I walked out of the shadows...And into a lamp-post (kills_jellyfish) wrote in amecorpsesprit,
I walked out of the shadows...And into a lamp-post

Chapter Eight - Journey Home

Title: Love's Just A Four Letter Word - Journey Home
Warning: PG-13


Lysander smirked, elbows on the table, fingertips pressed against the small patch of flesh that Casper had touched, and softly replied, "I told you, I was never coy…just… gentleman…ish." He laughed, feeling the mood, which had been pressing in on them like a car-crusher lift slightly, and then he reach forward, stroking one hand that was clinging to the coffee-cup as if it were a life-raft. "I… do you want to finish that and get back, love?" he asked, voice filled with concern. "I should have asked… come on, we’ll get a cab, alright?"

His hand moved, gently taking Casper’s chin, tilting it up and stroking over the soft flesh, his eyes searching, even if his own weren’t being searched back. "I really do like you, Casper. You’re a really sweet guy. Even if you are too modest." He leant forwards again, thumb tracing the curve of that damp lower lip before his tongue followed it again, ignoring the stares of the waitress as he kissed Casper again, lasting slightly longer this time, before breaking off to speak. "Really like you. I’d like to… meet up with you again. Much more." He smiled, cheeks still coloured, and as he spoke, the nervousness returned, the confidence draining out of him. "But… you… you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to… to force any of this onto you, Casper. I just…" he took a long draft of the coffee. "I couldn’t help it, although that isn’t much of a reason, or an excuse. I just… forgive me. I swear I’ll leave you alone if you want me to. You just have to say, I won’t… be… hurt." He gave another small smile. "I had fun tonight anyway. It was nice to… take someone out for once. I don’t normally… have the guts to. It was nice. Thank you."

And with that, he finished his cup, and began to tear it into strips; each tear an equal distance apart, curling as the rip reach the bottom and once finished looked oddly like a flower.

"We can get a cap. Or you can, and I’ll pay in advance, if you don’t want me to go with you. I shouldn’t have let you stay out this late, if you have work and things tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get in trouble…" he swallowed, both hands now squirming on the tabletop, playing with the plastic flower, turning it over and over in his hands. "I’m really sorry."

"Stop apologising." Casper uttered, eyes still looking at the table. He had never thought of himself modest, or a sweet guy... or anything of that nature; yet, somehow he was inclined to believe it as the fingertips traced over his lip, another kiss following. The gentle little touches made him almost shiver, even if he had the coat wrapped around him. "No, no. It's fine. I kept you out too.... And I... enjoyed it also. You're a very.... decent guy." being decent was high up there in Casper's book. Taking two more long drafts of coffee, he sat the empty cup back onto the table, finally meeting Lysander's eyes. "A cab would be good..." he was considering if they should ride together, risk his 'modesty' slipping as he snuggled closer to Lysander in a leathery back seat.... He didn't want that to happen, or at least... not for the time being. Chewing his lip, he seemed to know that his eyes had gone all hazy as that last thought had gone a bit farther than it should have. "When will I see you again?" he asked, eyes glancing away as he smuggled the rest of the sugar packets on the table into his hip pocket and a couple in Lysander's jacket.

Slowly, he slid to the edge of the booth, picking up his empty Styrofoam cup and carefully plucking the flower from the other man's grip, fingers brushing his almost absently, mind obviously somewhere else. Moving away from their current area towards the trashcan at the far side of the cafe, he apparently wanted to be followed, hands going limp and letting the trash tip into the bin, eyes floating over to where Lysander was before moving towards the door and waiting. When the other arrived there, he went on outside, resisting temptation to lean into him.

It was Lysander who, once outside, made the move and carefully put his arm around Casper’s hips, holding him as he stopped a cab and then opened up the door for the other to get in first. But in those brief moments when the flesh of his fingers was only particles away from the flesh of those thin, slender, shapely hips set his spine on fire, and for a moment he thought that if he got into that cab too, he wouldn’t be able to trust himself.

But that wasn’t true. He had never, ever done anything out of hand to anyone who he wasn’t in a serious relationship, and that was no going to change. Wasn’t odd how the poor had more morals then their richer brothers? Or rather, how the lower classes was portrayed as ‘noble savages’. Considering this, he joined Casper in the warm interior of the brightly coloured taxicab, and he leaned back into the upholstered seat, enjoying the warmth that now flowed in both his insides and outsides. It was a nice feeling, being well fed, well watered, happy and warm in good company. Speaking of which…

"I don’t know… soon. Very soon. When would you like me to come and see you, lovely? I’ll come see you sing again, I’d like that… or we can meet before then, or… or whenever suits you. My schedule is empty." He grinned, stretching his fingers out in front of him until they clicked and then pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, where it was painfully digging into his flesh, and transferring it to his hip pocket instead. "You can give me a call, if you want. Tell me when you’re free…" he pulled a biro, a half of a snapped-off biro, from the smaller pocket on the hip of his jeans, and gently took Casper’s hand, writing down his number on the back. "Call me any time, I’ll probably be in. Working from home is a godsend, I tell you that…" he added the last sentence on, apparently casually, but that was not quiet true, as anyone could tell if they looked at his eyes right then.

Casper leaned into Lysander, apparently lost in his own thought, trying to take his mind off this, this... whatever it was. He didn't trust himself at all, which was shown by how he hugged himself to keep his hands from wandering. The youth had gotten inside and told the driver the whereabouts of his apartment building, the cabby giving him a disapproving look in the rear-view as if to say, 'you live /there/? You want me to drive, /there/?' but he didn't make a sound, just put the care into motion. Turning his aquamarine, green-rimmed eyes onto Lysander's face, smiling faintly and shrugging at the number on his hand. "I don't have a phone... You could just.. drop by the Rendezvous sometime... like tomorrow or something."

