

Smack

"ME!" Mathew screeched. He threw Francis head first into the wall. Francis coughed and hacked up blood as he lay there in the corner. He touched his gingerly and whimpered as his fingers came back bloody.

"How could you!?" Mathew yelled as he stood over the French man, tears streaming down his face. "You promised that this would never happen again! You promised!"

"I know, I'm sorry…" he began.

"Shut up!" Mathew kicked his jaw, causing his head snap back and collide with the wall. "I don't care anymore." He growled. He stalked back into the living room and towards the pathetic wreck cowering in the corner. Mathew had just gotten back from the train station when he first noticed something was wrong.

It was their anniversary and Francis had promised that he would pick Mathew up from the train station. But he hadn't been there. Not only had that confused Mathew, but he had also felt something. A twitch. He hadn't felt that twitch in a long, long time. He didn't want to feel that way again, he didn't want to do those things again. So he ignored it and assumed that Francis must be late.

So he had sat and waited on a bench in front of the train station. This had continued for the better part of an hour. Even though Mathew was a patient man, even he couldn't wait any longer. And then he felt it again. A twitch. But still, he assumed that Francis must have trouble with his car and caught the bus. It was only when he was on the bus did he remember that he still had his phone.

So he dialled up Francis' number and waited. But Francis didn't answer, not until his fifth ring. By then Mathew was starting to get edgy.

"Francis?" Mathew had asked timidly.

"Ung, what?"

"U-uh, you forgot to pick me up from the tra-"

"Matty, I'm very… busy right now. I'll call you back later." Francis cut in quickly, not hearing anything that Mathew had said. Just before he hung up, Mathew heard Francis' deep, throaty chuckle, the one that only Mathew got to hear. As he put his phone away, he felt it again. A twitch. Because at the same time he heard that chuckle, he had also thought he had heard something else. Someone else's laugh. But who's laugh? No one should be with Francis. No one.

But still, he had ignored it. Maybe he had just imagined it? Maybe Francis was in a public place? Maybe he was exactly right and was about to go crazy and kill everyo- no! He was wrong!

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

The bus had dropped him about a block away from their home. The time he had spent walking was only more and more opportunities for his paranoia to eat away from him. He was wrong. Francis knew better. He wouldn't dare hurt Mathew again. But he had felt it again when he reached his driveway. The twitch.

Who's car was in his driveway?

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

Mathew saw red. Who was that!? Why were they here!? This was his home. He could see Francis' car as well, so Francis was alone with some stranger. How dare he- no! He was wrong! He was wrong! He was wrong! He refused to believe it.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

Mathew had stormed into the house, slamming the door open and throwing it shut. "Francis!?" he had screeched. He had ran into the living room where he found his husband. And there he was, sitting on the couch with some little, pretty, other woman.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

He had stopped, his emotions dulled by the scene before him. Francis still had one arm wrapped around her, and they both had stared at him with horror. His anger had rekindled. "Francis!' he had snarled, ripping the woman out of his arms. Oh, how she screamed as his nails had dug into her fragile skin. His nails had grown into long, black, blade-like claws. He had thrown her into the wall where she cowered, trying to escape from the monster that he had once again become.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

Mathew had crouched and held himself as his body warped and twisted. He groaned in pain as horns ripped from his skull and spiralled out until they were at least a foot long. His legs grew and his knees reversed until his legs were similar to a horse's back legs. Similar, that is, until his feet outgrew his shoes and the long black nails grew from his toes. Mathew growled as his incisors grew and sharpened until they were deadly fangs. His head snapped up and he glared at Francis with glowing green eyes, his pupils nothing but narrow black slits. He grabbed Francis by the throat and through him across the room.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

And here he was, about to rip one of the sources of his pain apart. He grabbed her pretty blonde hair and held her over Francis.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

"Watch!" he raged. "Watch the consequences!" Francis looked on with terror as the woman's life was taken from her bloodily.

Mathew through the corpse away from him. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!" he howled. "I didn't want to hurt someone again! But you made me do it! How many times do I have to kill before you listen!?"

Mathew groaned. His horns sunk back painfully into his head. His claws retracted into fingernails. His knees reversed back and his fangs shrunk back to incisors. He bent over and started gently wiping away the blood from Francis' head. "Shh," he crooned. "You won't ever forget me again, will you?"

Francis tried to slow his sobs. "No, I'll never forget you."

Mathew smiled innocently. He wrapped his arms around him and rested his head against Francis' chest. He sighed happily. "I know." And that's how they stayed, lying on the floor in a pool of Francis' blood. Eventually, the woman's body began to rot and Francis was limp in Mathew's arms. But even then, Mathew did not leave.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.