Atlas had been in Bash’s kitchen all morning refusing to let the other enter encase his surprise was ruined before all the pieces were put together. He was fairly sure Dog was trying to spy on him though, the duck waddling in only to be shooed out by the younger vampire. That or it wanted a treat. Atlas made sure to pack a little something extra in the basket he’d found for todays activities. Once he’d warmed a thermos of hot chocolate and blood he deemed everything ready and called upon the owner of the house to meet him downstairs.
“We’re going to have a picnic,” he declared as he held up the basket with a blanket on top. He lowered it to the ground so he could pick Dog up, going in search of Bash’s bag he often carried the bird in. “It’s about time we got ourselves some fresh air and leave work behind. I thought we could go for a nice drive out out the city and find somewhere to eat lunch. Perhaps a lake Dog could go for a swim in.”
location: Bash home
status: closed | @bashianofonte
timeline: towards the end of the week, late at night when he should be working at kaleidoscope
“I hate humans.” The door was barely open before Atlas makes the declaration, his voice strained, his eyes tired and overall he looked drained from his usual energy. It had been such a long week, at least for the younger vampire. Which for Atlas, was an unusual sensation given how time seemed to just blur together; one day it’s the 80s the next it’s the 20s again. Perhaps it was a little more complex than that but Atlas didn’t have the patience right now to unpack that conundrum. “Can I come in?” There was no place he’d rather be right now than hiding from the world with Bash, his oldest friend and someone he held dear to his heart. "Please.”
"And so he just left!" Atlas recalls the events of the weekend with a huff. "The least Sahid could have done was give me more notice. It's like he doesn't even know me. I could have thrown a party, or a dinner, or given him a goodbye gift..." he grumbles as he pushes open the back door of his club. It was late on Valentine's Day and Atlas was a little moody after having to part with one of his friends earlier that day. Friend, lover, it was all a little blurry. Of course Atlas understood why the human left but that didn't mean he had to like it, or pretend to now they were out of earshot.
Kaleidoscope should be full of life right now, every other year the tables were booked out weeks in advance. The chefs in the kitchen constructed special menus and the dancers had a special act for one night only. But this year was different. The club had been empty all week, Atlas giving his staff time to deal with the events he himself pretended didn't affected him. They did. He'd unleashed a monster, one he didn't know how to wrangle back in, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about. Denial was his best friend right now.
Well, other than his actual best friend who followed him into the building. "Humans." He sighs, giving up on the topic as if that summarized Sahid leaving with barely time to say goodbye. At least they had the night before, but it was not nearly enough. Goodbyes were never going to be easy for Atlas, not any more.
Walking through the blacked out club he found the stairs to backstage with ease. He'd created this place after all, he did not need light to navigate it. "Come on old man," he says over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs the door reveals, flicking on a late as he passes the switch. As he clears the last step he looks around. It's not as clean as he'd like but he couldn't expect much given how many bodies used the space. There were racks of clothing, sequined and feathered. Hats and wigs on mannequin heads above large mirrors with light bulbs that glowed bright when lit. The vanities had piles of makeup and brushes, all varied depending on the dancers skin tone. Some of the mirrors had photos of families and friends, keepsakes of the dancers who claimed the space. As he looked around Atlas could hear the ghosts of their voices, laughter and excitement as the show began. It would be back to normal soon. Hopefully. But for now it was just two vampires, still navigating the weird space between them. "Here this one should do," Atlas pats a seat as he passes it, grabbing the next one over to pull over for himself.
Atlas drinking habits were not as conventional as many of the vampires who had adapted to Astoria. Though his ways were not illegal they were not always praised, but honestly Atlas would argue there was nothing better than the main source. For Atlas having willing feeders was a luxury he would not give up eagerly; they signed up for it and he always made sure they were taken care of throughout the experience. His humans were compelled to relax despite the pain, and they were given treats for after whilst they relaxed. Yes, sometimes it did turn into something more sexual but never did he go against a humans desires. He had them agree to things in advance, and when he compelled them part was that they had to speak up as soon as they felt their mind change.
