Chapter Text
You never even had to step foot into your old place to move out. You just had to talk to the property manager, tell a handful of half-truths and wait for Sam and Vincent to bring all your things back to Vincent’s place…well yours and Vincent’s place.
A part of you wanted to go back into that place, to remind yourself that Monsters aren’t real. But you know it’s not true. Monsters are real, and one was inside of your home…he took you, and hurt you, and…
You sigh, looking up from your laptop screen, eyes burning slightly from staring at it. Classes are still over a week away, and finding a therapist for this type of trauma is surprisingly difficult. You’re supposed to see a therapist who specializes in these specific instances, but recourses are spread thin. Or at least thats what Vincent said. Admittedly, you weren’t listening. Another tally of guilt to add to the endless counter.
Probably because of what happened, Vincent has been busy with clan stuff. William is calling for his attention as often as possible. So he has no other choice than to leave you alone most nights. For obvious reasons, they only have clan meetings at night. Typically early, right after the sun goes down. Most of the time Vincent is back before midnight.
But not tonight.
“I probably won’t be back until pretty late, or early?” He chuckles. “So, just go to bed whenever okay? Don’t wait up for me.” Vincent said doing dishes.
You were putting away leftovers. “Awe man, I was hoping we could watch more Vampire Diaries.” You had been tormenting him (and, admittedly yourself) with that show for almost three seasons now.
Vincent laughs. “Oh no,” He feigns upsetment. “I’m devastated.”
You laugh, grabbing the clean dishes to towel dry. “I promise not to watch Shameless without you, Roomie.”
“Thanks, that other bullshit, however, watch as much as you want to your heart's content. No sweat off my back.”
You’re getting ready to take a shower when Vincent knocks on your bathroom door. “Hey?”
“Come in.”
The door cracks open and he’s looking anywhere but you.
“Vince?”
Vincent looks up, “I’m taking off. You ugh, going to bed soon?”
You shrug, “Eh, probably.”
“Well all right, I’ll probably stop by the store on my way back if it’s open.”
“Okay, cool. Have fun.”
He chuckles. “You too.”
After your shower, you get dressed in your favorite pajamas and have every plan of going to bed. But it’s not late yet, and you felt like having a snack. So you make your way downstairs, to the fancy-ass kitchen with the big-ass fridge.
Inside you found the snacks you were looking for, but you also spotted a pack of beer. Beer is good. You grab it and bring everything to the couch. You put on a comfort show and just let yourself be…
It’s always hard when you’re alone. No matter what, where, or when. At the grocery store, sleeping in your bed, watching TV with Vincent, on a phone call with a friend. It comes out of nowhere, strong and fast. Like a vampire.
You almost laugh at the thought. Then you slug back another beer. It’s said to numb the pain, right?
But of course not. Because alcohol is a depressant.
It felt like He was sitting with you on the couch. Just sitting. Haunting. Like the fucking ghost he is.
Before you knew it, you were curled up in a ball on the couch with all the alcohol in the house now sitting heavily in your stomach.
The comfort show didn’t feel so comforting now. It felt patronizing.
Vincent came home later than either of you were expecting. The slamming of the heavy front door, followed by him clearing his throat, then the beeping of the security system, and finally footsteps.
Vincent was expecting you to be asleep, coming into the living room with his dress shoes and jacket in hand.
“Oh,” His face drops in surprise.
You sit up, already upset with the situation. “I thought you weren’t going to be back tonight.”
“Things went differently than I imagined.” He responds, putting his shoes and jacket down. “You were…drinking again.”
You sigh, sitting up. “I’m going to bed.”
Vincent doesn’t say anything, watching as you stand up. But before you can even make one step in the direction of your bedroom, your knees are buckling and your gag reflex is reacting to your full stomach.
Poison taste just as back coming back up.
You were both thankful you make it to the bathroom on time.
Head over the toilet bowl. Another tally of guilt.
Vincent followed, keeping calm while you let the emotions bubble and release.
“Come here.” Vincent drops to his knees in front of you and offers a hug.
You cry. You sob. You scream. But you don’t hug him.
