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There was a lot Andrew Kreiss saw as a gravekeeper. While he maintained the dead, there were constant shadows and sounds. Sometimes they were from the rustle of the hedge bushes up against the iron grating. Sometimes it was the sight of a tabby cat trudging away with church offerings in its tiny mouth. There were a lot of things that decided to spook him when he had first taken up the job of keeping the graveyards clear of the less beautiful side of the work.
However, something had been bothering him.
While working in the cold dirt there was something that always made him tense. There was a feeling, a cold and dreadful feeling. It wasn't long before he pieced it together, to how he was being watched. At first it was hard to spot the scarlet irises but the slit pupils made their cat-like shine much easier to see. But that was why, at first, Andrew hated it.
Only the eyes of animals shined under light. Humans eyes didn't have the reflection.
They were propped up against one of the graveyard trees, the ones that only bloomed in summer. Even from where Andrew was in the dirt he could tell that they were tall. At least 6'5 or maybe taller, and the German man was certainly around just around 6 ft himself. It was only the second night did Andrew get a glimpse of the clothing style, one he didn't recognize.
The gravekeeper never approached. He only watched as they locked eyes and then the man(?) disappeared behind the tree.
A week passed, and a week of glimpsing interaction followed. Salmon pink eyes found wonderful scarlet, a color that struck the air out of his chest, and then when he blinked they disappeared. He didn't know how, he didn't know where, but it came to Andrew's attention that they were always watching him. They were always there when he was out, using his scuffed boot to shovel the shovels blade through the ground to clean around the sinking tombstones and to make a new spot for the deceased.
"You are here every night."
The voice made him grip tightly at the hilt of his shovel but he didn't whirl around. Andrew had an inkling of who it was so much that he didn't need to turn around to address the lingering shadow over his shoulder. Andrew didn't answer them as he dug the blade into the ground and relaxed his hands slowly, trying to make sure the disruptive quiver in his body wasn't seen as fear.
For some reason he trusted the stranger as they extended a gloved hand of their own and plucked his right hand off of the hilt.
"You have sores on your hands. From working all night."
Andrew finally turned over his shoulder, eyeing a beautiful, pale face with those daring eyes again. They weren't looking at him this time. Instead they were focused on Andrew's hand.
The gravekeeper spoke slowly as the fabric around his hand was slowly shifted away from his wrist, his palm, his knuckles and then his fingers. "I work because I must," he muttered, seeing those eyes flick back to his face again. Always his face. "It is my living. I cannot complain about my bruises and blisters."
The man looked at Andrew's hand, a piece of his body covered with heavy callouses and sore blisters that he just had to ignore. Even the side of his hand was bruised because he accidentally pressed too hard on the shovel instead of using his boot.
Andrew let out a brief exhale. "You look worried."
The other raised a fine eyebrow. "And how do you know when my facial expression has not changed?"
It hadn't, in truth. His face remained as though he was constantly in thought, constantly worried or agitated. Andrew, however, was very keen on little things in faces of people as he was too afraid to say the wrong thing if he ever decided to open his mouth.
"Your mouth." He watched a slight line ingrain itself between the man's lips. "You have... subtle movements in your mouth. The corners of your lips."
The taller man leaned down slowly, pulling Andrew closer with the grip on his wrist. Though soft it still was firm enough to make anxious butterflies stir wildly in his chest.
"You are very interesting, gravekeeper," he whispered with a voice that could surely bribe a god. "You have let me see another part of you that I couldn't when watching you from afar."
Andrew's pink eyes narrowed slowly. His opposite hand moved from the shovel and was now nervously placed on the white gloved hand still on his wrist. He wanted to be let go, even if there was no sense of danger. In fact he wasn't sure why, but he felt no danger at all. Though Andrew's anxiety was absolutely flaring up, turning to fire in his stomach, the way the eyes of scarlet stared at him with their intensity didn't make him feel like he was going to die, like the man was wishing him a painful death.
"You're always under the tree. The magnolia." His german tongue threatened to turn the word upside down but he kept good pace. He swallowed. "Why?"
The stranger let go but Andrew couldn't pull back. Those gloved hands were working on his other glove, seeking out his bruises and sores with gentle fingers. Andrew let him.
"I plan to be there every night until I am no longer infatuated."
Andrew's mouth went dry and there was a hot flash of warmth across his cheeks. "In...fatuated?"
Cold thumbs, though gloved, brushed over his veined and roughed up palms. The creature didn't look up at him.
"Yes, you heard me correctly." Those eyes snapped up to see him through dark, crescent lashes. "Infatuated."
As though to make a promise to his words, he grasped both of Andrew's hands and lifted them, palm up, to his lips. The gravekeeper felt his whole body go red as soft, sweetly chilled lips, were placed on his palms. It was the most gentle touch he had felt and even his calloused spots almost felt like they were there with purpose.
Cold lips brushed up over his palms. Butterfly kisses were so gingerly placed along his beaten wrist as his sleeve was pushed back to reveal all of the scarring on only one arm.
