aaahh the final chapter!! hope y'all enjoy, and as always feel free to lmk your thoughts!!
warnings: none
word count: ~1.5k
read on ao3!
or under the cut :)
After a long discussion, Andrew and Savannah had agreed on an arrangement. They met once every two weeks, at her discretion, and always late into the night. He craved more, but he wasn't going to risk what they had for his own desires.
Even so, there was a noticeable change in Andrew's disposition. By no means was any of this normal, but he was more consistently acting like the version of himself he had been prior to Savannah's death. The difficult part was not being able to tell anyone about it — if he was asked why, he simply shrugged it off or claimed not to know. He thought the world deserved to know that she had returned, but he understood why he couldn't. At best, nobody would believe him. At worst… he didn't even know, didn't want to spend time theorizing about it.
As they met, she slowly began to reveal more to him about what had been going on since she had started her new life, occasionally revealing tidbits about the way vampirism worked. He hung on every word she spoke, drinking up every crumb of information she shared. And he talked too, updating her about friends and family, about any music he had been working on. She adored hearing about what was new, though there was an ever-present pang of jealousy at being unable to experience it with him firsthand like she once had.
They were sitting in a darkened field on top of a picnic blanket Andrew had insisted on bringing, the night sky lit up by the stars. He was rambling about seemingly anything and everything that came to mind about what he had been up to lately. She had been nodding along quietly, allowing him to prattle on to his heart's content. Eventually, though, he noticed that she seemed distracted.
"Love?" his gentle tone cut through her thoughts. He touched her shoulder softly to catch her attention. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah… I'm fine, sorry…" she dismissed his concerns without a second thought.
"Darling, I know when you're lying. What's wrong?"
"Just… thinking."
"About?"
She didn't respond, her silence worrying him.
"Sav." He reached for her hand, stopping her anxious picking.
"It's nothing."
"Don't do this," he pleaded. "Talk to me."
"I don't know how."
"Just try, please."
If there was one thing Savannah knew well, it was her husband's stubbornness. At times she admired it, but right now it was incredibly frustrating.
"It's just…" she gestured ambiguously with her hand. "Hearing about all this — and don't get me wrong, I want to know everything — makes me realize… makes me painfully aware of time." It was a vague explanation, but it was a start. She looked expectantly at Andrew, watching as he tried to formulate a response.
"I know it's been a long time, angel. I can't imagine…" he trailed off.
"It's not just that," she confessed. "I mean, there were things I knew, from a distance. It's not like I didn't keep an eye on you from time to time."
"And making me think I was losing my mind in the process," he interjected, half-jokingly.
"You weren't supposed to see me," she muttered shyly. "Though clearly I wanted you to, eventually." There was no need for her to elaborate, the mostly intangible trail of evidence sitting unspoken between them.
Remembering that they were getting off topic, Andrew prompted her to finish her original point.
She took a moment to gather her innermost thoughts. "Some of the stereotypes about vampires are true," she settled on in an attempt to test the waters. "Like, for example," she mumbled, pulling sullenly at nearby blades of grass, "immortality."
"Okay…"
"So I've been thinking a lot about how eventually you're going to get old," and die, she added mentally, "and I'm just not."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Andrew became lost in thought as he processed the information. He supposed he knew as much, on some level, but he didn't understand quite how deep this ran for her. "So, what exactly are you trying to get at?" he asked, nervously chewing his bottom lip.
"I don't know that there is a point," she sighed. "Just morbidly reminiscing, I suppose." She hesitated, adding, "I'm kind of wondering if our little arrangement is fair to either of us."
"My offer still stands," he reminded her gently, holding out the slightest semblance of hope.
"Andy," she almost whined, "even if… even if we can somehow solve the problem of everyone knowing I'm dead, they'll notice that I haven't aged eventually."
"Maybe people won't catch on," he suggested, knowing in his heart it was pointless.
"I wish," she mumbled. "But assimilating back into my old life is impossible. It's always going to be mere fantasy."
He pondered her words for a moment, an idea beginning to form in his mind. "What if I adapted to your life instead?"