“Lovely, my lovely…” Vincent’s face looks so sad, it’s hard for you to look at him at all. It’s your fault, he’s sad and it’s your fucking fault.
“Why do you care about me?” You ask, not meaning to sound so mean.
“Lovely…”
Fuck him. The thought almost makes you laugh. But fuck him. Fuck him for being so nice, even though you don’t deserve that. Fuck him for caring, because you never earned that. Fuck him for making you feel this way. For making you feel so good and loved and worthy, despite all of the rest of it.
You look up at him with tired, burning eyes. “Do you just feel bad? Do you blame yourself?”
“Do you blame me?” Vincent asks, still smiling sadly. A smile that is both timid and tender. “I don’t blame anyone but Adam.” He reassures.
You look down again, letting the tears fall. “I hate it. I hate him. I…I hate this.” You gesture vaugly. Intoxicated mind mixing like poison with your already shot emotions. “Vince?”
Vincent sits down next to you, grabbing your hand to hold in his own. “Yes, Y/N?”
“I’m sorry.”
Vincent smiles his real, happy smile this time. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not for this.” Vincent squeezes your hand. “I’m here for you because…because I like you.” You feel a smile creep onto your face, not wanting to look at his eyes. “I like-like you.” Vincent whispers.
You look up at him, at his eyes. Those eyes. No matter what, they’ll always be Vincent’s eyes. No one, nothing could ever take that away from you. “You like-like me?” You whisper. “What about me, do you like-like?”
Vincent lets out a breathy giggle, “Oh well, what isn’t there? I like your laugh, your real laugh, the one you hide.” You roll your eyes, but smile and nod. “I ugh, one of the first things I noticed about you was how you dress, I love your like, style and fashion sense.”
You smile widely, “Awe, thank you.” You gesture to him, “It was the first thing about you that I noticed too.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah…how like, clean you are.”
“Clean?”
You nod, “You dress for the occasion that is…well, your life.”
Vincent chuckles.
For a short, sweet, silent moment in time, the two of you just look at each other.
“I like the jokes you make, and the shows you watch, and the music you listen to.” Vincent says, smiling softly.
Soft. He is so soft. In the best way. In the only way, someone should be.
“I…I don’t expect you to adjust to all of this overnight. And it’s okay that you’re struggling. We all go through this.” Vincent says. “And I’m here. I’m right fucking here.”
You don’t want to cry again, so you put your head on his shoulder. “When does the spinning stop?”
“When you sleep it off.”
You smile, moving your warm forehead to touch the cool skin of his neck. “No, like…my life. The world. When do those things stop spinning out of control?”
Vincent chuckles, “It doesn’t…you just eventually stop getting dizzy.”
“Can ugh, can I sleep in your bed tonight?” You ask, maybe making a long shot.
Vincent just helps you up, holding your hand as you two walk to his room. When you crawl into his bed, he puts the blanket over you.
“I, ugh, I won’t touch you if you don’t want. I’ll just lay with you, okay?”
You nod, watching him go into his walk-in closet and close the door behind him. When he comes back out, in pajamas and ready for bed. You watch him get into bed.
“I’m gonna turn off the light, okay?”
“Okay.” You whisper.
Vincent clicks his nightstand lamp off, leaving the room dark other than a soft yellow glow coming from the hallway.
You lay on your back, actively feeling the alcohol wearing off, like squeezing a sponge to let the water out. Time rolled over and it felt like hours had passed, but in reality, it had only been about ten minutes or so.
“Vin?” You finally whisper.
“Yeah?” He whispers back.
You roll over, facing his back. Carefully and slowly, you move closer to him.
“Lovely?” He whispers as you wrap your arms around him, pressing your forehead to his back. “Are you all right?”
You just squeeze onto him tighter. “I miss you, even when you’re here.” You answer, rubbing your face against the soft fabric of his shirt. “Vincent.” You whisper.
“Yeah?”
“I just wanted to say your name. I wanted to hear myself say it.”
Vincent turns to face you, he puts his fingers on your cheek and rubs gently. “Y/N. Lovely. Little One.”
You smile, hugging him close, burying your face in his chest.