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Chapter Text

August 31st 1907, Sunday, Germany

Andrew Kreiss wasn’t all that interesting. There were far more interesting people throughout Berlin, people with families to live for or people to serve. Not everyone was a ghost or untouchable, being a ghost in Berlin was like committing one of the worst sins known to man and being exposed to the townspeople. For Andrew, that sin was being born. And his punishment? Much worse than death. Losing both parents before you turn 10, being rejected by every orphanage in the city, being forced to live with a man who succumbed to his ego which made him ghastly to speak to and finally, the worst of all, catholic school.

Life was losing its touch, its everlasting grasp that gave people a reason. Everything seemed dull, monotonous.

The spine of a shovel seeped down into the marshy dirt coated from the earlier light rains. Piles of dirt began to mound as life bustled in the town around him. Women with cream dresses and bonnets giving each other blissful whispers on their way to schools, men sharing a smoke at the train stop, passing a silver lighter around with talk of new money and who was stirring the pot with who. Yet the sky still had a colorless look, gray almost from the smoke excreting into the atmosphere. It made industrialization look like a mistake.

Andrew finished his daily work early, little to no scratches from his work, as if most of the scars lined across his body weren’t from aging abuse scars. His brown pools gone gray from the lack of pigment in his face and of course vivid dark circles under his ashes.

He walked himself closer to the fence, shoveling more dirt over a coffin which he would move out of the ground later tonight for his monthly sum. He caught visions of more of the people living, doing the things he couldn’t. Although, sometimes it felt like they were one in the same, faking happiness until you make it.

The church bells pounded marking the evening. Dragging his shovel along the dirt, pulling the heavy object through weeds as nobody paid any mind to him.

He pictured a world where everything was different, where he wasn’t a freak of nature. He could see himself sharing a smoke with friends, being able to laugh or smile without someone giving him a look like there was something resting on his face.

If I had people who loved me.

Retreating back to the church, he passed a familiar face he’d seen everyday after the bells would ring. A shorter, young man with a baby face and beautiful golden hair. He’d attend the young children who came from the church and sit with them for what seemed like hours. The townspeople’s chatter had spoken of him before in a light and hopeful manner; they say he teaches the less fortunate how to read and write, they say he rescued many out of a burning building. It enchanted him and sparked curiosity. Who would want to come to an old church losing every ounce of money it once had?
Maybe there was some sort of future for the children that had come to Lutz.

-

In the evening, it was quiet, too quiet, doors shut outside causing dogs to bark and children to cry through the open windows, leaking illuminated lighting.

He loved the night, the nights meant the moon, and the moon meant the stars.

Now, would be the time he usually received his commission, the grandfather clock struck a receding bell marking midnight, that’s when Andrew took his shovel.

At the gates, a figure waded between the fog, Andrew could almost see the man covered in shadows’ pores, that’s how focused he was. It felt like, the silhouette was the only thing there in that moment.

“Kreiss.”

He heard a whisper, then a bag of what it seemed like gold, valuables, money. This was his commissioner.

When the bag was shaken, it rang with the clanking of marks.

The figure approached and so did he, but just as a car passed by leaking emission into the air, he caught a glimpse of the man’s face.

“What do you think you’re doing out this late?”

It was then he noticed the bag of his so believed money was nothing but golden and brass keys.

“Marshall.”

“That’s mister Marshall to the likes of you,”

He paused, body now fully illuminated with a flashlight, now point directly onto the lids of Andrew’s eyes causing him to wince as if he was in pain.

“S-Stop.. Please..”

“Answer me.”

The landlord turned up the intensity of the flashlight, he hissed through his teeth as he fell backwards onto the grass, Marshall, still not impressed.

“I-I forgot to close the gate…. I’m s-sorry..” He stuttered through his speech, lying, his lids fully shut, he purposefully made his tone seem as desperate as he was, he fidgeted and held his arm high above his head to block the brightness.

Marshall stepped forward. “That’s my job, gravekeeper.” He trailed himself around the albino as he spoke, swirling his keys through his hand before abruptly stopping and forcefully kicking his foot into his stomach. Andrew flinched before the hit, before taking the searing pain instead of trying to get away.

He kneeled, taking a weakened and defenseless Andrew’s collar and lifting him up, leaving him gasping for air.

“Demons don’t belong at the gates. They belong in the graveyard. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He dropped him down, leaving his face onto the dirt before smacking him in the side of the head with a blunt hit from the back of the flashlight.

Andrew was left motionless.

Tomorrow is another day.

Chapter Text

September 1st 1907, Monday, Germany

Some say the pain is better once you rest, that was not the case.

He’d sworn he received some kind of concussion in the process, if he didn’t, why did it hurt so bad, why did it interfere with daily activities?

He should be used to it by now, he told himself repeatedly, it hadn’t been the first time and it won’t be the last.

It was his fault, wasn’t it? He was the way he is for a reason. Maybe it’s destiny, destiny to be sent to hell for the way he is.

It seemed that every time it hurt more than the first, with a beating pain in his head he spilled a pot of water onto himself and the floor.

So much for making tea, he had guessed.

One day, the punishment would be worse. Last night was a close call, but if Marshall were to ever find out about what he was doing to the corpses? He’d be deceased from there.

Andrew could take his beatings, the scars on his body were proof, but when could it be too much to handle?

Later in the day when the sun was in its beating heat; he retreated to the upstairs loft where he was ordered to stay until the church had been done with the youth.

The leaders of the church had recently declared that Sunday was not enough, they demanded each child would come in after school to be cleansed with strange conspiracies of the devil in his town. Ever since, he received weird and uncanny looks.

The devil likes to pry on children, they say, so from there on, he would not be allowed to interact with any child. Per Marshall’s rule.

The woman in the bell sung once more, and the session was over. Each child had been blessed, and soon later the sun would fall, like everyday.

Andrew would stick his head out the window when he was lonely, he liked to watch the people, to guess every little detail about what was happening in their lives.

They must be more interesting than him right?

As the church was cleared, he dragged himself down the steps of the loft.

A nun approached him with a list of funerals for the upcoming week, a terrible fire had just happened nearby, but only two had passed away, with a fire, you’d expect more. How strange.

He opened the door with a slam, it seemed to take some people aback, women hid their children under their coats and men gave him unpleasant stares.

He saw men and women from all walks of life enter the church for the second praying of the day, at that time, as soon as children had left, adults would come in seeking mercy for their sins, confessions and wine drinking was hosted on the mondays.

As he held open the door, he felt like everyone was staring at him now, or maybe it was the large gash over his eyebrow from last night's accident.

It didn’t take long for the church to fill up, however, you would think by that time the stairs would have cleared. This time, you’d be incorrect. The same blonde young man was seated with a journal, his eyes ran across the paper paying no mind to his surroundings, even though many seemed to had paid him respects and kind words as they were once going through the door.

You are loved, aren’t you? So why are you here.

It echoed in his head.

He couldn’t allow anyone loitering outside of the church doors, he told himself as they shut. He had to do something, to say something.

“Excuse me..”

But then, he picked his head up, almost jumping, he could tell that he hadn’t seen him there. His almond pools struck him in an inseparable way, this man was always his favorite to observe, the way he had a love to read and write, and to pass it onto others.

Andrew gulped, then continued.

“You’re sitting directly in front of the doors, I could’ve tripped over you..”

The man’s head titled, by the uniform and the hat that read ‘POST’ he could tell immediately he had been a postman, something he couldn’t manage to tell from a distance.

“I’m sorry-“

He whispered under his breath as he motioned to get up, shutting his journal and putting his pen through the pocket on his chest.

“Wait-!” Andrew called, backing up at his sudden use of volume. He didn’t have to leave when there was nobody else around, the town was quiet, it seemed like it had been just them for miles.

“There isn’t anyone going in or out right now.. You’re free to stay.”

He didn’t respond, just sat back down, resting his journal to his side.

“Do you have a name?” He then said, his lips curved upwards into a small smile.

He was smiling at him. Someone was speaking directly to him without fearing, without drawing away or leaving immediately. Had he not heard the rumors? Had he not listened to any of the preachers who declared him a warning sign?

Andrew paused, nervousness creeping up at the question.

“You don’t have to answer, I’m sorry for being so direct.” The blonde said, his voice withhints of gentleness behind it, but soft spoken, almost like he hadn’t often talked to others. It was shaky, nervous even at times.

“No.. That’s okay…….” Deep breath. “It’s Andrew… Andrew Kreiss.”

The other man’s eyes seemed to wince from his smile. This gave Andrew uncertainty, but most of all confusion.

The sun crept up to the stairs, he stepped back under the shade to hide from it.

“What a lovely name… I didn’t know you spoke. It’s nice to meet you.”

Is this how you meet someone? Had he made a friend? Questions arose and his heart singed with tension.

“I’ve seen you before many times.. I could say the same.”

There was a short silence, awkwardness cut into Andrew like a knife as he went to sit next to him, but on a higher step to still hide away from the light, resting his shovel against the door.

The postman, whom he hadn’t learned the name of quite yet, lifted the hat off of his fluffy tufts to the top of the closed leather covered book next to him.

“Your name?” He squeaked out in a singular breath.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I really am not the best at speaking to people.”

He continued.

“Victor. My name is Victor Grantz.”

“Victor”

Andrew whispered to himself under his breathing.
Repeating his name seemed to get another bright smile out from the other man. It almost blinded him in the same way the sun did, but in a pleasant manner. He thought to himself, if the sun could have a living person hold all of its days of light on earth, Victor would be that sun.

Another moment of silence passed before Victor lifted his journal onto his lap, flipping through the pages before he reached a bookmarked piece of stained paper with writing covering the half of it.

And for the first time in his life, Andrew couldn’t keep his mouth shut, nor his eyes in his own business.

“Are those your letters?” He’d asked. It was the perfect example of calligraphy, ink seeped in the paper created beautiful lines and gashes of cursive writing. He’d assumed it had been a woman’s handwriting due to the delicate and unharsh pressing against the paper, maybe a girlfriend or lover of his.

“Yes, but not to me, sometimes I like to write myself letters.”

“Why write to yourself instead of someone else?” He’d queried having his previous theory silenced.

The postman grew a little uncomfortable by that question, he wasn’t led in the correct direction on how to answer.

“I don’t have anyone to write to,”

It grew quiet, Victor continued before Andrew could respond.

“Please show me no pity, I do what I do because I love it. Seeing people's reactions to the letters they receive brings me a bit of closure. You’re judging me, aren’t you?” Victor’s voice seemed to steady from the once frail tone, gaining a brief moment of embarrassment after the realization he’d been rambling.

“No- Not at all. I’d write you a letter.”

Victor’s defensiveness softened.

“Oh, there’s no need for that-“ The blonde said, nervousness creeping up.

Andrew wasn’t opposed to his proposed idea. He’d never written anyone a letter before but he could read and write like a standard citizen as he received an education like anyone else. He just hadn’t had a scenario where it’d been necessary. Whenever landlord Marshall had to say something to him it had been through letters rather than in person, it was against Andrew’s better judgement to even think of responding to him.

“I didn’t ask at first because I didn’t want to be rude, but are you okay?”

Andrew couldn’t piece together what he was talking about first, but as he saw the other man’s eyes trail to his unfringed forehead he felt a lump in his throat.

“Yes… I just… Fell last night.”

Although suspicious, Victor accepted his answer.

Victor caught the sight of him moving closer to the door as the sun fell, as he avoided the sunset he watched his shaky and clumsy movements wisp away with his shadow.

“You don’t like the sun, do you?”

Andrew shook his head as he brought his knees to his chest, the smaller male rested his cheek on his hand with a concerned expression.

Within time of passive charters between the two, the church bells rang again.

Victor parted from him with a goodbye and a tip of his hat as he smiled at him on his way out of the gates.

Andrew could feel himself growing a sort of sorrow to see him go, hoping that he would return instead of being frightened within a few feet of him as most were. No. Victor was different, wasn’t he? Nobody else would’ve spoke to him let alone smiled at him if they didn’t believe what the townspeople said.

It had to be that.

Chapter Text

9 Years Ago, Germany, St. John’s Catholic School

Andrew had always hated guns. They were dangerous; killed innocent people,

Each foot step sounded like a bang, he ran, he ran, until he couldn’t stop running. The boy’s bathroom was ahead, so he had no choice, for a second he could see his reflection.

That’s right, this is your birthday isn't it? You turned 13 today, why are you crying? It should be a happy day, shouldn’t it?

The peace was broken when the door slammed open, Andrew was no longer looking at himself through the glass mirror but three junior high schoolers, one with a revolver in hand, another with a pocketknife.

The first boy slammed a fist into the mirror, shattering it into bits of hard edged glass right at Andrew’s feet, making him jump.

His breathing grew more rapid, tears began to fall from his eyes in fear.

“Ooh, be careful there on those razor sharp edges, but you’re already used to using those right?”

Andrew pulled his knees up to his stomach and tried to keep his head down as he sobbed, but he was taken out of the position with a hand wrapped around his arm that then uncovered his sleeve to reveal bludgeoned self-inflicted gashes.

Andrew squealed in pain desperately trying to break free from their grasp as they laughed hysterically.

The pain was beyond anything physical. Emotional repression and straining is the kind of pain you wish you could live your entire life without.

“Help… Help!”

He whined, though he was certain nothing was going to happen. Nobody would care to save the devil child.

“Aww who’s gonna help you, Kreiss? Your mom?”

Tears continued to stream down his cheeks as he pushed and shoved with everything he had, after the comment had cut deep he kicked the boy with the gun away in a powerful shove, knocking him off of his balance and sending him to the floor.

There was silence, all that could be heard was the dripping of excess water from the faucet.

“Hold him down.”

He had made a grave mistake, he knew when he heard the safety lock on the gun flick off.

Andrew flinched, squealing as fear and pain melted from his face as he pushed himself as back onto the wall as he could. As the gun touched the side of his jaw and moved up to his head he began to cry hysterically, it felt like forever the loaded weapon was pressed against him, sobbing as if he was going to die then and there.

Guns were scary, but no, there was nothing scarier in the world than himself.

Chapter Text

September 2nd, 1907, Tuesday, Germany

As the sun began to rise, the curtains began to shut in Andrew’s loft. He pulled a wooden chair back and rested himself on the desk barely sun kissed from the short space between the curtains which allowed the finest bit of light to seep into his room.

The desk decorated with various letters from Marshall and the townspeople petitioning the church in belief of a new renaissance. Andrew ignored most, if not all of these.

He moved his arm to swat the letters away from his workspace before ripping a blank sheet of paper from a leather crested notebook.

Oh where to begin? Andrew, you haven’t written a single letter to anyone in your life, why are you so desperate for a friend if you’ve lived your entire life without one.

Maybe it was time for change.

Dear Victor Grantz

It read on his paper, stained with the purple tinted ink Marshall commissioned a penmaker for with the intention of making the church’s letters seem more formal, royal even. What a waste of money.

He took a deep breath, soon his hand was dragging the liquid across the paper, swooping his ‘i’s and curving his ‘l’s.

It feels like forever I’ve been waiting for something like this, a change. I’ve never had the need or desire to write a letter to anyone, perhaps you would be a good start for me. I have a feeling we both know how unkind the world can be to us, we are no strangers to cruelty. There will be times that people will have to face trials to overcome something, I’ve suffered one too many. 

I must be honest, yesterday wasn’t the first time I had met eyes with you, as I am a very observant man. I see people, things, objects in a way my landlord describes as abnormal. I hope you don’t mind my abrupt honesty, I am no unwanted watcher, I am just passing my time in the only way I’ve ever known, through the epitome of other’s lives.

When we met, your eyes weren’t focused on what I am, but instead what I could be. I am no tycoon, no socialite, I am a grave keeper deeply feared and hated by many for my illness, what I cannot figure out is why you don’t see me that way.

Change is for the better.

Sincerely, Andrew Kreiss

The pen was dropped to the side and replaced with a metal box containing hardened wax, he placed it over the stove, heating it to place a black seal with an ‘L’ for Lutz. 

Putting the letter in his coat, he went downstairs.

-

Evening struck, as did the church bells.

The church was full by the time it had reached a quarter after, Andrew had returned to where the two of them were last seated, on the side of the stairs, and placed the letter down.

It wasn’t a good idea for Andrew to be seen interacting with anyone when Marshall was on the property, so he put the letter exactly where he knew Victor could find it.

Seeking through the hole in the door, he looked back a few minutes later only to find it had been gone. Impossible to be blown away by the wind as it was near completely quiet outside. 

Victor would write back, he hoped.

-

September 3rd, 1907, Wednesday, Germany

Marshall wasn’t at the church today, Andrew sought out an open opportunity to speak to his ‘friend’.

Had he written back yet? Was the letter done? Had he been thinking about him in the way that Andrew was?

There was no vile in the world that could measure his amount of uncertainty. 

Andrew anxiously awaited the church bells to ring once more, this time, a woman, pulling her newborn close into her chest, three men gave him deadly stares and most others made the choice to avoid eyes. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could put up with this, it felt like everyday someone had something unkind to say, even if they weren’t speaking to him directly Andrew could feel the energy, it happened with people he didn’t know most frequently, just with a single look he knew he was unwanted.

It was true, nobody really wanted him, if he were to disappear, would anyone even notice?

The sun was falling down, and the door was now shutting, leaving him on the outside. 

Silhouettes of the trees hung in front of the burning, and under those silhouettes a familiar figure.

He sat against the cross that was placed to the side of the church’s stone carved sign, head pressed to the back of the pivot and eyes lost in a book. Children ran home from his direction, but yet he still looked lonesome.

He gave off a very gentle, fanciable aura. It wasn’t attractive, ravishing, it was just beauty.

Victor looked up before Andrew had begun to approach him so he just stood there aimlessly, the two waited for one another to say something, but there was nothing.

“I read your letter.” The blonde broke the silence.

“O-Oh!” 

“I wrote back. ”

Andrew’s eyebrows arched, he gave the door a nervous nudge as the postman reached into his satchel to pull out a white envelope, the opposite color that he was wrapped in.

It was a hard thing for Andrew to comprehend, receiving a letter seemed to give him a new emotion he’d never felt before. It made a tingling sensation in his stomach, making him even more anxious than before. 

Victor motioned his hand for him to come forward, he inched towards him and sat down slipping the letter through his fingers and holding on tightly.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“Why not?” He raised his head up, alerted by the question. 

“Well– I’ve never been able to hold a conversation before..”

The postman blinked a few times, then dipped down his chin, during his expression into a smile.

“Me either. I guess we’re more similar than we thought.”

Maybe that was the reason behind Andrew never seeing him once talking to anyone other than young children, despite many others trying to speak to him, to thank him for saving those souls from the fire, to bless him for his teachings to the youth group.

Maybe he was right, maybe they were similar in those ways. 

The two took a few more stolen glances from each other, Andrew wanted to dive deeper, to know more from the other male. For the first time in his life, he was fascinated that someone could understand how he was feeling.

-

Dear Andrew Kreiss,

Your letter was the first I’ve ever received! I love your use of words, it’s beautiful really. I’m excited to finally write to someone rather than to just myself, it feels like a fever dream come true almost after all this time. 

I’m writing this to tell you that you are no monster, no demonic creature or beast. You are as human as me, regardless of what anyone else has to say, or whatever illness you proclaim to have. Being harsh on yourself isn’t fair. 

Please don’t feel bad for watching, I’m flattered really, I also have a habit of being invested in other people’s lives much more than my own. When I spoke to you recently about how much I enjoy delivering letters to others, I really did mean it. I’ve become really good at reading others facial expressions and body language based on how they react when receiving a letter. I’ve loved doing this ever since I was a little boy, especially with my parents. You’re not creepy or mischievous at all for seeking a comfort outlet in others, even if it’s one sided. I’ve seen you before many times and I feel the same way, your presence made me very curious! Which is partially why I decided to talk to you when you began to talk to me rather than shutting my mouth or nodding my head.

I used to think that speaking wasn’t even an option for me, I was never a good speaker, but I was always a good writer. My mother never wanted me to talk to anyone, she would put faux stitches over my lips as a reminder to use my hands and head rather than words. As time passes, I think about how maybe it was a favor to me, I too grew up with a disadvantage to the world as well, I didn’t learn as quickly as others in school and I had a very odd but oblivious opinion of the world, the smallest things used to break me down.

You aren’t as alone in this world as you think, you will never understand how deeply I grieve for you and how I wish things were better, that you see the world from a different perspective than you so negatively do.

To new beginnings.

Sincerely, Victor Grantz

Chapter Text

3 days later, September 6th, 1907, Saturday, Germany

Andrew began to become a little more excited than usual.

As days passed on, it became a routine to sit with the postman at their spot when Marshall wasn’t around, and it kept on despite those minor setbacks.

Marshall had made it clear years ago that Andrew wasn’t allowed to socially interact with any others in case of ‘spreading’ his illness, but the two of them both knew very well there was no plague, Marshall just wanted him to suffer in containment where he belonged, and that was something Andrew had grown to accept.

It’s not like he liked people anyways, they were never kind to him, subtracting his friend, so before it didn’t seem like a problem, but now he had someone to talk to, someone he wanted to be around, which made it more of an obstacle. 

Two more letters lie on Andrew’s desk, already graining with dust.

Victor’s letters’ paper was more stained with a light yellow color, and the ink he wrote in was the color of blood, contrary to Andrew’s dark mauve writing and purely snow colored paper.

He read through their two second letters to each other once more.

Dear Victor Grantz,

I admire you and your kindness, you’ve been through hell, I can tell, I hope you receive this letter and my words bring a light into your life. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted, to be a light instead of a dark black pool, you’ll be doing me a favor too.

My condolences if this letter finds you late, we ran out of ink so I had to ask my landlord for more. He may be familiar to you, he’s the reason I am unable to continue our conversations on certain days. But to be completely honest, I do not mind it, communicating with words on paper is far easier as much as I love breathing the same air as you. I still hope, on the days we do not speak, you continue to share yourself with the rest of the world, despite our similarities there is one thing we do not have in common, you are loved, I want to see you embrace that. 

I can tell in your last letter you are doing something you truly love, your words say it all and the last thing I want to do is wake you up from this peaceful sleep you’ve been longing for, no matter how hard it is for me to believe with your heart you’ve never received a letter nonetheless a woman in your life, you’re quite charming, I guarantee if you put yourself out there similarly to how did with me you’d be hitched before 25.

When I looked back on you I knew for a fact you could tell how I was feeling without saying a word, I guess that made my intuition correct, I believe they go quite well together to say the least. I’m grateful I have found you and I am deeply sorry you have struggled growing up, it has been a definite painful experience for me as well. Growing up with white hair and red eyes gave people an awful impression, I was constantly shamed, casted away and undesirable for my condition. People thought I was an evil being. I’m sure you’ve heard what the townspeople said, they know gossip very well. I overhear them sometimes, I listen, It hurts, but it gets better over time. Eventually you just start to hear the same things over and over again and then not at all. 

You’re surely a gem, I will hold these letters close to my heart years later and that’s a promise.

Sincerely, Andrew Kreiss

Dear Andrew Kreiss,

You notice the smallest things about me, it makes me feel like I am on top of the world! Don’t worry for a second about not being a light in my life, I stayed in my bed all day yesterday after visiting Lutz, I couldn’t get over how ecstatic I really am.

Don’t concern yourself about anything being late, I owe the world millions for even giving me a chance to write to you. If someone asked me to describe my perfect evening, it would be reading and responding to your letters. Everyone on this planet breathes the same air, we will be sharing space in whatever part of the world you choose to lay.

As much as I appreciate your compliments, I am in no rush to find a woman and settle down. There is plenty of time left in the world, fate will lead me in the correct direction, I am sure of it.

We think and live very much alike. Though our stories are different, I am wounded on how much you are affected by petty opinions. I am not to pity, I just didn’t want to be rude when we first met. Yes I’ve heard the things that they say about you, it was my decision not to believe them. I have had my fair share of being misunderstood, before the fire, I wasn’t well liked either. Anyone who’s different in this town is ghosted away by everyone else. There’s an unrealistic expectation for perfection in Berlin when in reality you are perfect the way you are, Andrew.

Say, would you do me a favor? I’d like to meet with you Sunday morning at the town square. Nothing strictly business, I just want to see you again outside of Lutz!

Recently, my happiness is to be near you, I do adore the fact you feel so strongly about speaking to me, I reciprocate. Thank you for your patience with me, my friend.

Sincerely, Victor Grantz

Marshall visited on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sunday evenings, which of course left him plenty of time to do as he pleased, but it was hell everyday he was there.

But today was different, today there was a funeral and no space in the graveyard. Andrew would have to make space, the only way to do that was to remove the impure, a routine he’d grown accustomed to.

He made a goal to respond to Victor near the end of the day when it was done, he couldn’t begin to forget about his friend so soon, could he? He’d thought about the other man’s wishes on wanting to meet with him, it prompted concern for the grave keeper as he did not want to be in the sun, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with an umbrella. 

Andrew was left indifferent about what he did for money. He had no choice. He wouldn’t survive without the money to pay off Marshall’s rent for living in the church. 

There were faint, scattered memories of Andrew’s boyhood, he would sell chickens he found in the forest for money, or make candles, or do anything he possibly could to pay Marshall, despite not even having to, he wanted to gain his favor and a comfortable place to sleep at night.

When the money was flowing in, Marshall didn’t have a choice. 

And yet, people still idolized Marshall, they called him a saint and treated him like a disciple, the man who brought in a devil child to purify him and save him from the streets. That was the story, but the grave keeper was never purified in the eyes of the people.

This evening, it was time to remove one of the most filthy and vile people from the graveyard, one he should’ve removed the day the corpse was buried. 

It was no surprise this particular person was related to Marshall, but the man was a catholic priest for another church, as well as a rapist and a sexual offender, he thought to himself as he glanced at a newspaper article on the right side of his desk capturing his acts towards his youth group members.

No man commuting to such horrific acts deserves a space in his cemetery. Not one bit, so he had to take care of it.

As the sun hit the floor and the moon arose, he dragged his shovel across the wooden boards of the church and entered the cemetery. 

Hiss..Hiss.. Hiss

The sounds of the object now being dragged through the grass created the coarse and unsettling sounds, then met with the noises of a shovel digging into the thick, moist dirt. It didn’t take long for a pile to arise, dip by dip, until the sound of the shovel dipping into the surface was replaced with a metal slam. 

He joined the coffin in the hole, digging out some space for him to stand before lifting off the cover of the body, conveniently masked in a while sheet. 

He rang out his bag. 

-

The clock striked 3 AM, that’s when he was supposed to meet his commissioner, which hopefully wouldn’t be Marshall this time, 

A man in a hood lay himself against a street pole, this time a broader build than Marshall’s, and taller, but not taller than him quite yet. Andrew approached with a hood of his own and a mask to prevent his identity from being revealed. If the man knew he had his illness, well, who knows how business would go.

The man was different from his main comissioner, he caught a glimpse of his face as a car’s headlights struck the both of them. Covered in stitches, hair gone gray, a frown on his face that read off as his natural expression.

Andrew tried to hide his intimidation and fear with desperation instead, he could feel himself shiver under his breath as the moon lit the sidewalk up where their shadows joined.

He introduced himself as Percy, a man looking for test subjects on his science experiments, he said he had sent his colleagues to retrieve the corpses before but now they are unable to show due to incidents. This arose suspicion, but money was money. He responded with an understanding nod, then brought him into the cemetery where Percy lifted the body bag up all by himself, despite Andrew offering to help him.

“Are you sure he’s not alive?”

Andrew paused, confused.

“He’s been deceased for four days.. Yes.” He answered with hesitancy in his voice, Percy was already making him second guess himself. This was responded with a nod as he motioned the albino to come with, passing all the other headstones, some with flowers, letters and objects, some with none. 

Soon, he thought, one of those headstones with not even a flower would be his. 

The large man lifted the bag into his truck, where he also gave Andrew his payment. The car engine started, roaring like the strumming of a guitar and emitting smoke at its tires.

And then it was gone.

Andrew dragged himself back upstairs to the loft where he sat at his desk, reading through the letters once more he’s received from Victor, exhausted, he got himself a piece of paper and began to write once more. Heart still wrenching from what he had just done, despite all the times he’s done it before, this time he felt an immense amount of guilt for his actions, maybe looking into that scarred man's eyes had done something to him, or maybe it was how he had a little more to protect than before, not just Lutz, but his friend.

He was spiraling. 

In the first Dear Victor he wrote, this time leaving out his last name as the two became a little less formal, he began to question himself on what he was doing, all of it felt unrealistic and out of proportion, if you were to ask him a week ago where he would be in the future, this is not what he would have said, nor expected by a long shot. So many things stood in his way from being in the same space as the other man, yet he’s been sacrificing so much to just have his eyes meet with his. When you really want something, you work towards it. Andrew was working to be able to see him, to be able to bypass Marshall, the townspeople, and put himself at stake just so he could have a single friend. Little did he know that soon Victor would become the most precious thing to him. 

He continued to write, bookmarking those thoughts in his mind.

I’m glad to know you feel that way, dear friend, that is just the way you make me feel. I can’t even begin to express my gratitude for everything you’ve done leading up to this moment, you truly make me smile.

Recently, whenever something has happened, you’ve been the first person on my mind to tell. With this letter, I come with information that is to be barred for your eyes only, this evening I met with a man who calls himself Percy. Something I’ve done was unspeakable and wrong, but in my head it was right, I purified something that wasn’t meant to be purified. You must know, I am always trying to keep my home safe, regardless if the people in this town deserve it or not. I only believe whatever I do for Lutz is the best, but tonight, I am feeling some guilt, mainly because I know that’s something you wouldn’t have done in that situation. Although you do not have the details I beg you for your and yours only forgiveness.