"Is that not what this is? I mean, you're keeping my secret and meeting me sporadically in secluded places."
He shook his head, figuring out the best way to phrase his idea. "I was thinking more like… what if you turn me?" He spoke slowly, hoping he was using the right terminology.
"What?" she gasped, sounding nearly horrified.
"Then - then we can be be ageless together, forever," he stammered.
"Do you really want to be subjected to that?" she asked. "You'd have to hide from all your loved ones, and… Andy, what about your career? People would notice."
"If that's what it takes to have you completely."
He left no question to how serious he was, leaving everything out on the table if she so chose to partake in it. The prospect scared him a bit, but he'd give up every single thing in his life if it meant he would have her back in it.
"You actually have a choice in the matter; why would you want this?"
"Because I want you." The tone of his voice was understated, but it held just as much power as if he had shouted the very same words.
Savannah stood up, walking a few feet away from him while she ran through what he had just said on loop.
"I'm not going to pretend to understand anything you might've gone through," Andrew shattered the brief quiet that had settled. "And if you truly are not on board with this, then I'll drop it and we can continue what we have going. But I promise you, I want this."
She turned back towards him then, analyzing the determination written across his face, undercut with a hint of fear. She could see how much he was willing to risk, how much he already risked by opening this discussion at all. She stood silently, calculating. Spending forever with him was a compelling prospect, a life she ached for so deeply.
He maintained his distanced stance, allowing her the space to consider. He knew it was a lot to ask of her, especially considering he still didn't know her full story yet, but he yearned for it. He had been given such a bizarre opportunity to get back the woman he loved, and felt he'd be a fool not to at least try to seize it. The anticipation was killing him, but he'd wait for as long as she needed him to.
"I need to know you absolutely understand what you'd be getting yourself into," she spoke finally.
The condition she presented him with struck the smallest chord of hope within him. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
"It won't be easy," she emphasized. "It takes a lot of geting used to, and the first couple weeks are absolute hell." For fuck's sake, she was still getting adjusted to it herself.
But as she explained further, he only grew more hopeful. The thing he wanted so desperately was very nearly in his grasp.
Savannah finished describing what he would have to endure, looking towards him for confirmation that he understood. "If after all of that, you're completely certain about this, then… okay."
Andrew couldn't fight back the grin that spread across his face. He took a minute to reflect on it, but any doubts he may have found were overpowered by the desire to make this happen. "I want this, baby."
She inched her way towards him, gently tracing her fingertips along his cheek bone. "You're sure?" she checked, giving him a final out.
"I don't think I've been this sure about anything in a long time."
Slowly, she moved around him so that she was now standing behind him. "Move your hair," she instructed quietly.
He gathered his hair in one hand, moving it to the right side of his neck. A few seconds later, her mouth was against his skin, placing the softest kiss to that spot. A brief second of hesitation struck her, but it was now or never. Then, without another word, she sunk her fangs into the flesh.
Warnings: near misses, brief descriptions of injury
Word count: ~ 3.4k
things are starting to come together in this one
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Three weeks went by without another sighting, yet Andrew was still on edge. He was losing sleep again, and what little he did get was haunted by her. Up until unmistakably seeing her eyes staring back at him from the opposite side of that window, Savannah's presence in his dreams had been pleasant.
But now, closing his eyes seemed to bring only nightmares that often followed him far into the daytime. He was constantly jumpy and on high alert, and he'd grown worse at concealing it. Still, he dismissed any concerns his friends or family brought to his attention. He couldn't coherently explain what was bothering him if he tried.
He hadn't returned home since his useless attempt at tidying up. He put it off, scared that there would be eyes around every corner waiting for him.
He was washing the dishes one morning when Raine finally pressed him about it. "Have you thought any more about going back to the house?" she tried to casually ease into the conversation.
"Oh," Andrew replied hesitantly. "Not really."
"Too much, being back there?"
"Yeah, something like that," he mumbled as he scrubbed residue from breakfast off the pan.
"But not exactly that?" she wondered aloud, pushing futher.
