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If it weren't the sudden wave of flared emotions, it would've been the following crash echoing through the house that had him sitting up before his eyes were open.
Almost instinctively, he turned to check for his partner's safety next to him…
Except all there was to check were empty sheets and a blanket wrinkled low on the bed, a pillow halfway off the edge. As if sensing when his feet touched the bedroom floor, another crash came through.
Any normal human would've been scrambling as fast as they could, feeling like they weren't fast enough. But not Vincent Solaire, vampiric speed sending him around corners and down a flight of stairs in a blink.
His eyes darted around the dark room, the only light being what little sunlight peaked from behind the blackout curtains.
A new sound coming from his left caught his attention. A hollowed tap, tap, tap, each tap spaced between maybe five seconds each. His feet moved softly against the carpet as he followed the sound to where light from the kitchen illuminated the entry room. Just as he looked around the corner, his mind racing with concern, another crash rattled his sensative eardrums and made him flinch.
“Why can't I just…RAGH!”
Falling to their knees in despair, his forever partner stared at the one of many cups littering the floor with eyes like rain clouds; fogged over with tears threatening to fall.
Just as Vincent got closer, they gripped the dish like it was a neck they wanted to choke and placed it back with care of the complete opposite, gentle like precious glass. With each cup they repeated this process with, they spoke with almost nothing but silent breaths.
“1…2…3….4…”
His chest panged at the sight. But as both their maker and the man who loved them dearly, he readied himself to help however he can, clearing his throat to signal his presence.
Lovely froze with their hand hovering over one of the cups still laying on the floor, their thin pupiled eyes searching him as if he were a stranger. But when recognition dawned on them, their pupils opened back up to their familiar circular shape as a smile marked their face.
“Vincent! Is…” they glanced at the entry room window, confusion knitting their eyebrows close, “It's not nighttime yet? Why are you up?”
Sitting down next to them on the cool kitchen floor, he replied “I could ask you the same thing. Couldn't sleep?”
They looked at the window once more, before their gaze turned back to the cup they had been about to grab. “Something like that. It's weird. Before, I had trouble sleeping at night. Now that I have to sleep in the day, I can't. Why?”
“I would say it's a part of being a new vampire, but…honestly, that's just the human part of us still working. A lot of people go through stuff like that.”
Groaning in a conflicting mix of satisfaction and annoyance, Lovely reached for another cup with their other hand and stood, standing up and turning back to their work.
Standing up next to them, Vincent attempted to wrap his arms around them. However, a small puff escaped him when Lovely shoved him away. Probably with more force than they intended, but their mind was on other matters at the moment.
So, he backed up, watching what they were doing and trying to figure out what he could do to help. And as far as he could tell, they had everything settled themselves. Just placing cups in two neat rows on the kitchen counter. So why‐-
It was barely noticeable between now and the split second before chaos, but something in their demeanor changed. Their shoulders tensed, their teeth bared, their fingers curled into fists, and something almost animalistic flashed in their eyes before they swung at the lines of dishes, sending them flying back to the kitchen floor. This time, not without some damage.
One cup flew at the fridge, missing Vincent's head by an inch, with a duet between a THUNK and a SNAP as it hit the fridge handle and fell onto the floor. What had been a black cup with little bats on it was now split down the middle held together only by the bottom, which had bent at an awkward angle.
The fridge handle didn't fair much better, the point of impact bending inwards.
The other vampire looked at their wreckage, and their pupils went back into that sharp thin animalism, their breaths becoming short as their eyes darted between the fridge handle and the cup, anger and guilt creeping up, up, up-
He stepped in front of their line of sight, close enough to block the view of their interest, and held out his hands as he asked “May I?”
For a moment, he almost thought they didn't hear him as they turned their attention to the remaining cups around them, which were at worst a little scratched up. But they turned back to him, barely meeting his eyes before humming their agreement.
Carefully, he took their tensed hands into his own, raising them up to his lips, kissing each knuckle individually. The only time his gaze left theirs was in blinks, watching for any changes in their mood.
When he turned their hands to kiss the palms, they instead pressed against either side of his face, the thumbs brushing against his cheekbones.
They almost seemed to be studying him, as if they could see every pore, count every individual hair, see a million words behind his own silver eyes.
Placing his hand over one of their own, he asked “Do you need some help with this?”
Their attention turned back toward the mess before nodding, turning away.
As they both set to cleaning the wreckage of dishes, Vincent scooting the destroyed cup out of sight for the time being, he tried to see if there was any sort of pattern. Color? Height? Weight? When they stood, he asked as much.
But even Lovely wasn't all too sure. They just shrugged as they placed down back onto the counter what they had grabbed.