I know that I can write these letters and have everything be alright after, I have found comfort in your words and knowing you feel that way too makes it all the better. You have created the foundation for a big part of my happiness, and your sympathy makes it easier to continue. I still have faint memories from when I was younger and attending an all-boys Catholic School, unfortunately, those memories are far from good. I was hurt very much mentally and emotionally day by day, there were days when I wished to myself that I would never wake up. My heart is still wounded very deeply to this day, as well as my body. 

Take your time and truly live every time you have an experience, I wouldn’t want you to end up like me, so as long as you make the best of your life, be in no rush to settle down. Tell me, how are you feeling about yourself and what you’ve accomplished? It must feel amazing to be adored by so many for your heroic acts.

Although I was originally hesitant, I’d be glad to join you, in fact, I will give you this letter when I meet you there. I’ve been quite lonely these past few days. It would be beneficial to leave the church for the first time in a month. I need to visit the markets to restock some supplies when we’re there.

Soon, you’ll find this letter will be in your hands. 

Sincerely, Andrew 

-

September 7th, 1907, Sunday, Germany

The next day approached, a warm day with clouds complimenting the sky. 

Andrew’s new goal was to be back in the church before Marshall was to return, which would be an obstacle considering he had no idea how long Victor was planning to keep him busy. 

If it was up to him, he would never return back to the church, but that’d be unrealistic, how could he? When push came to shove, he’d do anything in the world to get away from Marshall now, but he had nowhere to go. 

As he treated his wound in the morning, which he did not have the supplies to care for at all, he had several unwelcoming feelings when he was reminded of how it got there in the first place. 

As he wiped it with cheap disinfectant, spiraling thoughts drained his mind and his sanity. Constant abuse, pain, suffering, when would he ever get tired of it? He wanted it all to stop. Anyone else but him would have been a better option. He felt lucky to have kept his morals, at least, living under the devil’s advocate’s roof. If you had asked Andrew, that man was no Catholic, he was far too corrupt to say the least. 

It gave him some of the worst intrusive thoughts. Oh, how he wanted it all to stop for good. To stop. Stop. Stop.

Stop.

He dropped the disinfectant on the floor where he stood. 

-

He left the church before the doors had opened, it’d be up to the nuns to hold the doors for the townsmen and women today.

Andrew set open his umbrella as soon as his shoes touched the ground, the tips pecking into the sun. 

As he left the church which felt like the first time in forever, he could feel the discomfort flooding around him. The looks of other people made Andrew feel like he was in the way, he felt like everyone’s eyes were on him.

Despite the unsettling feelings, he continued to walk through the block, letting himself cross the bridges and streets full of markets and merchants calling out for sellers. He saw children crying into their mothers and dogs leashed to stands, panting and barking at whoever passed by. He took a different path than the market filled road for dogs and never really liked Andrew. He’d get barked at, growled, sometimes even hissed at by cats. It wasn’t only the people that despised him, but animals too. 

He crossed another path into townsquare, his search came to an end when his red orbs reached the postman sitting on the side of a large stone fountain, but not only him, no, there was a small person next to him, a young girl, looking over his shoulder into a book where he read aloud. Her hair was a similar color to Victor’s but brighter and thinner. Her bangs were eyebrow level and her face a peachy pale. 

Holding his umbrella tighter with his sweaty palms, he proceeded with the heat getting to him from the burning sun, not only was he wearing all black, but he was the palest person in Berlin.

“Good morning.” He caught Victor’s attention, causing him to raise his head quickly, the girl not cowering behind him but instead looking up along with him.

“Oh, good morning, how are you, Andrew?”

He gulped, he was hot, but it’d be impolite to respond that way to a question from a kindhearted person.

“I’m doing well, it’s very nice to see you…. I didn’t know that.. You would have other company.”

The girl seemed to humph, now sitting down next to the other man. She seemed irritable at Andrew’s presence rather than scared. He interrupted some sort of reading, which makes sense, considering how attentive she was to Victor’s voice prior. It made him feel even the smallest feeling of guilt.

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before bringing her here.”

Victor took her hand and she came forward to Andrew, looking up at him with big brown eyes. 

“I like to call her my student, but she’s more of a friend rather than that. The kids at the orphanage call her Memory, she recently was transferred from England until they can find a suitable home for her there.” 

She continued to stare, Andrew only looked back in perplexion. There was not an ounce of fear or alarming in her face, rather more curiosity and interest. “I see.. Are you teaching her how to read?”

A big, smug smile then appeared on her face as she climbed back onto Victor’s shoulder.

“Oh no, I’m afraid not, she’s actually a very gifted reader already, I’m just broadening her horizons with books the church doesn’t provide. She doesn’t say much, though.” 

Sounds familiar.

“She doesn’t remind you of yourself at all?” Andrew said with a pleasant smile as he sat down next to him, feeling the occasional splash of water against him. He remembered Victor mentioning being a rather quiet child in their letters but proficient with letters and books. 

“I never even thought of that, I guess she does!” He put a palm to his mouth to try to hide a growing smile, reopening the book to the page where he had previously bookmarked as Memory tugged on the cuff of his sleeve. 

“Would you mind if we finished this? She has school shortly.”

The grave keeper nodded, umbrella still held low resting over his head. More looks came his way today rather than other days for having an umbrella out in bright daylight. He guessed he did look a bit silly.

“Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken. Leave my loneliness unbroken—quit the bust above my door.” He quoted, Memory listening contently. 

Edgar Allan Poe.

“ Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door.”

A different voice then continued the poem, one frail, raspy and more feminine. “Quoth the Raven “Nevermore”” Said the girl closing the stanza.

As the two went on, Andrew found himself caught up in staring. As he watched the postman go on, reading every line with a passion and purpose, he could tell there was love in what he was doing. Maybe a little too much. Seeing Victor passionate, even if he wasn’t exactly telling him that he was, it refreshed him to see him in his element. It was purely admirement, Andrew cared about him. He wanted to see him happy. It made him feel things strangely, the happiness he felt by just being around him.

The two finished off the poem with a final line, Memory stepped down from being on the side of the fountain landing on her yellow-spotted boots. 

“I never gave you this.” Andrew took the letter from out of his coat, fingers tucked between the black letter.

Victor took it pleasingly, glancing over the distinct Lutz wax seal. “Thank you.” He said, hiding his excitement.

After a few more prolonged moments the blonde raised his head. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Chapter Text

As the sun sharpened Victor led the grave keeper through the streets. 

It was everything he already saw and more, but instead of feeling out of place or uncomfortable, he felt safe knowing he was with someone. He wondered if people had seen them together already, would they talk, question why the two young men from different walks of life were forming a relationship. It seemed like fate to Andrew.

They approached a fancily but quaint designed apartment, complete with a gate and a wooden fence splashed with white paint & vines growing from between the bars. They took the stairs up and approached the door which Victor unlocked.

“It’s a bit cluttered right now, I hope you don’t mind.” He spoke with a huff in his voice from shaking the knob and pushing over the rickety door. 

A loud barking sound came behind it, a dog, who desperately tried to squish their face through the cracked door, a dog who was certainly excited to see Victor.

“Wick, down girl!” He demanded in a voice that wasn’t so demanding, let alone loud soon the dog retreated from the door and jumped on a living room chair, frantically wagging it’s tail and slobbering.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Don’t worry, she’s very sweet, you’ll like her.”

Assuming this was the postman’s home, It looked like a room from the cover of a furniture magazine, when you walked in the first thing you’d see is the kitchen, a mandela printed rag hanging from the handle of the stove and pots and pans hanging from the walls, it reminded him of his mother’s kitchen when he was younger, when they could afford meals at least. 

They crossed over a crimson rug into a bedroom, the wallpaper seemed to have started to peel off in the corners, but the room still charming nonetheless, leaving Wick in the living room.

“Okay now hands over your eyes!”

Andrew reluctantly agreed and placed his hands across his face, waiting for Victor to give him the okay to open them. 

While blind Andrew could hear a flickering of a light and a snapping noise, all at the same time. He already saw almost all of his room, what could there possibly be that Victor wanted him to see?

He felt his hand being touched, it caused him to flinch away close to immediately. The unexpected action caught him aback but he still didn’t open his eyes quite yet, keeping them shut, he’d hate to ruin the surprise.

“Hey.” He heard, spoken softly. “It’s okay.”

All he could hear now was his voice, hesitantly, he finally took Victor’s hand in his.

For that moment, the two men entangled their fingers in each other’s, causing Andrew to go nervous and his face to go a bit red until Victor told him to open his eyes.

When he opened his eyes he had looked down, it was an 1880s Kodak camera. In good condition, beautiful. Covered with a black lacquer like substance and leather trimmings.

Due to how expensive they were, cameras were a luxury many could not afford as they were only on the market for around 30 years now. He wondered how Victor could’ve possibly gotten his hands on something like this, it was incredible.

“It was my father’s, it’s never been used, he got it from America.” 

He inched himself closer to the camera, running his fingers along the dark colored brass gently, the last thing he wanted to do was ruin such an expensive item.

“And it works?” Questioned Andrew.

“Do you want to find out?”

Victor placed the camera on the bed then untied his shoes, pulling his legs up and holding the camera in his lap as he tried to figure out how it worked. It was funny, photographers made it look so easy but in reality nobody really knew how it worked.

Andrew sat at the foot of his bed, one hand around the wooden backings of the twin sized mattress and the other laying by his side. He watched Victor as he messed with the camera, turning the knob and shaking it aggressively. He couldn’t really hide his excitement, the littlest things just seemed to make him happy the grave keeper had noticed. It was… cute, even.

After Andrew began to drift off into another dreamy-eyed stare before a snapping sound caught it off guard.

“Ah, I think I got it.” Said Victor as he arose the camera with two hands aiming it for the other man, “Come on, smile!” 

Andrew froze up, not knowing what to do and flushing pink, he covered his face with his hands and looked away from the camera without thinking before it made another noticeable snapping sound. 

“Awww.”

“Be quiet.”

The two were met with chuckles as the newly taken photo was captured onto the film.

“I actually don’t have anything to develop the photo here but— I’ll mail it to the factory at some point.” 

Andrew nodded, still embarrassed. 

He watched out the window from the bed to check the time, sundown was approaching, he would have to leave for the church soon. If Marshall were to return and Andrew was out of sight, he would certainly take more than a couple bearings when he got home.

“I should probably leave soon. The church is undergoing a lot of changes this week and we don’t nearly have enough hands for it which means I’ll be doing most of the work.” He reached for his head and pressed his palm into it.

The other man seemed to understand that just fine, he looked at him with a gentle smile and a few locks of golden hair in his face.

“You don’t say that.. I would be allowed to help would you?”

He hadn’t even thought of that. Marshall was extremely strict about Andrew getting all of his tasks done, having a volunteer was something Lutz never got, he assumed Marshall would most definitely make an exception to Victor due to his highly earned new reputation. Who knows, it might even make Lutz a little more popular too.

“I suppose. But I’m not the person to ask, you’d have to talk to Marshall.”

“Well, then I best convince him.” He added with a positive tone of voice.

Andrew made out a weak smile, a smile that seemed to make Victor giggle harmoniously.

“Before you go.” Victor looked up as he turned the key-like knob to the right to put it back in place. “You know, you don’t have to be so self-conscious.”

Andrew assumed he was talking about his reaction to the photo, if he was, he’d been right. A little too right. He spoke too kindly to him, he had thought. At the end of the day, he was still undeserving of any of this, undeserving of being in someone else’s house, undeserving of having his photo taken, and undeserving of having someone who cares about him.

“Self conscious?” He’d asked for clarification.

“You’re so tough on yourself, don’t you think it’s time to see what your really worth?”

“What I’m worth?..” He repeated those words like he’d never heard them before in his life. “Being hard on myself has just become a habit.” He’d sighed. “I’m not worth anything, Victor. If I died right in this moment I wouldn’t be missed.”

“I’d miss you.” The postman’s eyebrows softened.

The albino’s chest seemed to tighten and hands went clammy, as he crossed his arms he couldn’t remember a time where it was not going on. Where he wasn’t constantly being hurt by others or affected in the way of how he perceived himself and what he was.

“It’s been like this since I was born. At least, everything only seemed to get worse after my mother died.”

Silence cut through Andrew like a knife, Victor didn’t say anything, his face just read with sorrow for him. But the grave keeper understood, he wouldn’t know how to react to another person’s trauma either, well, it was easier in letters when it wasn’t a verbal interaction.

Andrew looked off the side of the bed, his head dropped anxiously, yet his body still faced towards the other man. He wanted to shut up then and there, but something still pulled him so toward Victor, if he could, he wanted to share every little thing he had with his friend. But putting all that into words would hurt more than he’s ever hurt, maybe he would just stick to the letters.

“I freeze up a lot and I flinch whenever anyone even comes near me and I can’t stand it. I’m not afraid of others, I’m just afraid of myself—

 and at Lutz I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders being tested everyday— 

I can’t get away from any of this, in everyone’s eyes I’m nothing but a freak. 

I can’t stand myself, or anything about myself.”

He rambled, then bashfully shut his mouth with his hands after breaking into such a lengthy speech. 

He felt his face start to quiver, but he stopped himself from letting tears fall. It’s always shameful for a man to cry, said Marshall when he was a child. 

“What is wrong with me—?”

Andrew spiraled as he felt himself grow lightheaded, his body was weak, he began to grow overwhelmed and impatient with everything. It was all crashing down, like he was living through every moment of his life over and over again and was wanting it to stop. He closed his eyes.

The pace of his heart dramatically quickened.

His eyes opened to the postman’s arms wrapped around his torso and head over his shoulder. 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re carrying too much.”

And, as always, he froze up.

If he could have someone else take control of him, to decide what he could’ve done instead in that moment, he would in a heartbeat. 

As time passed the postman drew closer before letting go of his chest, Andrew still static in place. 

In his Victor’s he could still sense concern, but no regrets for what he had just done. And yet, in that moment Andrew felt something he hadn’t in a long time, bliss.

Memories of his mother flooded through his head like pollution, of how she used to hold him after hard days at school and promise him everything was going to be okay.

The last time Andrew ever received a hug from another person was the day she died. 

-

When evening struck and it was time for Andrew’s visit to come to an end, he couldn’t think of anything else. Walking back to Lutz that night his mind poisoned with the replay of it happening in his head, he didn’t resent it or look down upon it, he accepted it gladly, but it affected him in a way nothing ever had before.

He was so busy thinking, he hadn’t even realized that night had struck, and to his surprise, police vehicles and an ambulance surrounding the church. Sirens blaring as people in suits took lowered their hands into gear and more importantly, a body being delivered into a separate car by a man with tied back greying hair, though he did not look like he was aging, the man wore an embalmer’s suit.

As he hurried up the steps and peeked through the door he saw two tall and broad shouldered officers along with another man wearing a brown coat and thick red tie, one with not the most pleasant expression on his face. Marshall would not be pleased with him tonight.

He took a step forward, then another, hoping to sneak past the crowd of horrified men, blood splattered on the floor and witnesses being questioned. There was a murder.

He continued to creep forward, trying to listen in on their conversations, he heard faint mentions of the victim dying in what it seemed like a very gruesome and hard to look at way, an officer said it was a nun, her throat slit and wrists both broken and contorted. 

In fascination and concern about the crime, he lost sight of where he was going. At that moment, he tripped.

With him facing a plank of wood, he could feel another presence. One looking over him with deep hatred.

He was dragged away immediately. The storage room, he remembered, he would come in here for the weed killer and fertilizers as he was also responsible for tending to the church’s garden. 

He felt a heavy pressure in the back of his head before being lunged forward into the room head first.

A heavy sound of clanging metal ran throughout the church as he felt an overwhelming soreness on his eye where he had fallen as it turned purple and bled out onto the floorboards, the same style as the once he had tripped on seconds ago.

Marshall paced around the room, head in his hands as he brushed his brown hair over his head. 

“Where the HELL have you been?”

He gulped, saying nothing as he couldn’t catch himself quiet yet, singeing pain capturing every breath.

“Answer me NOW .”

He ordered.

That night, Andrew wouldn’t leave that room conscious.

Chapter Text

September 7th, 1907, Sunday, Germany

The pain. It was overwhelming.

It came in small sparks, it burned like a hot stove and welted him up feverishly.

It was with Victor that Andrew felt a bigger part of himself, but every time he managed to return back to Lutz it hurt more day by day. 

People say it gets easier. It never got easier for him.

As he awakened that morning he creaked his way out of his bed. 

The way his loft was designed had his bed placed in the center of the room, overhanging the bed there was a spiral staircase onto a mini library that held holy texts and theology studies as well as his desk and some of his more personal storages, such as his letters. Curtains draped from the bed and although cluttered Andrew became very accustomed to his home, they were much better living conditions than most of the less fortunate had in town, so how could he complain?

Now waking up Andrew thought hard about some of the things he heard last night. 

The bloody details and the mention of a man named Jack which hadn’t struck him until now. 

That’s right, they mentioned a name, now where did that sound familiar?

It cut through him, giving him a short shiver.

Were the police insinuating this could be the work of Jack the Ripper? It seemed silly, atrocious really he’d stopped to consider such a serial killer would commit the act.

It would be impossible, he’d been silent for years now, not to mention his last killing was in the 1880s, far from this modern day and time. And his residence being countries away? Of course these were all facts to consider, but along with the bloody mess the sheriff mentioned her throat being cut and wrists broken, slashed. But who would want to target an innocent nun?

He knew the woman very little, didn’t even know her name, but she was a devout saint. He could see her praying three to four times a day, someone with such an infatuation for the lord likely did not have any enemies, but the crime was no manslaughter, it was a crime of passion. But no crime of passion for a known serial killer. Assumingly right, the church was closed today for investigation. It was likely there would not be any other civilian in the church other than him, maybe even Marshall if he decides to show up today. 

For some reason, looking at the mirror in his restroom made it hurt more. It was more than clear to see he had a black eye from last night, he barely even remembered waking up and retreating back into his loft after being out cold from the impacts, let alone the murder itself, along with his eye he saw he had bruises in other various places as well.

He should’ve just talked, but no, Marshall could see through his lies as easily as he could his own, and he’d rather give him the silent treatment than reveal where he actually was or worse who he was with.

He walked down the steps after disinfecting his wound, still finding it hard to walk

He didn’t even realize until now the danger Victor could be in if the truth could be revealed. Marshall was dangerous. It gave Andrew anxiety thinking of all the things that could go wrong in one. What would happen if he did find out? Would that be the end of things? Maybe he should just stop talking to Victor to keep him safer. If something were to happen to Victor, he thought he would finally break, the last thing he wanted was for him to experience the same thing he did last night. 

That didn’t seem like too bad of an idea.

Sure he brought him happiness, something so vacant in his life he’d finally found, but he prioritized his safety before anything. Andrew became certain this was something he wanted to do, needed to do quickly. It was a possibility Marshall already knew and was planning something against him directly at this moment.

Victor needed to stay away from him, he needed to stay away from Lutz.

“Andrew!”

Or he guessed not.

“W-What are you doing here?” Andrew asked under his breath, horrified that he was even within the walls of the church. It didn’t seem to be any special occasion, he thought. Victor was still in his dull red postman uniform and hat, letter in hand and ghastly smile across his face, as if he was never smiling. But this time, his smile just managed to feel more real to him. 

“Volunteering.” Put simply, he looked like he was going to say something else but he didn’t, most favorably about his face.

“I see…” 

There was a brief, awkward silence between them.

“Uhm- I have this for you.” He held a letter out to him, something Andrew took from his grasp gently. 

“I’d like to apologize if I overstepped a boundary last night. I hope I can make it up to you by helping you out around the church.” Victor continued

Andrew gulped. This was what he was worried about. With Victor around all the time now he would be at more of a risk of his dreadful step-in father, not to mention the murder investigation that was already taking place.

He saw police officers around the room giving him very unpleasant looks. One brown haired young man in uniform took out his notebook and began writing when their eyes met. It made him grow unnervingly uneasy. Did they… think he did it?

Turning his attention back to what truly mattered, Victor, he gave a soft smile to his weakness.

“You didn’t overstep anything.. It was… nice..” Andrew added as he averted his eyes, he could feel himself flushing a little bit to his disadvantage. 

“What about Marsh-” He continued

“I took care of it. He trusts me and he’s happy to make some accommodations.” Victor cut him off, brushing a lock of golden hair from his face.

Victor didn’t have to say anymore with an ‘i told you so’ smile. Andrew was beat.

“How did you-” He stopped himself from questioning, he knew he didn’t have to anymore. It was within Victor’s nature to continuously leave him speechless with no effort whatsoever.

Andrew drew closer to him, whispering so the surrounding policemen could not hear the two. “Really, you shouldn’t be here Victor, there was a murder last night.”

“Are you worried about me?” 

In a sigh, he answered with a nod.

“Well, you don’t have to be. Let me in, let me help you.” He pleaded to him, eyebrows raised, there was not a hint of doubt hidden in his face as he gripped the other man's arms, meaning every word.

He subsided, pulling away in nervousness as two men having bodily closeness was not appropriate, especially in public, no matter how much he may have thought or wished for it.

For his own personal, unsaid reasons. 

During the day Victor didn’t seem to have an issue with labor at all, he was much happier to work than the average person. Andrew assumed he didn’t do much outside of delivering letters and having a soft spot for his dog.. And orphans as well.

He painted each window with care, being very detail oriented with every stroke. He was very good with his hands, Andrew wouldn’t lie, it was much easier to work now that he had a helping hand, even if he didn’t want Victor to get his hands dirty in the graveyard with him.

They worked for a few hours while the police sampled evidence from the crime scene, which were only around for a little bit more. Then and there Andrew and Victor had the church all to themselves. For the majority, there was silence as neither of them were very good at holding a conversation. But there was chatter here and there.

Victor broke the silence once Andrew joined him inside, sweating from the heat of the late summer. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” He clarified, although he knew very well what he meant.

“Your eye.. you got hurt..”

“It’s nothing. I fell.” He said without even realizing that was the exact same excuse he used last time, he left his shovel leaning on the door. 

Victor climbed down the ladder he used to reach the windows. The grave keeper drew closer as well, sitting on a seat the ladder was ever so slightly pressed against, a seat in which Victor joined him.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

There was quiet.

“Did.. Marshall do this to you?” He asked, looking directly to his eye. 

Still, Andrew said nothing, he just looked to the floor guiltily, as if he had done something wrong.

“Stay here.” The postman left for the bathroom, returning minutes later with a rag and soap he must’ve found in the cabinets below the sink. 

The rag was dripping with cold water, causing Andrew to flinch when it reached his eye.

His touch was soft, it made him feel fuzzy inside when the rag touched his face.

Hefelt more warmness in his heart from the experience than the pain from the barely treated wound, all whilst looking into Victor's eyes.

He felt a touch from Victor’s hand running across his own, his heart quickened and stomach turned, not even realizing that he was blushing up a storm.

Victor relaxed the muscles on his face into a smile and a chuckle due to their reciprocated embarrassment. 

“Oh Andrew, keep the cold on it.” He held Andrew’s hand up to the place the rag landed then let go. 

It made him numb, then and there all of his pain was gone, all he could feel was—

Crack!

All was well in that moment until the log to the church began to jingle. They fumbled their way back into their places as the door nearly slammed across the church.

A middle aged man approaching his 60s entered the room, it sounded little little pots and pans clinking together as he walked forward. He gave Andrew a negative side eyed look before turning to the postman graciously.

He was early for a Sunday, unfortunately, and Andrew didn’t like this situation at all. Not when the both of them were in the same room, not with Marshall’s raising suspicion against him and possibly the other too.

“Good afternoon, Victor.” He said with a heavy voice, paying no mind to the albino at all, which was no surprise considering Marshall resented him, the feeling was mutual.

“…” Victor looked back at him, nodding his head with a fake smile before picking up another paintbrush and putting his foot over a step on the ladder. 

“How are you liking it so far? I appreciate all that you’re doing. Some people just can’t do it all by themselves, especially with our little incident last night, have we?.”

“It is good.” He responded again, dully. Is this how Victor interacted with people other than him? He couldn’t believe for a second that he made such an impact on him to the point where he’s comfortable speaking openly to him. It gave him a confidence boost knowing that they’re pulling each other out of their shells.

“Andrew, I’m assuming you’ve already met Victor,”

“No, I haven’t actually.” He turned away heading for the door in a fit of irritation. He didn’t want Marshall to know what he knew, that is.

Marshall ignored his attitude “Tell me, does he serve as a good influence to you!? The reason he’s here is because you’re useless after all.” He said as he turned a key into a door menacingly.

Andrew was about to say something, but he stopped, dipping his head down and continuing to walk away from him rather than start a fight in front of someone. That’d be messy, not for now but certainly for later.

“Excuse me.” 

Victor interrupted into the conversation, looking at Andrew before changing his line of sight to the taller man. “I think there’s a woman outside looking for you. She seems very distressed about the murder.”

He sighed, picking up a briefcase from a locked cabinet he had opened when interrogating Andrew, thanked Victor and left the room.

He expected something like this to happen today, it was the talk of the whole town by now, information spread a little too quickly around here.

Maybe with all the people complaining then he’d get some grace away from Marshall, he hoped.

Victor gave one more small smile to him then finished a paint stroke across the window trim, the paint bucket hanging from a latch on the ladder, creaking as it rocked.

Then Andrew suddenly got it. There was no woman.

-

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, the two worked, chatted about until it was time for the two to part ways for the night. They spoke about growing up, their lives in Berlin and love. When they finished their quota; they peeked into a few of Victor’s letters, despite it not being allowed at all. It was still intriguing, either way. The sun set so much quicker when the two were with each other. 

And still at the end of the day, he opened the letter as he always did.

Dear Andrew,

Thank you for joining me, dearly. You have become very special and important to me throughout our meetings and now have a place in my heart. I want to make you smile everyday of your life, would that be okay?

I’m happy to see you have shared this with me, this seems to be weighing very harshly on your mind, Andrew, please know there is no one on this planet who hasn’t made a mistake, I’ve made more than any human being on this planet, really. Nobody is perfectly pure in the eyes of their own self, and you must know I am not entirely free of this either. You are such a kind-hearted and deserving man for you have so much love in your heart that has been sitting there for years, tell me, where have you been all this time? 

I am in a bit of a rush this letter, I am quite behind on my deliveries, so I will keep this brief to you my dear friend. These letters are too a safe haven for me, I’ve shared things with you no other person has ever heard before. I feel that our situations growing up were very similar, and for that I once more deeply apologize. Whatever you went through and choose not to share with me I respect, know that you are more than a punching bag for others. I too wasn’t the most popular at school, even if I didn’t attend a religious school considering my parents were never really the believing type, I’d imagine it would be worse there. People of religion can be kind and generous, they can also be cruel and judgemental and their devotion can make them blind. 

I wouldn't mind ending up like you really, I think you’re pretty wonderful, but I know you would, so I’ll keep that in mind. How am I feeling? That is certainly a good question! Everything has been really overwhelming to say the least, as I’m getting rewarded for following my morals. Honestly, if anything I don’t like the attention very much as I am very used and comfortable with keeping to myself. You, however, are a different story, my friend. 

Now with love and respect, you are very pessimistic, Andrew. I want you to know there is so much more to the world than wishing the best for everyone except yourself, you only get this life once and you must make the best out of it! Chase your dreams and go wherever the wind takes you.

I finally want to quickly add that I am very thankful for you joining me yesterday, it was the best I’ve had in a while, I love your company.

Follow your heart.

With care, Victor

He felt like he was going to melt.

Per usual, Andrew responded to the beating of his heart, with every gentle line of delicate cursive he was drawn closer into this relationship in ways he could not describe.

Victor was the most important part of his life now, but Andrew knew what he had to do. 

For the better of both their own safety.

So it was time to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

A little later that evening.

Victor wasn’t all that interesting either.

He was an average man with an average job. Nothing more to that, other than the fact of his discomfort towards people and the lack of the desire for communication. It led him to believe he was broken, like something was wrong with him. 

Whether it was true or not, that remained unanswered for the young man.

But recently, life had changed, things had been different. Good different, a special kind of change that had brightened days and cleared away dreary skies.

To put it simply, Andrew was becoming Victor’s whole world. 

He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t think, at least about anything other than him, it was like he was under some sort of trance. Victor had never had a friend up until about two weeks ago, before such he had nothing to do, nobody there, nothing but quiet in his house everyday, it was saddening, lonely.

Now, it felt like music and his life was the opera.

The feelings of care, attachment, excitement and so much more. There were so many different emotions in one, Victor struggled to process it and how he was feeling, the explosion of colors left him dumbstruck. Was this how every other human being lived their lives when they had someone to care about? Someone who understood them, someone you could laugh with or sit in silence with when times were hard. 

He didn’t know any of the answers. All he knew was for once in his life he was truly happy. For once, he had found peace in another person when the world had been unkind to them both, and that feeling was none other than beautiful, refreshing.

This was all that he could think about as he sifted through each and every letter he’d received from the other man. He could still feel every emotion again in the same way he did on the first read, it was like his heart was a record on replay.

That was how he felt, that was until a knock delivered by a heavy hand shook his apartment. It startled him, causing him to flinch before hopping off of his beige sheets.

Victor ran to the door, the chances were slim, but he still held the excitement as if it were him.

When the door was opened, there was nobody there, not even a sound that wasn’t the pouring rain hitting the side of the building roughly. Some boards in the walls creaked as he kneeled down to pick up a water stained letter left on his doorstep.

Andrew.

Drying it off with his hands and blowing onto it he brought it inside, shutting the door behind him. This was quite early for a letter wasn’t it? He thought.

Maybe he was just elevated enough to give it to him now, or maybe it was a more urgent matter? Either way, he most certainly could’ve come in to say hi as he was always welcome to be in his space. Maybe Victor didn’t make that clear enough, he told himself.