The young man smiled faintly, eyes turning back towards the opposing window, himself seated awkwardly so that one foot was on the floor, the other tucked beneath him, his back pressed into the niche between Lysander's arm and the side of his chest. "Will you be?" Now, if there had been anything Casper had planned-seeing as he would need to check his little day planner book when he arrived at his apartment-he would rearrange it for the promise of another evening of companionship... a date, if that's what you wished to call it. Looking on patiently, the eyes flickered from one to the other of those perfectly sky-blue ones of his new friend, cab streaking down through the darker part of the city, not quite in Tyn's neighbourhood, but resembling it somewhat.

As they pulled to a slow stop in front of a large, intimidating building with blacked out windows and shabby little buildings all around, including a liquor-slash-smokes store right across the street, Casper seemed to have difficulty pulling away from that warm little half-embrace and then remembered, "Oh, your jacket..." before stripping it off and holding it out to Lysander, still sitting reluctantly in the cab.

Lysander shook his head, getting out and peeling off the bills they owed the driver, letting him keep the change and pushing the jacket back towards Casper with his free hand as the taxi sped away. "I’ll be there. And keep the jacket until then, it’ll be cold tomorrow, and you’ll need it. I’ve got others." He smiled, stroking one of Casper’s cheeks with the side of his index finger. "Run along to bed now. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time? Same as today? Or yesterday, rather…"

This was odd, surreal. He was standing there, only a few inches from this unique, exquisite creature, and not touching, not holding him and… Zan blinked, driving that from his mind. God, he was feeling light-headed, wasn’t he? He hadn’t smoked from several hours, that was why, must have been. Well, there was a place to rectify that right across the road. "You look after yourself, you understand? Don’t do anything, anything that could hurt you…" he was being too protective, but couldn’t help it. He wanted to see Casper again, to keep seeing him, to have him as his own and never have the uncertainty of not knowing where he was or what he was doing or if he was or wasn’t going to meet him. Some stability in life, wasn’t that what everyone was after? Something, anything, anyone, to latch onto, whether it be a person or an object or some sort of hallucinogen. Anything would do, and Zan wanted one of two things. A fag, or Casper. Only one would have long-term results.

"I’ll bring some cheesecake with me tomorrow, as well. I promise." He leant forwards, kissing Casper’s cheek again, and gently pushing him forwards towards the doors of his building. "And you go and get some sleep."

"When it's dark, I'll be there." he said, sounding somewhat cryptic, eyes flickering away from Lysander's for just a moment, and then back, hugging the jacket to him. "Thanks.... again. It was a... wonderful evening." he stated, rocking forwards onto the balls of his feet and pressing a kiss to the other man's forehead, eyes fluttering as he dropped back, flat-footed again; his lips pressed into a warm smile, hand guiding him backwards, towards the doors. "See you tomorrow, Lysander.... Sleep well." with another probing stare, he disappeared inside, hands in his pockets, no doubt searching for his keys and a sugar packet.

He was up the stairs before he realised it, on the first floor landing, grey carpet dull and dead beneath his feet. Three in the morning is always the quietest time of the twenty-four hours given. Everyone around was asleep in their beds, with lovers or just sheets was something only they knew or worried with, Kris too lost in his dreamy thoughts to care. He shoved the key into the lock, hurriedly twisting it and stepping inside, locking the three locks on the other side-not caring to even turn on the light as he tripped down the hall, discarding his boots as he went. Moving across the small living room, he made it to his bedroom, from there, still in the dark. Without another single thought, he collapsed onto his bed-fully made and didn't even try to undress, arms wrapped around the jacket, faced nuzzling against it sleepily, his dreams taking over, casting all other thoughts from his mind.

Tyn was awake, fully and completely, before the last rays of the sun were fully set, and so, for a moment, lay in the dazed warmth of his bed, wrapped in the sheets, and then, he noticed, Var’s arms around his chest. He pressed back, carefully so as not to wake his lover, but enough to feel that shared warmth from the nape of his neck right down to the base of his spine, and then whimpering as cotton and polyester stole that warmth from Var’s skin, keeping it from him.

He pulled away then, sat up, and looked over his shoulder at the male laid there, his hair spread like a raven’s wing on the while pillow. It made the younger vampire smile, getting up and pulling on the long, light shirt that was reserved for the early evenings (or as Tyn still called them, mornings) when he didn’t plan on anything but bum around his apartment eating ice-cream. Those were the best days. He pulled it on, and then, glancing over at the balcony, slipped through the parting of the heavy, thick, wall-length curtains, opening the French windows and stepping out, holding onto the rail as the last golden light of sunset slipped behind the shadowy masses of sky-scrapers and 1970’s apartment buildings. It was a beautiful sight, and he half felt like waking Var, but from the smell of neat vodka that was drifting around their room, he decided Var might like his sleep.

On the return journey into the room, he picked up the near-empty bottle, pouring the rest of the contents down the kitchen sink, and putting on the kettle, before, still in the thigh-long shirt, he left the apartment, and knocked on Lysander’s door, one floor down. The mortal looked tired, but when didn’t he, and he willingly gave up the sugar Tyn requested from him, before bemusedly watching the blue-haired youth wander off again, before he could ask about the change in hairstyle.

The kettle went on, the tea was brewed, properly, in a tea-pot, and then Tyn waited, flicking through channels as he smoked the first, second, third and fourth cigarettes of the day, constantly pulling the long stands of hair further over his cheek, waiting. Damn Var and damn his sleep. Why couldn’t he get up early?

He gave Var ten more minutes, and then poured out the cup of hot tea, taking it into the room, followed by the half-bag of stolen sugar, and a spoon, and all three were placed neatly on the bedside table. Kneeling on the floor, Tyn reached forwards, gently stroking the tendrils of hair that covered one of the two pillows, before his fingers found Var’s cheek, stroking that instead, trying to wake Edvard as gently as possible.