"Um," he hesitated, placing the pan on the drying rack next to the sink. "It's nothing, really," he insisted as he reached for the sponge again.
"It's not nothing, Andrew," she stated, trying her best to keep her voice even. "You've been off lately."
"It's almost like my wife is dead or something," he deadpanned, not so much as glancing away from the mug he was cleaning.
"It's been worse over the last couple of weeks, and you know it. I'm not saying it's not just part of the cycle, but I can tell there's something more that's been bugging you."
Andrew considered his options before responding, weighing the truth in his mind. He didn't particularly want to tell her what's been happening, but he had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't tolerate his little white lies any longer. "Do you remember when I said I thought I saw her?" he asked gingerly.
"Yeah," Raine answered, quietly urging him to continue.
"That wasn't the first time, and I have an awful feeling it won't be the last."
"Is it really such a bad thing? I mean, to me it seems like you have a lot of love that needs to manifest itself somewhere."
"That's a sweet thought, mam, but this doesn't feel quite like that."
"What do you mean?"
"It feels sinister somehow, like someone is trying to trick me," he mumbled, momentarily glancing back at his mother. "It's not like I'm seeing a leaf in the wind and being reminded of her. I… I'm actually seeing her."
He launched into a rambling explanation of his encounters, trying and failing to make them make sense when spoken aloud. He tried to express that his drunkenness might have influenced the first time, but asserted that he didn't have anything to explain the following two instances.
"Andy…" Raine trailed off.
"I know it can't be her, logically. She's gone — I understand that," he attempted to assure her. "It's just that it keeps happening every so often and it's more than just a weird feeling."
Another look at Raine's face seemed to indicate a mixture of confusion and plain concern.
"It's like…" he shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. "It's like she's following me, or at least someone is."
Raine opened her mouth before closing it again as she tried to carefully choose her next words. "If you think somebody is following you, that's a problem," she started. "But based on how you're looking at me right now… that somehow doesn't exactly feel right."
"I know that's what I said," he replied, taking a deep breath. "But that's not exactly what I mean… at least I don't think so?" The last part came out as more of a question than he intended. "It just feels… haunting, I guess."
"Love, I don't know what to say," she admitted. "Maybe I'm not understanding what you're trying to tell me."
"I'm not even sure I understand," he mumbled. "I'm starting to think I'm losing my mind."
"I can't begin to even imagine the kind of grief you've been dealing with, honey. Maybe it's normal," she offered hopefully, trying to hide how much her concern for her son had grown over the course of this conversation.
"Or maybe I'm hallucinating and this is a psychotic break."
"Maybe you should start talking to someone," she suggested.
"I'll think about it." In truth, the thought of telling a therapist any of this terrified him.
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze before leaving him to process. She certainly had a lot of thinking of her own to do after that discussion.
—
Andrew spent the night staring at the ceiling, not wanting to fall asleep. He didn't know whether talking to his mother was a mistake or not. On the one hand, part of him felt good to finally get at least part of that weight off his shoulders. On the other, he regretted it. He knew she didn't quite get it, and the ever-present fear of burderning her was coming back forcefully.
He spent hours tossing and turning, unable to turn his brain off for any meaningful length of time. His thoughts became a tiresome repetition, and yet here he was, awake and powerless to break the endless cycle. He began to fear he'd never sleep, but worried even more that he would, only to be plagued by horrid dreams.
Eventually, laying in bed became too suffocating. Without consciously realizing it, he was pacing around the four walls in the dark. He walked back and forth from the bed to the door, then in a circle around the middle of the floor. He was simply full of far too much nervous energy that he couldn't seem to expel from his system.
He inevitably ended up sitting back on the mattress after breaking himself out of the oddly comforting loop of motion, overtired from his constantly running brain. His eyes eventually closed after he had put up a long fight against them, drifting off into a wonderfully dreamless sleep.
—
It was a rainy evening when Andrew had ended up in a small bookstore.
He'd spent the day wandering around Dublin for a change of scenery from the walls he had been confining himself to. He didn't have a plan in mind when he left, electing to walk aimlessly and let his feet guide him to wherever felt right. He didn't even bother to pay attention to street signs as he walked.