Opening up the letter first by removing the wax seal he slipped the piece of paper out of the envelope and held it under a lamp so he could see every word. 

His smile then quickly faded, tears would be hitting the already dampened paper minutes through the reading of the letter.

My dear Victor,

I have cherished every moment I’ve spent with you. You’ve changed everything and the way I see things, and most of all, you are the most important and precious thing I’ve ever encountered in my life. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my forever days with you, but unfortunately, it would have to be in another life, my friend. There was a time where I couldn’t imagine continuing the rest of my life without you by my side, and part of me still feels that way, but I want you to have your best and most fulfilling life and the only way for that to remain possible is without me. 

The world is a dangerous place. I am well aware of that, but I have my concerns and reasons. It is with a loving and heavy heart that I must say this will be my final letter to you. Not only am I a dangerous man, but so are the people I am associated with in my life. The more I hurt, the more you do too, which is why I have decided to stay out of your life. 

The last thing I want is for you or anyone you love and care about to get hurt due to my life and actions. I hope you can find it in your amazing and beautiful heart to forgive me for this, I will always be with you even if we cannot share a breath again.

Please do not blame yourself for anything as I don’t want you to suffer over this letter, please respect these my wishes to not poison or burden your life any longer, Victor.

I am so sorry.

With love, Andrew

It stung. Stung like a dagger going through his heart. 

The postman tried to keep himself together, but he had failed when it occurred to him: he had lost the only thing he had left in a singular letter.

This wasn’t what he was expecting.

Absolutely distraught, Victor felt everything come crashing down onto him, his heart felt shattered into pieces and his stomach felt sick. 

He couldn’t process anything other than the hurting he wanted to yell, to break down and let loose but nothing would come out when he tried to say anything. 

You’re worth nothing, you can’t even keep a single friend.

It all got to him, the negative horrible things briefly taking over his thoughts.

It was a wake up call for him, if anything, for all the reasons he managed to hate himself passionately for so many things. Some of which were not even his fault. Being so weak minded. Soft spoken. Attached. No matter the situation he was landed in, he could never do anything right to his standards. 

But there was one thing Victor was certain of, aside from the negative self-talk and tears falling from his despair, and he knew Andrew knew this too.

 He was fearless.

-

Andrew was also not having his best evening. 

Guilt controlled him and head pains came from the burning sensation in his heart.

He had done it, he had said goodbye to the only thing he cared about, and the way it hurt, it felt like a mistake.

Andrew knew that it was for the best, for Victor’s safety first. Marshall was a dangerous man, he had rendered Andrew unconscious, broken-boned and bloody. Nothing like that could ever happen to him, not without the grave keeper killing himself over such a thing. 

But there was a doubt in his mind, several what ifs and what could’ve happened made him think.

He alternatively wondered: If he managed to keep Victor for a secret long enough would he have been able to get away from Marshall with him? It was a silly thought, but he did believe him and Victor could’ve had something done about it, he was very strong willed and smarter than he knows, there could’ve been a way out, could there?

Did he make a mistake?

Doubting himself made him drowsy and feel weak, he clearly was not thinking straight if he thought he could get away from Marshall without him killing Andrew at the end of it. He wished he a;ways didn’t have to second guess himself and let his fear get the best of his head.

There was no point in wasting time thinking about what could’ve been when he needed to focus on what is. He couldn’t have Victor in his life anymore, he didn’t want to hurt him in the ways he hurt himself and that was final.

Even if Andrew couldn’t let go of him just yet. He still wanted him to clean his wounds, to sit with him and Memory at the fountain, to deliver his letters back and forth and see his soft smile he always gave when he was receiving them. Oh, how much he loved it.

It was already set in stone with that letter, nothing could take it back now, he’d probably already read it and began to feel disappointed in him like everyone else, how it belonged. Victor probably was in his house hiding from the rain while contemplating what had just happened as they spoke. Would he be appalled with hate? Or would he maybe miss him instead?

The best thing about Victor to Andrew was how spontaneous he had managed to be, how he kept him guessing and surprised. He couldn’t pinpoint what he was doing or where he was exactly, because who knew other than Victor himself.

Thump.

A loud sound captured Andrew’s attention, cutting his thought off, unknowing of where it came from, he stood up in his room.

It was far too loud to not be anything gone wrong, anxiety began to arise in his chest, taking several steps around his room.

Thump.

Another one, this time in the direction of the far left of his room near the window, he tiptoed over nervously, already having had enough of the emotionally exhausting night it had been. 

Still uncertain, he approached the window, before flinching again from another loud Thump!

Now he was certain it was coming from the window. They sounded loud enough to leave a crack onto the glass yet it looked untouched. 

Was someone trying to taunt him outside? It was possible the false rumors of him committing the murder had spread by now and townspeople were out for his blood.

People couldn’t actually believe that.. Could they?

It was likely, Andrew didn’t have the best reputation around, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world for him, someone with a terrible illness to have went psycho and murdered someone in cold blood.

He could read the headlines already.

He took it as a logical explanation, he didn’t know who else it could possibly be, definitely not Marshall or Victor at this hour. 

For that reason, he sat back down on his desk, looking through various letters from Victor, preparing to put them back into his safe so Marshall never had to find out what they’d been through, despite it already being put into the past minutes ago.

But just as he closed the safe—

Thump… THUMP!

Now growing more irritable than normal, he got up and lifted the window door open with a heavy thud, sticking his head out to grant them some sort of satisfaction for having accomplished annoying the hell out of him, but he wasn’t prepared for exactly what he saw next.

“You’ve gone mad, what are you doing?!”

Nothing in his mentality would’ve guessed what was happening right now would. Below him was a soaked, distressed Victor with another rock in his hand, which soon then hit the grass when the window opened. 

His cheeks and nose had gone red, he didn’t know if it was from either crying or the cold rain, he thought maybe a mix of both. Frankly, it made Andrew want to cry too. How he’d dragged himself across town in the pouring, freezing rain at midnight just to see him. It was also pretty remarkable how he’d managed to throw rocks at a window with accuracy to get his attention, smart too. 

“I don’t want you to push me away!”

“You shouldn’t be here at this hour!” Andrew shouted back, still just completely mortified. 

Victor’s eyebrows furrowed, noticing his obvious avoidance of the topic. Obviously still emotional, he drew closer to the church so he could be heard better.

A lump in his throat which held him back from saying anything else roadblocked him. It made him anxious, struggling to speak what he wanted to say. When he tried harder, it only hurt, stung like being choked on the floor. Maybe that was because he was stopping himself, maybe it was because he felt a little more than just friendship to Andrew.

“Please, Andrew, just listen to me! I don’t know what this is really about or what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you, not yet. If it was something I said or did, please tell me so I can make things right, you’re all I have!” He cried out, getting dizzy from the temperature and the fog in the air, he was beginning to lose his balance as he rested the palms of his hands onto the stone church wall. It would’ve been a lot easier if he wasn’t concentrating on speaking from the heart, which he was. 

“You don’t understand, you didn’t do a thing, it’s dangerous, I don’t want you to be hurt!” The grave keeper had only shouted back, tears sprouting from his eyes.

“I’d do anything for you!”

Butterflies topped his stomach.

Andrew didn’t say anything else, he responded by closing the window, body shaking rapidly. 

Victor stood there in the rain. He felt his face welling up and everything coming crashing down within those few minutes. Telling himself, asking himself how he could’ve let something like this happen. 

A part of it really felt like his fault, like he was responsible for Andrew’s sudden misery, questioning everything in those letters; if the things Andrew said were actually true or not. 

Maybe he was better off alone. 

His spiraling stopped when he heard the sounds of unlocking followed by a door cracking open. Andrew stepped out, still in his all black coat with a fairly weak frown, as if he was about to break out into tears.

Victor followed him up to the stairs, not wasting any time to wrap his arms around him, this time, Andrew reciprocating the affection, soaking both of them in the rain as it fell down onto their clothes and hair. “I’m sorry.” He whined onto the postman’s shoulder. 

Feeling the touch of another once more sent him into bliss. As usual, it was soft and gentle, loving even. He probably wouldn’t have let go of him if it wasn’t for the temperature and the more soaked he got the longer he kept his arms around Victor’s lower torso. 

Being touchy with him just felt natural, comfortable. Not scary or intimidating like a touch from a stranger would be or Marshall’s.

He knew Victor would do nothing to ever hurt him, his only concern was how Victor was so willing to get hurt for him. 

But that wouldn’t happen, not anymore, because Andrew would die protecting him before it did.

Andrew took him inside, hand entangled in his as he was too attached to let go now. He felt so much guilt for the pain he had previously caused him, it made him even reflect and ask himself what he was thinking. Either way, he was happy Victor was strong willed enough to call him out on his negative thinking.

Life was too short to worry about everything, he and Victor would have to be a secret.

A secret. Andrew wasn’t the best at keeping secrets or hiding things, Marshall always found a way to decipher what he was up to, maybe it was his way of making his life absolutely miserable. You didn’t need to parent a 22 year old unless you hated his guts, that’s for certain what Marshall was doing.

But yet, he still knew him and found ways to avoid and bypass him when needed. The grave keeper would just need to do that but with Victor in his life. 

They went up the stairs to his loft, Andrew still holding on tightly to his hand, there really was no need to be worried about him falling or tripping, but it still worried him the slightest thing may happen, maybe that’s what friendship does to you, it makes you paranoid.

A few more steps and they were in the taller man’s room. It looked the same as he left it, it was still messy, not magically cleaning itself when he went downstairs to take Victor in. It was hard for Andrew to find the slightest bit of motivation for him to clean it up, so it is a mess is what it stayed as.

Picking up a coat off the floor and putting it on a hat hanger to clear a small path for Victor, he still felt cold from his soaking clothing, he couldn’t imagine how Victor felt too, considerably speaking he was out there for way longer than him. 

He opened a cabinet and retrieved a couple of blankets from the back, handing one to Victor and keeping the other on a box as an extra in case the other needed it. As for himself he wasn’t too concerned.

“You’re free to spend the night if you’d like. The rain is ought to be for a few more hours anyhow.”

Victor didn’t respond, knowing that if he did he would protest how that’d be impolite, however the albino looked like he meant it, so he chose to stay quiet and give him a nod.

It was quiet, a little too quiet. Victor still sits there, soaked and shaking.

“You can change into some of my clothes if you’d like— Although they may be too big for you.” He said with growing anxiety.

“That’s okay, don’t worry!”

Andrew gave him a collared shirt and the smallest yet most comfortable pants he had, when he came out of the bathroom it certainly did not look right, but Victor didn’t exactly bring a change of clothing with him, so it would have to do for the evening.

Once he was dressed both of them sat on the bed again, Victor held a letter in his hand, he was guessing a response to the most recent one he had sent, which of course had backfired.

“This is for you, I want you to read it after I leave tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded and put the letter on the bedside table, making a mental notation for tomorrow. The thought was sweet, he just worried about what he had written in an emotionally driven moment.

“So, Andrew—”

Victor took Andrew’s right hand in both of his, running his fingers through it and comparing the sizes of their hands, Andrew’s of course being remarkably bigger than his.

“Where exactly… did you want me to sleep tonight?” He asked, heavily embarrassed by the question.

Andrew’s heart pounded out of his chest, not knowing how to respond at all. 

“Uhm-“

He stopped himself, shutting his mouth and averting eyes, making it obvious he didn’t care too much. The idea of the both of them, men, sharing the same bed seemed ludacris, but then again, it was just the two of them, nobody else was to be watching, so why the fuss? He asked himself, taking it as an opportunity to scoot closer to Victor.

Victor nervously chuckled, head almost completely in his hands. He too must’ve thought it had gotten a little awkward in the room, tension surrounding the both of them. 

“...How’s your face?” He asked, cutting the silence in two.

“What?”

“From yesterday–” Victor added.

Andrew touched his face, checking and feeling for any tightness or irritation on his black eye. It was better than before, but still hurt which was no surprise.

“Still sore.”

Sitting on the bed, Victor took his boots off, Andrew followed, then reached for the tied knot on his overcoat, he struggled as the tie kept slipping through the water still stained onto his black leather gloves in an annoyed sigh.

“Let me help.” He said with a calming smile, taking his hand again for a second before placing them in front of Andrew’s chest.

Andrew watched as he slipped the knot off and helped him take his coat off of his shoulders and arms. They did it together, yet the intensity of the touch still made the grave keeper nervous, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

Revealing a plain white button up under it, Victor took the coat and laid it on a box while they sat together facing one another, but his touch didn’t stop even after the coat was off. He could feel himself starting to shake when his hands reached Andrew’s waist.

“Is this okay?”

Unknowingly, he nodded with no hesitation.

Andrew wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to physical touch at all, explaining why he freezes up and shys away from contact as he usually does, but this was different. Much different. He wanted to. 

Coming back from being deep in his thoughts, he didn’t even realize he’d been looking directly at Victor this whole time. Flushed, he turned away.

“Sorry…”

“A bit dithery aren’t you? Don’t apologize, you’re allowed to look at me, Andrew.” He said with a hard to hide smile, causing Andrew to turn into a fit of tension. 

“Sor–”

Victor’s eyebrows furrowed at him teasingly, he didn’t usually repeatedly apologize for something, yet apologize at all, what had gotten into him now?

Maybe it was the radiance of the way he felt around Victor, like more of himself, things he could feel nowhere else in the world but with him. Once more, he wanted Victor’s touch, to hold him, to have that bodily closeness he wouldn’t get anywhere else.

But still so in shock, he couldn’t bring himself to touch him too, as if he worried about doing something the wrong way or crossing a boundary, worried that he'd end up making Victor uncomfortable with the vast things he desired from him. 

“Andrew…” He paused, taking a deep breath and moving closer. “Tell me, have you done any of this before?”

“I don’t recall such things.” 

“Me either, I suppose we’ll have to figure things out together then.”

Surprised, Andrew sat up, beginning to lose his posture from the longing of touch.

“You haven’t..?”

“No.” Spoken clearly and plainly. 

This led the grave keeper into a trail of thought. Victor was infatuated by so many people, all whomst lived close by. It didn’t piece together how he was as touch-starved as he was, despite all of the self-deprecating things he had said within their writing. The postman seemed like the ideal man, soft spoken, quick-witted and brave. It frustrated him how he wasn’t flocked by others by now, that other people weren’t seeing how wonderful Andrew most certainly knew he was.

“But.. You are loved by many, Victor. You say you’ve been lonely until you met me in our letters, but I cannot see how you spend your days without the attention of everyone in this town that adores you. Goodness, the things I would do to be loved instead of feared, I am quite envious.” His eyelids softened and he gently snickered as he finished talking.

But Victor’s smile seemed to drop.

Whatever Andrew said, he didn’t seem to like it at all.

“You know why I chose to be a postman, correct?”

He nodded, growing uncanny at the changed aura in the room. As expected, he ruins it. 

“That’s because I got to see and experience things from other people I wasn’t able to feel prior–“

He paused, sniffling as his nose started to go red.

“The silly thing is, nobody ever really cares about you until you’re relevant.”

Everything in the room seemed to stop for a minute, that was until he rolled up his sleeves.

Andrew, sorrowful, held his hands, tighter than ever.

He knew how the feeling was, hurting himself was the only thing that managed to fix him when he was younger, that was Marshall found out and shamed him for it years ago.

He didn’t think either of them really knew how to respond to each other, the room clouded with a thick weeping, the grave keeper was so in shock he didn’t know what to say to him, but he proceeded anyway.

“I am so sorry.”

He recaptured his lost breaths that had been stolen from the collapse in mood. Though he wasn’t upset or disturbed by anything Victor had chosen to open up to him about, he could tell it was a cry for help and not a chance taken to be malicious towards someone bearing difficult information to hear. 

All he could think of or even manage to do was to be there for him. Heart still wrenching, he trailed his fingers across the hands. 

There was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to do, but it didn’t take long for Victor to pull his sleeves back down with an exasperated look on his face. His chest still ached and stomach still pained for him regardless, and worse, he couldn’t imagine the things the other man was feeling in that moment. 

So like Victor did out that window, Andrew spoke from the heart.

“You know, you are quite amazing- and brave to share this with me. There was a time when I did this to myself as well, it is not exactly the best era of your life to go through. Negative thoughts are always going to get to you, and I’m not so sure any of this you haven’t already heard in our letters, but if it counts I think you’re wonderful, kind, caring and beautiful inside and out. I will never stop caring about you, if others do it’s their own fault, if this makes any sense at all, I’m just rambling now aren’t I?”

And it was true, Andrew had grown a deep soft spot for his friend, one in which he grew very attached to very quickly. There was a time he didn’t get any attention at all, but now that he was receiving it daily his life had changed. There was a peace and comfort they shared within each other. 

Seconds passed, but they felt like hours, until Victor sniffled, letting go of the albino’s hands to wipe his eyes. 

“No, not at all.” He smiled, cheeks gone red, Victor raised a hand up to Andrew’s face, brushing his fringe to the side. The red-eyed man felt a flutter in his chest when being touched once more, before he could utter another word in response to the touchiness Victor’s arms were wrapped around him again.

Forcing himself as he hesitantly inched towards Victor as well, before he knew it, the two were dangerously close, bodies inseparable, heads pressed against one another, lips almost touching. Andrew wished he could press forward, to close that gap between the two of them, to kiss him. Perhaps if he were as strong, brave and capable as Victor, he would, but not in this lifetime. The chances that he’d find it disgusting and treacherous outweighed everything else. But oh, how he longed for it, replaying the idea in his head over and over again as if it was a favorite song. Oh how he’d-

“Andrew?”

His heart dropped, as if Victor just saw or heard anything he’d been imagining just now, however, his paranoia once more got the best of him as the other was still trailing fingers down his button up. He turned his attention to the man, looking peaceful and calm as ever. But then Andrew realized; this was the first time Victor didn’t speak, behave and motion as if he were stressed. His voice became faint and his muscles were relaxed, every guard he’d ever had was down, was Victor noticing the same changes about himself?

Yet Victor still looked up in his direction, waiting for Andrew’s attention to be grabbed, but with so many thoughts full in his head from the experience, it was a challenge.

Andrew’s eyes then met his, the postman grabbing for his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“Will you lay with me?”

Heart now thumping more prominently than ever, still silent but not motionless, Andrew nodded once more.

Andrew stood to turn the lights off before laying back down with him so they could sleep peacefully.

Minutes later, he could feel Victor burying his face into his chest, their legs entangling and hands running through each other's hair. In all their letters, interactions and meetings, Andrew would’ve never guessed they’d be here, finding not a comfort in the world except for each other's arms. 

Everything felt so free, so light, like there wasn’t a care or problem in the world, and the only thing you needed to worry about was the other person. Those were the things physical touch had been capable of. It pulls and ruptures the strings of your body, wrenching for more with every joining. It sent jolts through every organ and one’s head, putting them in a trance, hypnotizing them with the idea of love.

So that’s what they did, they touched. Everywhere they possibly could. 

Chapter Text

September 8th, 1907, Monday, Germany

Every morning Andrew had to wake up he dreaded what the day ahead held for him. Some days, he wished he would go to sleep and never wake up at all. However, this morning, to say the least, it was much different.

There was a fine line in between friendship or a love for someone, whether that was romantic or platonic. That night, Victor had most certainly crossed that line into uncharted waters that had never been navigated.

And when he woke up that morning he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of someone else’s body pressed against your own, you couldn’t describe it, nor replace it with anything else. It was a warm, fulfilling emotion that made you feel more than you ever had before.

And there was nothing, absolutely nothing more that Andrew would want to see other than Victor’s calmed sleeping face peeking over the blankets, arms still wrapped around the grave keeper happily.

Andrew didn’t want to wake Victor, so within those minutes he let him lay comfortably for a little longer. He didn’t know if this was a rude observation, but Victor looked a lot happier when he was lost in dreams rather than awake, he could tell that now. He would make little groans and mumbles in his sleep and move a lot but Andrew didn’t mind, he thought it was cute, meanwhile, he was the exact opposite and found himself in the same static position every night, that was until he had someone to hold.

Before another racing thought could process, Victor’s head etched up as his eyes began to open, vision taking a moment to snap into place as his body remained still, only to find his eyes staring into Andrew’s.

“Hi.” Was all he could make out before being cut off by a yawn. 

Andrew snuck out a smile as he greeted him. “Good morning… How did you sleep?”

“Well… Actually, much better than I have in awhile, thank you for keeping me company last night.”

Still not done processing he was holding another human being, Andrew nodded, being sure not to let go until Victor wanted to. 

The postman sat up, being their queue to separate, yawning once more and stretching his arms out. Andrew thought about how both of them could manage to get so tired so quickly last night, maybe it was the emotional exhaustion at its expense. Some things Victor said and done last night caused him to feel at a rate he wasn’t used to, it might’ve just drove him crazy. It felt so fast but not long enough at the same time, but how do you ask someone to do something like that again?

“I probably shouldn’t stay much longer, I have a lot of work to do today- I’ve actually been neglecting my job these past few days.” Victor added, smiling causing his eyes to squint from how his face was shaped, Andrew now feeling partially at fault for keeping him so busy.

Andrew sat up himself and prepared himself to stand once again putting his feet on the ground. He brushed some of his messy white bed head out of his face before taking Victor’s hand to help him up, which he quickly accepted, seemingly hesitant to let go after. 

“Can I see you again tonight?” Andrew asked with a small stutter in his voice from just waking up.. And who knew. Maybe he was a little nervous to ask.

“Not soon enough.” A laugh escaped from the postman’s lips. “Are you okay with meeting at the fountain again this late afternoon?” 

He nodded in response to his question. That considerably wouldn’t be a problem, what else was Andrew to do anyways? It wasn’t like he had anyone else to impress.

It was like Victor’s tired eyes couldn’t resist to haunt his heart, a part of him felt very lucky to be able to see another person in a position like so, sharing your bed with someone was allowing the other to bask with you in your most vulnerable position. It wasn’t everyday you woke up next to someone you’ve developed such a strong fondness with already. Certainly that was reserved for romantic partners; a man and a woman. 

It made him feel a little guilty, as if he needed to repent later for giving into actions like this beyond the ties of what was right and wrong. Although he wouldn’t, in fact he refused, as he would not take back any aspect of their relationship. 

But still, Victor dashed him inordinately. To want to be with him through his walk of life, to have and to hold him like you would do with a woman, to share each other's beds a million times more, to leave the gap between their lips no longer, to kiss him in the same way lovers do.

Those thoughts were the only thing he rejected. He despised himself for thinking such things.

As the two arose and prepared to part ways, Andrew made sure to raise Victor's hand to plant down a soft kiss before he left, only causing the other man to leech a blushed smile. As the shorter man left he felt a gust of sadness fall upon him from getting so used to being in the presence of another, especially overnight, but, he would have to wait, and wait he would. 

For Andrew would wait a million years even if it meant seeing Victor again.

-

It was dreary being alone once more as he attended his chores in the church for the day. The same old tasks everyday was causing him to become just exhausted, waiting for the time to move by so he could see his friend once more, if you could even call him that after last night. 

But when he went back to his room for a break a thought recollected.

The letter.

Almost forgetting Victor’s response, he felt vast uncertainty when picking it up, dragging his fingers across the smooth wax seal before slipping the paper through the covering.

His eyes skimmed across the paper before reading, nothing out of the ordinary he thought, but that changed when he started to read.

My Dear Andrew,

Why do you freight in this letter? There is nothing to worry about. Although I acknowledge your concerns, there is not much I can do about your worry other than assure you I am more than willing to die for you in extreme cases. That probably makes you freight more, doesn’t it? 

There will not be a singular day without you you’ll come to find in this world where I will feel as happy as I am when you are with me. If someone asked me to describe you, I would say so many things I couldn’t even count! Caring, loving, attentive, protective and thoughtful, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. I could write a novel about everything I love about you, and if you didn’t know that before, now you do.

So when you tell me these things, now you see that it breaks my heart, it is not hard to know you are coming from a place of love. I know you would never do anything to hurt me on purpose, despite what everyone in town may say about you, I believe none of it for a second. You are so much more than a word in someone else’s mouth, dearest.

So with love, the same kind of love you used to write that letter to protect me, I will refuse and fight to see you again. No matter what everyone else thinks, not the townspeople, not Marshall, not anyone, I will continue to find a way through to a place in your heart.

Love, Victor

And for some reason, Andrew felt like he was going to be sick, the jittering feelings in his stomach drove him crazy. With every pounding thump of his heart, it seemed to get worse. His chest tensed up, layered with a burning yet blissful feeling. Like a vibration through his body. 

At first, he felt like he was going to throw up. He had to have picked up a disease from going to the market he suspected, there was no other logical explanation for how he was feeling. 

But the more he read over the text, going over every sentence once more, he knew it had to have not been that. He could’ve re-read it almost 100 times over as he processed.

Then suddenly, vivid imagery of Victor began to replay in his head, his smile, his laugh, he was so pretty, so lovely in every way. He could feel his body stiffen as his face went red just from the thoughts, sitting up too quickly from the shock he nearly fell over, latching onto the desk before hitting the floor. 

He couldn’t believe any of it, not for a second, it couldn’t be. It felt wrong, sinful even. What was he to do? 

Yet that feeling in his stomach never went away, the feeling that managed to pull and tug on his heartstrings until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Andrew was falling in love.

-

Late Afternoon That Day

For some reason, that wait felt like a million years. A lot of things left unsaid the grave keeper wished he could say.

He still processed his feelings for the other man, a friendship that had managed to blossom into a deeply rooted love. It felt like he was living in the world of fiction, it all didn’t seem completely real to Andrew.

Meanwhile, the murder investigation was still underway, policeman came daily to collect evidence and interview suspects. Going slowly, as an investigation should, Andrew remembered his interview vividly earlier in the day, a man drawn with a skinny figure but a deep brown coat and hat sitting him down at the table, a private investigator. Another man came in later, this time asking him questions about his thoughts on who could’ve done it or who there were to suspect, as if he knew anything about the woman who was killed that night other than she and him had shared a space for worship. The same man, a novelist, introduced himself as Orpheus and told him he was writing a book about investigative murder, to put it lightly, Andrew did not care at all, offering him very dull and dry responses after every question, a simple yes or no would suffice he told himself. 

Andrew stepped outside the church, plants overgrown and vines stitching into the bricks, someone really ought to clean it. Oh wait, that was his job. A job he’d completely forgotten about and let fester for months. At the front, a plot of snowy white orchids in their prime from the rain last night, the tips of the petals sprinkled with pink. 

Andrew had kneeled and gently lifted three or four from the dirt with his intentions set on giving them for a very specific someone.

He continued along the dirt paths, sun beating down on him, passing the same dog he saw his first time meeting Victor at the fountain. This time, it was calm, collected, not in distress. Maybe his curse had decided to rest for the day. 

Along the roads with makeshift cars passing and young women giggling together, he entered the market. This time, it was much quieter than before, assumingly so for a Monday. 

The sun had reached the hottest point of the daily when Andrew arrived as he left the markets onto the town square, meanwhile through his head all he could hear was the same six words.

I fell in love with Victor.

He could feel, and hear, his heart pulsing once more every time he thought it through. It was like a cold, except sickness came and went, this most certainly did not leave Andrew alone. 

He stood there, a matte umbrella in his hand when his eyes met with Victor’s once more. If it had only been ten hours, why did it suddenly feel like a million?

He only smiled and motioned his hand for Andrew to join him and Memory, who was conveniently also there. As he approached, he tried to make out a smile to the both of them, which only resulted in Memory turning away irritably, which of course was understandable, kids never really liked him.

“Hello! How are you feeling?” Victor had asked, moving closer to him as he sat down. He didn’t mind being in close proximity to him but doing such in public places made him uneasy, they had already been seen together one too many times, suspicions could already be raised, the town didn’t take very kindly to anyone conspired to be a homosexual. 

He had faint memories of hangings from when he was younger, Marshall would force him to go even if he didn’t want to so he could ‘learn’ what happened to people who broke the law. As if he needed anymore trauma. 

“I’m doing well now that I’ve seen you.”

Victor blushed. “Oh really?”

A chill began to run down Andrew as he held out the flowers, his letter in response attached to it. “For you..” He mumbled out with the nervousness Victor wouldn’t accept, especially due to it being such an effeminate gift. “I would like you to read the letter when I am with you if that’s okay.”

The blush before was nothing compared to how deeply the postman’s face reddened. “Oh, Andrew. Thank you.” He took the flowers then rested his free hand over Andrew’s, rubbing up and down his glove. This made his heart beat dramatically faster already, all while still growing strung at the fact they were still in public. He wanted to pull away, but he just couldn’t.

“That’s okay, I’d love to read it with you.”

Meanwhile, Memory seemed to be going a little batty from the lack of attention she was receiving from Victor, he turned back around to face her on his right. “Do you want to hold these?” He had asked her, the bloomed orchids in his hands. 

After the nod in response, she took them and admired the flowers. “Pretty, right?” 

Victor had come a very long way, the albino thought. He had gone from being completely silent most of the time to becoming confident in his voice, he hardly stuttered anymore in his presence or shut his mouth when he didn’t know how to respond. That goes for Andrew too. They both have had a lot of improvement in their communication.

“Are you ready to continue?” Victor had asked the young girl, she nodded once again and sat in his lap.

His eyes skimmed across the paper, beginning to read a passage from Annabel Lee.

As for another thing Andrew had been noticing was his stomach wouldn’t stop tightening and he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Victor was. It was distracting him from everything going on around him as if he was hypnotized over how gorgeous he could be. So focused in a stare, he couldn’t make out any of the words he was even reading out.