“But,” they sighed, ”I feel like there's something.”
They both lined up what they had, minus one. Vincent also checked other cabinets and the dishwasher for more cups, placing them with the others. And he didn't miss that little glimmer in their eye when they saw the additions.
Lovely picked up two cups, swapping their places, and raking their eyes over it.
Once again, there was that little flicker in their stance, but Vincent was quick to react, gently grabbing their wrist before they could make another mess.
“Lovely, take a breath.”
Now their anger stuck around longer than a flash, as if he had offended them, and they yanked their wrist away. He expected and braced for another storming of cups to follow, but instead they closed their eyes and reached out slowly. Their fingers flexed open and shut a few times, the tips pressing hard into the individual objects, enough so that Vincent wondered if any dents would be left behind.
Finally, they stopped at one: A pure white glass mug. A mug one could barely tell had been previously shattered unless they knew its history, the golden glittering cracks seamlessly perfecting the design.
He knew this cup.
A year and a half ago, not long after the two had decided to be official and try things out, the recent incident had left Lovely somewhat compromised while their body worked to take care of whatever Sam couldn’t.
As awkward as they both were, Vincent still ensured they were cared for.
During a particularly draining day for them, they had been laying in the guest bed. It was afternoon and they had felt too weak to get anything to eat. So he took it upon himself to make them some soup, although all he had was a can of plain tomato; when you're a vampire buying meals that don't satisfy your hunger, for inflictions you can't get, barely ever crosses your mind. Even when you buy foods just for the enjoyment. And it was too bright out for him to go buy something else.
He worked with what he had, half of the can's contents with a side of toast, and brought it to them in a little white mug.
It had felt good enough for him at the time – he had given it time to cool down before bringing it to them – but it slipped his mind how different it might feel to them in their condition.
What had felt fine to him, had made them yelp and half-release-half-throw the mug. The only thing that kept it from shattering into more and smaller pieces was the floor being carpeted. Soup stained across like blood in a murder scene. They had apologized profusely, with him trying to assure and reassure them that it was okay, it wasn't their fault, that he could clean it. He came back with a handled plastic cup, the soup much cooler this time.
The next day, he had found Lovely searching around for something, a pile of thick white glass pieces sitting on the dining table.
“Looking for glue,” they answered when he asked what they were doing. They were still visibly weak, but when a project came to their head it had to be done.
What he pulled out of a drawer made them guffaw.
“You don't have normal glue. But you have glitter glue?” There was clearly amusement behind their eyes. “Why?”
“It was for some work I had to do,” he explained, “Will wanted me to make a sign that would ‘dazzle the customers’. Safe to say, I'm not exactly all that great when it comes to advertising with something other than my charming smile-” It felt worth the whole world to hear them laugh at his joke, “-and he never asked me to make an advertisement again. Besides, can't a guy just casually enjoy some glitter glue from time to time? Brings out the silver in my eyes, don't you think?”
After a shared laugh, they got to work. Lovely figuring out which piece went where, applying the glue, with Vincent holding the form together while the glue dried. They had also put some sealing over it to prevent the mug from falling apart, or glitter glue getting in their drinks.
The result was resting in their hand now. What had once been just a plain white dish to drink from was now a dazzling cup with gold lines webbing across it like lightning. And something about it made Lovely open their eyes and stare at it.
It was one Vincent had grabbed. Something about it seemed to prevent whatever spell would overcome them as they turned it about in their hand. He worried this would meet a more irreversible fate than before, until they placed it down cautiously in another spot.
“I…” Their eyes slowly raked over the collection of cups before them, their hand coming to rest on another, “I think I know what I'm trying to do.”
He leaned closer, and for a moment something else moved through them. A shimmer, a small smile. The knowledge of his attentive eyes and ears sliced through the cautious tornado in their head for a moment. They held the new cup up to his face, turning it around. It was hardly anything remarkable in appearance, another simple white cup, but a little more rounded.
“This is the one we used when we couldn't find the measuring cups. The first time we baked something sweet together.”
“Oh, you mean the time I said that, ah…white frosting looked good on you?”
That broke through their spell strongly enough, their laughter fluttering through the house.
“Yes, you dirty dork. But get your mind out of the gutter, we've got a job to do!”
They placed the cup next to the gold lined one. Another stretch of silence, and they both stood still in anticipation…
It was like a light was shared between them as they looked at the cups.
“So,” Vincent taped at the two cups, “Judging how they're all in place still, I'm assuming you want to sort them by sentimentality?”
“...And date.”
“And date?”