Edvard would have been slightly saddened had he known such a marvellous sunset went down without him seeing it. Yet, it had been a long while since the 17th century flashback had even felt the desire to see the sun, probably because of how it made him feel. That fiery, molten orb millions upon millions of miles away just brought him down, the agonising feeling of depression, the press of eternity seemingly reminding him of his fate... Would it have been different now with Tyn? He wouldn't know, couldn't tell, didn't care in his sleepy stupor, still in mindless, dark dreams that went on endlessly... His body took in the sounds, the smells of his lover up and moving about the apartment without him, functioning without him... The shirt he wore must have bothered him sometime in the night enough to be pushed halfway over his shoulder and down his arm without making it any further. Yet, with all the outward distractions, his mind was still dead, asleep, comatose and too stubborn to wake; that was, until the oh-so gentle fingers slipped over his cheek, caressing the skin pulled taught over his cheekbone down to his jaw. Lips parting in recognition of a touch, he stirred, arms moving to clutch at the emptiness in front of him. Then broke forth a whimper, fingers sliding blindly over the mattress, trying to touch the sheets, feel the warmth.... His eyes flickered open, the frown that had been found while dreaming melting away like ice cubes on a warm day. The golden orbs were pulsing faintly, staring at the young fellow before him so fondly. "Tyn... is it... evening all ready?" he uttered, previously clutching hands lifting and stroking his love's hair, neck bending to kiss his lips. Then, realising how it must have looked to his just waking counterpart, him completely dressed, the scent of vodka on the air, he looked away, ashamed again. "I didn't... I stayed here... I just..." he silenced, staring up and over at Tyn, lips moving silently to give explanations that didn't come.
Kris had been in and out of the shower twice today. Two different jobs at one time and then a night-life that might has well been a job got you dirty... in more than one way. Feeling sick with himself, he sat naked upon his bed-his back against the headboard, another cigarette in his tight lips, frowning at himself in the mirror on the wall. What a strangely grotesque life he lived, and seemed to be satisfied with, even though it was merely a facade... Steeped in deep, darkened thoughts, the remembrance that he was to see Lysander again tonight came back, and he almost smiled, thinking he would need to clear out these blues somehow if to look presentable... Soon he was up and dressed, this time in just a plain set of jeans and a black sweater-thin and v-necked. Same boots on, he caught his key and shoved it into his pocket, pulling on the blazer he'd been given and stepping out into the hallway, embarking on his walk to the club, his fingers lazily slipping through his unfixed, messy black hair still damp from the shower.

Tyn shook his head, turning Var’s face back to look at his own, kissing him slowly but continuously, unstopping; his amber eye fixed on the golden eyes that looked so shamed, until his lover responded, letting Tyn’s eye flutter closed, both his hand on Var’s cheek and the fingers clutching at his own shirt shivering with pleasure.

And then when the kiss broke, he smiled, gently butting the high, pale cheekbone with his nose. "It’s alright, Eddy. You aren’t my prisoner, you can go out if you want. I’m surprised you managed to drink as much of that stuff as you did. Vodka doesn’t suit you." He pressed a quick kiss to the tip of Var’s nose, almost letting out a giggle, but biting it back quickly, and clearing his throat. "I made you some tea… properly. And… and I have sugar." It was then he smiled, getting to his feet, the shirt brushing his thighs, and he crawled back onto the bed, over Var and then nuzzling into his back, his fingers wrapping around the elder vampire’s waist, entwining together over Var’s stomach. "You missed a really really pretty sunset…" the youth gave another yawn, head pressed into Edvard’s shoulder, before he turned his face into the borrowed shirt and nuzzled it, almost purring.

"Can we stay in tonight? I don’t really… want to go out. I’d like to stay with you…" he yawned again, as was the custom of most non-morning (or in his case, non-evening) people, even though he’d slept from almost a day and a half as it was.

Lysander was ready early, after all, he’d been looking forwards to this opportunity all day. Ready to step out the door when Tyn had waddled along in that ridiculous ‘lazy day’ shirt of his, and then wandered back, leaving Lysander both amused and running late. However, Rendezvous was closer to his apartment, but he did want to pick up a few bits and pieces before he got to the club. More cigarettes, for one, as he’d only had the money to buy a pack of ten after the previous night’s luxury, and now he needed to get something else too. He smiled rather happy as he made his way down the street, following the same route as the three of them had about this time yesterday, but his pace much quicker, surer. He made one, two, three little stop-offs, detours if you will, before he made it to the club, getting himself another vodka and coke before settling into a seat at a small table along one wall of the club, opposite the bar, with a good view of the stage.

As he waited, he finished off yet another cigarette, eyes moving from the other patrons, to the stage, to the white, unopened, cardboard bakery box and the knife, fork and spoon laid out in front of the other chair. No three guesses for what that box contained, anyway. He leant back, swinging on the back legs of his chair as he finished his fag, and then leaning back some more, dropped the filter into the ashtray on the table behind him, before setting all four extra legs (his own, and the other two from the chair) back on the ground.

Would Casper have to start performing straight away, or would they get a few moments, perhaps? Lysander was desperate to find out that the events of before hadn’t been a dream, or at least, embezzled in his memory and enhanced by his own imagination. He hadn’t slept when he returned home as it was, and then spent the day jumpy and excited, apart from the few hours just before sundown, during which he had become sick with nerves, unable to concentrate on anything but what-ifs and maybes. He’d had to shut down and restart his computer several times during that period too, his eyes swimming in and out of focus, his head pounding. But he knew, whatever happened, it was going to be worth it, even if he only got to hear the boy sing again.