He thought about how lucky he was to be his special friend, even if he wanted to be more, he was certain there was nobody else in Victor’s life whom he’d hold hands or cuddle with, he made him assure of that. But he still had those desires in the back of his mind, the type of desires that made him fantasize about pressing Victor up against the wall and passionately kissing him. Oh, the way he wished he could become his everything in the same way he was everything to Andrew. 

Was he going to hell for longing for the thoughts? Just because Victor was another man?

In the matter of a day, he had gone completely oblivious to his feelings, but now that the realization had hit him, he was absolutely-positively in love. 

Memory and Victor took turns reading the passages, but Andrew was still out of commission, in a love-driven space out. He felt slightly guilty for not being able to pay attention to the most obvious distraction to have when you’re besotted for someone. How silly.

-

The evening came faster than expected, the sky had turned a brownish apricot color and the market was closing for the evening. Memory was walked back home to her orphanage by the two men, which eventually led the two of them into the hours of the night. When the three of them were walking, to Andrew’s surprise, he was being pestered with questions Memory was whispering to Victor. She wanted to know where he lived, why he was dressed in all black, if he had a sweetheart, the last question causing both Victor and Andrew to grow a bit embarrassed and uncertain about how to respond, however she quickly moved onto the next meaningless question.

It was a pale, stone road they walked on, lit by the moon and the illumination coming from the houses of families having dinner or putting their children to bed. Now that the street was clear, nobody else could be really seen except for them walking alongside each other, close, but not too close. 

Andrew kept his eyes where he was walking, sneaking glances at Victor to his left. It surprised him how quickly the bustling markets could go so quiet within an hour two. People treated their curfew seriously, although it was rarely enforced by local sheriffs. 

“Should we be expecting Marshall anytime soon?” Victor cut the silence, causing Andrew to shake his head.

“No. Not that I’m aware of, I was told he’d be at the capitol building for a few days.” 

“Perfect, then I hope you don’t mind I steal you for the evening, do you?” He said, perking his head up and eyes meeting with the taller man’s. 

Attention caught away from the floor, he responded with a smile. “Not at all, my dear.” Victor pinkened at the nickname.

“...How’s your eye? It looks a lot better.” He added, Andrew’s black eye was more purple now if anything, it had healed rather well given he was actually taking care of his wounds now, it was hard to have something that made him look even more incriminating on his face when he was already a villainized character. 

“Still sore, but anything is better than the day I got it.”

Victor’s smile dissipated when he caught at what Andrew was referencing. “You know… You don’t have to live with this forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean.. We can get out of this place together, just you and me. If that’s something you’d be interested in.” 

Was Victor insinuating he wanted him to run away with him? It seemed absurd at first, but then again, the grave keeper would go anywhere if it meant he could be with him. He processed it in his head, without Marshall, the two of them would be able to live their lives happily without any more hurting. 

“I’d follow you until the ends of the earth.”

This made the postman beam with a happiness and fluster unlike any other, Victor was serious about this. 

He scratched the back of his head. “Well, that’s a good thing. I’ve had the plan to leave next week for around three months now, but I was afraid of saying anything because I didn’t want to lose you.”

Next week? That was much sooner than he had originally thought. He felt a little upset knowing that Victor had known this the whole time, yet the little lights in his heart still didn’t go out when he saw him smile. It didn’t matter now, Andrew full-heartedly planned on leaving with Victor without a second guessing.

“That’s okay. I’m not hurt. Where do you plan to go?”

“Well, that I haven’t figured out yet, the train goes to a number of places and I’m allowed to get off whenever I’d like. If anything, I want to see so many places and travel the world. It's a good opportunity for me to finally do that, no?”

The wind blew segments of newspaper down the avenue creating a whirring sound as he continued to process actually leaving. Of course he’d thought about it before, but it didn’t seem possible, unknowing of where he’d even go. 

Then again, whenever he looked at Victor, there was a sense of peace and safety, Andrew would want nothing more than to never stop feeling so tender around him. Maybe this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for all this time.

Chapter Text

That evening…

Victor took him back to his apartment building as more lights went out in the town. When the door opened it was unnervingly quiet, especially since he knew a dog lived in that house with him.

Running away with Victor . It was all still fresh in his mind. It surprised him, how he’d even think for a second about doing something like this when he’d been so used to living in this town, which had ultimately made him miserable throughout all the years he had been here. He could finally be given a second chance at peace, from Marshall, from his mother’s death and from whatever trauma he planned on leaving here. The more he thought about it, the more he wished for it to be his reality, but for now it would have to sit in his mind so he could be respectful and pay attention to Victor this evening.

They walked through the door and it was locked behind them, Victor snuck his hand into Andrew’s while they were walking, catching him off guard but gripping it back nonetheless. 

The lights flickered on, only to find out the reason why it had been so quiet was because Wick, providentially, was fast asleep on an armchair. 

They sneaked past her doing their very best not to wake her up knowing that she may cause a fuss if she sees Victor home.

Andrew continued on to follow him until he stopped and met with the door to his bedroom through the halls.

It was being in Victor's house again, it seemed like they’ve been at the church for most of their time lately and Andrew wasn’t too fond of that place with some of the memories he held.

After they had entered, Victor kneeled to the ground almost immediately. The blonde took a box covered with a silk sheet over the top from under his bed, it read fragile on the side in black print and was covered in dust. He assumed it wasn’t another camera.

“I want to try something with you, but you’re probably not going to like it,”

“Oh?” He questioned

He pulled the sheet off.

“No. I’m not dancing.” He said as he eyed the phonograph, crossing his arms with an unpleasant look.

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you’re quick to refuse a slow dance with me,” 

“How much expensive technology do you have in your house?”

“Not much more, believe me sometimes I have the same question, I’m quite poor.” He added as he held the grainy piece of wood and metal. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Andrew didn’t respond, he felt conflicted. He hadn’t seen a phonograph in years, the last time he did was when his mother was alive, he recalled listening to music when he couldn’t sleep at night and storms were raging from the bad mediterranean weather. He loved that phonograph, but when she died everything fell out of place, that same machine was probably buried under dirt and rubble along with his old house.

Victor took a thin disk with a red trim from the box after resting the phonograph on a wooden bedside table, sliding the disk through the cavity. 

The music started and Victor held his hand out in front of the other man,

“Just one dance?”

Quite frankly, Andrew felt like giving in. 

After taking his hand and pulling Victor on his feet, the two positioned themselves in front of each other. “You’re going to have to move closer to me if we’re going to do this.”

The grave keeper inched forward to him, which was still unsatisfactory to the other. “Closer.”

It wasn’t exactly the easiest task to perform with a half foot height difference. Andrew tiptoed forward until their chests were touching, causing him to flinch in anticipation.

“Why so nervous?” Asked Victor as he took the white haired boy’s hands, putting them on his waist and wrapping his own around his neck, their noses barely touching which might as well be the earth getting too close to the sun, likely so, Andrew was burning up.

Being in such close proximity made him grow a little too tense, all he could was stare right back at him as their positions were fixed.

Maybe it was just late at night, but Andrew still couldn’t get over how striking Victor was to him, his lightly tanned skin, faint sun freckles and chestnut colored eyes all made him weak, it was all more to love. In a different world where people like him weren’t criminalized, perhaps it could all be his.

“I’m not-” Andrew lied, body and hands shaking as he held onto him.

“You know, you’re pale so you blush very easily,”

“I do-?”

He nodded, a dorky smile across his lips, suddenly Andrew wanted to hide his face in his hands. God, he was embarrassed, averting eyes indirectly as he turned many different shades of red. 

When he looked down at Victor, he could tell he wasn’t the only one guilty looking at his cheeks as they moved, even though he had been looking away the postman never broke his stare, giving him only butterflies when he looked back.

Victor laughed in response to his shock from his playful comment, he moved his hands to Andrew’s cheeks and pushed forward so their foreheads were against each other, causing the other man to nearly jump, or worse, faint.

His chest hurt so bad he didn’t know what to do anymore, but yet he found himself mysteriously addicted to the feeling of hearing it pound as if it was trying to break free from a cage when he was with Victor, and he couldn’t take his eyes off his lips. Every fiber of his body was yelling, screaming at him to kiss him, but he could never do something like that. 

He could feel Victor’s heartbeat along with his own, each rhythm matching up with each other and creating a symphony. Instantaneously, he didn’t want to ever let go of him, that’s how it always was when he was pressed close to him.

Victor’s presence just made everything like that, like his own hidden remedy.

It became more apparent how far they had come, referencing back to when Andrew first spoke to the quiet boy on his doorstep, Andrew remembered that day vividly. The parching sun beaming while men and women attended their mass, while he, who was not welcome, introduced himself to a hushed young man in a postman’s uniform, face deep into a book, he had never heard him speak to anyone before that day, and most of all, he never would’ve never guessed this is where they would be within a few weeks, slow dancing in his bedroom with the lights dimmed and arms locked with each other. It didn’t feel like weeks, it felt like eons, as if he knew him lifetime after lifetime before. 

As they were dancing, Victor moved flawlessly, as if he had done it a million times before, it made Andrew’s sloppy and clumsy movements look like a joke. He stepped in places he shouldn’t have from time to time but the other didn’t seem to have a problem correcting his form when needed, fortunately. 

“So.. What do you think of what I said before?” Victor remarked.

“About?”

Andrew knew what he was talking about. He just wanted to make sure it was an invitation rather than a statement before he made plans of throwing away everything else in his life just to be with Victor.

“Running away with me,” 

Andrew had never really given him an answer yet, maybe now was the time to put everything on the line for the second time.

“When do we leave?”

This response made the blonde implausibly happy, running his fingers through Andrew’s hair as he held his face quite firmly.

“Exactly a week from now, eleven-thirty,”

“Then I guess I better get to packing soon.”

This was a big decision, and he knew it was the right one without a need to second guess himself. It took twenty two years to find someone whom he cared for and understood and he wasn’t planning on watching it drift away from him, he loved Victor too much to not.

The music stopped and Victor let go of him to remove the record so it didn’t play once more. One dance. That was the deal after all, so why was Andrew so disappointed?

Shortly, the phonograph ended up back in its box and it was like it never happened.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?”

It wasn’t, in fact, it was fairly nice. “I did not do a very good job..”

“You did fine,” Victor added with a simper.

Andrew wanted to continue holding Victor for a little longer, although 6 inches shorter than him, he fit quite comfortably in his arms to an extent, or maybe that was because Victor always knew where to touch him that hits home. Andrew was inept to physical affection from being deprived of it his whole life, before Victor, the last time he probably felt the comforting touch of someone was when his mother was on her deathbed, giving him one last hug before she left him as Andrew wailed at the realization he was now all alone. 

Victor left the room for a moment to gather a vase, most likely for the flowers from the church he had given him by the fountain. Meanwhile, Andrew found himself interested in his surroundings. It was very clean, little to no clutter covering the floors with a made bed and two separate dressers, one with a mirror and a small rocking chair in the corner of the room. There were no pictures of any family to be found anywhere, most likely for a reason from the things Victor had told him of his parents growing up. 

It wasn’t very long before he returned with a green stained glass vase about a quarter full with water, and the orchids of course. He placed them on his desk which was a bit bestrew compared to the cleanliness in the room, then sat down with his legs crossed on the floor, Andrew followed shortly after positioning himself right in front of him so their eyes could continue to meet. 

He didn’t notice at first the letter he held between his fingers, looking anxious to open it already as he thumbed the violet wax seal Andrew had decorated it with. 

Andrew grew brittle, some of the things he had written in that letter were a bit over the top is how he would put it. He wouldn’t want Victor to become uncomfortable by his doting writing about him, as if that could even possibly happen anymore after sharing a bed with him. 

“Can I-?” He catechized.

Breaking into a nervous sweat, Andrew nodded.

My Victor,

The words you write could never make me happier. You deserve a much needed apology, I don’t know what had gotten into me nor what I was thinking at that moment, but I was clearly blinded by my own reasons to keep you away from me. Maybe it was because I didn’t think I deserved you in my life, or mayhaps I was scared of what Marshall would do to me. There’s not a day in the world I would ever hurt you on purpose, I hope you believe that, you mean so much to me I could burst. I see clearer now, as always, you manage to amaze me and change my perspective on so many things. I see my purpose in life, and that purpose is to be alongside you. I cannot go a day without thinking of your smile or beauty, so bare with me, my dear, it is with you that my heart finds its beat.

I have known that you were sent to me for a reason, I thank god everyday for letting you come into my life, sometimes I wonder where you have been all this painstaking time. I do not know how to ever express the ways you make me feel because if I did I don’t think I would ever stop talking. I’ve always been left broken hearted by the horrible things that have happened in this life, it has become too much to bear. You have made me whole again, my love.

Victor, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I used to hate myself, I detested why I was even born; I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s now that you’re here. I want to thank you for making my life so wonderful. For making me smile when I haven’t in years, for caring for me and showing me the compassion you so have from the heart, lastly and most importantly, for responding to me on the day we met instead of shying away like I know you used to. 

Love, Andrew

Now, Victor was the one who felt sick to his stomach. 

Andrew didn’t see him move for a minute, it looked like he hadn’t stopped reading it even after he was done. Maybe that was because he thought it was weird to feel so passionately about a friend like this, or maybe he was just processing all of the mushy things he had written to Victor in that letter.

But then, an amorous smile.

Victor put the letter to his side then turned his attention to the figure in front of him. “Andrew.” He said to catch his attention, Victor took his hands in his and tightened the grip onto them, tighter than he’d ever held before. He could feel his thumbs running up and down the top of his hands

The albino felt his heart pace quicken as Victor looked at him with an unreadable smile on his face, there was a hyper awareness of the other now in the room. Andrew was beginning to grow nervous.

Painstakingly nervous, to the point where he was turning red again.

He lifted one of hands up to his face while the other remained holding Andrew’s, pushing back the white fringe that covered his good eye and caressing his cheek, Victor whispered something under his breath but he couldn’t quite catch what it was,

Then, Victor pressed his lips against his.

Everything stopped. At least it felt like it did, the grave keeper found himself in complete shock, choked in an ocean of different emotions, nothing mattered anymore, it was a gentle feeling, the way Victor’s lips glided up against his slowly. He was expecting Victor to second guess himself, pull away any second, but no, he kept on kissing him while Andrew kissed him back. The other man’s body was warm from the tension, but so was his own. They pressed their foreheads together as they kissed and Andrew held Victor’s free hand with the both of his. It didn’t feel like a sin, or dirty, or disgusting, it felt tender and blissful instead, heart pounding against his chest in all the love he had for Victor, because truly, he loved all of him. He loved the way he would smile and try to hide it, he loved his willingness to stay by Andrew no matter what, he loved how he never gave up on him even if he didn’t see his worth, he didn’t want to ever stop living through the beauty of what is was to love him, even they lived in a world where it was forbidden. He just didn’t know how to tell him.

Victor pulled away, horrified.

He had looked like he had just witnessed a brutal murder. It took a few minutes of staring before he could even manage to say anything.

“I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t have done that— This is wrong.” Victor protested, still burning up with a rich fluster. 

Andrew was still recovering from what felt like a trance. He wasn’t able to open his eyes until a few seconds later when everything had subsided. Confused and dumbfounded over what had just happened, inching his hand to his mouth where it happened and later covering his face up. He didn’t understand what Victor was on about, he kissed him , it didn’t make any sense.

Now neither of them knew what to say, Victor, on the other hand, was mortified with himself, his head was in his hands and he had been hunched into a ball with his knees up. 

“...It’s okay.” He responded, unable to think about what he was saying, only able to feel.

“I’m so so sorry.” Victor repeated himself.

“Victor, it’s okay.”

Still blinded with Victor’s beauty at the worst time, he tried to snap himself out of it by wiping his eyes. He didn’t want Victor to feel bad or guilty for anything that had just happened, in fact, he wanted to do it again, but now knowing how distressed it had gotten him he wouldn’t dare try. Victor’s distress came from a good reason too. Physical intimacy was widely frowned upon outside the barriers of marriage in general, imagine how much worse it would be if anyone were to know it had been two men. They could be hanged, or worse, tortured, stoned. Marshall too, if he found out he and Victor were now playing post office now with each other he’d be disowned or worse, killed. As if Andrew could control the way he felt.

Andrew wanted to say something, anything to make him feel better, so he stopped thinking and just did it.

“Actually- I-I liked it.”

This made Victor even more flushed than before, and speechless, almost in an embarrassed way rather than fearful now.

He came out from his cocoon and looked at him, his facial expressions softened and he reached out both his hands to run over Andrew’s, taking his leather gloves off one by one.

“Come with me,”

He stood, pulling the albino up with him, hands still locked together, fingers raveled into one another and intertwining as Victor moved backwards. 

He took him to his bed and mounted it, Andrew joined him shortly after, that was before he was pushed down onto a pillow by Victor.

“I wanna do what we did last night again, is that okay?”

God, yes please.

“Yes.. Of course.”

He linked up with Andrew’s hands once more, prodding his various scars as his fingers drifted all over his palms, then kissing each scar in the direction it glided all over.

Andrew blanked out when he began kissing his hands, caught up with the weird bubbling feelings in his stomach he hadn’t stopped feeling since their kiss. He could only watch as he brushed his lips against every bruise or cut he could find, leaving no room for missing any spot.

Victor then took his right hand, putting it on his cheek and leaning into it like a cushion, he saw this as an opportunity to caress him, pinching his cheek a little with his pointer and thumb, making him giggle, all while Andrew was turning into a tomato.

All the touchings drove Andrew just crazy. It was killing him how much he desired, how much he longed for another kiss, he wanted to do so many things to him he could never have the guts to do, but, as a matter of fact, Victor did.

It wasn’t long before he broke free from the petting and snuggled up onto the other man’s shoulder. He must’ve been exhausted after today, delivering was a daunting job, plus he was also doing days worth of work, not double but maybe triple what he normally would. That would explain why he didn’t bother to change out of his uniform when he got home.

Andrew was experiencing a different kind of exhaustion, emotional, he thought to himself as he wrapped a blanket around the both of them. His mind had been racing all day, from the afternoon when he realized he fell in love with Victor to going home with him and kissing him was all too much he hadn’t been able to process yet.

Hopefully a much deserved rest will give them a clearer mind in the morning.

Chapter Text

In the middle of the night..

Andrew’s eyes opened. There wasn’t a sound in the room that followed with his heavy breathing, he hadn’t even realized that his eyes had already started to water, welting up with tears from a very dreadful dream.

He didn’t get nightmares often, but when they did, they managed to truly frighten him, to tug as his heartstrings emotionally until he woke up in distress. 

It happened over a decade ago, but he still remembered it all so vividly and for some reason his body wouldn’t let himself forget. Kind of like a parasite, no matter what he did, it wouldn’t let go of him, leaving a mark of irreversible trauma. Then again, he wished he could go back to that day one last time, to see her again before she died, to apologize and express how much he loved her, but no, it was far too late for that by now. It wasn’t fair, not to Andrew.

She was tall, thin but not malnourished, she was well fed and made sure he was too, her long brown hair always set up into a bun when it wasn’t drooping over her chest like thin strips of soft thread and bright sapphire eyes, she was beautiful, the talk of the town, a woman given an education, desired to be the young, brilliant wife of many. 

Only to be discarded and treated like a fiend for loving her son and protecting him when the others wanted to throw him in the river for his illness.

Millions of people die from disease every year, usually elders in their later and more vulnerable years, but it didn’t make sense, his mother was young, only just turning seventeen years old when he was born. She was beautiful, healthy and kind, she would’ve lived a very long and happy life.

Would’ve.

Home life began to take a toll rapidly. His father, a man twenty years older than her Andrew’s grandparents arranged as a husband, he was physically aggressive and abusive towards her, evidently so sexually as well, resulting in his unwanted concievement. Andrew didn’t remember him, and he didn’t want to. He was a businessman, so they lived comfortably for a while, until he never came back, leaving him and his mother all alone.

If anything, it was better for the two of them not having him in their life anymore, that’s what his mother always told him, and for a while, Andrew believed her. She got a sturdy job and they rented out a small shack which they spruced up into a home. All was well, but then she started to get sick.

She couldn’t perform her housley duties anymore, she could barely walk, Andrew would have to hold her hand when she got out of bed. It was just terrible, the way she coughed and wheezed all day and night, burning up with a terrible heat. Her voice didn’t sound like hers anymore, and she grew thinner than before. 

Then, she reached her final days.

Within that last week, everything came crashing down like a tsunami hitting a coastline city. Andrew’s world was destroyed, every insufferable moment felt like agony, seeing his mother coughing up a fever and dying a slow but painful death broke him. He would sit with her for hours, days, laying in bed with her and asking her over and over again when she would get better, of course, she lied and told him soon everytime. 

One day, she never woke up.

And for the next decade, Andrew couldn’t stop having dreams about finding her dead. 

Losing her was the hardest thing he ever had to experience, and he missed every little thing about her. Faint memories existed in his head, he remembered her holding him when he couldn’t sleep at night, singing to him as he calmed down. A lot of times he thought what life would be like if she were to be still alive today. 

He could feel more tears sprout from his eyes, which later turned into waterfalls, he held Victor tighter without realizing it, too focused on the pain he had been feeling.

Andrew thought, no, he knew he would never love again after that. Everything he cared about was lost over one death.

But Victor had changed his mind.

It was true, he had fallen in love with Victor very easily. He didn’t understand what he saw in him or why the man with the illness out of all the other townspeople. It made him feel lucky, blessed, he found something to care about once again after losing everything that meant something to him. 

But this time, the love was stronger than the familiar love he felt for his mother, it was much more powerful and nauseating, the way he had loved Victor more than he could ever love his own mother. It was the only thing he wanted was to be by him.

He lay there directly under Andrew’s chin, still asleep, unlike the other who was wide awake, reliving every regrettable moment he’d ever experienced. He tried to get it out of his head, he tried to push the thoughts away for the sake of Victor continuing his peaceful slumber, but before he had the chance, he was already awake.

“Andrew..?” He uttered under his breath. 

Andrew was a mess, shaking while sobbing, head in his hands as he bawled his eyes out with whimpers. Tears dripped from the hands that were covering his eyes, and when he wiped his face he looked absolutely miserable.

Andrew wasn’t a pretty crier. In fact, he was a rather ugly crier, which would explain the frantic decision to cover his face as soon as possible. He wanted to disappear, most of all, he didn’t want Victor to see him like this.

“What happened!?”

He continued to whimper, dipping his head down as he averted his eyes. Victor tilted his head and took the hands that shielded his face, looked at him with not a pity, but a severe concern. Victor was worried, and every inch of his expression made it obvious, there was no need to vocalize. 

Andrew shook his head in response to Victor’s disquieting.

The postman tightened the wrapped arms around him, now knowing he most likely was not going to get a response. 

“It’s okay… Shh,” He tried to hush him as he grew closer, their noses butting against each other as Victor ran fingers through tufts of white hair.

The touching helped some, however it also made Andrew more anxious from his love for him. Believe it or not, he still wasn’t entirely familiar with the feeling of physical affection. The two of them had been very touchy recently, it felt like they were constantly glued together nonstop throughout the past few days. The grave keeper loved it, but he’d easily get nervous whenever his hands touched his or when they snuggled with each other in bed. There was a very known and repetitive feeling of butterflies dancing in his chest whenever he’d even smile at him. That’s only beginning to tell just how strongly his feelings really were.

More tears flooded from his eyes, he deepened his face into Victor’s chest where he weeped, drenching his uniform which again wasn’t changed from last night, making it all the more uncomfortable for the two.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to,”

At first, Andrew just continued crying, but within a few moments he stopped, removing his face from his chest and holding his breath to stop the waterworks. 

He then wiped his face and looked at the other with red eyes, an absolute mess he was, still sniveling. So what if it was true that he was an ugly crier? In Victor’s eyes, he was beautiful in any regard.

He took several deep breaths to calm himself, still with very slow movements while the blonde lifted his hands up and cradled his cheeks.

“I’m listening, my dear,”

Everytime he reflected on it, he was administered by such powerful and forceful emotions that he couldn’t stop from controlling him. It was awful, the way he could only stuff and stuff for so long until he had moments like these where he bursted. It made him sad, angry and confused; How much he missed his mother, how much he wished he were normal, how much he wished he was in a different position for half of his life. It didn’t seem very fair, how long he had to put up with so much abuse and neglect, constantly being broken down and brought back up again with manipulation and control from Marshall. Every day after she left him, he wasn’t living, he was just surviving. 

But now, in this moment, he felt like he was living again. Around Victor he felt like he was living again.

He took another prolonged inhale and exhale, then braced himself. 

“My mother… Sometimes I think about her a little more than I’d wish for;”

Andrew stopped himself, he didn’t know how to explain his emotions without sounding like he was deranged. 

Victor continued to listen to him attentively, hands still caressing the albino’s face.

He knew Victor wouldn’t judge him by now, so why was he so nervous? He’d never talked to anyone about this before, sure he had mentioned he had a late mother in their past conversations, but he’d never exactly gone into detail about it. It was trauma, that wasn’t a normal conversation topic Andrew thought to himself.

“I just– Had a bad dream about losing her again, sometimes– It feels like it happens every other night, I remember seeing her on her deathbed– her humming to me, holding me, in her last moments, that image– Was sealed permanently in my mind, when she took her last breath, I couldn’t bear losing her– I wailed and cried, asking, begging for her to wake up– And now I’m just doing the exact same thing I did when I was younger, cower and sob, I’m beginning to notice a pattern, or worse, a never ending loop,”

There was a frown on Victor’s lips, he used his thumb to wipe a tear running down Andrew’s face.

“You’re very strong to have to deal with that, I’m so sorry.”

Andrew paused, feeling guilty for having rambled to him about such things, only grateful over how well he was taking everything in, as if he had taken up the job of his therapist. He kept his eye contact the whole time while Andrew was mumbling to himself under tears. 

“No, Victor, I’m weak. Everytime Marshall hurts me I never fight back, I’m too afraid of him,”

His face softened, looking at him with deep remorse.

“That’s because he abuses you, It’s normal to be scared of someone who has ruined your life,”

The way Victor spoke made it sound like he was talking to his guardian angel, the way he understood and empathized with everything he had to say like he had gone through it himself. It was refreshing, exhilarating to feel so special when he talked to him like that. He always said he wasn’t good with words, yet that’s what made him so great, the way he spoke with care unlike anyone else that has crossed his path. 

Andrew was so in love.

“Look– I’m sorry for all of this,” He whimpered. “This has been going on for too long– And I think that I just snapped.”

“Don’t apologize, everything will be alright, okay? From what I heard, your mother was a lovely woman and I’m sure she had an amazing life.

“But she didn’t.. My father raped her when she was seventeen, my grandparents sold her off to a man three times her age, if anything her life was as horrible as mine had become when I lost her.”

With every word it felt as his heart was snapping further. It was so painful to touch something emotionally that hadn’t been touched in years. Forever, these feelings had just been locked away permanently, now, he didn’t know what to think of it.

“Having you in her life made it amazing, it makes mine amazing.” Victor said, still bolstering his cheeks.

Andrew wanted to start crying again.

So he did.

Because the truth is, Andrew was an ugly crier, yet when Victor took him in his arms, letting his shirt get soaked with his tears as if it was nothing, It didn’t matter how much he weeped, for every tear he sobbed it could never amount to how much he loved Andrew

Chapter Text

September 9th, Tuesday, 1907, Germany

6 Days Until the Train

The past two recent mornings for Andrew have felt like a dream. Still simply unreal to him. 

The sun was already in the heat of the day, burning as the bustling city resided underneath it, the lateness of the previous night had thrown the two off guard when it came to their sleep schedule. Even after the incident, Victor stayed up with Andrew hours later just to make sure he would be okay, taking his hands in his as rested on his chest, still with tears running down the taller man’s face. 

He had now been positioned on Victor’s lap, differently from where he lay last night when he was weeping in his arms. His face was sore from the tears and so was his throat, arms and legs still locked with one another. He could feel fingers infusing through his hair, but when opening eyes he saw a smiley upside-down postman, Andrew burned in doting.

“Good morning sleepyhead, it’s already noon,”

Although it hadn’t been the most comfortable sleep, it hit a soft spot to be in Victor’s space once more for the night. 

“Good morning…” Andrew replied, picking himself up, however the sentence hadn’t yet processed through his head. 

Noon. It was noon. Marshall was going to kill him.

He started to panic, just because of this singular mistake he could be discovered and lose everything he had. He arose, breaking touch with Victor in a hurry and brushing the messy locks of white out of his face, still in mortification.

“My goodness..! I must go soon, it is very late.” He added, not wanting to mention Marshall so he wouldn’t scare Victor or make him feel bad after the night they spent together.

Marshall didn’t like to be disobeyed, when he was disobeyed, that’s when he got violent with him. He didn’t just throw punches on Andrew because he wanted to, it was always when he did something to upset him, even if it wasn’t intentional. 

He looked back to Victor, seeing his peaceful appearance as he wiped his eyes and stretched, hair messy from the previous night’s sleep and clothing wrinkled, stained with tears. Andrew felt a growing guilt and embarrassment over it.

As the both of them still sat on his bed, Andrew trying to fix his hair sloppily, it wasn’t long before Victor had finished stretching and caught wind of how he planned on leaving soon, he snaked his arms around the grave keeper’s torso from behind to tease him, fingers trailing from his chest to his waist as Andrew began to grow strung when he put his head onto the albino’s shoulder. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay with me, Andy?” He asked, but lovingly, creating tension.

He pinkened at the use of the nickname, which he hadn’t heard since his mother.

Andrew couldn’t tell whether he liked or not where this was going, but however it made him feel he couldn’t entirely focus when his mind was racing in a million different directions, trying to brush off the uncomfortable black coat he had slept in the night prior.