Eventually, he had come into this shop, always drawn to the comfort and coziness of being surrounded by books. He perused the shelves, slowly walking through each aisle, although he didn't actually pay all that much attention to the titles his eyes flicked over. There was a faint woodsy scent in the air as he ran his fingers along the spines.
He was nearly moved to tears by the familiarity of the action, having done the very same on so many occasions in different phases of his life. It was funny how surrounding himself with the comfort of literature had practically become instinctual by now. The melancholy kept a loose hold of him as he continued through the stacks, occasionally attempting to stop and be present in the moment instead of mindlessly browsing.
Andrew paused in front of the classics section, admiring the numerous books that he had come across countless times before. He casually flipped through the pages of a few of them — a paperback copy of Dante's Inferno and one of Dracula with a deep red cover, among a handful of others. He placed each of them back on the shelf with the rest of the novels, moving on with his aimless search.
There was a cart of clearance books in the back corner of the store that he found himself looking through next. Some of them had visible damage — dog-eared pages and cracked spines, a crinkled cover here and there — but the majority were in nearly perfect condition as far as he could tell. There was a good mix of genres, though most of these books he hadn't heard of. A few cliche romance novels sat next to an old mystery or two.
He squatted down to properly inspect the lowest shelf on the cart, scanning the contents, though he wasn't sure what for. A children's book sat all the way on the far end. It was mostly filled with more stories he didn't recognize, though he thought he might have at one point bought the science fiction novel he came across now, only to have it sit untouched among his numerous others. He was about to get back up when a title caught his eye.
It took him a minute to remember why he recognized the name, eventually realizing it was the very same that was laying half-read on Savannah's nightstand. Sighing, he reached for it, opening the front cover. He flipped through the pages, listening to the rippling sound they made. He traced his thumb over the words on the cover, unable to peel his eyes away. It was almost trancelike the way he remained in one position with the book grasped firmly in his hand.
Unfortunately, the moment quickly took a turn when he remembered how his night had ended the last time he saw this novel. He inhaled sharply, startling himself with the memory of her face. In his fleeting panic, he knocked into the cart, sending a crashing sound throughout the store. He winced, hoping none of the very few customers noticed his clumsiness.
Much to his dismay, an employee came over to check on him.
"You alright?"
Andrew looked up to see a teenaged salesperson staring down at him.
"Fine," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Legs just fell asleep before I could stand up." It wasn't entirely a lie; he had felt the tingling sensation beginning from squatting for so long.
He waved off the employee's help, preferring to have another moment alone to collect himself before rising to his feet. He took a breath to calm his racing mind before so much as taking another step. Noticing the book he'd been holding was still on the ground, he briskly picked it up and placed it back on the shelf, wanting to put the entire scene out of his mind.
He walked away from the back corner, inching his way closer to the front of the store. He eventually reached the exit, breathing a touch easier once he reached the cool, misty air outside.
—
He attempted to calm his still racing heart as he walked far from the shop, to no avail. His thoughts consumed him, playing in his mind like a movie. He tried to reason with himself, provide a logical explanation for his experiences, but it was no use. Sure, he could blame the alcohol for the first time. He could even disregard the countless split-second moments he had had that he quickly realized were just a pitiful sense of hope. But what of that night at the beach? What explanation did he have for the evening at the house, especially when that scene flashed before his eyes again mere moments ago, nearly dragging him out of reality?
He kept his head down, quickening his pace.
Deep down, despite all logic screaming at him that he was imagining things, he knew now more than ever that he had to be on to something. The moments were too intense, too vivid to be an illusion. He didn't know what that meant, exactly, but something was going on.
Andrew walked on, hopelessly lost in his thoughts while he stared at his feet. His mind was a hopelessly tangled web of ideas, pulling his focus out of reality. He crossed the street, painfully oblivious to the car coming down the road despite its headlights cutting through the dark.