"Of course we can stay, Tyn..." he uttered, shutting his eyes ruefully and pressing back into the body behind him. His arms folded around the hands at his stomach, fingertips playing over the foriegn ones, feeling the shapely nails at the ends. With his eyes still shut, nostrils flared and taking in the other's scent, he murmured slowly, "Tell me what it looked like... the sunset, I mean... It's been positively ages since I got the guts to watch one... Was it... inspiring?" Slowly, he turned his head, the curls ruffling up into coal-black mounds, spirals curling at his jaw, neck twisting muscles 'round. With lazy, gazing golden eyes, he searched Tyn's honey-coloured one. He wanted still to apologise for the evening before, but couldn't find the words, so he laid there, staring in an almost dazed, foolish way, like he was watching something no one else could see, fathoming things no one else could understand. Was it really that all this was just some bad twisted dream that had dragged on for days? Something faintly like a nightmare and then more like a wish come true? "And thank you for the tea... with sugar... I'm sure it will be lovely." Edvard mustered up a smile, small fangs showing at the edges of his mouth.

Dejectedly, Kris took another pitiful drag at the cigarette in his mouth and then threw it away, still smouldering orange and only a third of the way burnt. He didn't feel like finishing it. He could see the alleyway to his bar across the street, and walked across the traffic like some sort of bad parody on a 'don't care' suicide trip. All he wanted to do was get across the street, get onto that stage, in give whatever he had left of him away. So it had been a shitty day; so what? What difference did one day make in the scheme of things. Like it was with the youth, he had begun thinking since he slipped out the doorway, unable to draw up enough energy to keep that happy-go-lucky facade running. When Kris thought about things, he usually found the bad, the negative in them... and couldn't help it. Many honking from car horns and raucous cries greeted his jaywalking, but he didn't pay any mind, just pushing through people on the sidewalks and disappearing from the public eye into the alleyway.

When he made it into the bar, he was welcome with a gentle smoke wafting around his body like some mystical cloak, and much to his (ungrateful) surprise, he heard a band on the stage. Sure, he'd seen and heard them before, and decidedly now had a grudge against them. They were good. They sapped his crowd of their love for him, making him feel forgotten... worse than he had been feeling. Pretending he hadn't seen Lysander, he stalked moodily through the crowd to the bar, stopping a moment to talk to Freddy, who in turn, handed him a bottle of his water and then pointed Kris in the direction of his guest. Pasting on a sweet smile, Casper flopped into a chair next to Lysander, leaning onto the table. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

Lysander shook his head, and reached forwards, pulling the lid off the thin cardboard box, revealing the rich cheesecake inside, the pure white of the actual cream-textured cheese perfectly contrasting the dark curls of shaved chocolate that littered the top. "They didn’t have chocolate sauce, although I was hoping to get some. I don’t know why though. Must have bought it on impulse. Would you like it?" he smiled, leaning on his elbows, trying to measure the atmosphere that had so (un-)subtly changed. Casper had changed, certainly. There was something more… dark, broody about him, in his mannerisms and the way he had stomped into the underground room. Perhaps it was this meeting, this arrangement, that had made him feel this way? "if you want, you can tell me what’s wrong while you eat it, love." He said softly, his eyes on the deeper blue than his own.

"It was like… have you ever seen a Turner painting? With all the swirls in orange and in red and in yellow? It was like that… but gold too, and bronze… it was kinda… kinda…" the young vampire stumbled for the words, and then gave Edvard a small poke in the ribs, and mumbled ‘’situp…" before he moved and sat between Var’s legs, pulling Var’s arms about his waist as he lent back against the older male’s chest. When comfortable, pressed right up against him and with his head tipped back, Tyn continued. "It was sorta like treacle. Or honey. And it was all being pulled back… like… tipped back into the jar. Really slowly, like it was trying to hold on to the daytime, the light, I mean, but it couldn’t… it was sticky but not sticky enough." He paused, considering this description, his stomach threatening to give a small rumble. "It was… all getting pulled away. Drained off, like the world was a plate and there was too much on and the plate was tipped up and the honey was running back into the jar. Like that." He nodded, and settled back against Var, in silence for a minute, no more, before he said, "I’m hungry."

Zan didn’t move, watching Casper, rather nervously, shyly, wondering. Artistic types were never ever the ones who would brood quietly, and sulk, and Lysander didn’t think this singer would be any acceptation to that rule, at least, not from what he had witnessed so far. Besides, even if he was, he looked like he needed to vent now, to rant and to let off some steam, It’d be good for him. And it’d give Lysander a chance to get to know him better, which was always nice. "Bad day at work?" he prompted carefully.

After a moment of silence, his fingers stroking over Var’s, which had been pulled over the younger’s stomach, Tyn nodded to himself. "Zan won’t mind if I borrow food from him, will he? Nah, he wouldn’t." Tyn added, answering his own question. "He owes me rent anyway." And with that, he turned onto his side, cheek pressed up against Var’s clothed chest, his fingers working inside the gaps between the buttons, stroking over the pale skin underneath, digits stroking as if to tickle.

Snickering faintly as soft padded fingers rippled over his skin, still achingly taught and paper-thin it would seem. Leaning his face down into Tyn's hair, he smiled, nodding his head to the thoughtful overview of the sunset that his lover had seen. "I'm sorry I missed it... it sounded very... sweet." Edvard grinned, one arm hugging the other a tad tighter, eyelashes batting away sleep that still fought to consume him and drag him back under. "What shall we raid from poor Lysander's fridge?" Var inquired, eyes shut, chin still resting on the crown of blue hair, warm body pressing up against his clothes-clad skin; his own fingers had laced between the other pair that were playing along beneath the shirt buttons, his back pressed hard into the headboard.

Casper had looked down into the box like a little boy looking into the aquarium at the pet shop, not sure what to expect; in all reality, he had forgotten about this promise of his favourite sweet, but he had almost forgotten about the meeting completely, so what could he say? "Ohh, cheesecake." he grinned, poking at the fork nearby. "I.. uhm... Thanks. I forgot all about the cheesecake. I didn't bring anything..." the boy turned his eyes from Lysander's back to the box, frowning at himself and doing his best to hide it. "I'm going to cut this..." he had drug over the knife, playing with it until his grip held it better, hands loosening again in surprise as he heard the words about work spill from Lysander's oh-so soft lips.