“I’m sorry–! I really need to le-”

He was interrupted by a soft touch on his face before it ended in a kiss on the cheek. Now going red with fuzzy feelings and an aching stomach from the peck, Andrew was at a loss for words. He didn’t expect Victor to kiss him again, even if it wasn’t on the lips after what happened. 

“V-Victor..” The grave keeper squeaked, still evidently very flustered by the action of affection.

His fingers thumbed together in apprehension before Victor let go of the grave keeper. 

“Okay, you can go,”

The other let go of him, when his arms separated from his chest he held a sappy smile on his lips.

Still in revelation, Andrew sat up, watching Victor picking up his dog and putting her in his lap, running his hands down her belly as she flopped over, not evening realizing she was in his room before.

He felt a sudden disappointment when he thought of leaving then and there, but it was better to face his known consequences now than make it worse, he had been gone for nearly twenty-four hours. 

He buttoned his coat back up, still observing the blonde now letting the dog lick his face with various content chuckles from the boy in between. When Victor was with small animals, it was very easy to see he was in his element, and it made sense. They didn’t speak, judge or hate, all things that seemed to follow the both of them throughout their lives. What interested Andrew particularly is why he was so interested in him . He wasn’t an animal or small, and most of all didn’t seem very friendly or approachable when looked at, in fact, he was far from what Victor was used to, so why did he have that adoration for him? 

Andrew stood, getting himself together before he was to leave.

“Before you go, may I come to Lutz later to visit? That is– If you’re not busy,” He asked, Wick still wrapped within his arms and having kisses planted on her head. Andrew was growing a bit jealous. 

“I’d love that,” At first, Andrew was very hesitant to accept, knowing the amount of trouble he would be in when he got home, but really, it was too early to decline an offer to see his only loved one, even if the reality of it was that Victor and Andrew would be leaving together in six days. Six more days with Marshall, he could handle that, that is if he doesn’t die when he gets home.

They paid each other their farewells, embracing one another at the door. It was funny how everytime he’d managed to leave Victor, it felt like it would be an eon before he was able to see him again. He just wanted to be with him forever without any distraction, to sleep in the same bed without feeling dirty or to kiss him without any fear of judgment. Andrew longed for him, to live with him in peace, that was his goal, and he only had to wait so much longer for that to become a reality.

Seeing through his chestnut pools one last time before the door closed, Andrew went home.

On the walk home, he wasn’t able to clear his mind, he wasn’t able to erase the thought from his head that he was leaving Berlin. For the longest time, he had planned on dying here, most likely lonesome for the rest of his life and living out his job of purifying Lutz. If he leaves, there would be no more purifying to do. Lutz would probably live on a few more years, without the chores Andrew was responsible for being done it would start to rot, crumble from the roots as vines seeped into its flimsy stone architecture. Marshall would go broke and a new church would be built, most likely with a much more weighty budget. The evil men buried there, the ones who weren’t supposed to be there in the first place would have to stay. Thinking of such things partially left him at a hurt, for the longest time his faithfulness and Lutz was his only reason for keeping himself alive. 

Now, he had a different purpose. 

His faithfulness was out of the question, he’d certainly be going to hell by now for his homosexual tendacies for another man he of course was unable to control and by now he didn’t want it to be controlled anyways. And Lutz? Love was more important than where he lived, grew up and hurt in, for home was where the heart is. It was high time to put his shovel down and move on, to give himself a fresh start in what feels like a new world. 

Because Andrew loved Victor, and that’s all he needed and could ever want.

As he was approaching the door to the church, unlocking it with his keys he could feel another presence around him.

He turned around to see a very, very displeased face.

“Inside. Now.”

Andrew obliged. 

He felt the vibrations through his feet as the door slammed shut after the two entered, echoing throughout the cobwebs of the chandelier above them.

There was a quiet in the room which all of a sudden felt so foggy. Marshall pulled up a chair, sat down, and began to look dead into the grave keeper’s eyes. The middle aged man kept the same condescending frown on his face the whole time, in Andrew’s case, he was speechless, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t anger him further. 

There was another cold, loathful stare before Marshall spoke. “Where have you been?” His voice wasn’t enraged, no, it was calm, collected as if he wasn’t even upset. 

Andrew knew that’s what he did. He was holding back on him to get him to tell the truth. 

He conjured up a lie before responding to him, shaking from his conspicuous nervousness.

“I went to the market early this morning… We were running low on tea.”

“Liar.”

The albino began to grow furious, he didn’t even give him a chance to plead his case before shutting him down completely, even if he was right about him being a liar, he had never been reasonable within the decade and a half he had spent with him, Andrew was sick of it. 

He definitely had hit a nerve while Andrew put his foot down and dug up the small amounts of courage he had within him.

“Excuse me?” Asked Andrew, raising his voice.

Marshall winced.

“No, excuse me, I stopped by last night and you weren’t here, so clearly you were gone all night,”

He responded calmly once again, too calmly, reaching into his pocket for a lighter which he later used to light a cigarette, smoke expiring from his core through his stubbly graying beard.

That didn’t make sense. Marshall wasn’t supposed to come during the evenings very often, unless he already had a reason to have growing suspicion of him, which is what Andrew feared most.

The courage he had attached to broke free, leaving him with nothing once again. 

“You gonna’ answer me?”

The middle aged man stood up with a frown, already unbuckling his belt, Andrew braced himself, everytime he thought to himself ‘maybe he won’t beat me this time’, every time he was wrong, no matter how tranquil he spoke.

“I asked you where the fuck you were,”

He demanded, louder this time, causing Andrew to flinch and cower against the closed door, his heart pace quickened in a fright and the room began to grow inimical.

“Oh, I see, you were with the boy weren’t you?”

Andrew stopped.

 It was like everything in his world had just collapsed with one mention of Victor. The last thing, the worst he could possibly ever think of was being discovered for their inappropriate closeness. What if he knew? What would he do then? There would be nothing he could do to protect him if Marshall had hit too hard. 

Still a shocked mess, he stood, every possible dreadful conception he could think of began rushing through like a waterfall, suddenly, he felt like he was getting very dizzy, everything was blurring all into one like his mind.

“..What are you talking about?” Was all he could manage to ask.

“I’m talking about how you lied to me when I asked if you had known Victor straight to my face, yet you continue to visit him behind my back.”

The shorter man reached into his pocket, four or five letters were thrown onto the floor in a quick bowl.

There was a growing quiet in the room, Andrew, now horrified, took steps back in panic. His eyes only looked in the direction of the white paper, now crumbled and smudged. He didn’t know where or how Marshall found out, nor did he want to even know. He was corrupted by negative feelings and thoughts, the worry of Victor getting into trouble for his own home situation didn’t seem fair, it also didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t manage to keep anything from Marshall, no matter what, every single time, he was discovered. 

“Tell me what your intentions with this boy are.”

He drew closer.

“I read all of his letters to you, do you love him? Are you a homo, Andrew?”

Now that was the one thing that would be impossible for him to know. His words were nothing more than teasing to get under his skin. Suddenly, the iteration of him kissing Victor replayed in his mind, the softness and the bodily closeness of his lips touching his own, Marshall’s words made him feel dirty for his actions, like he had sinned, which he had. 

Kneeling down to pick up the letters before Marshall tried to stop him, Andrew’s breathing began to become more heavy in fear.

The landlord only stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder as if they were friends after he had stood back up.

The way he spoke and moved so indiginatingly frustrated the grave keeper to an erratic amount, twirling his cigarette through his fingers as he blew more of the gray dust to the floor while Andrew averted eye contact with the man.

His grin was malicious, eyes sour. He couldn’t stand it when he touched him, his hand running across the roof of his shoulder ushered him into an obvious bother. 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I do. You’re trying to take advantage of people’s kindness for your own gain, just like you do with everyone else. People cower when they see you on the streets for a reason, you think this boy cares about you? He’s pitying you. Just like me, just like the townspeople, just like your mother.”

Andrew snapped.

He wasn’t about to let his mother’s name be dragged through the dirt from his mouth. She didn’t pity him. She loved him, and Andrew knew that. He wasn’t as sure as anything else in his life. 

Enraged, his chest pounded in fury, eyebrows furrowed and head down as his body tensed. He didn’t say anything, no, but he was so hurt, so provoked. Oh how he wanted to give Marshall a taste of his own medicine, oh how he was pushed over the edge over one mention of her. Exasperated, he took deep breaths.

For all this time, he had never ever tried to defend himself, to hurt him in the way he hurt Andrew, for all this time, he never thought he was capable, that he was weak like Marshall told him he was. That he wasn’t strong enough, not strong enough to do anything. He just took it. Every single time. But if he continued to let Marshall hit him like Andrew thought he deserved for his illness, it all wasn’t true. This is not what Victor would want him to do, nor what his mother would want him to do. His mother had taught him to overcome obstacles with her death and Victor had taught him how to see the beauty in himself and become brave. They shouldn’t have done that if it was for nothing, for Andrew just to walk away with a couple bruises like it was nothing, because that wasn’t true either, it was something. His pride and his courage had been lost, weakened over the years with every beating. So this would be the last time he blanched.   

Squeezing his hand into a fist, he fought back.

But when Marshall’s lip started to bleed, he knew he had fucked up.

“Take your shirt off.”

Still wiping the blood off of his fist, Andrew shook his head. That was until Marshall forced his coat and shirt off him. 

Andrew was ordered to drop to his knees and face the wall, although he tried to resist, in the end he failed. 

Marshall raised his belt.

With every hit from the whipping on his back he winced in pain, dropping lower to the floor as he bled out. It seemed like with every hit it only got worse, the slashes overlapping with each other and deepening pre-existing wounds.

The affliction made him want to sob, no, he was already sobbing, it didn’t seem to stop, biting down on his fist as he tried not to scream. It felt like burning, like he had caught on fire, but unlike fire it stopped, only for a brief few seconds before you were hit again with a pain stronger than before. It gave you false expectations, false hope of maybe that strike would be the last, but you were always wrong.

Andrew cried and cried.

Until it finally stopped, back lashed, blood leaking from it in drops which overlined old scars. 

To Marshall, he only looked pathetic, he satisfyingly dropped the blood stained belt at Andrew’s feet.

“You’re not leaving this church ever again, you will stay here and rot for the rest of your life, and you better live every day like your last because the more you disobey me the closer you get.” He snarled bitterly.

As soon as he trailed away, one creaking footstep after the other, the main doors swung open and closed within a matter of seconds, he left the church and locked him inside, he could hear the key snap in half with its tip trapped in the door.

As soon as he knew Marshall was gone, he began to weep once more.

-

The evening

Everything seemed to hurt, not just his back, but his entire body. 

After putting his shirt and coat back on, the rubbing of the leather against the beaten flesh had been excruciating. His body heated up, gaining that fiery feeling again. He had tried to put ice on his back prior to going back to his loft, but it only ended up making him endure a indescribable torture. 

Victor wasn’t here to take care of him this time, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever be able to even see Victor again after earlier. 

He resented Marshall, he was so exhausted from everything, there was nothing left to do but to turn to God again. To pray, to beg for everything to stop and to be given salvation in return for purifying the church. Andrew was slowly losing his touch for religion, no matter how much he asked for help, it was never given to him. 

Perhaps it was because of his illness, maybe there was no forgiveness left for someone like him. Someone who had been born a bastard, who cleansed his home in illegal practices, who kissed another man.

He was not deserving of anything for what he had done.

Andrew took it all in, wanting to cry once more for his failure in his lord. Dropping to his knees, he intertwined his hands together and rested them on his head.

Forgiveness..

Under his breath, he started to pray, “My dear lord, I am no longer as righteous as I used to be, I have sinned, as we all do, only you can choose who is forgiven and who is not, I know you have seen what I have done, you are probably disgusted with what I have become,”

He stopped.

He was about to apologize for everything, for every little sin he may have acted on in his lifetime. More importantly, he was going to apologize for the things he had done with Victor. So why did he stop himself? He was lying. He didn’t feel bad over sharing a bed with him, having inappropriate touchiness or putting his lips on his. Andrew didn’t regret any of it. 

Then, he finally understood what Victor whispered to him before they kissed, he was telling him I love you.

“You must know I don’t feel guilty for any that I have done, I do not want your forgiveness, but rather your understanding, surely you have felt love before, that is all I feel in my heart for him, he has offered me the same salvation you have, so please, offer me your discernment and don’t stop fighting for my reclamation, I know you know I have a good heart, even if my actions show otherwise, the same actions I do not plan on stopping, if I am worth anything to you in the same way you are worth to me, you will find it in your heart to continue to love and protect me, please,”

Andrew inhaled then exhaled, dropping his hands into his lap.

He finished his prayer, satisfied with what he had said, spoken from the heart as all things should be.

It felt as if a massive weight had just been lifted off of his shoulders, getting all of that off of his chest was beyond refreshing, Andrew was at a kind of peace now he had expressed his feelings to a higher power, even if he didn’t gain a response in return, he would’ve bottled it up forever if not taken action now.

Standing up once more, he retreated back to his desk, looking at the safe which Marshall had forcefully opened, he reached back into his pockets, taking out the letters that had been crumpled and ripped, it hurt his heart to see them disfigured, as if he was losing something very sentimental to him. 

Using everything he could to flatten them out and piece them back together, he was interrupted by the sound of a hard object hitting his window.

Thump.

Victor.

Without a second hesitation, Andrew raced to the window and tried to open it, however it too had been locked by Marshall, he panicked, without the key he wouldn’t be able to let him know he was there.

He went to the drawers in his desk, taking each of them out completely and making an absolute mess. The uproar stopped when he found a plated iron hammer. 

Smashing it against the lock until it cracked, the window was outspread.

“Victor! You need to leave,” He exclaimed, petrified.

Victor was no longer on the floor, but instead it looked like he had climbed Marshall’s car to get to the roof of the house. He sat on his knees as he looked into the window where Andrew stood, still in an absolute disturbance.

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and dipping it down to see him better, noticing Andrew’s already tear stained eyes.

Victor had done it again. Although the night skies this time were clear, he still presided to visit in the hours of the evening just for him, it brought him into an adoration, he loved how at the end of the day he would always find a way. That’s just how Victor was, and soon they wouldn’t have to do this anymore.

“Marshall found out, I don’t want him to hurt you but I’ll find a way to get out of here,” Andrew explained, picking up both of the postman’s hands in his own.

He gaped at Victor’s expression go from happy to horrified.

“What? What do you mean he found out? Did he hurt you?”

Yes. He did. Badly.

Andrew didn’t want to answer that question, as much as he valued honesty the last thing he wanted to do was to burden him with that information. He could barely even walk, he didn’t think Victor could notice the obvious hunch in his posture.

“Don’t worry about that, you need to go, okay? I’ll see you soon, I promise,”  Andrew said, maintaining eye contact.

Victor returned his look but then shook his head. “No! We’re going to figure this out together, right?” He said as he returned the holding on his hands worryingly, it was as if he was gripping onto them for dear life. 

“I’m sorry,”

Andrew muttered.

The staring made his heart set about to pound rapidly, thumbing over his pointer as the moonlight lit up Victor’s face. 

He wanted to tell him now. At this moment. Those three words. Every fragment of his body shrilled at him to do it. The way Victor made him feel, the way ever since he met him he flared up with a flickering sensation in his stomach and shell. The way he yearned every night he spent alone waiting for the next time to see him. The way he wished and begged for his own acceptance just so he could love him without feeling like the villain. He wanted to have and to hold him forever and ever, and there was no doubt about it. 

Lost in thought, time snapped back into Victor’s nervous, sunburned brown eyes. Where he loved to be, just looking at him was enough to make Andrew happy.

His breathing quickened, in and out at a sprightly pace, his wrists shook and face drew a saturated shade of red. 

If this was going to be the last time he was going to see Victor, he wanted to make it last, he wanted it to last a lifetime with one sentence.

He said it in between breaths.

“I love you.”

That was the second thing today that was said that felt fortifying to release, but overall, the most.

The blonde let go and cushioned his hands onto Andrew’s cheeks, pushing back the hemming of hair covering his eye. 

As victor touched his face, he was nothing but gentle. Andrew leaned into his right hand, feeling his soft hands joining with his hair. 

He wasn’t surprised, humiliated or repulsed. He was smiling.

When Andrew paused to be alone with his thoughts one more, Victor’s lips touched with his.

And there was that feeling again.

This time, Andrew didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, there was no other thought that followed, no other option. He never expected to receive the feeling of kissing someone again, yet here they were, one of them banished from seeing anyone ever again and the other leaning through the window just to help him do the opposite. The grave keeper’s hands still gripped to the windowsill, swelling in tightness with the tense feeling. 

It was longer this time and more active than before, the softness of his lips against his burning unlike any other feeling. It wasn’t just his lips, it was his arms, chest, legs, his whole body experiencing a churning feeling. Being more certain than ever now, it was his love for Victor bubbling inside of him. He couldn’t stand holding it in any longer, and now that it was released it felt different, bigger but also more compressed. 

They both let go, and Victor’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t ashamed this time, he only raised his shoulders and struggled to hide his face from the blushiness that was covering his image. 

Now, Andrew felt closer to what you would feel before you die. He couldn’t stop staring at Victor and repeating in his head what he had told him, even if he didn’t say the three words back he still kissed him, the albino didn’t understand what that meant or what that made them, but it still splintered his heart with deeper feelings. Infatuated, his guard dropped.

Victor noticed the stare, chuckling and continuing to shield his face from being viewed.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.. I always will,”

“Then I will see you again, I promise,”

Chapter Text

September 11th, Thursday, 1907

4 Days Until the Train

The previous night was dreary, the infatuation of not sleeping alone departed and Andrew couldn’t stop thinking about Victor. He had missed him so tragically, even though it had only been nearly two days. 

A day, trapped inside of this house, just chores, no Victor. It was like they had never even met.

Of course, Andrew had a life outside of him and the postman’s encounters, but it still seemed to go colorless when he wasn’t by his side, he couldn’t take him off of his mind, his desires had never left him, still yearning for his touch once more; wanting it to never leave him, but he didn’t stop to think how that’d be possible until now, he didn’t know the right way to tell him how he really felt.

Marshall would be gone this evening, however Andrew didn’t necessarily feel like risking it again considering how badly he was hurt last time. It was better to be alive and have Victor wait for him than dead.

He couldn’t find himself sleeping last night, kept up by refining what he had done several nights prior. Still awestruck at how he ended up telling Victor such formidable things.

Andrew couldn’t get over, no, he couldn’t believe what he had done, couldn’t imagine how much he was sacrificing for just one person in the name of his love for him. As happy and giddy as he had been, something awful terrified him too. The horrific and unthinkable feeling that Marshall would find that their relationship was closer than they both had expected it to be, him and Marshall’s terms were deficient enough, if he kept this up and were to get discovered, he would be six feet under.

As he got out of bed, body burning with the movement, his untreated back agonizing in pain, he set some time to be alone with his thoughts. Did he want to? Absolutely not. 

He hadn’t even begun to think how he would get back to Victor, let alone escape the church without Marshall finding out and giving him another beating, which he ultimately had to know if he planned to get on that train.

But right now, Andrew had bigger problems, problems bigger than himself. Problems that had been killing him.

When with Victor, he never fell in love with him on purpose, he fell in love with his letters, his words, his thoughts and his heart. He fell in love with everything that made him him. He so desperately wanted to hold him as if he was holding the whole world,

A small, light thought drifted into his head for a tick.

And he knew he told himself that a million times, but it could never be too many, he wanted to say ‘I love you’ just as many times as he was reminded how much he loved the postman

Which is why he wanted to do what he was going to.

He planned to ask for Victor’s hand .

Not the craziest of people would think of asking for another man’s elopement, maybe, just maybe that made Andrew a little below crazy, but he didn’t mind loving driving him crazy.

Not even caring that it could get him stoned, hanged if anyone ever found out, he pushed his fears aside anyways. He didn’t have anything to give him, no money to purchase any ring, and yet taking a chance wasn’t something he usually did, this time, it was different.

Within minutes, Andrew was certain.

He would write him a letter, one final letter. A letter that explained his situation, his wishes and more importantly his love for him. With Marshall gone in the evening, that would be enough time for him to see Victor in secret. 

Not wasting any more time, he began to write.

Ten minutes later, he put the pen down.

Growing nervous as he held the letter in hand, he felt a beat of sweat fall down his forehead in anxiety. 

His heart continued to slam like the pounding of a drum, melodically thumping in rhythm as he grew paranoid over the response to the letter. He coveted how other men could propose to a woman so easily and walk away like champions even if they were rejected.

Everything felt like it was moving, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He dressed up the letter nicely and completed it with the Lutz wax seal, being the only press he had. 

Picking it up in hand, he clasped it between his hands tighter than ever, just by touching it he could already feel the radiance of Victor’s body against his again, the same way he would feel when they held each other and kissed. 

It was almost like he was there, like his presence was in the room. Whenever he thought of Victor, his vivid thoughts and mental portraits of him made Andrew feel like he wasn’t alone, metaphorically and literally. 

But then, they went away, and Andrew was tragically reminded once more that he was living in an empty church with a soulless feeling, yet he loved it so.

It made him question what he should actually be spending his time loving.

Finally putting the letter down, he trailed off to the window once more.

Sliding his fingers under the crease and pulling it up as if it didn’t have dents shielding it’s glass and a forcefully broken lock, hoping to get some fresh air from the dry and somber insides of the building. 

The gust of wind blew Andrew’s face aback, blustering the hair from his face as he watched, waiting in the slight chance his lover would return, even if he had told him to not.

-

Midnight

Victor was spending his evening like any other would, the fireplace in his house crackled and drew smoke from his apartment’s chimney, part of why he loved being on the top floor so much. 

The insomnia from his anxiety kept him awake, he wouldn’t even bother to try sleeping tonight.

The blonde was deeply indulged in a novel, an older and richer one from the 17th century which he seemed to be fascinated with, his dog resting peacefully in his lap, wagging her short tail back and forth like a flag in the wind.

Everything was how it should be, except it wasn’t. 

It felt like a piece of him had been stripped away from him, something he had gotten so used to and attached to now gone, and he didn’t know for how long which was the worst part. Uncertainty. 

Victor closed his book as soon as he heard a heavy knock on his door. He presupposed it was his rent collector, his most likely being overdue, with everything new and eventful that had been following him into his life recently he must have gotten distracted, which was strange, he usually paid his rent on time.

Andrew had thrown anything out of place, but in a good way, it gave Victor some much needed and longed for change after living in an empty world for twenty-three years of his life, writing and reading being the only thing to fulfill that void for the longest time. Now that things had differed, he liked it. He liked Andrew, and he missed him.

To the point where it was driving him a little erratic.

For separation anxiety had hit the postman a little too close to home.

His mind began to bounce around, fixated on Andrew, where he was and what he was doing, he wished bigger than himself to be there locked inside that church with him, if only, he craved.

He twisted the door handle, preparing some creative excuse to get whoever was at his door to leave him alone sanguinely, peeking out through the crack of the door before he fully unlocked it., his hazelnut eyes first looked down, then up.

A tall and heedful grave keeper stand outside.

Victor shut the door immediately to remove the chain lock, opening it again with much more force and potency. 

His eyes widened before speaking to him, the door still open behind him. “Andrew..”

He didn’t say anything at first, only cradled Victor’s hand and put a sealed letter onto his palm, enclosing his fingers around it with a gentle touch. The same touch he had loved Andrew so dearly for.

“You must read this as soon as possible, we don’t have a lot of time,”

Victor gazed at the enclosed writing as the albino let go of his hands, he seemed speechless, unable to read the room on how he was even seeing him stand before him. He didn’t know what happened to Marshall or how he got out, but expected his questions to be answered within the letter, but his confusion apprised him that he must know now.

“But I-”

“Please,”

Victor was cut off by Andrew’s exhorting. 

After pausing to think, he then nodded. 

Before the door closed again Victor trotted forward to him, snaking his hands under his arms and taking him into an embrace, there was a delay from Andrew to hug him back, as there always was, but after his initial hesitation he squeezed him tightly in his stronger arms. This was a feeling Victor had missed a little too much over the past two days. It felt silly in retrospect to feel so deprived after nearly forty-eight hours, but he couldn’t help it.

The more their bodies pressed against each other, their hands joined or rested with one another the more Victor was certain he did not want to live in a world without loving Andrew, he didn’t want to live in a world where it was just him again, where it was drowned with the speaking and the gossip he so hated. Now, talking wasn’t such a bad thing, talking to Andrew wasn’t such a bad thing. Which led him to the big question, why he didn’t say it back.

When they separated he felt as if he was no longer whole once more, still finding it painstakingly hard to pull his hand away as he backed up into his apartment grievously, giving him one last long ardent look before the walkway was blocked off by the door a second time.

There was a growing, strong sadness that fell upon him. His longing could not ever be concluded, could it?

Marching to a table briskly he pinned himself onto a chair, letter still between his fingers.

As he thumbed across his name written on the letter in a deep lavender ink he took a moment to think about how much Andrew was sacrificing just for him, Victor was convinced that Andrew really was one of the bravest people in town, despite him having complained about his cowardice before. It took a lot of guts to rebel against an abuser, to sneak out and take advantage of his punishments by always finding a way out. In the end, everything he did was for Victor.

Yet in four days there would be no more Marshall, no more hurt, just the two of them, alone, like they so dearly fancied.

Not wasting any more time, Victor unmatched the folding from the letter. The flecks of hazel in his chestnut eyes illuminating from the light, pushing the soft blonde tufts of hair that covered them so he could see better as he read.

About midway through, he was already caught up in another blushy fit with the dorkiest upturned smile across his face, unable to control himself or his emotions. 

Heart going off like a siren, he read every word with an infatuation, like an overwhelming blowout through his body, stomach still tensing up in little surges. 

My Victor,

I have been waiting for you for so long, now that I have you, I made a promise to myself to never let you go on that windowsill. For all the days I have spent with you have been wonderful, but I must ask of you a favor, my love, which I will get to later on in this letter.

I want to start this off with how much I truly love you and how much you mean to me, Victor, I never want to spend a day of my life without you in it, which is why this will be the official last letter I am sending you. I mean it this time, but not for the reasons you would think. Now, now, don’t panic. I don’t plan on pushing you away from me again, it is much rather the opposite. I don’t know how you are going to react to what I have planned but I would do anything to be yours and I hope you can see that too.

I have loved, cherished, and revered every letter that we have passed onto each other, and I will hold them very dear to my heart until the end of my days. Sometimes, I think how you’re right about written words being much more fulfilling than verbal communication, your words have lifted me up from some of the darkest times. I was never the best at socializing, but in a new life with you I think I could be. 

My dear, please tell me you will hold me close to you forever, if not, I don’t know what I’d do with myself, there are times when I am separated from you, I grow gloomy, missing your touch and your smile. I never want to feel like that again.

Please, come to Lutz at midnight tonight, this is the favor I ask of you, I’d be so lucky just to see you again after everything that has happened to separate us. 

All my love, Andrew

Victor couldn’t help but just melt.

He didn’t understand why or where all of this was coming from, but he refused to complain about it, feeling as if he were drifting off into a sea of his own emotions.

The postman didn’t stop to think twice about going to see him, still nervous and uncertain about the things he was going to say, yet he still yearned to know, he yearned to be by him.

Victor would leave shortly to attend their meeting, still with an unsettled anticipation.

-

The postman stepped outside of his apartment, entering the hallway. Tonight it was abnormally cold out, which most likely marked the beginning of the fall. He took a coat with him, ragging it over his uniform with a robe-like belt.

He brushed some hair from his face as he walked down the stairs and out the door, now fully feeling the chill from the very light wind. It was beyond midnight now, the town was unnervingly quiet and its sights were gloomy, dreary. There was certainly nothing too stunning to see outside in the dark evening, especially when there was a murderer running loose on the town which led people into fear and hiding.

It’s not like Victor was expecting to see anything more, but his surroundings didn’t make his walk to Lutz exactly the most pleasant. 

Any minute now the killer could come from the shadows, clutching onto a jagged blood-stained knife along with them, holding it between their palms for dear life as they pounced towards you in a swift slash, spilling out your blood.

Shaking the intrusive thoughts from his head as he grew closer to the church, Victor stopped.

But not because he found a murderer.

He kneeled down to get a better look, picking up a flower- No- Flower petals from the ground. They were white with pink accents, shaped in nearly the same way as a heart, looking almost identical to the previous flowers Andrew had given him prior.

When he picked his head up, the petal immediately slipped from between his fingers in shock. 

A lengthy, vibrant trail of the buds had lay ahead of him. Victor could feel his jaw drop a little before his lips curled up into a smile as he quickly turned into a tomato.

Was this for him ?

He stood up, stepping forward very slowly. 

Still oblivious to not possibly know what any of this was about, Victor was at a loss for words, eyes looking down at the flowers mixed in with the crested stone bricks that followed the walkways in town square to the stars in the sky glowing in radiance from the quiet nature of the town at it’s late hours.

His fingers pressed and fidgeted together anxiously, no sound was made when he stepped over the powder soft petals, they were fresh, their brilliant colors only illuminating more in the moonlight as the brightness made the waterways glisten, impossible to not notice as he stepped across the bridge, leading directly to Lutz.

The petal paths only seemed to grow more thick and plentiful the closer he got, he noticed that the gentle flurries of the wind were sending some of them on their way, many landed into the rivers that flowed through the square, making the sights in the night even more breathtaking to observe.

Lutz was brightly illuminated by many candles at the front, one door locked with the other half open. The luster from the inside of the church drew a portrait of Victor’s shadow onto the stone, which soon was engulfed completely as he touched the side of the door, opening it further, around a quarter more so he could walk in comfortably.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Andrew, and Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Victor walked forward through the entrance, his boots releasing creaking sounds from the floorboards into the quiet chapel, dragging his coat along with him as the night was now only visible through the large glossy windows around the expanse.