It happened quickly, not giving him any time to react. Before he had a chance to move a muscle, a voice shouted an unintelligible warning and the next thing he knew he was being pushed out of the way. He felt himself roll to the side, the street scratching up his skin while he heard the rush of the passing car in the distance. He was acutely aware of the dampness of the ground.
When he opened his eyes, a woman was standing over him, presumably assessing his injuries. His gaze locked on hers and she startled. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, lips parting to speak. He could have sworn she was on the verge of saying his name. There was no denying it anymore.
"Savannah," he breathed shakily. The name felt sacred in his mouth, like he was addressing a long-forgotten entity that had at one time been widely revered.
The look on her face was hard to distinguish, somewhere between fear and embarrassment. Her mouth moved to form a word, a reaction, but she didn't speak.
"Darling?" he practically whined, reaching out for her.
Before he could, she had disappeared into the shadows, once more slipping through his fingers. His mouth opened and closed uselessly as he stared at the empty space in front of him where she had been standing merely seconds before. He blinked rapidly, trying to make some sense of the situation. He was already convinced that something he didn't quite understand was going on, but if this didn't confirm his suspicions, he didn't know what did.
—
Andrew didn't remember getting home, but he woke up in bed like usual anyway. He rubbed at his face, provoking the scrapes on his hands. He stared down at them, the events of the previous night rushing back to him.
He realized suddenly that the vague sensation of something happening was more than just a fading dream. He had the markings to prove it.
It was a few minutes later that the full implications hit him.
Savannah is alive, he thought to himself. He tried to dismiss the thought, to shake it out of his brain — after all, it defied every crumb of common sense — but it stubbornly remained. Every fiber of his being was telling him he had to be wrong, a tiresome battle between two sides of his mind that neither was officially winning.
He clutched his blankets in his fist, as if it would create a shield from his own mind. He only managed to be pulled out of his thoughts by the brief sensation of the fabric snagging on a bit of broken skin. He shifted to a sitting position, underestimating how much his side hurt. After taking a deep breath, he forced himself to his feet and padded into the bathroom to properly inspect the damage.
He stood in front of the mirror, removing his shirt. He stared at his torso, which appeared to be mostly free of anything more than surface-level wounds — nothing more than a couple scratches. He turned, attempting to get a look at the rest of his upper body.
His sides were scraped up pretty badly, but the worst of it seemed to be the bruises he could see forming around his ribs and upper arms. As far as he could tell, he hadn't broken anything, which was a relief. He couldn't get a good enough view of his back, but at the very least it was sore. His legs were more of the same, nothing that couldn't be mended with basic first aid and a little time.
He gingerly touched around his head, thankful to not find any bumps or other indications of a bigger problem.
After feeling satisfied with his evaluation of the abrasions covering his body, Andrew decided to take a shower, wincing as the water pounded against his skin. He went through the routine as quickly as he could manage, having no desire to prolong the pain more than necessary. He dried off very carefully before tending to his wounds. He glanced at his reflection once more, his tired face staring back at him.
He could almost laugh at how bizarre the shit he'd been through recently was, were it not for the sudden recognition that he had very nearly died the previous night. If it weren't for his savior's impeccable timing… He shut down the thought as soon as it occurred.
He didn't think he was strong enough to handle the combination of almost losing his life from his own carelessness and his hero being his deceased wife.
Andrew walked back to his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, his towel still wrapped around his waist. He stared into the distance for a while, letting the ends of his still damp hair drip water onto his shoulders.
He finally pulled himself out of his haze after about half an hour, forcing himself to get dressed. He pulled on his favorite sweatpants and threw on the first clean shirt he found in the dresser. He was definitely getting behind on laundry, but he figured there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
He tried his best to get through the day like normal, or at least as normal as things had been recently, but he couldn't seem to focus on a thing. Any conversation he simply smiled and nodded his way through. Even doomscrolling proved to be a useless distraction from his head, and he knew he didn't have the energy to write. As usual, pushing down his thoughts only led to subconsciously thinking about it more.