Andrew found his voice only when he took in a sharp breath. "Why?" Those cold lips didn't stop and he felt his head spinning. "I'm... There is... I'm not pretty. I am not clever."
An arm was locked behind the small of his back, forcing him up against a chest of iron. Two fingers, as strong as a leather clasp, firmly held up his arm above his head and Andrew could feel the blood draining from his fingertips as he was forced to bend back to see him.
Through semi-parted lips the gravekeeper could see a pair of glistening canines. They stretched far too much to reach just barely above his lower lip and he could finally see the black sclera that took his breath from his chest. If the stranger hadn't been holding onto him like he weighed nothing, then the German would have had his knees give out on them both.
A kiss was placed on the inside of his elbow and he felt a shiver encompass his body.
"They say you are a monster," the stranger muttered, pressing another kiss that let Andrew feel the sharp canines. "I, however, do not see it. You are just a human, a beautiful and afraid human, who has been compared to a monster under the bed of a child."
The gravekeeper could hear his heartbeat in his ears. The blood was there, rushing through his body so much that he could feel his legs trembling. Reality was spinning and he could see his breath quivering in the cold air of London's graveyard.
Andrew could barely speak.
"You are a vampir?"
A smile finally etched onto the creature's face. Andrew watched that face pull up from his arm before coming eye-to-eye with him. His arm was finally relinquished and he immediately settled both of his hands on the vampire's forearms. The blush was so hot, so heavy on his face, that he wondered if it was the weight of it that made him look down.
Fingers brought up his chin and the gravekeeper nearly saw stars as gentle lips brushed his own, asking softly for reprieve from the constant waiting. He didn't speak, he didn't move. His body was shaking so terribly that he didn’t know if he could stand up anymore, even if he had wanted to.
A week. That was how long they had known each other. He concluded that the vampire had been watching him for a longer period of time as that cold mouth fell on his and Andrew almost gasped at how tender he was being. It was almost uncomfortably soft, stealing the breath from his aching chest as he tried to remember how to breathe into a mouth that seemed to yearn for as much attention as what Andrew had once tried for as a child. As an adult.
Andrew’s inexperience drew the pleasantries short. His mind was a haze, his breath was trying to catch up to his body-
But he didn’t miss the wet, icy lick at the base of his neck and then the searing bite that came after it. Two fangs pierced downwards, breaking the skin and immediately shooting pain up through Andrew’s body.
Though his hands were ruined and in need of care the gravekeeper wasted no time in trying to shove off the beast of a man. The pain was fire and it burned so fiercely that he almost wished he hadn’t fallen for the softness he had seen only moments ago.
The hand beneath his chin now gripped at his hair, forcing his neck to be pulled to the side to bare his neck. No matter how hard Andrew shoved his hands against his chest, the vampire was as steadfast as a brick wall.
“Hold still. It will feel better soon.”
Andrew never thought he’d hear the sounds of someone drinking at his blood like it was afternoon tea. Never did he ever think that he’d almost find a delight in a mouth at his neck.
In his distress, the gravekeeper’s trembling had ceased, but his mind didn’t stop.
“Will you kill me?”
There was only a chuckle that formed in the vampire’s throat. Nothing else sounded, not a word was made and Andrew knew why as a tongue flicked over those awful holes. He flinched but, despite the pain, he almost felt lewd doing this in the graveyards vicinity. Though he was sure it wasn’t quite public, given the fact it was nightshift and, equally, the dead of night, he still felt very sheepish about the manner.
The mouth pulled back and, for a moment, Andrew wasn't sure if he was on the verge of thanking God for it stopping or not. In a way, he couldn't be upset entirely about the ordeal as the pain had subsided at least a minute ago. With certainty, however, he knew that the only thing keeping him from falling was that steadfast arm still snugged into the small of his back.
A kiss of copper was pressed gingerly up against his mouth and his flush, though much less heavy, popped up on his face in the shade of pink. He looked up through heavy lids to see those red eyes again, seeming to sparkle now with a livelihood he hadn’t expected. Then again… there was a lot he hadn’t expected.
“I won’t kill you while I’m still infatuated.”
That word again…
Andrew’s position was changed and, for a moment, his world went black. His body was heavy from bloodloss but he could feel cold hands carrying him as though he weighed nothing up.
The gravekeeper, in that moment, let his sore fingers hook onto the front of that expensive attire. He let himself rest, panic gone and replaced with curiosity and his own comfort in a beast that he had yet to know the name of. The realization made him mumble, pulling himself up a little.
“Your name? What is your name?”
A soft kiss was placed on his forehead, right along his bangs. It made him mumble incoherently to show his sheepish behavior.
“Victor.”
The gravekeeper nodded, satisfied.
“Andrew. Andrew Kreiss.”
There was a far off chuckle as the German man finally closed his eyes, wondering if he would smell the graveyard’s dirt when he woke up.