Once again, those sea-water eyes rounded on him, lips twisting back, mouth opening with words not coming at once, "I... uh... no. It was fine." he uttered, very unconvincingly too. His attention on the cheesecake, he felt himself burning up. Idiot club-bar-thing owner. How could he do this? How could he schedule the dumb-ass townies to come out and play when he needed it so much? It was inhumane, unkind, cold, unfeeling.... so many things he would like to just cry out about, the injustice of it all.

Yet, now he could hear them singing something they had wrote, and it was marvellous, so melodic; the lead vocals voice wasn't rich like his, but still captivating, still handsome. Without meaning to, the knife he had in his hand stabbed down into the cheesecake rather than slicing it and Casper's eyes went wide at the realisation he was butchering a probably rather good, somewhat expensive dessert. "Oh.. I... oops... Maybe.. you would cut it, please?" the young man asked, pushing the box towards Lysander, eyes still downcast. "So," he started, gathering up a more cheery voice and a smile. "Tell me how your day went...?" he leaned forwards onto the table, chin in his hands, eyes pasting themselves onto the other man, doing his best to tone the band and the calls of the crowd out. So what if that was just making him jealous? He was sitting here with a fine looking man that had brought him cheesecake; surely, life couldn't be all that bad?

Lysander, in all honesty, didn’t care about making a mess of the dessert. Who cared, when it was going to be eaten anyway? Although, saying that, the way Casper had attacked it so viciously did speak volumes, and even if the tones of Casper’s words had sounded true, then the mannerisms he had showed when in possession of the knife spoke differently. Casper was stressed, and angry, by the looks of it. However, Zan did as he was told, cutting the cake into thin slices, thin enough to be elegantly eaten with a fork, anyway.

"I didn’t get very much work done… but it was alright, I suppose. Not as good as last night, but what can you do?" he pushed the box back over the table, eyes flickering up to his guest, then to the band, and then back to cheesecake. "It’s all for you, by the way. I’m not very hungry today. I’ve never really such a big fan of cheesy cakes." He smiled, eyes meeting Casper’s again, and watching him carefully. What had put the man into such a bad mood, but that he couldn’t vent about? Zan was worried, how could he not be? He had seen, walked through the area the other man called home, and seen with his own eyes. Had Casper been hurt, molested and bothered in some way? If so… why had he not gone to the police? Or had he? Simply put, Lysander didn’t know, and as he had been told nothing, his mind could only vegetate and dwell on what might or might not be true.

"Would you like to go for a walk or something? Get out of here for a little while?" he asked softly, watching the other man eat. "You don’t seem very happy, love."

Tyn smirked, beginning to unbutton Var’s shirt, and nuzzling into bare skin when the fabric had been cleared away, pulled to the sides. "Something sweet…" he breathed, nose pressed to his lover’s stomach, before his tongue darted out, licking and kissing at the flesh around Edvard’s navel. "….and sticky and yummy." He gave another hungry lick, tongue skirting the waistband of Var’s jeans, fingers of his free hand resting on the older male’s thigh. "And that I can lick off you." The large, yellow eye glanced up then, fixed on Edvard’s face as the tongue travelled back up the triangle of exposed flesh, and then removed itself, and instead of licks, soft kisses were laced back up to Var’s lips. "I’m sorry. I’ll…" he didn’t know what he was going to be, but if Var had needed to get semi-drunk and felt the need to wear clothes just to share Tyn’s bed… and after yesterday… the boy swallowed, his expression unsure, and somewhat embarrassed. "You must think I’m an awful slut…"

"Thanks." he smiled, dipping his fork into the cake and digging out a cream-coloured lump all covered in small spirals of delicate chocolate. "There's just... something about cheesecake that I can't help but like... I guess it's how smooth it is on your tongue..." Casper wasn't really paying attention to anything he was saying, just repeatedly lifting the fork, swishing of his tongue dissolving the dessert inside punctuated with little smile and 'mmm's. The young man couldn't help but feel somewhat better, who couldn't with their comfort food? He had moved his chair around, back to the stage, long forgotten by the crowd tonight. Half way through his third piece of cake, he looked up, wiping his lips unceremoniously on the back of his hand, eyes travelling to Lysander's with a sparkly, appreciative stare. Wasn't it nice he had not been repeatedly questioned about his day, only offered instead to leave this heated, booming place sapping not only his pride, but his energy, his control. "Oh, I would love to." he smiled, face still propped up his hand, eyes shamelessly staring at the other man as he finished his cake. "I... uhm. Don't have a very good refrigerator... would you like to take this home? Or.. I could give it to Freddy. Him and his wife like cheesecake too." After all, it wouldn't be too bad, the youth had scraped the food he was eating away from the rest as not to 'contaminate' it. Lips unable to change from their now constant smile, he got to his feet, chugging the water and folding his hands carefully as he shut the box. "That was... lovely, thank you."

Edvard's eyes had fluttered open, and then shut again, lips pressing into a thin, pink line on his face, doing his best not to make a sound; for, neither gasp of pleasure or whimper of pain would be openly welcomed. He looked down at Tyn, feeling his insides seem to wriggle around, unable to settle into a comfortable spot, or maybe, a safe spot. One hand lifted, finely done nails clenching and unclenching on Tyn's shoulder before travelling up the youth's neck. As the fingertips traced around the outline of the boy's neck and jaw, Var tried to open his eyes and stare down into that perfectly beautiful, nearly perfect face. "No," he mumbled, shaking his head once and catching the other's stare. "I would never think that..." Even though Edvard /had/ thought it on the first night they met, it didn't mean a thing now. Nothing at all. The immortal merely thought it normal, now, for Tyn to... feel... Yet, it didn't feel right; this, of course, wasn't the blue-haired youth's fault, though, it was Eddy's... again. The feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach stirred up with the other trembling organs, making him feel slightly queasy and not sure how to react.