Almost two years was a lot of time for the cups they had. And he wouldn't deny that he would love to spend hours reminiscing over the memories the dishes held. But he was tired. And he could see in their face that they were too. Miraculously, tired bags was one thing vampirism couldn't speedily cover up.
“And date!”
Vincent sighed, eyeing the clutter. He didn't want to break their excitement, but…
“Lovely, it's getting…well, early. We both need rest. But I promise, we can do it later tonight.”
The excitement deflated through their shoulders, their brows furrowing. Silence hung in the air, the only sound being that odd hum only perceivable in the day.
Lovely looked at the clutter on the table like they were waking up from a dream, their voice soft and distant as if meaning for their words to only be heard by themselves. “What am I even doing?”
It was easy to forget about his own experience with this, it hadn't lasted all that long for him.
The frustration, the confusion, how he had sometimes felt only half conscious. Of course, it didn't help that he was struggling with a billion other things. But he could get a basic idea of what was going on through their head.
“Seriously, what am I even-” they turned to him, like he just appeared without a sound, “Why do I care about this? I'm supposed to be in bed, and I…”
Suddenly they looked as if they could barely stand. Whatever spell of excitement had kept them awake had clearly washed away.
Vincent caught them as they wavered. They leaned into him. When the slow drumming of his vampiric heart danced through their ear, they turned so their face pressed against him instead. Their mind may be a whirlwind of chaos and new powers, but they still had enough sense of self to know that the rythm that once grounded them might now send them into a frenzy.
But it was hard to avoid in their short stature when they embraced, the top of their head just reached barely past his armpits. He had to lean his neck down just to kiss the top of their head, like he did now. If he weren't a vampire, Lovely worried, his posture probably would've been fucked up with how many times he's leaned down for a kiss. And he would allow it.
They pushed down a new wave of guilt that tried rising to join the others, wrapping their own arms around him in a tight embrace.
Vincent's voice, as he spoke, sent vibration through his chest. Much like the smooth purr of one of his less loud, literally and figuratively, cars. Lovely liked those ones.
“Come back to bed? I think I can explain some of this, but it'll probably be easier if I'm not trying to keep you from toppling over.”
When they nodded their agreement, he carefully picked them up, bridal style, and began to carry them to their shared bedroom.
On the way there, Lovely glanced at the spare room they had once stayed in. Feathers danced between their face and chest thinking about how they went from akwardly sleeping in two separate rooms as a vampire and a human both new to what had only just begun, to sharing a bed as two vampires. They hadn't even fully thought about when they solidified the whole “sleeping in the same bed” thing. Suppose it was the first time they offered their neck to him? That night had a…few firsts…
“What's that blush about?” Their boyfriend asked, them not realizing they were both now sitting on the bed.
“Just thinking about…everything, I guess? How far we've come in-” they looked at their fingers, like something new had taken complete control of their body, “-it's only been a year and a half.”
Has it really been so short a time? Their second anniversary was really in four months. They felt like they had loved Vincent for years now. But they really have only known each other for almost two years. Since Lovely was introduced to the magic world. Since their powers manifested.
Since they were a human, meeting a vampire forcing a sensual persona.
He really was so different then. The man who had been following them around an amusement park complimenting their body. Now they sat side by side on a shared bed, and he held their hand so gently, looked at them like they were his whole universe. So much has really happened. It was like…like a dream…
Their stomach lurched as it felt almost like their soul was hovering over their body. There was a soft muffle next to them, but they could barely comprehend it. Their hands. One hand clear. The other one-
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Five black nailed fingers.
Not their own. Anothers. Hands they were familiar with. Hands that held with worry and care and love. Love. They love these hands.
The hands that steadied them, the hands that brought them back down.
They grasped those hands, raised them to their face. He allowed them to place both on either cheek. They were scared of how his pulse would make them react just minutes ago. But right now, feeling the pulse within his wrist on either side of their face centered them. Like a rower needing a drum to keep a steady arm in a storm.
They closed their eyes, breathing deep air that had his scent curling and dancing in their lungs.
When their eyes opened again, two familiar silver ones stared back at them. His eyes weren't much different from his hands. Those, too, held the same worry and care and love.
They love those eyes.
They love him.
Lovely pressed their forehead against his chest, taking another steady breath before speaking.
“I'm okay.” More to themselves than him. But it eased his worries some, as well.
Their face was lifted by the chin, gently, as he urged them to look back at him. “Are you sure?”
They could've immediately smiled and nodded. It didn't exactly feel like a lie anyways. Still, they gave themselves a once-over, trying to feel if anything was wrong. When they gave themselves the all clear, they ensured him of their statement.
