Chapter Text
Neither of them slept that night—Laura didn’t because she couldn’t; Carmilla, because she wasn’t going to leave Laura unprotected for one second; and Perry was still too shocked to do anything other than cook, clean, or stare at the ceiling with an empty expression. As much as Laura, and even Carmilla, tried to make her feel better, their efforts didn’t seem to do anything at all. Every time Carmilla tried to talk to her, she’d spat some sarcastic comment (which, I don’t even need to tell you, was not very Perry-like), and when Laura tried to calm her down, she’d hug her and cry for hours. Laura understood what she was going through—she had experienced something very similar when she thought Carmilla was dead. They decided the best thing they could do was give her time.
The videos were still a thing—if by a “thing” we consider a very sad Laura updating her viewers of their situation. They had become every time scarcer, until Carmilla convinced Laura maybe they could be used as a coping mechanism. You know I don’t understand this maniac need of yours to document everything, but I also know you always seem a little bit brighter after you finish one. Most of them weren’t even published, but Carmilla’s theory was proven right when she saw Laura was starting to get better.
Carmilla, after making sure Kirsch’s body was down in the basement, had gone out to get blood—as much as she could find—so she wouldn’t have to leave Laura’s side for one minute. To be honest, Carmilla had no idea what was going on and, even if she’d never admit it out loud, she was terrified. Something was lurking in the dark, taking Laura’s friends one by one. It wasn’t a coincidence; it wasn’t accidental, that much she knew. And yet Carmilla couldn’t put her finger on it. As far as she knew, Vordenberg was dead—and even if he wasn’t, subtlety had never been his thing—and so was Maman, and even Mattie. There was absolutely no reason to hunt any of them, maybe her, or Laura, but certainly no Laura’s friends.
She came back way later to find a very weird-looking Perry standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes wide-open, her messy curls out of control, her head tilted to one side, as if she was waiting for something. Carmilla raised an eyebrow as she walked towards her “Something wrong, Ginger Two?”
“I think we both know the answer to that, don’t you think?” she said coldly. Damn, the poor creature is worse than I thought.
Carmilla sighed. “I guess we do, don’t we? I’m going to find Laura. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Alright, then. Yell if you need anything.”
Poor ginger, Carmilla thought and with that, she headed upstairs. She could hear Laura’s slow breathing as she approached the bedroom—which probably meant she was sleeping. She stood there, at the door, just looking at Laura, contemplating how the moonlight made her long, soft hair shine in a way that gave it an ethereal, unreal quality; how her lips were curled in the smallest of smiles; how her body seemed to be unconsciously looking for her in bed. She smiled at that.
One would think that, in moments like this, romance wouldn’t have its place. Well, they were so wrong. She’s so beautiful, Carmilla thought. It still made her head spin a little bit, actually being with Laura. This last year should have been the worst of her entire existence—She killed Maman, Mattie died, she almost died (several times), and she actually had to deal with a lot of Silas’ weird eccentricities. It had been the most stressful year of her entire existence, no doubt but, the worst? Hardly. Come to think of it, it was actually the best one she’d ever had (God, I must be crazier than I thought), because Laura made everything worth it. It was the first time Carmilla knew she was loved, not as an object, or a tool, or an ideal, but as a person (or a vampire; whatever). She was loved for being herself, nothing else. She’d never said anything to anyone—not even Mattie—but that was the only thing she had ever wanted. No matter how many places she’d visited, how many books she’d read, or how many years she’d lived, she had never, ever, experienced the kind of happiness she felt next to Laura. Even if the world was going to hell (as it had ever since she met her), everything seemed to be just fine so long as they were together. Damn, maybe I actually am a sap.
That’s why she was scared shitless: because she didn’t know how to live without her; because she didn’t want to see Laura suffer, under any circumstances; because she loved her so, so much she didn’t know what to do. Carmilla shook her head and walked towards the bed, lying down next to Laura, who automatically settled herself inside Carmilla’s arms, sighing softly. Carmilla couldn’t help the smile that escaped her lips. It was ridiculous how fast they had perfected this, how their bodies seemed to fit perfectly, as if they had been meant to be always together. She kissed Laura’s forehead softly, and received a low hum in response. That was the first night in a long time Carmilla, even if she didn’t sleep, managed to feel peaceful for once.
There was a funeral the next morning. It was lovely, as much as a funeral can be anyway. After the battle that took place a couple months ago, they had turned one of the corners of the campus into a small cemetery. It wasn’t cheery, true, but with the roads blocked and that many dead bodies, something had to be done. At least, Kirsch was buried near Danny, so taht was something. Most of the students were there, most of them Summers, and even some Zetas (he might have been kicked out, but he still had friends within the fraternity). Surprisingly, the funeral wasn’t really Laura’s idea but the Summer’s; it seems Kirsch did a lot more for them than Laura knew, and they felt the need to thank him in the only way possible for them now. Carmilla guessed the fact that Danny was a friend of him might have something to do with it too. Laura thought it was a nice gesture nonetheless.
Next to the grave, there was Carmilla—wearing black, as usual (finally her wardrobe was appropriate)—who was standing next to Laura, an arm around her waist, supporting her. It was all she could do. She had looked at the body more carefully the night before and confirmed her hypothesis: Kirsch didn’t fall down the stairs. She was determinate to find out who had done it—chances were, whoever it was, had also murdered Lafontaine—but she didn’t dare leave Laura´s side. She only had her now, and Perry—but she was the most unstable of them all and, after everything that had happened to her that semester, plus Lafontaine’s death, Carmilla couldn’t really blame her. Hell, she secretly even admired her resilience, the only reason why Carmilla had endured everything she had, was because mostly she had given up on the world, and its people. If she had cared, like Perry did... She probably wouldn’t have lasted a day.
Carmilla´s mind kept wondering until she felt Laura moving next to her. When she looked down, she realized Laura was putting a white flower over Kirsch’s cask, as it was laid down. As she drew back, Carmilla squeezed her shoulder and Laura, silent tears falling down her cheeks, granted her a tiny smile. Ever since she had met her, Laura had been hit incessantly—first Carmilla’s “death”, then the suffering of her friends, their breakup, Danny’s death (Carmilla couldn’t say she was particularly sad at that one, but anything that made Laura sad, made her a little sad too), and now, the rest of her friends were dying, one by one, and Carmilla didn’t know how to stop it. She felt so useless. What’s the use of being a “centuries-old badass vampire” if she couldn’t protect a couple of useless humans? She sighed and held Laura close. As long as Laura was safe, nothing else mattered.
Laura kept staring at the tomb, even though everything was over now, and people were starting to leave. Tears began falling down her cheeks, and Carmilla turned so she could catch them with her thumbs. “Oh Carm!” she cried, pressing herself against Carmilla’s chest, sobbing softly.
“Everything will be alright, darling” she mumbled against Laura’s hair. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince Laura, or herself.