Leaning forwards on the same quick, overpowering impulse his guest had acted the evening before, Casper leaned forwards, one hand bracing himself on the back of Lysander's chair, the other stroking over the man's shoulder as thier lips met again. It was just a quick kiss, the black-haired boy seeming just to notice what he'd done when he'd backed off, his head turning to the side, body still leaned forwards over Lysander's. "Did I tell you how much I appreciated your company?" he murmured, gathering his thoughts and kissing the other's jaw once before shoving off the chair and pulling himself to his full height, hands laying on his opposing hips, playing with the fabric of his black sweater. Waiting just a moment like this, he turned, picking up the box with all the silverware inside and holding it just for something to occupy his wandering fingertips.

"But you know I am…" Tyn breathed, and sat up, eye fixed submissively on his knees, his fingers tugging the tails of the shirt lower down his thighs, as if modesty was now suddenly important. He looked almost Japanese, mocking the beautiful, elegant Geisha’s of that country as the little whore sat back on his heels, head bent and unspeaking. He sat like that for some moments, before moving off the bed and going back into the living room, leaving nothing apart from the rapidly drying trails of saliva on Edvard’s skin and the crumpled sheets to show he’d ever been there.

Once there, once out of sight, he allowed himself to make a small, strangling noise, a semi-sob, as he stumbled towards the kitchen, almost slamming shut the door. He lent back on it, panting, his eye flickering about wildly. There was something wrong, something ever so wrong. He didn’t know exactly what, but he knew that ever since Dante, nothing had gone right. The night before, they had… almost… but they hadn’t, and then Tyn had gone along and been… been oh-so-big and got himself, and Edvard, into that mess, that horrible, horrible tragedy, and then everything had fallen down around him. Nothing was the same. He wasn’t beautiful anymore, and although Edvard was trying, and trying so hard, Tyn could see what the problem was now.

He wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t good looking, he was maimed and broken and clearly Edvard… didn’t want to hurt him. Probably because Edvard was too nice, too kind, and maybe blamed himself. Perhaps… perhaps now that Tyn knew why Edvard didn’t want to be his lover anymore then it would be easier and he wouldn’t keep forcing it. Edvard wasn’t interested, so… so be it.

He choked back another sob, cursing his patheticness. No, no more of that. He was not… not like that. He was stronger then that. Before Edvard had come along, he had never cried. He hadn’t even cried the night his mother turned on him. He was better then that. He shut himself up, dragging his sleeve over his eye, and where the other eye had once resided, and then got to his feet, pulling open the fridge door and scowling. Nothing of any interest. He shut it, with more force then he intended, and pulled open the freezer, pulling out one of the boxes of soft-scoop. Ice-cream, that’s what he needed. Some people had chocolate, some people turned to cheese-cake, and he had ice-cream, soft-scoop strawberry flavour. He pulled a spoon from the draw, and heading back into the living room, flicking on the TV and setting the plastic container on the seat next to him, one arm hugging it as the other stabbed at the frozen mixture with his spoon.

Lysander smiled, cheek aflame where the painted lips had touched it, and he stood, oddly elegant in his embarrassment, picking up the loaned jacket and slipping it over Casper’s shoulders, making the young man look much more sophisticated then he had done the previous night. He looked, in short, very very good. Letting his arm slide about Casper’s slim waist, he pulled the boy through the crowd, and over to the elderly barman. "Freddy… do you think you could do us a favour?" he took the box out of Casper’s grasp. "Keep this in a fridge for us, and if we aren’t back in… 3, maybe 4 hours, you can keep it, alright? It’s Weiss’ Specialist Cheesecake. I think Casper only managed to get half way through it, maybe a third." He gave a small smile and a word of thanks, before his arm went around Casper’s hips again, and he led him out into the cool, dark night.

It wasn’t the best of nights; it was cold, and the hint on the wind suggested rain in the morning. But the sky was clear, and the stars were bright. What was it he had once been told? Ah, yes… ‘every life is a spark in the darkness; it flares, catches the eye, then is gone forever, a retinal after-image that fades and is obscured forever by newer, brighter lights’ The last part was true, at least. Unlike stars, people didn’t seem to last long... The human race was not going to last, it was too destructive, too big, too much. No other single species had colonised and used the earth like they had, and already they were paying the price for it. Yes, they would all be gone soon enough. Might as well enjoy themselves while they could, Lysander thought.

"So, love, where would you like to go tonight? Do you feel like going to see a film, or going for a walk, or what? Totally up to you, my treat." He smiled, letting go of Casper briefly to rub his hands together, and then sliding his hand back, the palm coming to rest on the boy’s back pocket, before Lysander moved it, rather embarrassedly.

Regretful. Hummiliated. Two-faced.

What sort of animalistic, inhuman creature had he been turned into? How could just two incidents of pain change everything in his death for the worst? It had been ages upon ages since Edvard had ever, ever felt this way about anyone; even if this feeling was now marred with shamed guilt and pangs of anguish squirming inside. His mind ached, head throbbing painfully as he shut his eyes, all these thoughts too much for him, too much... all too hard to comprehend. He felt like a child again, an abused, battered child who had nothing to hold on to, nothing to feel attached to. Dante had ruined him, torn every shred of his sanity and pasted it back together so shabbily, stuck parts of skin together with skin would have been more effective. Tasting bile gather in his mouth, he leaned his head back the wall over the top of the head-board, arms folding over his shivering body. Tyn must think him a monster-not that he would deny it, he was, he had been reduced to nothing more than a cowering, heart-wrenching monster that was not only ruining his own eternity, but the other's as well. And... and Tyn mustn't understand how beautiful he was, how hard it was for the elder immortal to not be able to hold him, comfort him.... feeling that, if he did do those things he would only disgust the young man more, his own broken, used body just useless nothingness; maybe that's what he was, just an ink blot invading onto a silken white, now somewhat frayed cloth. The fraying and staining had been his own fault, but maybe he could stop this destructive process before it go any farther and he tattered the perfection even more.