His simper raised his cheeks, causing him to squint a little from his evident contentedness.

“What is all this?” Victor called out

The grave keeper seemed to pause to think, then took a deep breath. “Something I should’ve done days ago.”

The blonde raised his eyebrows, too curious for his own good, still finding it hard to believe the amount of time it must have taken to lay out that many blades of the orchids, he had to have been exhausted from doing such a tedious task.

Victor took his sweet time before approaching Andrew, he walked along a line of candles resting on the trim, running his sleek fingers across the untouched cream-colored wax, still keeping his almond pools fixated on his lover.

The eye contact made Andrew perturbed and flustered.

Victor finally neared closer, facing Andrew with an overjoyed grin, unable to really hold his composure.

“Do you think Marshall will finally kill me after this?” The albino joked.

“If he discovers, most likely, but who said he needed to know?” He said merrily.

Victor started to close the gap between where they stood, drawing closer to his face to where their noses met and driving his fingers down his arms.

This didn’t just make Andrew blush lightly, but he made him burn up rather ridiculously with a weak smile painted on his lips.

Andrew must’ve been risking everything for this meeting, knowing fully well he knew that Marshall would pester him with questioning on why the church was full of the buddings, or worse, would be put in a deeper danger if Victor was discovered here too.

Neither of them were worried about that now though, so why waste any more time thinking about the uncertain?

Andrew was still lost in Victor’s eyes and his beauty, the moonlight flaring up his face but darkening his own as he stood in the shadows reminding him of when they kissed on the roof days ago.

He raised a shaky arm to Victor’s face, making him redden quite quickly, there was little dithering from him to lean into the hand and press it closer with his own. 

“Y-You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled under his breath, unable to announce himself louder from the nervousness Victor could tell he was feeling, but why? It was like they had never shared a touch before until now, he couldn’t make any sense of it.

He dotingly sighed over Andrew’s sweetness, maintaining his piercing eye contact.

Victor noticed that Andrew’s eyes had been somewhere else though, somewhere lower on his face.

The boy stood on his tippy toes in order to become better able to reach him, assumingly guessing correctly what he wanted.

Still kneading his hands up and down the grave keeper’s body, Victor leaned forward for a kiss.

But he was put to a halt as Andrew let go of him.

“Wait-“

“What’s wrong?” He began to grow troubled. 

“V-Victor, there’s something I-I need to tell you first.” He stuttered through his words, voice cracking up from his fear.

Andrew wrapped his fingers around his right hand, taking it very gently in his own, much bigger hands.

Before Victor could say anything more, he slowly dropped onto one knee.

There was a pause, but that weak smile still remained on his face, prepared and ready to pursue what he was going to.

Victor’s heart.

“I am nothing but a low-bred grave keeper, born with an incurable illness that has made others fear and resent me to the point I have started to feel those things for myself and other people too— You have changed my mind—

I have absolutely nothing to offer you, Victor, but I love you and will never stop for as long as I live and beyond, which is why I want to ask you to marry me.”

He spoke like it wasn’t a crime to love, like it was something perfectly acceptable in society, the fear that rang from his voice was not because he was scared of loving another man, it was because he now was unable to turn away from that love.

Victor’s face softened, nothing came from the postman’s mouth for what it felt like minutes. 

He just watched, before he crouched down with Andrew and met him over the wooden parquets. Candles felt like they were burning brighter than ever now, but nothing could compare to the burning of Victor’s heart.

The blonde put his other hand onto Andrew’s unyielding touch, then opened his lips to respond.

“And I’ll never stop loving you, Andrew, till death do us part.”

Victor took him to his feet then proceeded to wrap his arms around his neck happily, arms over lining the black collar of his heavy leather coat while the other incredulously aligned his hands with Victor’s waist with an uncontrollably overjoyed smile, the happiest the boy had ever seen him. 

Consumed completely by his emotions, Victor wasted not a second more to pull Andrew close into a deepened kiss.

Everytime their lips managed to touch one another it didn’t feel like they had done it before, it felt like the first every time, neither of them could hold back their smile as it went on, Victor’s button nose pushing up against Andrew’s roman lovingly. 

Victor would give anything to stay in this moment, overwhelmed with each other’s exhilaration, relieved to know the both were certain they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with each other, to live out the rest of the bad, the good and the messy days, no longer alone or desolate.

He only pried him closer, even when they let go of the kiss, foreheads locked as well as their gazes, touching the sides of their faces and stroking one another’s hair. Victor had made the right decision, he was not in question about that, and he was sure Andrew wouldn’t have proposed if he wasn’t either.

In four days, they would finally leave, elope and create a new life for themselves, far away from any hurt or untoward burdens.

Although today was the happiest day of their lives, it would also become the most frightening, 

For they were not alone.

Chapter Text

That night…

Andrew wasted away in the postman’s touch, arms sheathing the back of his waist sensitively, but like all good things, it soon came to an end.

Feeling the blonde take his hands off of his hair, losing his touch yet again, so painless yet so painful. 

Andrew had taken the situation into account: Victor had accepted his proposal.

He didn’t have any words, nothing he could utter from the blockading nervousness in the back of his throat.

He looked at the other boy, bronze eyes meeting with his, the golden pelt of hair on his head seemed to sparkle from the moon’s effulgence, dazzling the dimpled smile on his face.

The feelings lingered for a moment, unable to draw away from Victor or tell him to leave.

Because for one of very few times in his life, Andrew was ecstatic. He was ecstatic over how it felt to love another person.

“I should go now, shouldn’t I?” The blonde whispered to him.

Andrew didn’t want to say yes, but he knew that would simply be the best until he knew it was safe for the two of them to meet, if that was even possible.

Sure, he felt guilty for giving Victor a sort of false hope for his return, despite not even knowing if he’ll be able to run away with him or not. Marshall already didn’t take very kindly to him ever since how badly he fucked up by laying a hand on the greying man, no matter how much Andrew knew he deserved it.

The grave keeper cradled Victor’s hands into his own, nodding solemnly, his dreary expression saying it all.

Victor returned his look, now their fingers intertwining with one another as Andrew walked him out of the church, the postman swinging their hands back and forth as they carried on, the night was still breathtaking, a little too much for his liking. The moon at its full still illuminated the waters with a crisp milky reflection of its chalky brightness.

Still feeling the softness of Victor’s gentle touch, it only progressed closer into a goodbye kiss.

Victor’s tension onto him was strong, that was until it all released at once, letting go and backing up, the moonlight hitting his sunburnt freckles as he tried to make out a weak smile. 

The albino felt a darkness creeping onto him, something uncomfortable and confining as he saw his lover leave, as if it was he was being watched. 

It had to have just been another case of paranoia, but a grim feeling still seized him.

He bounced back, leading himself into the church where the last silhouette of Victor was lost in the ever so prepossessing night.

He only took his shovel before leaving through the doors once more, dragging it through the dirt as it crackled through fallen leaves and rocks. 

It was a beautiful night, what a waste, instead of enjoying it he’d be digging up a body for money. Good things never lasted, he told himself everytime Victor left. Speaking of, it felt almost criminal to keep his dirty work separate from his life with him, but after all, this was his last commission, he had made sure of that in his most recent letter to Percy, despite not ever receiving a response from what he assumed to be a busy and respectable man. 

Andrew continued to lug his shovel down the rock-strewn pathways from the church to the graveyard, waiting for a delineation, a sign, anything. He was already weary from picking through flowers throughout the whole uninteresting day, though he didn’t regret a thing if he knew it would cause a smile to upturn over Victor’s lips. He could feel his body aching for rest, already deep into the night. The boy hadn’t checked the time but he knew it had to be at least past two in the morning.

He drew himself to the fence alongside the tombstones and waited there for what it felt like a century. 

Until he started to get impatient, pacing from side to side down the walkway with disquieting.

He took it upon himself to figure out what was taking so long, treading around each of Lutz’s corners until he was once again left with nothing, the darkness made it more than a challenge to view any of the suspicious personnel he was looking for this evening, 

Without any other option to turn to, he approached the mailbox with a growing irritation. 

Slipping his fingers into the steel slit, there was only one thing that came from the inside.

A stained paper letter was held between his fingers, it was tampered with, already opened. He looked at its abnormally fancy seal and didn’t waste another second of his time, beginning to shake in fear.

Whatever it is, Marshall had read it.

His expression grew focused, reading every word of the letter with an absorption, every aspect of his surroundings were now deaf to him, his wine-like eyes skimming down the paper, it was almost like he wasn’t standing out in the middle of the entrance to Lutz.

Dear Andrew,

I am responding to your letter because I think your decision is unnecessary. Me and my companions have decided we are not interested in completing a final trade with you and would rather spend our time looking for another supplier for our demands. I am sorry to be so blunt, but we are in a bit of a loss of time due to raised suspicions from the police and-

He felt a sharp thumping affliction in the back of his head.

Everything went black, his body felt cold, lifeless.

Fear was all that was left.

-

His eyes fluttered open weakly and leisurely, shaking like an old, rusted machine put to work. There wasn’t much he could feel other than a searing pain in the back of his head and his shoulder. 

Andrew started to move his body to gain any sign of activity on his person, there was no response other than from the burning of the tethering from his hands and legs. 

Blood gushed down his head like a waterfall, he felt as if he had been pinned to the floor, body nailed deeply into the hard planks of the church floor.

He shook, rocked himself in any way he possibly could to gain balance on his knees but after minutes of struggle he gave up in exhaustion.

Body now defenseless on the ground, he gave up. All he could focus and feel was the straining from the rope on his wrists and stinging from his bleeding wound.

He raised his head as much as he could, only to see a faint figure in the distance, tall, but not as tall as him. It carried a frown and a petrifying aura, but his vision was still too gauzy to see.

Suddenly, as he grew closer, his sight seemed to snap back into place with a heavy kick in his stomach.

“Wake up,”

The deep voice murmured to Andrew, who was still squinting on the floor, flinching in fear and staying low. He felt like a fool for his cowardice, but in a situation like this he was at a loss of any other way to react. He was terrified.

Another kick in his stomach drove his consciousness into a fully awake state.

There was not an ounce of pleasure in Marshall’s face, just fury. He carried Andrew’s shovel in his hand, scraping the floor as he walked around the boy, missing any pity. 

His face scrunched up before he said his next words. “I know what you did.”

Andrew’s heart stopped , and there was silence. All he could feel was the trembling of himself on the floor, shaking as he could feel himself welt up with fearful tears. 

In that moment, he realized by the disgusted expression on his face and the hate in his words that he was not talking about the graverobbing.

Marshall only watched as the color drained from his face, waiting for him to say something, anything, to lie about his relationship with Victor even more than he already had.

Without thinking, Andrew bit down on his tongue. Hard. 

If he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t reveal any information about Victor no matter how much torture he recieved, giving him another chance to escape before any harm could come to him too. Andrew, well, he was good as dead anyways.

Struggling looking for a piece of cloth as he stirred up church, it didn’t take long for Marshall to bind his mouth too so he couldn’t finish.

The grave keeper bit down on the fabric, trying to rip or tear it, but he was only left with sobbing and prostration.

Andrew didn’t care anymore if he looked pathetic or demeaning, he was scared. He cried as he was supined to the ground, knowing he would never see Victor again after this, the mere thought of losing him and dying without being able to say goodbye ruined him, absolutely horrified if there was to be anything that happened to him because of his foolishness and blunder.

He couldn’t even tell him he loved him one last time.

Marshall began to shout in an outrage. Condemning him for his sins, calling him slurs and other negative titles that made him want to weep even more, for no physical abuse could compare to the verbal mistreatments Marshall broke him down with. 

Every word that leaked from his mouth made Andrew feel like more of a monster, like a mistake, like he shouldn’t have been born after all. 

He couldn't let alone understand why or how Victor even could find it in his heart to love him or spend so many hours in his space. Now, he was grateful more than ever that he had at least some happiness before he were to die, that in his last moments he was at least fortunate to be loved. It was so nice while it lasted.

Marshall was still running his mouth like a spitfire, he paused to take Andrew’s shovel between his hands, now gripping harder and raising it above his head.

Andrew tried to scream. But he couldn’t as he felt his leg crack to the thrash of the shovel’s affliction.

He was hit three times, arm, chest and his right lower leg, now dislocated from the impact.

Tears streamed down his face, mixing in with the blood coming from his head. Still shrieking behind the cloth, he weeped as his leg started to go numb, excruciating pain charging through his whole body, he bit down harder to escape some of the suffering.

Andrew was rendered motionless.

Marshall threw the shovel down in the direction of Lutz’s entrance in a brief satisfaction.

He smirked, dropping to his knees and leaning over to raise the albino’s face and get a good view of how pathetic he looked. 

His eyes were droopy and teared, red running down his forehead and fringe now cluttered.

But no mercy was given, no mercy was ever given to him.

Marshall let go of his hair, dropping his head straight to the floor.

As he recoiled back to the ground his face still lay weak. Terrorstruck with the pain and the agony, feeling his free leg shiver while the other was still he tried to get up once again, but the trauma on his leg was too great, he relapsed to the floor again, Marshall watching with not an ounce of sorrow. 

The middle aged man’s eyes narrowed, not taken away from Andrew’s subdued gaze, now closing to cope with the tomenting he was receiving.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen boy,”

His voice was shrewd, vicious. Like the bite of an overburdened dog. Marshall paused to check the time on his cracked pocket watch, rubbing his thumb around the silver trimmings of the exterior. 

“I originally was going to turn you into the police for tomb raiding, maybe even frame you for a murder I committed, how about lechery and sodomy too? But now I’ll just get the joy of killing you myself, worthless grave keeper commits suicide over how not even a single soul in this world could come to love him for his sin.”

It was Marshall who committed the murder, but why? Maybe the nun had sinned as Andrew did, maybe she was also a victim of his torment.

The grave keeper shook his head back and forth, trying to undo the securing on his mouth so he would be given just a second to defend himself and prove him wrong, if that was even possible. 

Andrew’s eyes widened as Marshall slipped a shiny polished revolver out of his pocket. Andrew then forced himself to his knees, thrusting in every direction and backing away as he stepped closer with the gun, bawling as he soaked in what he thought to be his final living moments.

Soon, the gun was aimed directly at the space between his eyes. He tried to yell, to bellow for help, but through the cloth it only came out as a muffled mumbling noise, not even near being loud enough for someone outside the church to hear, yet he still tried, from the top of his lungs to the bottom he shouted.

He took everything he had ever said about being better off dead back, he wasn’t ready to die, not at all, it felt like so long he had wished something terrible were to just take him from his misery, but that misery was no more. He had someone to stay alive for. 

It just wasn’t fair.

As he grimly accepted his fate, watching the gun’s cavity draw closer and closer, the black depths from inside of the revolver made his fate more apparent. 

I’m sorry Victor, Andrew repeated to himself. I’m so sorry. He weeped, tears still bawling down. I hope this doesn’t break your heart. I hope you don’t blame yourself. I hope you find someone else to love, someone more worthy. I’ll always be watching over you, my Victor.

Bracing himself for it all to end there,

Andrew’s eyes shut one last time. 

All he could hear was a thunderous sound, but it wasn’t the gun going off, why? He was still alive.

At first he didn’t understand how he was still breathing, perhaps he had just ascended, but Andrew didn’t expect death to be so painless.

Still quaking, his body on the floor as if there was an earthquake striking against his cold and lifeless limbs.

The silence was overwhelming, he heard a swaddled heaving breath, but that was it.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

Marshall was no longer standing, but instead, perished on the wood planks, a pool of blood on the floor where he lay, gushing down from the side of his neck where he was struck.

A horrified, teary eyed Victor stood above him, shovel in hand.

Andrew gave him a wide-eyed gawk, trying to shake himself up closer to him with everything he could, of course only to end up flopping over on the floorboards. Aimlessly trying to reach him as if he were doing so for dear life.

Tears still ran down Andrew’s face, now, mainly from his relief. He’d probably be rotting in hell right now if the circumstances were different.

Victor sat on his legs by him where he didn’t waste any time to wrap his arms around the textile sheathing his mouth. When released, Andrew took a deep exasperated breath. 

Bawling as he looked up at Victor with short-winded panting, he held onto him with everything he had left. 

He didn’t know where he came from or why he chose to follow back, but oh was he lucky for his arrival, the boy raised Andrew into a weak embrace from behind, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm him down. 

The pain was still severe, his leg twisted from the impact. It made him grind his teeth, hands intertwined into a fist where he prayed for it to stop in his fiancé’s touch.

There was quiet throughout the church, all that could be heard was Andrew’s meek whimpers. 

“Victor…” He wailed, not realizing until now that his lover was crying too, sobbing for him in anguish.

Victor kissed him on the head tearfully, moving his hands from Andrew’s white tufts to his chest, holding him like it was his last chance to.

Andrew couldn’t help but peer over to Marshall, laying flat on the floor with a gushing wound, he shivered when he realized he was in a very similar position not too long ago, except the older man was struck on the neck, Andrew wasn’t so fortunate. As if he needed another concussion, at this point they were affecting his daily life.

Still in dismay, Victor’s eyelids dropped, rubbing Andrew’s upper body restfully. It only took a look to see he was in terror, it was a face you’d expect to see from someone who was not far from losing their loved one. 

“I’m so sorry.. I’m so sorry for all of this,” Cried Andrew, unable to catch his breath from the horrors he had experienced.

The postman frowned, continuing to pet him.

“There’s no need for that, you’re safe, I am going to protect you from him,”

His grasp tightened, digging his nose into his hair once again, littering him with many more kisses.

This only brought the other to a more emotional state, he felt so very blessed to be in Victor’s arms right then, knowing he didn’t deserve any of it. Knowing fully he deserved to be dead.

Putting aside the heartache, Andrew was able to recast himself. 

Marshall wasn’t dead, at least he thought he wasn’t, as he could still see the uplifting of his body with each deep breath he took. He was merely unconscious, now drowned out from the homicidal actions he never got to finish.

Not surprisingly, Andrew wasn’t happy about him still being alive. A huge part of him wanted that hit to be a killing blow, he used to feel so guilty for feeling this way, now, he didn’t think twice about it. Everything Marshall had done to hurt him had driven him closer to the edge, it was time for it to stop, so Andrew would end it tonight.

“Tell me love, where did he hurt you?” Victor asked while untying the restraints on his hands, the same hands that held his countless times before and wrote out every word in every letter. Despite the circumstances Andrew could tell that the other boy wasn’t so used to using those names for him, thus a light stutter in his voice when speaking.

Andrew blinked, trying to move his leg once more which only resulted in extreme stinging pain.

“My leg..” He whined, the skin under it crawling with discomfort.

Victor wasted no more energy as he rested Andrew’s head down on the floor gently, caressing his cheek before he moved to the afflicted area.

He knew he could see how dislocated it was, how gruesomely Marshall had tormented him by snapping his leg bone in half. 

The blonde’s expression was downcast, his touch at first made Andrew flinch, but then he eased into his two hands now resting his bloodstained palms on his leg.

“Now I’m no doctor, but you might want to bite down on that cloth. This is going to hurt a lot, okay?” He said, his voice still weak and eyes tear stained. It was not hard to notice he did not want to do this.

Andrew did as he asked, biting down roughly.

There was a painful shriek leaking from the grave keeper’s lips, taken away from the gag in his mouth. His placidity slipped away from him as Victor attempted to snap his leg back into place.

It hurt more than any other injury he underwent. It felt like his lower limbs had been torn to pieces, like every bone in that leg had been shattered.

To him, it felt worse, but he knew for it to heal properly it had to be done now. He couldn’t go to the hospital at this hour, the two of them both knew that, not with Marshall still bleeding insensibly on the ground.

He reached for Victor faint-heartedly, his weeps drowning out the heavy breathing coming from the unconscious man on the hardwood floor.

Victor came to aid him gently, sitting next to the boy with his arms folded against him. He looked at his befouled face, painted with a mix of blood and tears before reaching to wipe them off.

“You’re bleeding a lot,” Victor remarked dolefully.

Andrew dipped his head down as if he had done something wrong, eyes meeting with the other’s knees. Nothing made him feel more guilty than dragging Victor into this mess.

Despite their setbacks, Victor still feebly smiled at him, he didn’t understand how he could be so brave and optimistic in the scariest moments, brave enough to smack the sanity out of someone with a shovel or still find a way to see him when the church doors are locked. He always pressed on no matter what. One of the many things he absolutely adored about him.

Victor had brought him to be brave when he couldn’t find it within himself, it was a comfortable, loving feeling, knowing that there was someone there.

The postman lifted his head back up with the tip of his fingers, his brown eyes gleaming from the moonlight seeping through the windows of the dark church, beckoning Andrew to share a look. 

Andrew flushed as Victor wiped a drop of crimson from the tip of his eyebrow. 

Growing closer to his face he ran his fingers down the side of his cheek, caressing him softly.

“Now I don’t know if it’s the appropriate time, but can I kiss you?” 

Andrew frantically nodded, not knowing why he thought it was necessary to ask at the point they were in their relationship.

He inched closer, pausing just as their noses were barely touching only briefly, breathing matching up with one another, why was he hesitating? Was he worried about hurting him? The pace of the grave keeper’s heart soared at the uncertainty.

Shortly after, it didn’t take him long to plant a kiss along Andrew’s lips.

It lasted much longer than the majority of their kisses did, but still gentle as always. The way Victor pressed his lips down Andrew’s filled him up to the brim with butterflies. 

They let go, Victor wiping away another drop of blood now on his cheek.

The albino burned in infatuation with the other man. The love he had for him was so dear and so enamoring, the thoughts and feeling of him dying suddenly returned to him, the horrors of leaving his everything behind.

It was suffocating, because how could he die now?

Andrew needed Victor, and Victor needed him. The connection and feelings were mutual. Andrew couldn’t imagine or stand living in a world without the other, not being able to hold his hands or give him the flowers he steals from Lutz’s garden, it wasn’t a future Andrew was comfortable with.

His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh groan.

Victor raced up, taking the necessary precautions to make sure Marshall would not be getting up so easily: Replacing the rope that once tied Andrew’s wrists to Marshall’s and washing the bloody cloth all before his consciousness could fully return.

Andrew struggled to stand after the impairment, he clung to the stone ledge of a wall as his breath began to return to its natural velocity, chest stinging from its previous strain.

The stifling pain not stopping, his grasp on the bricks strengthened.

“What do we do now?” He spoke, vision clicking back into a full focus. 

Below Victor was a bounded man, still in a sleep, limbs twitching in a small fit every few minutes.

He didn’t look like he was tied up, he looked peaceful almost, despite an ugly gash on his neck that could’ve gone all the way through the skin if Victor were stronger, not that he was complaining.

He wished he was the one to slice him, to give him a taste of his own horrible form of medicine, but he was sure that hit had given Victor some peace too, he knew that Marshall was not a good person as well as he knew the back of his hand.

“Andrew, we have to get rid of him,” He spoke nearly soulessly, looking down at the graying man with an irate glare.

The other was not surprised he thought so, in fact, he agreed. “You’re right— I have an empty coffin in my shed,”

Andrew took a deep breath after presenting his idea to him. 

Victor tried to act like his eyes didn’t widen at that moment. “You want to bury him alive ?”

Still limping over on the church’s wall, watching Marshall’s live body rest on the floor, he voicelessly nodded.

Not in a million years would he have guessed he would be committing murder today. 

His body was dragged to the coffin after figuring it would be much easier to take him there rather than lift the heavy wooden crate all the way to the church. 

It had made his stomach sick, the thought of killing another human being, but then he remembered. Marshall had done absolutely nothing but torture, abuse and traumatize Andrew his entire life, nothing but mocking him and his mother, his whole family name.

Andrew would put up with it no more. He would not let his mother be dragged in the dirt along with himself. It had to stop. 

As Victor lifted him into the box that was empty except for a little dust, he was completely silent, focused, even. Andrew didn’t want to disturb him, but he also had his concerns. 

He was certain Victor had never done anything like this before either, maybe he was terrified of Andrew for suggesting they kill him, this worried him a little too much.

Again, if they let him live, it’d be costing both their lives. 

People were scared stiff of any rumors of homosexuality, all Marshall would have to do was cry out to other town members for the two of them to be hanged. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Asked Andrew with an unsureness.

“Are you?”

The coffin began to shake, thrashing back and forth as Marshall awakened, causing the postman to wince in fear.  

“Stay here.”

Andrew limped over to the man, shovel in hand as a walking stick, he peered over into the almond stained box, he looked petrified, just as when he himself was tied up. In response to this horrified behavior, the albino only glared at him with a deep rooted fury. 

His scowl seemed to cut right through to him. 

And oh, the pleasure he gained from seeing him like this.

“What? This isn’t what you wanted?” Andrew grimly smiled.

Marshall was fumbling over his words, all of it sounding inaudible through the textile sealing his mouth, it was a mix of anger, fear, sadness and regret. 

Two voices were speaking to Andrew through the depths of his mind. Once begging him to mercy him, to be the bigger person, the other hellishly calling him to give him what he deserves, to make him suffer a painful and disturbing death.

He was torn.

But there was only one option that protected Victor, that protected him, that granted him some tranquility after years of hurt. 

And that was all Andrew needed.

“Rot in hell.” He dropped the coffin door shut, shoving the key in and snapping it in half

Chapter Text

Even LATER that night…

The night was cold. Abnormally cold. The kind of cold that gets you nervous for your health when you’re stuck outside lowering a coffin with a living person inside into a hole.

It was a very tedious task, both the boys were rendered exhausted from the previous events, droopy bags grew under their eyes in their uncared for appearances and stained clothing, a mix of blood, dirt and tears painted Victor’s velvet postman uniform, as he dipped Andrew’s shovel into the dirt, scooping it in an arc to lift the sludge into the pit.

Andrew watched as Victor worked, his feet stomping deeper into the ground with every thrust, untouched muscles being suddenly put to work as his face was red with sweat. 

Struggling to say something or speak to him, he blurted out the only thing he could think to ask. “You look tired, let me—“

“No, you’re hurt, I can do it.”

Andrew continued to limp against a lamp post which illuminated the graveyard. He was weary, near his limit, the pain in his leg only growing as he stood, only watching as Victor cut the string to the emergency bell kept in the rare case someone had been buried alive, such hadn’t been a reality until today. 

What are you even supposed to say in a time like this? He shifted his feet at all of their supplies needed, scattered across the grass.

With another heavy breath from Andrew he sighed, still shaking. It was the mere thought of it, every time he reprocessed what was going on it made him shiver with disbelief. 

Quite frankly, now would be the perfect time to clear up the full story of what happened, and more importantly, what he had done.

As the boy inched closer, a part of him seemed to hold back, until he pressed forward, holding onto the fence for his stability as he lined it to reach the other boy.

“Victor.. There’s something you should know.”

The shovel stopped several inches into the dirt. Victor looked up, still covered in sweat and tears, nose and eyelids red, even so noticeable in the dark.

“What’s wrong?” He squeaked, out of breath.

“I’ve sinned.” He sighed, still dragging his broken leg across the floor to the other.

There was a brief pause, he looked down, frowned, then lifted his head gazing back to Andrew. “...Is this because of me?” Victor spoke, growing brittle.

Andrew’s heart seemed to stop functioning for a second. The last thing he wanted was for Victor to feel guilty for loving him in the name of God, for that did not matter. Not to Andrew.

He blinked, sorrowful he couldn’t leave the post of the fencing and feel Victor’s addictive touch again, close to miserable about not being able to kiss him from the several feet between them, if this was even an appropriate time for such things.

“No.. Of course not, my love for you is never in hesitancy… It’s something else–” He paused once more.

A breath of relief followed from the blonde, Victor plunged his foot onto the lid of the shovel, scooping up more and casting it inside, now over half-way full, all while keeping eye contact with Andrew, visibly troubled.

Andrew really didn’t have much to do or say left, other than just the truth about what he’d been doing to get his money.

Tightening his clasp onto the fencing, he exhaled, feeling the air empty from his pounding chest. “My methods of getting what I need to survive may not be exactly moral in your eyes, Lutz is not a clean place, the bad people that get buried in this cemetery are unworthy and should be driven out. The only way for me to do that is to grave rob from their tombs. Marshall must’ve read my letter from Percy or found out that I’ve been selling the corpses for money, but I don’t think that’s why he wanted to kill me.”

Victor stopped shoveling once more, Andrew assumed he was just thinking it over as he saw his fingers run across the jagged wooden length of the handle. 

“Is this the man you mentioned in our letters?” Victor asked with curiosity,

“Yes,” Put simply,

The postman’s face softened, dipping his head back down and lifting more dirt to top off the ditch, in no time it had reached its limit.

Victor raised the shovel between his hands, returning it to Andrew so he could use it to help keep him on his feet.

“I understand why you’d want to do something like that, it’s very in character for you… So you think the reason why Marshall went mad was because he saw us?” Victor questioned, elevating a dirt dusted hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

“I do– He was rambling about my sins and how I was corrupting you, none of it was true, of course… But it still– hurts,” He whimpered, very much wanting to hold the other in that moment. 

He felt even more pathetic after admitting his weakness to Victor, as if it wasn’t already obvious enough in the positions the other had seen him in. It just felt different confessing it out loud rather than just thinking about all the things Marshall had done to make him miserable growing up and beyond.

Andrew felt more tears coming onto him as his mind replayed the graphic image of being tied up, bound by the ankles and wrists, forced to listen, to endure everything he had said and done to him to make him suffer.

He whined and wailed, thinking over the murder and how he so hopelessly wanted Marshall to suffer for what he had done to him. Every ounce of him felt nothing but sorrow, from everyday he had to endure of abuse and neglect. 