Giving up on trying so hard to shove it into an unreachable corner, he eventually allowed himself to begin to unpack it. Each thought bled into the next incoherently, a tangle of feelings yet to be determined. He wasn't certain whether he should be terrified or grateful, or both. He was horrified by his own mind, scared that he was severing his connection with reality in some kind of grief-induced hallucination. But he also couldn't deny the craving he had for more. Would going insane really be all that bad if it meant seeing her again? After all, that was all he'd ever really wanted, wasn't it?
He knew this would become another sleepless night, and decided to embrace it this time instead of fighting it. He knew he needed some type of closure to put this all to rest, and he had an inkling of where to start.
It was around 1 in the morning that he decided to act on his impulses. He found his sneakers sitting in the corner of the room and tugged them on. He went downstairs quietly, grabbing his coat from the rack by the door on his way out. He paused to take a deep breath after shutting the door behind him, feeling a bit like a teenager sneaking out to go to a party. Only instead of the promise of music and alcohol, he was investigating a potentially useless lead.
The wind was sharp against his skin as he passed by the shop he had been in the night before. He didn't know how he remembered the name of it, but seeing the sign he knew it was the very same.
The tricky part was figuring out where he was when he'd narrowly missed getting hit. He walked with his head up, hoping a landmark or street sign would trigger a part of his memory he didn't think he'd retained. He scanned his surroundings, nothing feeling quite familiar enough for his liking.
Eventually, every intersection blurred together and he was growing weary of wandering in the cool night air without any end in sight. He was losing track of whether things we recognizable because he'd spent so much time in this city over the course of his life or because he had been in that spot only just over a day before.
He was disappointed that his efforts hadn't amounted to anything, but it was late and he was growing weary. He gave himself three more blocks to walk, deciding to call it when they also turned out to lead nowhere. But he was still left with the nagging feeling he was missing something.
thinking about vampzier, but instead of a hundred-year-old vampzier, a vampzier who was turned pretty early-on in his musical career.
Imagine the awkwardness of finding out he literally burns in the sunlight and a mere dusting of garlic sends him to the hospital. Him only playing gigs at night because that's the best time for him to go out. Him being wary of smiling too wide in public, lest he show his fangs teeth. Trying to navigate his new taste for blood and perhaps feeling guilty about feeding on people—how he can never do it without feeling like a thief.
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Alex’s voice accuses him down the line.
“What other choice do I have?” Andrew stresses, internally groaning. “We both know she’s going to keep using me anyway so I might as well play into it.”
“Andy,” Alex sighs, “you have no fucking idea what you might be getting yourself into.”
“It can’t be worse than the people I’ve already killed,” he replies, monotone. “Besides, you try having the love of your life held prisoner by your worst enemy.”
“I-”
“Fuck, I’m sorry man, I’m not trying to – I'm just dealing with a lot right now.”
“I know.”
There’s a brief pause from both men before Alex pipes up again.
“Look, I know you’re going to do this regardless of what I have to say about it, but I’m at least going to help.”
“How?”
“You worry about your little plan; I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Alex-”
“If you’re going to continue to be stupid, the least I can do is keep you from doing it alone.”
“I’ve been managing just fine alone,” Andrew replies stubbornly.
“Yeah, maybe if this was a suicide mission,” Alex scoffs accusatorily. He loved the guy, but he could be absolutely infuriating when he wanted to be.
“So what if it was?” Andrew mutters on the other end, wincing the second the words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Just,” Alex sighs, “don’t be stupid. Let me help.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Andrew mumbles halfheartedly, more so just wanting this conversation to be over than to get his friend dragged into the middle of his bullshit.
“Alright man, I’m stopping by sometime soon,” Alex replies, ending the call. It’s not lost on Andrew that it sounds less like a suggestion than a simply stated fact.
Admittedly, maybe Andrew should have opened up about why he’d grown so distant a bit sooner – especially considering Alex had been there in the initial moments before (the most recent) disaster – but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to explain. A part of him had been grateful that both of them seemed to be a bit too busy to give him the chance. Logically, he knows that he likely can’t do this by himself. But on the other hand, he had never been good at asking for help, no matter how simple or how dire the situation may be. And the thought of Alex being caught up his problems... he couldn’t bear to think that he might see another loved one get hurt.