Casper leaned into the arm wrapping his body as they walked into the chilled, bitter air, his eyes blinking shut as they instantly began to water. Why did it need to be oh-so cool, oh-so depressing, and oh-so likely to bring rain? Isn't that the last thing an unhappy being wanted? Well, of course, that was unless you enjoyed the rain like this particular young man. Trying not to be too forward, as he was sure he was coming across this evening, he disregarded the movement of the hand on his pocket, leaning heavily against the snug, tall body next to him. "You're warm..." he murmured, more to himself than Lysander, his eyes shut, the other leading him to wherever he wished without consent from his tag-along. Chewing his glossed lower lip, he sighed, hearing the words and feeling them dart lazily over his mind, just squelching away into nothing. "Oh, I'll go anywhere you take me..." Casper continued in the quiet voice, obviously not catching that it could be interpreted as many things, especially now that they were so close, bodies pressed together. "Anything you want to do..."

If the young man could have read Lysander's mind, he would have agreed; oh how destructive the human race was. These creatures were the only ones who used their world and stretched its limits-to the breaking point- and never putting anything back, never returning what they had used.... But to think over it, wonder if this world would be better without humans was useless, somehow, these cockroach-like beings would adapt and adapt until they weren't able to anymore-merely perishing under the strain. Then they would all be dead, and there would be nothing to worry with... Kris wasn't sure he wouldn't mind perishing in that strain, feeling death press onto his eyelids. In this thought of his mortality, he little out a little 'oh' of surprise, fingers twisting in on themselves. How human he was.... So disappointing.

It seemed like hours before the vampire dared move, his body still aching, mind still spinning like he had ridden one of those carnival rollercoaster-like rides. Licking his lips nervously, he shifted from the bed getting up one part of his body at a time until he had reluctantly pulled himself off the bed, moving to the bedroom doorway, opening it, and then staring out into the livingroom, eyes hooded and caught on Tyn. "Do you hate me, my dearest one? I feel as though.... I have... disappointed you... Lord knows I have.. but do... was it enough for you to hate me?" the last part of the sentence came in a rush, and made his voice almost break.

"I’m happy just to walk around for a little while…" Lysander muttered in reply, enjoying the sensation of the smaller man pressed so tightly, almost wantonly, up against him. He felt like the handsome hero in some sort of action-thriller film, surrounded by beautiful, barely clad women… although really, if he was, then the barely-clad women would have got bored and gone home by now, and he would quiet happily been fawning over the sexy sexy evil villain and willingly selling him international secrets. Smiling at this thought, he pulled Casper just that little bit closer, fingers stroking the fabric covering the boy’s hip.

"I’d happy take you up on that offer, lovely…" he breathed, tilting his head and guiding their footsteps towards the large, empty expanse of grass and trees that separated the crowded apartment blocks and offices. Not an over-large park, but in this area, it was like heaven. Heaven from the traffic and the noise and all the business outside those tall, iron gates. "How long since you climbed a tree, Casper?" he asked, mischievously.

Tyn glanced up, spoonful of ice-cream melting on his tongue, fingers still clamped to the handle as he looked at Var, confusion and sadness passing over his face, before he pulled the metal from between his lips, and gestured to the seat next to him. "Come and sit down." He waited till Var had done what he’d said, fingering the soft rubbery plastic of the remote’s buttons, fingers tracing each one before falling heavily on the red power button, "I don’t hate you. You haven’t disappointed me. I could never, ever, ever, do anything less then love you, Eddy. But…" he looked down at the pink block in front of him, tiny specks of red, real strawberry dotting the mixture. "But it doesn’t seem to be working right now, does it? I realise… I shouldn’t keep pushing you. I shouldn’t, I won’t do again. You’ve… suffered enough and I shouldn’t be adding to that. It’s unfair on you. You shouldn’t have to… deal with me. I’m a brat, and a bastard and a slut. Don’t dare argue." He dug another smaller portion of the ice-cream out, and quickly ate it, his eye still not meeting Var, for fear he would break down and give in, and not say what he thought he needed to say.

Lysander pulled Casper up to a tree, quiet a distance from the path in the centre of the park, pulling off his coat and dumping in at the base of the old, but impressively tall, willow tree. Putting one booted foot on a low branch, Zan pulled himself up, and then climbing higher, until he sat himself down on the highest branch that would take his weight, and perhaps a little extra, his eyes shining as he looked down at Casper. "Come on up." He called down, locking his ankles together and then reaching down to help Casper up. "Drop your jacket down there. It’s harder work then it looks getting up here."

Tyn sighed, pressing himself against Var’s side. "Maybe… we shouldn’t have dived right in, yeah? I mean… I do really really like you but…" he stopped, searching for the words. "You’re a really top-class guy, you know? You… I’m not. You know I’m not. I’m scum. You aren’t… I don’t know if…" he sighed, loosing his train of thought completely. "I want to stay with you, but I don’t want to drag you down."

"You don't... you haven't... dragged me down." Edvard repeated the words, the bad taste of them thick and pasty over his tongue and the roof of his mouth. "You.. I.. love you. You were just....." he didn't know what Tyn was just, but he hated hearing the other calling himself those negative, awful things, feeling that he had caused this. "I'm not... what you think I am. I'm not classy, I'm just another walking, leeching corpse too steeped in his own past to get on with his future...." Yet, those touches were still burning over his skin, the ones Dante had forced upon him and the ones his lover had so willingly bestowed. Scooting closer, he folded like a child, head resting on Tyn's shoulder, kissing his cheek carefully. "Won't you... you forgive me, when I can't hold you? And when I can't... explain what's wrong?" Edvard asked, his voice teetering like it was fit to snap, taught as a fishing line.