As he cried, the hand that was once on his shoulder lowered down to his palm where he wrapped his fingers into his.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

It felt like a piece of him was no longer missing, another feeling of fulfillment and prosperity when his gentleness returned to him. Oh how he couldn’t stop managing to long and love so proudly, there was just nothing he could do to stop himself from discerning so many things that made him want to stay in a moment forever. 

Victor pushed the mess of his hair from his face, uncovering both his eyes, finally able to see through the tears and the weeping of an abused man. All he was for so many years was nothing but Marshall’s plaything, something to be casted aside after use until he had nothing left to offer to the man. But yet, all of that was over now. 

It was an unrecognizable mix of emotions Andrew was feeling, he was overjoyed, happy that his suffering had now come to an end, but then the grim realization had hit him once again he had just committed a murder, that he had just survived yet another traumatic situation caused by the man who had ruined everything for him.

The softness of Victor’s hands brought him back from his awful train of thought, discarding everything he had once thought and bringing his attention to the other boy.

He looked at him with not an ounce of calmness, he was worried, terrified even, yet he still stood aside him despite the odds.

“It’s done, everything will be okay now,” His voice cracked up with tears of his own, stroking the grave keeper’s hair fairly.

More water began pouring from the eyes of Andrew as Victor touched him more.

How lucky he was, how grateful could he possibly be to be loved.

“Victor… I don’t understand how you could still want me… I am a broken man… I am too far gone for saving, look what I have done, look what I have dragged you into,”

Victor didn’t respond, he only smiled without having to force it, continuing to run his fingers through the silkiness of his white hair. His hands finally dropped to his sides before running up and down Andrew’s back, pulling him gracefully into an embrace. 

Rubbing his face happily into his leather-covered chest, Victor shut his eyes, holding on firmly to his torso all while letting the drops fall from his face, hoping he wouldn’t stain any part of his clothing from the crying.

“If you are broken, I will be the one to put you back together.”

Victor took his hand and walked the two lovers back into the church, it was a tedious task with the numbness of the leg, but Andrew still pressed on nonetheless. Meanwhile, still quiet on the inside of the withering building, not a sound filled the air other than the creaking of the floorboards when Andrew dragged his lifeless leg over it. 

The quietness of the room began to get to him. The realization that Marshall would never share a space with him on the grounds of Lutz ever again, suddenly, his feelings began to feel very for granted, all of this wishing he were to die business as if Marshall had not provided him a roof to live under for so many years of his life when he could’ve been left to rot with his late mother. The guilt he bore under his shoulders for the closest thing he ever had to a family figure was now stripped away from him. He knew he shouldn’t have been feeling such things, that he should be glad a person he despised from the inside out would no longer hurt him, but the unseen sparks of compassion he held in his heart screamed at him from the top of their exasperated lungs otherwise. His mind continued to change its perspective, bouncing around as if it was just freed from its restrictive cage. At the end of the day, he couldn’t decide if he hated Marshall or not, he couldn’t decide if he thought he deserved to live or die. 

Andrew’s expression stayed dreary as Victor struggled trying to lead him up the stairs to his room, within time, they had reached the top floor and Victor sat the man down on his bed over the sheets laced and stuffed with furs, the same bed that they had first slept next to each other in. 

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Victor interrupted his thoughts.

“I could say the same about you,” Andrew added. 

“Well, that’s no surprise given the kind of night it’s been, I’m worried about you,” He said as he sat next to him, beginning to touch his hands with his. “We need to clean your wounds before they’re given a chance to become infected, I am going to run a bath for you, is that okay?”

At first, Andrew did not pay him a response, he only sat thinking everything over and letting blood rush to his head in the anxiety about it, the anxiety about getting caught or discovered by the townspeople who resented him so and losing everything, everything the two had managed to build, the same feeling that made him want to just give up and confess all of his wrongs. To put it as simply as possible, tonight his mind would not turn off.

“But… How will I get in?” He asked, motioning to his leg, still broken and swollen.

Cliche enough, Victor pulled a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I could get in with you if you’d like,”

Andrew’s face turned pink, initially not knowing how to respond to Victor’s suggestion. He knew it wasn’t meant to be unseemly but sweet instead, even though he knew well that meant Victor was to see him clothless, and likewise to him.

After thinking it through he nodded, averting his eyes the best he could.

Victor stood to retrieve the two of them some towels which Andrew directed him to, furthermore turning a nozzle in the tub causing water to descend. The gravekeeper didn’t see what was going on in the bathroom, all he could hear was the thrashing of the water falling onto itself and filling up the vessel as he saw Victor kneel from the cracked door.

In the moments where they were separate, it felt piercingly painful to wait. Literally and metaphorically. 

The sounds of water piling soothed him, he felt like he could take a moment to himself and fall asleep to the calming white noise. But as soon as the water stopped he suddenly was brought back to reality, he blinked until the door was open again, a very tense and worried Victor slipping through it. 

“You’re going to feel much better after this–” Said Victor, not sounding too certain as he helped Andrew’s coat off, leaving nothing but a cream colored button up under it as it dropped it to the floor.

Taking Andrew’s hand again he got him up on his feet, wrapping an arm around his back and tightening their touch into a knot so he could help Andrew walk along, Victor opened the door with his free hand. 

The albino still had a nervous stomach, he’d never been completely nude in another’s presence before, other than his mother whom bathed him when he was young, it worried him how Victor would react to his pathetic body, beaten and bruised from years of endless suffering, scars covered his body from head to toe. 

“Do you need help undressing?” The postman asked, a weak smile landing across his face, peeking through the door he had recently cracked.

“N-No– I’m fine.” He said with some precariousness.

As a result, Victor shut the door to give him privacy.

Andrew first started with caution, unbuttoning his shirt slowly as he reminded himself no others eyes were to see but his lover. He wanted to blurt out his profouse nervousness, but somehow, he couldn’t say any of it. 

After he was fully undressed, he frantically covered himself with a towel before there was a knock on the door asking if he was finished. 

The albino peeked through the door, nothing but a pale red eye and shaggy white tufts of hair overhanging it could have been seen. “You can come in now–”

He pushed the door open with two hands, looking in the direction of Andrew’s scarred pale skin. There were cuts and bruises painting his skin with a pink tint, some of them fresher than others, some dried and faded.

“I’m sorry if this is not what you were expecting,” He said, sounding absolutely exhausted. 

Victor said nothing, only tracing his fingernails along the cuts on his chest as if he was slicing them himself.

Victor moved his hands down to his waist, sculpting them around every muscle formed from countless digging and strain, that was until he noticed faint blood stains coming from his sides.

He turned him around, nothing but a horrified expression casted upon his face. 

“Andrew—“ He gasped.

The wounds were still bleeding and open, the grave keeper had not even thought to stitch them up or minimize the pain, as if he deserved anymore suffering. Victor reached out to touch, but pulled away as he did not want to hurt him.

The faucet stopped when the postman turned the nozzle.

He took both of Andrew’s hands in his own, kissing his scars ever so gently, the softness of his lips barely even brushing against his skin.

Victor looked up at him one more time. “Are you ready to drop the towel? I won’t look…”

Andrew felt a little too awkward about it, but did as he recommended.

As Victor said, he did not look, he only maintained eye contact with the other as he did his very best to escort him into the tub, once he was sitting, they laid his leg forward so it wouldn’t be bent. 

Now engulfed by the warm waters, Andrew exhaled, feeling the heat nullify the stinging and pain, crossing his arms and leaning back until the water was to his chin, he shut his eyes to regain lost energy.

Victor kneeled down, resting his arms on the side of the tub as he watched Andrew relax, he stretched his arm out to run a few fingers across the side of his face as a grip only to briskly kiss his cheek, brushing his nose against him while he reached back for his hands.

Minutes after the sudden affection, Victor stood again, averting eyes in nervousness as he thumbed one of the buttons on his uniform, index finger slipping it out of the hole. 

Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off of him, he knew Victor hadn’t seen him looking which made him feel bad about staring too much, the muscles on his face softened and a weak smile formed from the burning infatuation he had for him.

Now onto the final button, Victor looked up,

The albino turned as red as the color of his eyes, covering his face sheepishly.

Quite embarrassed himself, Victor resumed and slipped his shirt off entirely, lowering his hands to the belt buckle of his pants as Andrew couldn’t even stop to think of unsheathing himself.

“That’s okay, you can look,”

Andrew weakly opened his eyes.

Before today, Andrew would have never known what his figure had looked like under that uniform. Victor had a sculpted figure that was a bit broad with hip dips and a slight belly, his waist was a bit tapered in comparison to his chest without looking feminine and the complexion of his skin was still suntanned, keeping his eyes on his face which framed a button nose and his amber hair. He noticed the faint scars on his wrists Victor had shown him prior, but chose not to say anything about it.

It was a pleasure to see his inadvertent smile, one he was quite evidently trying to hide.

He wasted no time to dip himself into the water alongside Andrew, sitting hesitantly but comfortably in his lap. 

A part of him thought Victor was just waiting for him to say something, the position they were in made him a little strung.

Andrew’s eyelids winced in pain once more, feeling the water clean his open wounds and cause more of an alarming irritation.

“It’s okay,” Victor said before running a hand down his hair to calm him.

“Everything will be okay,”

Andrew didn’t respond, per usual, he only sulked into the water keeping a firm grip onto the brown eyed boy.

His silence only continued when Victor washed himself, because Andrew knew when he was finished he was to experience a lot of pain, undoubtedly coming from his back.

Only watching as the other boy seeped his hair with a bucket of the bath water and combed his hands through it, droplets dripping down from his neck to his chest, the idea that the two of them were in such a vulnerable state made him blush. 

After ringing out his blonde head of hair Victor ran a wet hand across Andrew’s shoulder, barely touching it. 

The anxiety that once filled him to his marrow seceded, he was calm, happy to be in close proximity to the postman, he wanted to lean in closer, but the more he moved the more pain had struck him down.

“Before we do your back would you be alright with me washing your hair?” Asked Victor, who had also lost a trembling nervousness, the smile across his lips told him he was comfortable and happy.

He then motioned to a pale where he originally had wet his hair with. 

“Yes,” He spoke below his breathing, eye contact still kept.

Filling the steel bucket up with water he raised himself over Andrew, tediously pouring it through his head wounds. 

His teeth grinded in a painful flinch, giving Victor a near instant feeling of dread and guilt. 

Although the water made the burning more irritable, Andrew knew more than anyone that the wound had to be cleaned, an infection would only make the excruciation much worse, even if it wasn’t in the prime spot. 

Victor’s nose brushed against the other’s forehead, pushing forward into a gentle kiss before pumping soap into his hands.

Once they were drenched in thin matter he ran each of his fingers through the white, now soaked with bubbles and foam.

Andrew shut his eyes, surrendering himself to Victor as his heavy exhales kept flowing. The feeling of the others fingers sifting through his hair was relaxing, the way they glided from his wound to his cheeks, it was like he could no longer feel the once agonizing pain.

Victor picked up the pale once more, holding it to his chest with two hands looking up and down. 

“Ready?”

He nodded.

After his hair had wettened once more, little tufts of damp hair getting in his face which his lover pushed aside, his shoulders began to shake from being exposed to the open air as he gently fluttered his eyes open. 

The postman settled back down into his lap, keeping an infatuated and loving look to Andrew, he reached out to touch his face as water dripped into the tub from the tips of his fingers.

Victor’s hand reached his cheek, thumbing his dimple as his wet hair still seeped onto his palms.

“I love you,” Victor snickered, covering the lower half of his face.

Andrew’s face reddened further than it already had. He gulped down after inhaling and mumbled it back.

“I… love you too—“

It seemed as if the more Andrew had admitted it, the more he fell further for Victor.

Because after all, he was the only person Andrew could really trust, the only person he could feel comfortable with in nakedness, as they were.

Victor sealed his lips with another kiss that tickled Andrew’s nose, belated giggles following the initial touch. 

After the blonde pulled away Andrew kept blushing like a fool, the red illuminating over his pale skin. 

And everytime they kissed the grave keeper wanted nothing more but to feel it again and again, he wanted it to play on repeat for the rest of his life. The gentleness of his fingers squishing against his cheeks and the passion in his whispers. 

“Will you turn around for me, Andrew?”

And suddenly, the tender reminder that he was in a lot of pain.

Once they managed to get in a better position where Victor could see, he traced his fingers along the cuts, trying his hardest to see how deep they had gone. 

They were thick gashes the color of crimson, bloody markings sprayed his back with a gruesome, unkempt complexion. 

He was unable to see Victor’s facial expressions and body language, how he typically would communicate his feelings wasn’t accessible to him, but he could only imagine the frown, not an ounce of simper on his lips, dread, and the quiet was all he needed to know what they were dealing with was bad, but nevertheless, Victor always had hope. Especially for him.

He started by wiping his back down with a warm cloth, as he rang it out through intermissions Andrew was able to watch the water in the tub slowly fabricate a red tint, making him more apprehended than before.

After Victor cleaned his wounds up with water, Andrew felt guilty. Like as if there was a need for him to apologize for putting him through such uneasy tasks. 

He blinked, then opened his lips. “I’m sorry,”

“Please don’t apologize, none of this is your fault, it’s his,” 

Andrew was shocked at how accusatory Victor got so quickly. He had every right to be upset with Marshall, the both of them did for their own reasons, but then again when his name was spoken there was that recurring feeling knowing that the two of them had killed a man. 

Because Marshall was slowly dying a brutal death under pounds of dirt.

And that question followed Andrew, did he deserve it, or not?

Victor warned him before he motioned towards the soap, expecting stinging, he received nothing more but maybe worse. Jerky movements caused by the irritation of the substance exuding through his lacerations caught him off guard. 

The soap was not left on for long, Victor was quick about filling up the bucket once more with the frothy water and spilling it over his shoulders, the instant relief that came over him when it was done. 

A loving embrace and kisses from behind followed, it still stung vaguely but he still sat in quietude and pinkening while Victor gave him affection. 

Andrew still found it hard to comprehend, was this a reward for his pains? It felt rewarding, even if Victor didn’t necessarily mean for it to be interpreted as so.

Later, the water was drained and the intimacy was minimized. Victor helped Andrew out of the bathtub and dressed him in a nightshirt, walking him out of the bathroom after Victor had cleaned their mess and got dressed himself in some of Andrew’s remarkably oversized clothing, even admitted he looked silly. 

Andrew sat on the bed while Victor stitched his deepest inflictions, including the blunt hit from the shovel as he hummed a musical tune. The albino kept up with flinching and wincing as the needle threaded through his skin, but the other made sure to be extra gentle with him, knowing how sensitive the areas were. 

He started to feel his arms and hands go numb as his eyes flickered in exhaustion. It was far deep into the night, past any hour anyone should be awake, yet the moon was still full as Victor could tell, glaring out the window to the cemetery in which Andrew noticed. 

Maybe he felt guilt too, maybe he regretted their acts of violence as much as he did.

Either way, he wouldn’t ask.

In some time more Victor tucked himself in next to Andrew where they lay, holding his hand tightly under the covers. Needlessly to say, the two got very well-needed sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning.

3 days until the train.

Victor’s foot frantically tapped against the floor as he sat impatiently outside Andrew’s hospital room.

There was an unnerving quiet coming from the door, it worried him what could have possibly been going on he wasn’t there to witness. 

The darkness of the hall chilled him, they had been waiting for five hours to see a doctor. Maybe if the conditions were less packed and cleaner wasting a few hours of their time wouldn’t be a problem. 

Even worse, while they were waiting Andrew seemed unsettled, fearful, almost. He wished to comfort him, to hold his hand and rest his head on his shoulder. However he just couldn’t with everybody watching them. 

Either way, Victor did not complain. How could he when it was Andrew’s only chance to be professionally treated? He wasn’t a doctor, nor did he know how well his stitches would stay before causing an irritation. 

His knees pressed together tensely before the door opened to his surprise, a middle aged man exited the room, causing the postman to flinch unknowingly.

“Relationship to the patient?” He opened his lips to ask, raising a white mustache while his eyes skimmed down at his paper and clipboard, fingers twirling the pen in his left hand.

He did not want to speak, but he knew he had to.

“Oh, uhm— Friend,”

The doctor sighed, putting the clipboard under his shoulder. 

He was tall, much taller than Victor, almost as tall as Andrew, with shaggy long hair and white brimmed glasses he adjusted to fixate his gaze on the blonde. A gaze that read irritation and aggression.

“You have to be legally related to sign off on this treatment, young man.” His voice was stern, it cut through to him as if he had smacked him across his face.

Well, they were related now, just not legally.

He scrunched his shoulders up in tension and realization. Andrew’s last relation was dead .

Victor could feel his body go numb before trying to respond. 

“But-“ He squeaked before being rudely cut off.

“None of that. I cannot treat this man if you do not bring me a family member.”

Pensively, he looked at him with worry. 

Victor didn’t know what to do, his eyes reached the doctor once again, he seemed serious enough, but not too serious to not have sympathy for someone. 

Not wasting another second, Victor blurted out the last thing he wanted to say in such a situation.

“Sir… He was abused,” His voice was clear.

Only watching as he stopped for a moment, sighed and waved his hand at a nurse peeking through the door for a moment of privacy.

Coming closer to the young man he released a couple of whispers to him, his voice raspy and cold blooded.

“I cannot treat him, but the least I can do is provide a split and the proper casting, would that be enough?”

As little as it sounded, Victor was still as relieved as he possibly could be to know Andrew would be getting at least some form of peace after so much pain. 

Nodding profusely, too nervous to say thank you as if he’d be messing it up. He followed the doctor back into Andrew’s room where he lay flatly motionless, plainly over the blankets. 

He looked paler than usual and silent, that was until he instantly sat up after a delayed notice of the two men re-entering the room, waiting impatiently for the taller to speak.

The doctor instructed Andrew on how to care for his wounds very specifically with a stern tone, Victor was sure he didn’t mean to sound overly demanding but still managed to flinch whenever he would haphazardly raise his voice.

Nonetheless, Andrew still paid attention, he then was casted and given permission to leave the clinic alongside his friend. 

As the front doors opened Victor felt a breath of refreshing air hit him, his lover at his side still silent. 

“I’m going to walk you home, is that okay?” 

Not wasting a second, Andrew gave a small, well rounded nod, still not expressing too much emotion.

Step by step the two walked slowly, patient as he was, the postman helped him across the craggy cobblestone paths. The midtown still buzzing with disturbance, the happy cries of women and children down the streets cradled under a bright sun with litters of clouds found within the skies.

But Victor seemed to notice how dreary Andrew had become as soon as they stepped outside the hospital’s walls. His head faced the stone and body shook with every step, as if there had been something terribly wrong. Almost like he had been in a pain different from what was in his leg.

To break the silence, Victor spoke.

“It’s a beautiful day, is it not?”

“Yes..” The man dryly replied. 

Suddenly, it seemed to click to Victor why Andrew had always stayed inside, under the shade or far from the town, why he’d always bring umbrellas to the fountain where they’d meet. 

“Is it the sun?” He whispered, a quieting voice compared to his calm shell.

Another slow nod, another non-verbal response. 

“Why does this happen?” Victor didn’t want to push him too far, but he was in fact curious as to why the sun was so grim to him.

Andrew blinked, not knowing how to respond as he himself did not know the answer. 

“Marshall always thought it was because of my illness. I am very.. Sensitive to light.” The man mumbled in bits of speech, taking breaks to catch his breath, he sounded absolutely exhausted, Victor didn’t know if that was because of the lack of sleep or the sunlight draining the life out of him. 

Although the tension between them felt somewhat awkward, neither of them knew not to take it personally, both of them didn’t understand how to properly act in the presence of others, especially with the ever so unpredictable mask they’ve created for themselves and their relationship. It was hard to treat each other like everything was normal and they were friends around the general public when the both of them knew they were much more to each other. Victor wished they could live in a different world where it wasn’t a deathly crime to love, but alas, they were not so lucky.

The painful, yearning urges to let Andrew know he was there for him physically when he didn’t know how to verbally was suffocating. 

Still attached at the hip, the two reached the entrance to the church. Its doors still an umber color of brown, paint fading more every time he saw it creating gray undertones.

Victor left Andrew to lean against the wall as he looked for the spare key to hand to the blonde, his body seemed to be much more relieved once the partners entered the shade, still taking deep cleansing breaths from being out in the heat, Victor hoped Andrew hadn’t gotten sunburnt due to the fairness of his skin.

Almost tripping over his splint before getting caught by the other, Andrew did his best to maneuver himself to the inside. He felt a burning sensation on his face from the exposure and sensitivity, holding a hand over his cheek to nullify some of the pain, which truly was only there for a moment before Victor took it off, leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips.

Being outside made Victor feel trapped. It was only within walls they were allowed to love freely and touch one another without getting a discomforting stare or growing rumors that would destroy Victor’s reputation, even if it didn’t matter to him all that much.

As their lips were still touching, his hand in his, slowly thumbing a faint scar across Andrew’s vein, he encapsulated it tightly between his palms. 

Sometimes it didn’t feel right or real to be so infatuated with another person, yet whenever Andrew would do so little to put a hand on his shoulder he was filled to the sickly brim with butterflies.

Although Victor let go of the kiss, he still had a firm grip onto his free hand, still holding it between the gap of his fingers he couldn’t keep still.

In time, Victor helped Andrew up the stairs. It was as a daunting task as the first time last evening, except this time he had a splint to carry up too. It would’ve been smart to leave it downstairs, but it made it remarkably less painful to walk. Step by step, they made it work, Victor hadn’t let go of him since they walked through the door.

Their fingers still interlocked until Victor sat him on his bed where he layed him down and took his splint, resting it on an old, dusty chest. The room was cool compared to the overwhelmingly hot summer day that had gotten the best of them on their forty minute walk to and from the hospital, which turned out to be almost an entirely lost cause. 

Victor followed after untying his laces and taking his shoes off, leaving them at the foot of the bed where he pulled his legs forward over the sheets. 

He drew closer to Andrew, slowly running a delicate hand up his chest and to his collarbone where it stopped, giving a free moment for Victor to carefully and comfortably snuggle himself onto his shoulder. 

Before speaking once more, he wasted away in his next few minutes, wanting to drown in the safe embrace of his lover for the rest of his lifetime. It was like a vast, untimely dream he’d been experiencing the past week or so. Something Victor would’ve never guessed he’d be so lucky to welcome in his life. 

“I truly am sorry about your leg,” His voice was soft and gentle, following another touch of his hand, raising it forward above them where he could watch as he placed his own hand into the palm of the other’s now able to see the size difference once more. 

“There’s not a need to apologize, my love, you are not the one who broke it,” Andrew replied, although he was hesitant out of nervousness, he eventually gave into burying his face into the postman’s golden hair and littering kisses at the top of his head.

And yet for some reason, Victor felt he was partially at fault. If he would’ve never left that night, Andrew may still be in better condition. But there was nothing that could be done now, he was still hurt in a way that he couldn’t fix.

“I wish I hadn’t left, I should’ve stayed,”

“No, don’t say that, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” He was quick to respond, reassuringly and honestly. 

Victor turned his body to his side, letting go of his hand and bringing his own to the grave keeper's cheeks, caressing him softly on both sides as Andrew only yearningly gave in with a weak smile.

“I really do love you,” Victor could only think to say in reply, looking straight into his velvet tinted eyes, it made him feel awfully dotey knowing how dearly Andrew cared about him. 

The grave keeper melted into his touch, not even daring to move himself an inch. His emotions were overflowing, too deluged from himself. All that there was had been his lover.

“I love you too.” He gave into his temptation once more.

It wasn’t long before Victor started to kiss Andrew again, finding it hard to keep his hands off of him. The short increments of blissfulness that came between every kiss just heartened him to keep going, as if there was not anything that troubled him any longer.

The desires furthered on both sides, not getting enough of one another as they deepened every touch of their lips, which resulted in them kissing more passionately by the second. 

The rest of Andrew’s world was dissipating, it had struck him once more there was nothing left that mattered to him other than Victor. In moments like these, the moments they were isolated and away from any other hurt or ache were the most rewarding. There wasn’t a care left in the world or in either of their hearts that spoke to them enough to stop them from loving each other, the same kind of love you’d leave everything for in a heartbeat. 

It went on for what felt like a million years, but ended too soon before Victor pulled away from him out of nowhere. 

“Andrew.. I want you to put your hands on me.. Is that okay?”

Not a word was immediate, only a shocked expression and a completely flushed complexion.

He didn’t know how to respond, his body wouldn’t let him utter a single word in reply to Victor’s plea, he sounded serious, but Andrew was far too scared to admit so. 

Was he really not ready for something like this? Or was his fear and worry getting the best of him once again, holding him back from decisions he knew were important to the both of them.

“Are you sure?”

There was barely any time left before they pulled eachother closer once more, their breaths turning into one. Soon, the curtains were shut, truly sheathing everything from anyone, or any haunting bad thoughts and burdens. All was left behind, even if it was just for a moment. At first, Andrew didn’t know how to feel, it was pulling him under to a place he’d never been before, estranged, unspeakable feelings that he hadn’t dared to experience at all. Unlike what he was expecting, no guilt, nothing seemed to grab onto him like a hook strung to his legs and shove him back to a world of cowardice. Yet, although sinful, it didn’t feel that way. How could it? There was nothing more to say, the feelings Andrew had been experiencing were love. Love that comes in all shapes and forms, that plays tricks on your mind and convinces you that someone out there is worth running away with, that Victor Grantz was worth running away with.

It was only at this time Andrew knew he would do anything for him, that he was willing to spend every last second of his life with him by his side, holding his hand in his through every moment of happiness and grief and refusing to let go even after death. The realization, the confirmation that he, a man who was once thought to be unlovable, had found love and was willing to risk everything he had just to see Victor smile. 

It was never clearer to him than now, so he did everything to make every moment last, even if it ended too quickly. 

Chapter Text

3 hours until the train

Mornings seemed to fly by rather quickly, Andrew would’ve never guessed several weeks ago today would be the day he’d be leaving for good. It was a feeling indescribable, not easy to process. Running away with someone you met several weeks prior was a decision made on a whim, yet Andrew was never so sure about anything else as much as he was about this. 

The more he thought of it the more it grew painful, the negativity and suffering he associated with this town was overbearing, but it was also the home of new and old memories he cherished, and of course his mother’s grave, which he made the decision to visit one last time today.

He still had several hours to get this over with and possibly see Victor before they were to meet at the train, but he made sure to be quick about it, as it was already near nightfall. As a matter of fact, he had not seen Victor for over twenty four hours, to be exact, several days. They had not met with one another since the day after they slept together, of course Victor had a lot of work to do before he resigned which Andrew could respect, along with the tedious amounts of planning and packing needed to be done, but it made him very anxious, already welting up with the feeling that Victor may or may not have changed his mind about wanting to leave with him. 

He pushed it aside nonetheless, pressing on with his evening no matter how much he longed to have the relieving feeling of having his hand in his once more, even if it was just for another second. 

Andrew closed the church’s doors to the graveyard behind him, creating an echo of a thick clash. The nightfall seemed to engulf him rather quickly, silhouettes of tall buildings and luxurious homes painted the far away distance, the side of town he wouldn’t dare to show up in. 

He dragged himself through the pebble stepping stones that crossed every row, using his splint to walk. The wood was already starting to wither at the tip and little splinters poked out from where he rested his arm, making it more difficult to use without slipping and falling, which of course would ultimately make his injury worse. 

It had been a challenge to walk when it was different than what he was used to, Victor helping him, but the only thing Andrew could do was give himself patience, which was hard to conjure for a person like him. 

His eyes scanned each individual engraving on the stones, he knew exactly where her grave was, however some of the names seemed to speak to him, as if he remembered some of the individual days these men came to the church, the same days he had to bury them. Sometimes he wished he didn’t remember the colorless faces of them being loaded into their casket and buried into their final resting place, but alas, he was a grave keeper, dead people were just part of the package. It didn’t bother him as much as when he was younger anyways.

He stopped, faced forward and dipped his leg down on one knee. He hadn’t been here since he was a child, not daring to come back in the fear that she’d be disappointed in him for the man he’d become. 

He was afraid to look up at first, to face her, but this was no different when he was younger and sought out her grave just to talk to her. Although he wasn’t a child anymore, he looked rather different, rather damaged.

Her name was incomprehensible, too weathered to be read, but a large ‘KREISS’ rested under the patchy engraving.

It always made him happy to know that it was her maiden name that was written on her tombstone, and the name Andrew chose to use rather than his father’s. There was no other way of putting it than that Andrew did not want to have any relation to that absolutely wretched man. 

“It’s been awhile,” He mumbled through a delayed breath. 

Per usual, there was no response. Sometimes, it felt like he was expecting one. He longed to hear the gentle and tender voice of the loving woman that was stripped away from him. 

“I dearly miss you, things would be a lot easier if you were still here…. I have a lot to say, I don’t know where to begin,”

His gaze reached the grass, no longer able to look directly at the stained stone. The pain had already somewhat gotten to him, but he had a long way to go, so he took a deep breath.

“Today I’m leaving this town to put it simply, Marshall told me I’d be treated like an outcast wherever I went, but you don’t know for sure until you try,”

Andrew inhaled once more, preparing to face the next bit of information he may or may not regret sharing, but at least had to reach the surface of what was really going on. For the longest time it had worried him what she would think or what she would say, despite being a deceased woman, it terrified him at the thought of her disapproval as she was religious. 

“However that is not entirely it, the real reason I’m leaving is because I fell in love, this person… He treats me like an equal and is so wonderful in so many ways,” A nervous smile crept upon his lips, but not even a smile could still raise his spirits.

Andrew snuck his hand deeply into his pocket, bringing forth nothing but a letter stained with great age. You could still see the intricacy of the seal drowning in a pool of crimson wax, and more importantly, the signature. Her signature.