“Just need a distraction, I guess. You were going to talk about…”
“Ah, right-” he failed to miss the way they began fully leaning into him. Less tiredly and more wanting to be closer. As they got comfortable, he let his fingers brush along their scalp. “Keep in mind, this isn't exactly solid. Just an educated guess. But the whole sorting thing, like you and the cups. There's myths from different cultures that have vampires, or creatures resembling vampires. Usually the way you could deter them was by tossing them things to count. Like a fishing net they could untie the individual knots of, or a bag of rice where they could pick up each piece. They had to stop to count all of them, some impulse they couldn't control, and it was supposed to keep them occupied long enough for the sun to come out, or for someone to come back with whatever was said to be their weakness.”
With a smack of their lips, their own hand reaching up to play with his hair, they asked “So, The Count's obsession with numbers wasn't just a silly joke for kids?”
“That…never came to my mind,” Oh, how they loved hearing the sound of his laugh in his chest. “Huh. I don't know, actually. Maybe? Or just a funny coincidence. Anyways-” his words cut off with a yawn and he brushed off any of Lovely's concern, “I'm good, I'm good. But, where was I? Oh, ya. Um. I think it's because we just naturally associate counting with focus. Counting sheep when you want to sleep, counting stuff around you when you're having a panic attack. So you and the cups. It's your brain trying to find something familiar that's also simple and keeps you on a track while dealing with your new blood and abilities. I saw how you tried moving the cups to be lined up a certain way, counting them when you were picking them back up. And I've gone through it too. Which, unrelated note, do not ask Will about water bottles. It's a totally random thing to ask someone about, and there's nothing special about them. He won't have a thing to tell you.”
He knew well what bait he was setting, and that Lovely would race to his maker first chance they got for more embarrassing tales.
Out of anyone though, they were of the few people he didn't mind knowing about such things. If anything, he loved seeing the smiles and hearing the laughs that came from them upon hearing those stories. To his own detriment, sure. But it feels less embarrassing when it makes the person he loves happy, while at the same time they're understanding of the situations.
Like right now, seeing that curious spark in their eyes, mixed with a mischievous gleam. He would sell his soul for that.
And it's nice for them to both know the ups and downs of each others pasts, all the ridiculous moments, no matter how embarrassing.
Their nose scrunched up in thought as they looked at nothing in particular.
“But why did I keep tossing them off? If all I had to do was count them, what's the problem?”
“I think it's more than just counting. It's sorting, having a certain constant. And when it's not going the way you want, or feel you want, that new strength comes out and takes it out on whatever it can. It happens to a lot of new vamps. Some need clothes folded a certain way, some sort books, some may or may not stack water bottles into mini statues lined in a row-”
“Statues!?” Lovely gaped at him, gripping his shirt, “You made statues out of water bottles!? How?”
“No,” he scoffed, “I said some may, or may not, stack water bottles. I'm the dark seductive prince of the Solaire clan. Do you know what a water bottle duck would've done to my reputation?
“But, back to my point. It doesn't have to be just counting. It could be anything that involves focus and pattern. We can see tonight if you need to sort the cups by sentimentality, it could be something else. Maybe you also need them sorted by twos and fours. Or by colors. But right now, we're both tired. And I don't know about you, but I see a few pillows on this very bed just waiting for two beautiful vampires to rest on them.”
Lovely moved up the bed as they laid down, pulling Vincent as close as possible.
Silence filled the room. Absent and heavy at the same time. Despite the stuffed heavy blanket shielding the couple, a chill swept through the newer vampire. They could almost count every goosebump that prickled over their skin, focus on each individual one as their boyfriend brushed his hands against them to warm them up.
Every inhale made them feel the stretching of their lungs, like rubber being pulled and pushed at once.
When they looked at him, his eyes half closed, they thought they could count each of the hairs on his head, brush their thumbs against his eyelids and count the lashes.
“Still can't sleep?”
The strokes Vincent made up and down their arms didn't cease, only grew more gentle.
They shook their head, an annoyance similar to the one in the kitchen beginning to build up.
Without a hint of humor, he asked “Need the light?”
As much dismay they had over the thought of him leaving for even a minute, they nodded.
He kissed their temple, making a promise to be quick, and within a blink all that remained was half of the blanket left to deflate against the mattress.
When he came back, it was with normal human steps, cautious not to jumble the mechanics of the little object in his hands.
The shape was reminiscent of a fortune teller's glass ball: a round fantastical looking sphere attached to a little stand. Except the sphere of this wasn't meant to tell the future, not unless someone considered this Junior's First Star Reader.
He placed it carefully on the table, switching it on.