Blinking away his hazy daze, the boy looked over, lips twisting into a smile. "What? A tree?" He couldn't recall the last time he climbed a tree, surely not since way back when he was a child. Before he could ponder it long, he was dragged along, being pulled towards the little park he had known existed but he never had visited. "What are we... oh goodness, we aren't, are we?" the young man giggled, his questions ceasing as he stopped, looking up and down the tree trunk and watching the other man begin climbing it, his jacket discarded as he lifted his legs, hands scrabbling for a grasp and getting one as he heaved forwards, pulling up as he did. Watching with starry, amused eyes, Casper did as he was told, dropping the jacket and taking the same route as the other had done, fingernails scraping slick bark as he snatched for Lysander's hands, looking like he could burst with laughing at any time. "Oh my, I... haven't been up in a tree like this in... forever..." the singer grinned and took a seat next to his tree-hopping guide, lips curling softly. "Soooo, do you climb park trees often, sweetheart?" Casper lifted his hand, reaching out and upsetting the green cloak the tree shed all around them, like some sort of barrier, sealing them off from the world. In this, or rather, lack of, lighting, they couldn't be seen, but could see all that happened below. Appreciating how hidden he was, how…insignificant it felt to be stuck in the tree like this... "This is nice. Very... quiet and... peaceful." He smirked, leaning his head back and looking upwards, unable to see the sky for the hazy green above.

"It is, isn’t it?" Lysander breathed, and gently moved forwards, along the branch, and wrapped his arms around Casper. "I haven’t done this since I was 12. And certainly never at night." He paused, wondering exactly how much to tell this semi-stranger, but the one who he felt closest to in all the people in the world right at that moment. "I haven’t climbed any tree since I was 12, and that last tree… was this one." He breathed, hand on Casper’s shoulder and his voice soft, a whisper imitating the night-breeze through the leaves around them, into the other’s ear. "This is a very, very special tree." He smiled, pressing his lips against the boy’s cheek, and then again, on the corner of his lips, and then fully on the mouth, hands sliding around the slim, exquisite frame. Breaking off, Zan allowed himself a small smirk, and licked his lips. "You taste like cheesecake." He stated, quite simply, and bent his head for a second helping.

Tyn shook his head. "No, I’m not going to forgive you, Eddy." He paused, helping himself to more ice cream and giving the other male a few seconds for these words to sink in. "You don’t need forgiveness. You need to… to get over it. I need to get over it. We can’t go on like this, it’s already beginning to break us apart…" he dumped the carton of ice cream down on the coffee table, spoon stuck up right in the centre. And then he turned around on the sofa, blue hair pulled down over the right side of his face.

"This is the place I kissed my first boyfriend… and then he pushed me out of the tree" Lysander said, smiling as his fingers stroked over both of the soft, shapely cheeks. "I was wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have told you that..." he shrugged, eyes travelling over his… his… companion’s face, and the down, fingers moving to stroke over the delicate, exposed collarbones, before he bent to head to kiss there, too. Once, gently, before his tongue travelled over the same hollow, and then pulled away. "I’d like to have a serious relationship with you, Casper. Not just hump them, dump them…"

Wrapping his arms around Var’s shoulders, Tyn put their foreheads together, noses touching. "I am not that man. You know I’m not. I’m not going to hurt you, and he is not coming back. You are free of him, Eddy. Now realise that." He gently, quickly, pressed their lips together, and then backed off a little. "We are going to get over this, Edvard. I am not going to share my bed with you, and him, too."

Of course, the ‘him’ Tyn referred to was Dante, they both knew that. Saying his name, through, seemed impossible, even for Tyn, who was acting like he was in charge, like he had the plans. "I want to be your lover, Edvard. And I’m not sharing you with paranoia, or with guilt, or with anything else stupidly… stupid that creeps into your head. Now, would you like some ice cream?"

Looking like a child reprimanded in front of a classroom full of peers by his elderly teacher, Edvard cringed, pulling back from Tyn. He knew all that had been said was true, and it was all good advice... but he didn't like the way it was given; perhaps because of the way it made him feel small, foolish. All those fears he held onto weren't real, all those pains he felt were illusions. He couldn't handle that he had slipped from his state of reality, that state of control he held so dear-or rather, had. Turning his eyes away from Tyn when the hands slipped from his shoulders and the face withdrew from his vision, Var stared at the coffee table and past it, towards the wall. "No... thanks." he uttered, sitting and letting his hands fall pathetically into his lap. So he was pathetic. Childish, even... and he couldn't help this spinning wheel of 'poor, pitiful me'. The raven-haired man hated it, but it was like... Like he couldn't give it up. So, chewing his lip and mustering a smile so he could mull those words over in his mind, he leaned his back heavily into the couch, eyes finally coming back to study Tyn.

"He pushed you out of the tree?" Casper giggled, then bit his lips, head leaning back slightly as kisses trailed onto the starting point of his chest, the hollows of his collarbones. With the recognition of such words, the youth turned his eyes upon Lysander's, his smile faltering. He had expected something like this, something that the other would want to last; and it was a very generous offer that the youth didn't want to refuse. "Call me Kris." he murmured slowly, hands resting on the other man's forearms, fingers lacing against the sleeves of his shirt, painted nails scratching the fabric with a nearly thoughtful gaze at his 'companion's' throat. Lifting one hand, he tugged at the short black hair, frizzed now from the cool air and the lack of primping before hand. "And... I would... like that also.... But... I don't think it's all that great of an idea." he bit his lip harder than he meant, feeling blood seep onto his tongue. These words came with ample hesitation, flittering movements of a shifting, uncomfortable body, and small little whine at the end of the sentence. "I don't really think..." he began to say, losing his nerve as he pressed his pretty face against the man's shoulder, snuffling quietly.

Edvard gave up thinking, his lips still a taught line as he pulled away the clicker from the other, prodding the TV into life and muting it as he flipped aimlessly through the channels, not seeing or paying any attention to any of them. "You are... much brighter, wiser than I am too often." the vampire uttered to his lover, turning a curious set of golden orbs onto him.

Trying to remedy the sudden silence, the Kris stole a kiss, eyes looking innocent, scolded as he waited for the other to explode with questions.

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