Delilah was one of his regular feeders who would come by his apartment on their assigned times. She was resting on his lounge as he sank his teeth into her neck, rich warm blood ran down his throat calming the hunger inside of him. Though her body tensed from the intrusion she was quick to relax, this was not her first time with Atlas nor would it be her last. When he fed Atlas often wanted to lose himself in the moment, to drink until her body went limp in his arms, but the control her had built up over the last hundred years had taught him to always be aware of the limits. It was never as fun to feed so restricted but he couldn’t complain when the system already favored his needs.
Atlas was focused on the pulse of the women's beat he missed the signs of who was entering his room. All he knew was suddenly something, someone, was there. Without thought he pulled his fangs from the womens neck and exposed them to the threat of his meal, prepared to fight, hissing only to glance away bashfully at the sight of his best friend. Blood trickled down his chin, his eyes wide embarrassment over his actions. “I wasn’t expecting you, my love,” he says as he turns to the human in the room, stroking her hair “all is okay,” he comforted her.
“Is he joining in?” The women with dazed eyes asks, causing Atlas to glance at Bash. It had been some time since they shared a feed. She was watching the older vampire, unaware of the blood on her neck.
“Not today.” He knew Bash prefered to stay away from the temptations fresh feeds offered. “Bash darling I’ll be a moment more,” he told him as he dipped his lips to kiss at the womans neck, his tongue flicking over her would to lap at the blood there. He then picked up a package from the coffee table and started to clean and dress her bite mark, finishing early now that he had company.
"At this rate I think it’d be easier to just sell the club and start again,” Atlas jokes as he looks around the messy room. The party had long died off, his guests retreating to their homes to sleep away their hangovers and put away their dancing shoes for a little while. The night had gone off perfectly, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves though Atlas was sure drama would come to his ears sooner or later. The sun was sneaking across the horizon, the city quiet despite the strays still on their ways home. Atlas sat at an abandoned table with Bash, the last to remain inside Kaleidoscope. It was officially Atlas’ birthday, and there wasn’t a soul Atlas would rather be with.
“Thank you for staying,” he says though he knows form history there is never a time he had to do such a thing. A few weeks ago he was worried he’d never see Bash again, that his feelings would scare the other away and what they had would forever be lost. An awful feeling that had been, one that still sank into his stomach from time to time, but not now. Not when the birds were starting to wake and despite a club full of guests Bash hadn’t gone home with any of them, he stayed with Atlas, as he always did. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get over Bash, what a wonderfully painful problem to have.
“So tell me... did you enjoy yourself?” As much as the party was for him, to be the centre of attention to so many, it was about everyone else having fun and connecting. Sometimes you just needed to have an excuse to party, to forget the troubles of the world and drink and laugh as if everything was okay. He hoped everyone had fun.
Atlas swore Isabel had a talent for manifesting things into the world; she had only named the devil days ago and now he appeared before Atlas like a curse. Neal was in Astoria, and that could only mean trouble. Knowing Bash was at the gallery tonight he found himself seeking the male out in the busy gallery, wanting to corner the male and keep him safe before destruction could come his way. Atlas had seen just what Neal could do the to the other, he’d been the one to pick Bash up and put him together each time. Now he could protect the male, keep him from the hurt, stop things from going the way in which history seemed to often repeat.
It didn’t take him long to find Bash, the male seemed like a magnet to Atlas, they could find each other no matter how many people were around them. As the people around Bash moved Atlas caught sight of Bash’s outfit, which seemingly stopped his brain from functioning for a moment, stopping him in his tracks. Atlas loved a man in a suit, but he was particularly fond of the styles often worn in the early decades of the 1900s. Bash surely had to know what he did to the people around him, knew that dressing this way would fill Atlas dreams with fantasies of what once had been and what he longed for so much more now.
But that wasn’t why he was here. “Well,” he clears his throat as he forces himself to approach his friend with a smile, “you clean up nice.” Unable to stop himself he reached for the stray of hair on Bash’s forehead, brushing it back as he moves into the others personal space, as if the only way to exist beside him was to share it. “Perhaps you will accompany me for a little while? I’m sure our dates wont mind too much.” Isabel had long left him to his own devices.