Years and years later from when she dipped her pen into the thin black liquid, signing her name one last time before she’d surrender to a happier place. It was true that the letter seemed like it was old as dirt, useless to other people, but to Andrew this letter was everything. Only one question remained: Why didn’t he ever open it?

Maybe he didn’t want to relive that moment. The final minutes of him resting in her arms, clinging onto her chest like the weeping child he was before her breathing stopped. The begging and wailing that came after, the hours Andrew waited for her to wake up were too great to feel again. 

He didn’t realize he was shaking until he dragged a bruised thumb across the faded ink. The way she wrote her name was delicate and elegant, the type of writing that makes you mistake a common woman for an educated lady. 

Just having it between his fingers gave him a chill. 

There wasn’t any sense in sitting there with the letter in his hand, but for reasons he couldn’t identify it required more courage than he initially thought.

Cutting his anxieties off, he tore the seal off without damaging it, separating the paper from its envelope. 

At first, he wasn’t ready to open his eyes. But when he eased himself into his situation, it was less difficult to open them.

He began from the first word.

My beautiful son,

When you read this letter, I will be gone. Before anything else, this is not your fault, this will never be your fault as long as you live, Andrew. I promise you, luck was not on our side this time, and we have to accept that sometimes to become stronger.

As difficult as that may sound, I’m not going to tell you to not cry over me, not to be strong or keep your head up high. It is okay to cry, to feel sad or lose something dear to you even, our tears are what make us human, and you are as human as anyone else is and always be.

So no matter what anyone may say to belittle you for your unique beauty, kindness and way of loving, wear your heart out on your sleeve and prove them wrong. You are beyond wonderfulness and brilliance and I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother. I may have seen a light in you when others only saw darkness, but that light still hasn’t burnt out. Others will come to you to believe that as well one day, no matter what you may think, my love.

I did everything I could to raise you into a loving, upstanding young man, and although my time is up, I always will regret leaving you behind and never being able to see my little boy grow and for your beauty you call a sickness to flower with you. 

There will be nobody to sing you to sleep, bathe you or hold you in their arms at first, but I believe a time will come where you’ll receive that kind of love again, and it will be sooner than you think. 

Andrew, never change or cure yourself for anyone other than yourself, I will always love you with all my heart and you will never know how much that is because even I cannot put that into any word. 

All my love, Your Mother

Andrew weeped. 

Never could he ask for a better reminder, a better way to tell him that he was still living for a reason. 

And all he could think about in that moment was everything he missed about her.

He remembered her face like it was yesterday, her long brown hair, the gentleness of the touch of her fair skin. But this had been nothing new to Andrew, it was only a memory, a memory that seemed to burn from a candlelight in his head for what seemed and felt like centuries.

Tears flooded from his eyes, in the midst of the waterworks he desperately tried to wipe them away, not wanting to damage the letter furthermore than time had. 

Andrew, still a mess, shakily put the paper back into its folded position. He couldn’t understand how he managed to feel so alone but so whole at the same time. It was like there wasn’t another person within miles but he still felt like there was purpose left for him. 

While there was still some things mentioned in the letter Andrew still to this day believed to be untrue, there was no doubt it was written from purely good intent and love. 

His breathing grew heavy and he could feel himself falling apart bit by bit. Even if he wasn’t directly sad, he was still sobbing and whimpering as he plunged himself to the grass and covered his face.

He continued to cry, replaying every word through his broken mind. Only thinking about how she loved him. When there was nobody else there to do so, she was the one who did.

And she was taken away from him.

Maybe, some of that fear he had from earlier was because he worried Victor would be taken away too.

But he didn’t want to think about that.

His emotions were exhausting him, with time, Andrew calmed down and raised his head from the tombstone. There was nothing in the world that could make him regret opening that letter, a part of him truly believed he was granted some closure now. 

On another note, though he had stopped his wailing, tears were still uncontrollably spewing from his eyes but not a noise was uttered, he had lost his voice, there was nothing left.

For a brief moment, Andrew thought he heard footsteps, but couldn’t focus on anything else with his current situation at hand, for he was simply unable to keep his thoughts at bay. 

Andrew shut his eyes, only for a minute or two of peace.

However, it was more like a few seconds after meeting the familiar touch of a young man resting his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. 

“Andrew.” That man spoke, calmly but direct. 

He kneeled down alongside him as the hand ran from its original position down a leather coated back, relaxed eyelids and a tender expression.

“How did you get in here?” Andrew wasn’t disappointed to see him, nor unhappy, more of shocked and surprised he had come to speak with him after days of silence. 

Victor took his hand in both of his own, not hesitating to hold it over his heart.

“You left the door unlocked, both doors actually. To the church and the one to the graveyard was left open…”

There was a pause.

It was comedic almost how Victor could show up so conveniently at the times he needed him most.

“What’s wrong?”

Andrew did not pay him a response, only shaking his head and whimpering again. Part of him felt guilty for not being ready to share with the look of concern on the postman’s expression.

Another tear slided down the fair skin on Andrew’s face, Victor only inched forward, it was almost like he was waiting for him to say something back, but there was a strange silence in the atmosphere. 

“You don’t have to talk, it’s okay.”

The albino shut his eyes, then Victor took him into his arms once more. Despite Andrew’s confliction and grief over his mother, he held him back. Gentle fingers running through each and every white lock of hair, the heat of his body pressing against the other’s. It was as comforting as it always was, he expected no less from the embrace of his lover. 

Victor cupped his cheeks, placing a single lasting kiss on his forehead then not wasting a second to pull him back into the hug. 

Neither of them uttered a word for several minutes, 

“I’m terribly sorry for not coming to visit you these past few days, I think that I just needed some time to myself before we leave,”

Andrew felt a long winded sigh of relief come across him, not only was he relieved to know that Victor hadn’t had second thoughts, it was enough for him that he was at least okay. 

“I was worried that you changed your mind.” He spoke honestly, he really did think that he had done something wrong prior to the fallout. 

“Goodness no, how could I ever do something like that?” The response was given quicker than Andrew could snap his fingers. It seemed convincing enough that Victor was still insistent on leaving with him on this day.

Eventually, with given physical comfort and non-verbal affection, Andrew’s tears stopped. Now, he only felt slightly silly for experiencing so much grief over something that happened years and years ago, it bothered him how emotional he was over such sensitive topics. It made him feel weak.

The two men still held onto each other, despite it being in a semi-public place where anyone could just walk into the church similarly to how Victor did. Neither of them seemed to worry too deeply, there was nobody around after all, there hadn’t been a religious citizen in the church since Marshall went ‘missing’. 

Speaking of Marshall, Andrew assumed he was responsible for the murder of the nun several weeks ago, especially after he attempted to murder Andrew himself. Albeit not directly admitting to it, his intention may well have been to frame Andrew for the killing as a way to get rid of him. After the constant strife and struggle from his abuse onto the grave keeper, there wasn’t any other logical explanation for the events. He was just lucky the case was dropped due to insufficient evidence or he’d be sitting in a messy prison cell right now. There wasn’t any point of thinking of that anymore as if they weren’t leaving or waiting around to be discovered by the police. 

After more deepened touches, Andrew eventually warmed up to Victor and explained what was going on, as always he did not respond with much, only listened to him. In between sentences he nodded, told him he loved him and said he was sorry. 

Victor was always a great listener, up to a million times better than he was a talker. He had rocked Andrew back and forth as he spoke to him and placed his hand over his the whole time, tracing fingers back and forth over the black leather that was the grave keeper’s attire.

And all Andrew could think about while he was talking was how much he adored him.

“Although I cannot relate, I can somehow understand.” Victor interrupted the silence that was between them.

At first, Andrew didn’t believe such a thing would be true. The grief he felt was too great, too suffocating. But then again, he suddenly remembered how little he knew about Victor’s family. 

Now Andrew could feel himself growing curious from the reply.

“What do you mean?” 

He dipped his head down. 

“I can understand the grief, my mother abandoned me.”

Andrew’s eyes widened. 

For some reason, it never struck him that something like that could have happened to Victor, honest to god he always imagined he grew up with his family his whole life under their wing. But now, he felt almost silly for making such an assumption, no, he felt guilty for not even taking a moment to stop and think that Victor really could understand what he was going through. More accurately, Andrew was the one who couldn’t understand what Victor was going through. He was never abandoned, not by someone who did so willingly of course. 

“I never knew…” Andrew spoke, not knowing how to respond to the young blonde.

A dreary feeling of sorrow suddenly came over him, it made him absolutely miserable to even think of the person he loved being treated in such a way. He knew very well Victor deserved so much better, he deserved nothing more than happiness and safety, not to be abandoned or left behind, that was no rewarding life for someone who was seen as an angel in Andrew’s eyes. 

“I never said a word about it, I know, but it’s okay,” His voice was clear and calm, it was almost like it was something Victor had already come to terms with, like he was at peace.

Andrew wished he could feel that way too with his mother, but ever since she had passed Andrew had never lived a day of peace until he met Victor. 

“It’s not okay. To think that anyone could do that to you is sickening.”

“Andrew it’s—“

“You are nothing less than just wonderful and lovely in so many ways, I hope you know that— I’m terribly sorry that happened to you. I hope you can forgive me for sharing about my loss to you so often when you were never given a chance to share yours,” He continued, not initially meaning to cut Victor off. 

“It’s really okay…” 

But Victor wasn’t finished. There was a singular sigh that came from the postman, he scooted closer to the other and did not hesitate to press his lips against Andrew’s, knowing full well they were outside and partially in public . 

The grave keeper was too longing for another kiss to pull away, his heart viciously pounding from his chest at the shot of adrenaline that came from the idea of someone passing by, turning a corner only to see two men sharing an intimate moment with one another. 

He still held tightly onto his hands, pressure increasing as he kissed him. 

The sudden weakness of Andrew’s body felt slightly overwhelming, but he regained his strength when Victor gently released his lips from his.

Melting back into another hug, time seemed to have passed rather quickly. The sun was down, and the later evening was approaching, Andrew couldn’t feel anything other than a heavy heart pounding in his chest as Victor helped him retrieve his luggage from upstairs. It had still been hard to process.

At first, he was unsure if he was ready to do such a thing, however, seeing Victor once more had changed his mind quicker than he could ever imagine. 

He watched as his suitcase was carried out the door by the other man, though he looked rather exhausted and beads of sweat seemed to drip from his forehead, he still managed to carry both his and Andrew’s luggage. Then again, Andrew’s was not nearly as big as Victor’s, he packed very little as there was not much that had any meaning to him. A few changes of clothing, rest wear and some possessions of his mother’s was all he really needed and was prepared to leave with. 

“I’m sorry for making you carry my bag,”

Victor raised his attention to the other once he spoke.

“No need to be sorry, the walk to the station is short,”

And it was. It took roughly fifteen, maybe a little extra for Andrew to walk on a broken leg, which he had little to no relief from still without the proper medicines he was unable to receive from the clinic. 

The walk was welcoming, the final time Andrew would pass by the buzzing market or central fountain where he and Victor would sit with one another. The last time he’d see the church from afar, the street where he’d grown up. Though now, it didn’t feel sorrowful anymore. 

A large near full moon rested above the clouds, creating a shiny reflection off the metal entrance. 

There was a faint, upturned smile across Victor’s expression as they approached the open gates, it was entirely empty, lifeless almost like the rest of the town, but the postman still seemed overjoyed nonetheless. 

“You aren’t sad?”

A sweet chuckle emitted from the man’s lips. “How could I be? I finally get to leave everything behind—- spending the rest of my days with you,” 

Andrew’s expression matched his, creating a flustered simper, wondering where the sudden confidence to say such affectionate things in publicity sprouted from. Alas, he refused to leave his lover stranded with his words.

“I love you very much,”

Victor’s gaze softened and smile grew.

They waited on the seatings for around a half hour, watching the night pass by and the moon’s brightness uproar in the sky. The blonde rested his head softly on Andrew’s shoulder, his tiredness catching up with him as the evening surpassed further. It made sense after lugging around two bags the whole way to the station. 

It’s not like it was a problem, like before, there wasn’t a soul around to witness their bodily closeness with one another, leaving Andrew to cuddle him back on the bench. 

Just by watching Victor’s sleepy eyes, his delayed yawns and small fidgets in a resting position sent his heart into a nervous flutter.

There wasn’t anything more precious to Andrew than Victor was. Suddenly, he seemed to realize so, as if he didn’t already know there was no bounds for his love for him. 

Light illuminated both their faces, Andrew jerked back in pain and panic, covering his face while it only awoke Victor immediately. Although caught entirely off guard, it meant they were seconds away from leaving for good. 

Steam pumped out from it’s engine and until they and one or two singles boarded it was the only aroma that filled the atmosphere. Once they did, it felt like a completely different world, the inside was a bit bright for Andrew’s liking, but Victor seemed to be pleased with the comfortable conditions. 

They both were seated near the front where it did not take much longer for the postman to fall back into a deeper sleep than before. Andrew weakly wrapped his arm over Victor’s back, not wanting to disturb his slumber, but also wanting to keep in close contact with the one he loved.

Andrew felt a rumble come across him and the other passengers as the wheels began to turn and the engine began humming a painful tune to hear. Soon, the train was off, and Andrew watched him leave the one place that he had lived, lost and loved in for the entirety of his life, though it was difficult to see since he let Victor have the window seat and it also being the darkest hour of nightfall. 

It wasn’t sad, it didn’t hurt him anymore. Everything Andrew had managed to love was right there with him at that moment. 

This truly had to be the fresh start he was looking for, and very well needed.

Somewhere In the French Countryside

Andrew’s eyes flickered open, the train was entirely empty, they had to have passed several, maybe tens of stops when he had drifted into a sleep. A tired-eyed Victor looked down, next to him, tracing a few fair skinned fingers across his own gloved hand. 

The train still felt unfamiliar to him, yet he felt safe and comfortable. He yearned to stand up or at least stretch, which he attempted to do to the best of his ability within his seat, which didn’t work very well. Victor seemed to get a giggle out of watching him try to contort himself in a small space, so it wasn’t done for nothing. 

“Good morning, sweetie,” 

The pet name caught Andrew off guard initially, sweetie being something he was not typically referred to as. 

“Good morning dear, how are you feeling?” The gravekeeper replied trying not to burn up into a blush over something so small.

Victor only shrugged, then smiled back at him, covering the lower half of his face in an attempt to hide his excitement. 

Cocking an eyebrow, Andrew took him in his arms and began laying down gentle kisses on the other man’s cheek, coaxed in a mix of fluster and happiness for the beginning of their lives together.

Still snuggled up, they chatted for those last hours that they were on the moving train about silly, pointless things they would never bring up with anyone else. That was the conversation, until Andrew made sense of bringing up leaving everything behind, sharing his emotion with Victor and telling him about his initial perspective and worry of leaving the town. Of course, a topic Victor listened to very intently. He was understanding, like always, reassured the doubts he had and guaranteed him that they weren’t leaving together for nothing, which in the end made Andrew feel a lot better. 

He then noticed that the reason he felt so safe on the train was only because he was in the presence of his lover, he knew nothing bad would ever happen to him again if Victor was not only there to protect him like he said he would, but love him so endearingly too. He didn’t want to wait another moment, not another second of sitting around and watching the clock tick until they had arrived into a new and unfamiliar place. 

A thought suddenly came across Andrew, one he hadn’t bothered to think about for quite some time. 

“I have a question for you,”

Victor’s attention was caught. “Yes?”

“Did you ever say goodbye to Memory?”

Victor seemed to avert eyes for a moment, like that was a topic he did not want to speak about at that time, but he did anyways for the sense of closure he received when he always talked about things that troubled him with Andrew. 

“Yes… Over those three days we did not speak I did. I do miss her though—-“

There was a brief stop in his speech.

“I really do love children, so it’s been hard for me to part with her when I had my heart set on watching her grow for awhile…”

Victor closed his mouth immediately, not wanting to make any implications or go any further with his thoughts or feelings. 

Andrew could understand the kind of fatherly love he must’ve felt taking care of her and providing her with education she needed that the orphanage just wouldn’t give to her. It made him feel sad for him, he was partially sad on his own behalf as well, even he saw her as an easy thing to get attached to and he only met with her a few times when going to see Victor. 

“I see… Maybe we could have one of our own someday,” He said, determined to raise the other’s spirits even if it was a tad bit unrealistic. 

Victor bursted into a light laughter, not understanding what Andrew meant, they lived in a world where such a thing was viewed as absolutely obscene. 

“Oh, Andrew, as much as I appreciate you trying to make me feel better… I don’t think that could ever happen,”

“Maybe so, but it’s not like we can’t have our own family, that could always be a family of two,”

The giggling only continued to a great degree, Victor resting his palm on Andrew’s and using his other arm to cling back onto his shoulder. 

Andrew knew his laughs were not to ridicule him, so he leaned forward into the touch, watching the forest passing by outside the window over Victor’s tufts of blonde hair. 

It was shortly after when the train came to a complete stop, but as soon as it did Andrew could feel his heart racing, going off to the sound of imaginary sirens in his head, repeating, telling him the same thing over and over: You’re starting a new life.

The sudden behavior had shocked him, making him tremble.

It terrified him, made him absolutely sick to his stomach thinking of any possible way he could screw it up. He was so nervous everything that he was doing would go to waste on his own behalf. 

Andrew now burning up with anxiety, he shut his eyes, hearing a strong tone of the engine being put on standby. It wasn't long before Victor could tell he was neurotic by the shaking, now holding his hand tighter than before in an attempt to comfort him. 

“Hey… It’s okay,”

He whispered to him, not taking his head off of his shoulder. 

They didn’t have to wait too long with their concerns, shortly a man called for all the passengers to exit the train.

Down the steps and around the corner of the station they held hands, a breeze of fresh air came upon him, breathable, unlike his old town’s foggy and polluted skies. 

It was rural, but had the environment of a city, laughing and chattering, nobody suffering or in dismay. 

Those five words repeated to Andrew one more time. He took Victor into an embrace again, his chains were broken, he finally felt free.

Chapter Text

August 3rd, 1908, Monday, Somewhere in the French Countryside (1 Year Later)

The tapping of a symphony of hundreds of footsteps at once, the beating hot sun cradling an ocean of people young and old, pushing and shoving others without a care to get where they needed to be. 

The town they had moved was welcoming, however much more overpopulated and lively than their previous. People seemed naturally happy when they greeted you down the streets but as soon as you’d turn your back on them they’d whisper to the person closest what a sucker you were.

It was true no place was perfect, maybe it helped that where Victor and Andrew chose to settle was outside the crazed town. A small cottage coaxed with a stone-like finish and an arched roof, not forgetting to mention a vastly garden and a fireplace in its tightly knitted living room. 

It turns out the money Victor managed to save from five years of working seemed to pay off, when living in their old place of residence Victor did not often splurge on himself, he would continue to repeat the same thing in his head: That his wants were not his needs. In the end, this strategy seemed to take a particular favor in the postman, now Victor and Andrew could live comfortably together as ‘roommates’ outside of what was known as the main circle of civilization. 

In that circle lay an array of different french folk, promiscuous women and busy men, educated children and attentive elderly. There was no limit to these combinations, though small and quaint, everyone seemed to know everyone and their role in their community. 

Lucky for Victor and Andrew, they seemed to fit right in fine. Victor took up another postman’s job and continued to be known as a gentle delivery man, it was Andrew who had the hardest time adjusting to these changes. There was a solid two month grace period before he could find a stable job, eventually he worked hard as a member of a baptist church, even if the jobs may have been unpleasant nothing could be worse than being responsible for the burials of sinful men, only to remove them and sell their bodies off for money days afterwards. Over the year he spent working there as an honorable man of god, he was accepted as a deacon and welcomed under the wing of the father of the church as a priest in training. Apparently, there was potential seen in Andrew he could not see in himself. 

Not only had there been better opportunities for the two, it was safer. Surprisingly progressive for the time period, after all, almost all of France was known to be. Homosexuality wasn’t illegal, though strongly frowned upon in a heavily catholic nation, it’s not like they were at the risk of being hanged or stoned to death for it any longer. 

Andrew could feel himself slowly adapt with the time passing, he didn’t like change, he liked routine and cycles. Making a move like this was a very big choice he still held no regrets for, but it certainly made it hard for him to wake up every morning and not grab his shovel, dragging it across the stained wood flooring of Lutz into the graveyard where he began digging into the ground, molding it into a rectangular pit. That was no life for him any longer.

The other townspeople had thought of Andrew’s albinism as strange and approached it curiously with questions, not hate or aggression all because he didn’t look a certain way and had different attributes. He was no longer hated or thought of as some satanic being cursed upon their land. Victor would promise him that he wouldn’t be treated poorly, insisting that his illness was beautiful regardless of other’s opinions in their hometown, because of this, Andrew grew to love his albinism, and himself. 

Victor too underwent many changes himself, his demeanor towards other people grew more open and comfortable, he spoke with little hesitation and seemed overall happier and welcoming. Victor always felt very passionately, but even so he experienced a vast variety of different emotions and color in his life after the move, the same could be said for Andrew. 

They had found their happiness and peace alongside one another, and neither of them would want it any other way. 

It was a particularly noisy day at the town center like said before, you could barely hear the sound of your own voice in the bustling crowds and disquieting couples. The sun beating down on the concrete and pebbles gave a brightly noticeable reflection off the windows of the shops down the streets, Andrew could see himself quite clearly too, a tall man with a hooked, roman nose, face covered with faded scars complete with a brimmed hat to sheath himself from the sunlight. Being active during the daytime was another thing Andrew began to get used to, normally he would do his burials during the late hours of the evening when the sun had already fallen, but Andrew wasn’t a grave keeper now. This seemed to weigh heavy on his heart, no matter where he went or what activity he engaged in he found himself thinking about his old life and the horrors and suffering that came along with it. Some days, he wished he could just forget, but he knew if he did he would also lose the memories he held close to his heart, from his mother holding him close to dancing with Victor and bathing with him for the first time. He loved some of them, it gave him closure, made him feel like all the abuse he took was a little bit worth it. . . and he most definitely knew Victor didn’t regret them either.

He continued along the roads, cars passing through and honking at young men and women crossing the streets, it didn’t bother Andrew enough for him to have any sort of reaction to it, he only kept his eyes facing forward, coat swinging back and forth with the wind behind him.

A bell rung when he pushed open a door with a flat palm, looking up at the intricate lighting and design of the shop’s interior. It made a ghost of a smile curve on Andrew’s face quite nicely. 

He could hear his own footsteps echo in the room before approaching the elderly woman at the desk with gentle eyes and a ruby coat. Despite his French not being too well, the two shared an exchange that passed for some time with Andrew looking at his options, he eventually made his decision on something quite beautiful but simple, as he did not have a lot of money with him and what he was purchasing wasn’t necessarily cheap.

“You’ve made a good selection, your future wife must be a very lucky woman.”

Andrew only nodded in response to the older woman.

He thumbed the ring between his fingers, silver with a couple small noticeable encrusted diamonds lined with an aureate trim, barely noticeable engravings of various flowers on the sides. It was nothing too fancy or gaudy, a simple but gorgeous engagement ring as wedding bands would not be necessary without the intention to have a wedding, or the legal requirements. 

He would like this, Andrew thought very briefly to himself. 

It took an overwhelmingly long time to save for the ring, Andrew had been working tirelessly in order to afford it, not to mention saving in secrecy for nine months. It wasn’t something he had thought about very lightly, he had taken his time in consideration to make things official with his lover, that is only if Victor was willing to as well, though he had already previously asked for his hand in marriage, which was eagerly accepted. 

After living together for around a year Andrew still couldn’t find a single ounce of regret within him. The cavities of a once damaged and defaced man had finally been sealed, for it was about time for Andrew to begin a newer chapter of his life.

Exiting the store once he had retrieved what he entered for, the lofty man began to walk himself home. 

His gloved hands had delicately turned the knob of the burgundy door after slipping an aureate colored key through it’s slit as Wick’s clamorous barking to the chiming of Andrew’s entry could be heard bleeding through the door. A dramatic quiver of cold air slithered through the crease when it popped open and Andrew stepped foot inside. 

The house was tidy, not a speck of dust or soot left, an enlivened dog darting to greet him as soon as he shut the door behind him, after paying his pets and kisses to Wick he set food in the kitchen and then through the living room, a hushed postman sat mellowly at a plainly lit dining table. An ink pen was woven through his fingers and facing the front of him a tinted paper page littered with writing, beginning with a ‘dear’ and ending with a ‘sincerely’, it seemed as if Victor had just finished a letter. 

Once his eyes met with Andrew’s he stood, he wasted no more time to pull him close into a sturdy embrace. Andrew’s hands drew circles down the other man’s back, tenderly kissing the top of his head. A warm, forbearing feeling contrary to the coldness of the house felt when first walking in. 

“I’m happy you’re home.” Was all the blonde told him prior to subtly letting go. 

Andrew cupped Victor’s hand in his and dragged another chair closer so he could sit intimately to him. His eyes flicked across the paper the boy had pushed away from the table to recast his attention to the former gravekeeper. Taking a thumb across his vein Andrew felt a protrusion stopping him from revealing his idyllic gift to the young man, it was an unnecessary nervous feeling, almost as if Victor had not already accepted his proposal months ago at Lutz.

Andrew took a deeply writhen breath, figuring he’d start small.

“To whom are you writing to?” Andrew questioned, it wasn’t like it mattered, he assumed it had been coupled to his work or possibly a distant family member he didn’t quite know about. 

“Me, actually— You know I like to write to myself when I’m lost in thought.” 

There was a silence before Victor raised the piece of paper from the table and folded it into a half sheet. This wasn’t the first time he had come upon Victor writing to himself, it seemed to be his eccentric way of journaling or keeping a diary.

“You don’t have to write to yourself all the time, you could always write to me again.” Andrew offered, he must say he did miss exchanging those unsaid and amorous letters to one another in secrecy, it was through those letters their relationship began to blossom from a tightly knit friendship to something more. 

“I live with you, my dear. I can always just talk to you!” Victor giggled.

Andrew blinked, it felt nice to hear that. Victor had been unusually quiet and distant when they first exchanged names, sending letters had aided the postman into assimilating how to be comfortable speaking without fault, the main reason why they managed to become so close enough to fall in love through the given amount of time before leaving.

“So let’s talk then, what did you do while I was gone?”

“Chores… You’ve probably been wondering why the house had been so tidy, I took the initiative to clean up a bit before you came back. What about you? You refused to tell me where you are going this morning, I must say I’m rather interested,” Victor chaffed him, but only a brittle chill crept ran down Andrew’s back. 

Victor awaited anxiously for Andrew’s response, causing him to freeze up. 

“It’s okay, I’m just teasing, you don’t have to tell me, Andrew,” 

But Andrew wanted to tell him, he just didn’t know where to begin or how. It was difficult to work up that same courage he did when he first shared his true feelings, or when he originally asked Victor to marry him. They had been living in comfort and peace for nearly a year now, it had taken some getting used to but in his most recent days he saw Lutz as nothing more than a memory of the past, now Andrew was a bit frightened of losing that. He didn’t want to make Victor anticipate a life where he was too attached or comfortable saying he was his husband when they both knew that wasn’t legally true. 

But through their eyes, why couldn’t it be?

Before he knew it Andrew was biting his tongue and reaching into his deeply strung coat pocket to repossess the box. He rested it extremely intricately onto the timber of the table and tugged at the black leather gloves that were once sheathing his scarred hands. The silver box had a very convoluted look to it, floral patterns and dendritic designs covered the surface, it had a lock on it, one that Andrew did not seal and on the back lay a golden tab reading the name of the administrator. It was only then the anxious man’s hands started to shake, one palm over the roof of the square. 

He slowly presented it to Victor, who had fallen to a genuine enchantment. 

“Andrew—”

The sudden silence started to worry Andrew, Victor seemed rather enamored though, the red tint of his face and the detached eye contact made him want to just melt. 

To Andrew it appeared like he wanted to say more, but was inarticulate, however it was important to note if their positions were to be switched, so would he. 

“It’s been about a year since we left home, this feels a bit overdue wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh… You didn’t have to do this, love,” He murmured quietly, Victor seemed silent, but enthusiastic. It almost was as he didn’t know how to react, but the happiness he felt could most definitely be seen through his eyes. His lips were upturned and gaze gentle, he reached out a hand to the box but pulled away before he could manage a contact, Andrew noticed promptly and took his palms in his hands, Victor’s in compact size to his own per usual.

“That’s okay, give me your hand,” 

Andrew kept holding one hand while in the other he slipped the ring out of the aperture, making sure to be extra careful, tediously taking his time with bringing it forth to the other’s ring finger and languidly donning it. Both their faces flushed like a heavily sunny afternoon would do after spending the day outside, Andrew was never more certain he wanted nothing more but to spend the rest of his acceptable and poor days with him when looking through his eyes time and time again, oh how he loved Victor, who would’ve known speaking to that ever so stifled postman sitting at the stairs of his church would’ve changed his life to such a colossal degree, through all the talking, kissing and sacrificing everything just so they could see each other one more time in a world that felt like nearly everything had it against them for so many years of their lives. 

Andrew would’ve and was prepared to sacrifice everything he had for none other than Victor from the beginning, even through countless occasions of suffering and abuse he took nearly everyday. Nothing was more satisfactory, overjoying and blissful to him knowing that he was finally at once safe now in the arms of someone he loved. 

“If we’re doing this now—“ Victor added, interlacing his fingers with Andrew’s. “Did you have any vows you wanted to share with me?”

It was most definitely perplexing to them how they continued to feel such passionate and fervid feelings after enduring so much together as a pair, the intensity of their hearts beating together harmonically when doing something as simple as waking up next to each other or sharing a fleeting kiss, but neither seemed to bother complaining, they never did.

For love was such a complicated thing both couldn’t explain.