However, Andrew had been starting to doubt his ability to do this on his own. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was terrified of failing. It wasn’t even that he was worried about dying; he could barely remember the last time that thought had scared him. He was just afraid that if he did, it would all be for nothing. The idea of dying to protect her, only for nothing about her situation to change, squeezes his heart til he’s scared it might burst.
He’s unsure how long he sits on the floor, his back against the couch, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt or anything else he could reach. Visions seem to flash in front of his eyes as he stares blankly at the space in front of him, the influx of emotion making it hard to focus on anything else. Every time he thinks he can’t possibly have any more feelings left to spill out, his mind and body surprise him. Until recently, he didn’t know someone could feel both completely numb and intensely emotional at the same time to quite this extent. He supposes you can learn a lot about yourself when you’re being blackmailed by an evil vampire with your loved one’s life on the line. Andrew chuckles humorlessly to himself as the thought crosses his mind; this sounded like it could be the plot of a shitty horror movie and yet it was his reality.
He longs for a simple life, one where monsters didn’t exist and he could live peacefully in the countryside with his love, maybe even start a family. A sharp, yearning pang hits him at the prospect; he had never particularly cared too much about it when he was human, perfectly content no matter how the stars may align. But now, knowing that it would never, could never be in the cards for him, he has never wanted anything more.
Why me? He wonders for the countless time.
Had he done anything in his life to deserve this wretched existence? He feels selfish just for thinking it, but he didn’t think anything he’d done could have warranted this. He’s acutely aware of just how long forever really is, and just how lonely it could be. Even more now that everything good in his life was being forcefully ripped away from him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can fight, but knows he has to push through, for her.
******************
Celine had more than enough time alone to think. In fact, she wasn’t sure of the last time she had done anything but think – it had become a sort of internal torture, being unable to shut her brain off. Nothing to distract her for even a moment, outside of the short bursts of sleep she managed to get.
Saoirse’s words from the other night play on a loop in her mind. Andrew didn’t know where she was, likely didn’t know what they were doing to her. She longed for him, for the familiarity of his embrace, but was met only with the cold darkness that surrounded her.
Why would he come for you?
No. She couldn’t go there again, fearing she wouldn’t be strong enough to come out the other side of that spiral. Yet the void of morbid wonder was calling to her, trying to suck her in, and she didn’t know if she could fight it off. She was so tired.
Despite her best efforts, the lingering question wins over her restraint. Why should he care anymore? Maybe all this time apart had finally made him realize he could do better, that he deserved better. She regrets the times she blew up at him while trying to process everything that happened to her, when all he ever tried to do was help. Regrets leaving him in the first place; maybe none of this would have happened if she hadn’t panicked and run off. You ruined everything, just like always.
Anxiety seizes her, making it hard to feel air in her lungs. She craves his calming voice, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he tries to keep her grounded. She cringes at feeling so reliant on someone else to bring her back down to earth. She struggles to remember the grounding exercises he’d gone over with her numerous times, the panic too strong for logic to poke through. This had become a sort of routine for her, not having any other way to spend the seemingly endless time here.
Celine had lost count of how many times she’d suffered through this exact spiral; it was getting old, yet she felt helpless to stop it. Where the hell was he? What had Saoirse done to him? Why hadn’t he found her yet?
Eventually, one thought leads to another and she’s reminded once again of her recent conversation with Saoirse; something about seeing her again faintly rings a bell. Celine finds herself unable to determine the feeling that thought evokes – there was terror, sure, but there was something else hidden inside it. Excitement was too optimistic a word for it; it felt closer to desperation. She mulls it over, not having anything else to occupy her time. Had she really become lonely enough that she was willing to have contact with the person who ruined her life?
She releases a shaky breath, painfully aware of her trembling fingers. Until recently, she didn’t realize feelings could become quite so complicated – which was saying something, considering the shock of finding out her boyfriend was a vampire. But looking back at it now, that all seemed so pointless, almost infantile. It was practically another lifetime. Another lifetime, she thinks, the faintest hint of a smile cracking her lips. She could only imagine how that time felt to someone like Andrew, making a note to ask him about it before she’s reminded of how slim the chance of getting out of here may be.