Under the Christmas tree was a beautifully wrapped box with a tag that read Bashiano in familiar handwriting. The wrapping paper was full of little silvery snowflakes. Unwrapped it revealed a velvet dark blue box big enough to sit in ones palm, the top of it was embossed in gold to read '1672'. Opening the box revealed a coin, but not just any coin. The Italian Bilion was from 1672, the year Bash was born. Atlas had hunted everywhere to find one, they were awfully rare now and very few were in public circulation. It certainly shows its age with nicks and marks from the years that had passed. Atlas chose not to clean it up, thinking it looked even more beautiful with the history attached.
Along with the coin a letter came. It had been written weeks ago only to last minute be changed again, Atas feeling like not enough could be said right now, but maybe it can be written. Letters had always been their thing. It's clear as one reads the letter the pages have been written at different times, the ink is different, the tone changes.
A section from the first pages, written before they had spoken:
This coin reminds me of you. It is not pure as the day it was made, it's seen things, been through things, but that only makes it more beautiful, more full of history, more valuable. I have seen the way you struggle with time, passing as the world changes, and I know sometimes you feel as if you are forgotten, or should be. But you don't need to be shiny, or perfect for everyone, you can have a little bent here, a bunch of rust there, and still be worth searching for, keeping safe, holding purposely.
Just like this coin you are rare, in the stories you share, the history you keep, the person you are. There are people who cherish every part of you, I wish you could see yourself as valuable as we do.
As I do.
You will also find socks, already in your drawers so you could not throw them away. I told you I would get you socks for being so cheeky! Now you have a full drawer of new socks, I couldn’t help myself.
Later pages speak less of the coin, and more about them:
You wished you could read the letter I sent, that fate stole from us both. I think about it constantly now, how you would never hear those words I feel so purely. It's never been about needing something in return, no expectations or conditions apply. I think when I wrote those words, so many words, it was more about letting you know that you were love so honestly, that I only stopped writing because the ink in my bed ran out.. Yes, I did long to have you meet me, to be with me, but I could understand if you called and said no. It wouldn't have stopped the love I felt. It didn't. It never has.
Loving you has never been a curse. I have found anchoring in you, home in you, joy in you. If all my feelings could simply ease the way you go through this world, to know that you will never be truly alone, never have to face a battle unsupported, that every achievement is celebrated and praised. You deserve to know that this world has changed because you existed in it. I have changed.
I am no love sick child that looks at you with rose tinted glasses. I know faults are the humanity still in us, I know you are... dark and dangerous, that there are mistakes we have all made. I have seen you crumble, I have seen you kill, I have seen so much of you that you hide from so many. Somehow it all makes you more... beautiful. Even in pain you can find a little bit of hope and cling to it, and slowly pull yourself back together. If all I do for you in life is help you feel stronger to keep pushing forward then I will have found my purpose in this eternal life.
I remember a part of my letter... not word for word but close enough. Perhaps now you'll understand just how much you mean to people in this world. I think it went a little like this...
When I think of you I think of train rides. I used to make excuses to take them, that I had to travel somewhere I had never heard of just so you would meet me. We'd be locked in those little cabins for days, the windows covered and our door locked. We'd play cards and talk of our lives, and for a little while I could pretend you were mine. I didn't know then why I wanted you to be mine. What that even meant. All I knew was an expensive train ticket was the best thing I bought all year, even if I never let a room so small it felt more like a coffin. It didn't matter, the size, because it was full of your laughter, how I adore the sound. It would leave your lips so easily that I swore they were made for it. They are, though I realize now how they are made to be kissed, so softly that you draw a sigh as if you're finding the stillness after a storm for the very first time. I remember laying beside you in a all too small bed, reading the book on your chest as the hours passed with the sound of the wheels on the train track. I had never realized how it was my favorite place to rest until I found it under my ear again, where I swear a heart beat greeted me, as my own raced in my ear. I know they don't move no more, but mine has never felt so alive until now. With your touch on my skin... with your kiss on my lips... You have reawoken me.
I don't know if knowing helps. All I know is I have loved you for more time than I have not.