Immediately, the dark barriers of the room came alive with hundreds of little twinkling stars. With Lovely's permission, Vincent flipped on the music box to go along with it.
When they had first moved in, they thought he might laugh at them. Willing to share a home with a vampire after going through a twenty-four hour long nightmare, and they needed a baby's nightlight? It was ridiculous!
But when he had found out about it, he not only didn't make fun of them, he encouraged it. “There's no shame in finding something that helps you get the sleep you need, Little One.” he had told them.
They had already known they could trust him, after everything that had happened in those past few days. But his acceptance of how they stilled their mind to sleep had made them feel that they had found someone they could truly be themselves around.
Though when they had started sleeping in the same bed together, Lovely had found that they didn't feel the need for it as much. They had almost forgotten it was left in the guest room.
Now it played an oddly familiar tune as the stars spun slowly along the walls. Not a tune the box had ever played before, and it wasn't it's typical chiming of something like Twinkle, Twinkle, or Rockabye Baby. Something different, yet something about it scratched at the back of their mind.
Before they could set their full focus on that, Vincent had climbed back into bed beside them and asked “Is this good enough?” Something in his tone, mischievous and lighthearted, earned him a side eye.
They didn't look away from him as the tune danced through their ears. No song they could name off the top of their head, at least not by the chiming alone. Maybe if they started to hum it…
…
…Oh.
“Vinny, sweetie. Love of my life. My most unregreted decision. You are one sly vampire. How? That thing is probably older than you!”
“And how do you know if the song isn't older than me, too?”
There was that teasing tone they had come to love. And yet, loathe, in this particular moment. Damn him and his willingness to play along in their games!
And he was right. The song could be older than him. They didn't know what it was, but he did say only seconds before that his mother use to hum him to sleep, back when he first hummed it to them. And they – they reminded themselves – had never heard this tune before, and said as much.
He only smiled and said “Well, what good is my money if I can't give you a special surprise every now and then? Not that I'd need money for that- oomph!"
They lightly pushed against his ribs, or at least intended to, as they scoffed. “Don't you mean William's money?”
“Hey, I have a job, you know!”
“Working for Will.”
He opened his mouth to respond, shut it, repeated the process once more, before saying “If this is the thanks I get for giving you gifts and leaving clues, I might just have to stop being so generous.”
A clue. To a little game between them.
A curiosity ate at them over whatever song he hummed them to sleep with, not long after moving in together. But they refused his attempts for a straight answer. They didn't know why, but something had made them want to find the song themselves. Scour every song they knew, listening to ones they've never heard before.
Though his hints started making the answer more and more apparent. They half expected him to play the song during a drive soon.
They couldn't resist leaning even closer, foreheads pressing together.
“Fine, fine!” they cried, “But for one thing, you truly are the worst kind of flirt. Trying to get me to sleep, then you tease me and pique my interest? Evil. Truly, truly evil.” Before he could respond, a snarky remark already on his tongue, they wrapped their arms around him. “But damn if you aren't the sweetest boyfriend anyone could ask for.”
“You're the one who didn't want a straight answer. I'm just doing as you ask, Lovely.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Tease.”
For but a minute, more silence laid heavy, before Vincent spoke up, “What's second?”
“Hm?”
“You said ‘For one,’ and then just stopped. What else did that beautiful brain of yours want to say?”
What did they…? Oh, right!
“Secondly…you're making a water bottle duck tonight. I'm curious over just how artistic my boyfriend can be.”
He wanted to laugh and ask if they questioned his skills, but stopped short as they yawned.
Right. No more falling into conversation. Sleep.
So, instead, “Tonight, I'll do it while you sort cups, I promise. For now, count the stars, Lovely. You can tell me how many you found when you wake up.”
Well, when he says it like that...
They turned so that they leaned halfway on their back and side, intertwining their legs with his as their hand traced over his wrist, timing each star they counted with his pulse.
And they laid there, counting stars and vampiric heartbeats into the afternoon, counting, counting…counting…
One hundred and twenty-three
One hundred and twenty-four
One hundred and twenty-five...
One hundred and twenty-six...
...one hundred and twenty-seven...
...one hundred and twenty-eight...
......one hundred and...twenty...twenty-nine...
.........one hun...hundred and...and...an...thir.......
As their eyes shut, their breathing growing slow and deep, Vincent brush a hand across their temple, tracing behind and around their ear and down their jaw, down their neck, over their shoulder, and around their back, gently holding them close as he pressed a kiss to their forehead.
“Sleep well, Lovely,” he sighed, closing his own eyes and pressing his cheek against the top of their head, “Dream of ducks made of water bottles.”