As she rests her head against the cold wall behind her, she’s overwhelmed with the craving for home, swearing she could practically taste it if she focused hard enough. Maybe she really was losing her mind.
******************
Saoirse had been putting him through hell, and not in the usual way – he hadn’t heard another word from her in days, not since before he decided on a change of action. The result was an anxious, jumpy mess of a man who couldn’t stand the unknown. He was jittery, the house feeling much too empty, far too quiet, for his liking. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, unsure of what to do with himself in the silence. His head was strangely empty, unable to focus on a singular thought for long, yet the anxiety persisted.
His nervous energy was too much to burn off by pacing laps around his house, so after several minutes of convincing, he finds himself in the open air in hopes that the larger space would work a sort of miracle. He wanders aimlessly through the darkening countryside, mostly keeping his eyes trained on the ground beneath him rather than his surroundings.
The wind is cool against his skin as his fingertips absentmindedly brush along the foliage around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to really feel the environment. It was peaceful in a way, despite the circumstances. There’s a rustling somewhere nearby, likely a small animal searching for food. A few scattered raindrops land on his head while he walks, and tears nearly spring forward at the feeling. The experience of the simplicity of nature reminds him bittersweetly of another lifetime, yet it feels now somehow more important than it ever did back then.
He doesn’t know how long he strolls for, just taking in every little sensation. The scenery does a surprisingly good job at keeping his mind occupied when he takes a look around, though faint whispers of lives long gone creep their way up his brain. He remembers taking walks like this in his mortal life, looking fondly upon those days. The days when he’d come home from work and play with his dog, the days where he was actually able to maintain friendships. This wasn’t to say he didn’t have anyone now – obviously there was Alex and a few musicians he’d developed a connection with – but it was much more difficult to keep people around. Even now, he feared what would happen in a decade or two when there was no longer a way for him to hide the true nature of his identity. He’d always had a soft spot for his human companions over the years, and it was heartbreaking to inevitably leave them before they had the chance to bolt on him – or worse, watch as they grew older and ever closer to death. It was horrible on both sides, and even worse when his feelings became romantic.
Andrew had never intended to fall in love with Celine. He’d essentially sworn off relationships by then, having been hurt too many times in too many ways. But from the second he first laid eyes on her, there was a pull. Something about her was just so intriguing to him and he found himself drawn to her in a way he had nearly forgotten could exist. When he had realized he wanted to spend every free moment with her, it was too late to resist the feeling. He had fallen so hard, so quickly, that for a while he forgot that they couldn’t have a normal relationship. And now he was here.
He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets as he continues on, fingers closing on a small familiar object.
“Fuck,” he sighs to himself, pulling the little box out and rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. A sad smile tugs at his face as he opens the box and stares at the ring nestled inside. It felt like a totally different version of himself had purchased it, which he supposed it had.
He snaps the box shut, placing it safely back in pocket as Saoirse’s words begin to ring a distant bell. Part of him agreed with her; what had he been thinking? He’d bought the ring well before Celine found out about him being a vampire, though he had every intention of telling her. It seemed almost silly now, given the circumstances. Even if none of this had happened, would she even want to have him like that? And even if she did, what would they do about it? Andrew knew he wouldn’t have it in him to watch her grow old while he remained the same, but also was unsure if he’d be able to muster the strength to turn her. Maybe Saoirse was right, he finds himself thinking, immediately shuddering the second the words register in his mind. He must be losing it if he’s agreeing with her.
He barely remembers walking home, but suddenly he’s pulling his door shut behind him. He can’t seem to decide whether his little excursion was productive or made things worse, but all he knows is he’s utterly exhausted. He crawls into his bed, slipping under the covers and clutching a pillow to his chest. Sleep takes him quickly, and in his dreams, Celine is safe and sound in his arms.
hey anon! i likely won't be doing anything explicitly for kinktober, but spooky? that you can expect. i love halloween. this love will definitely merge with my love for hozi fic soon.
