Chapter Text
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
The clock on top of the television wouldn't stop ticking. Of course it wouldn't. It aggravated Blaise, but he stayed still, laying with his feet up on the couch.
They were in Damon's apartment again. It was raining again. Hard. The television had no signal, now, and the reality had hit them both.
Manfred was gone. He had left a week ago, now. It was quiet, besides the buzz of the television and the ticking of the clock.
So, so quiet.
Blaise looked at Damon. He seemed out of it. Staring at nothing. His usual smile was gone. He was still. His eyes, usually so full of lush life, were half-closed and empty.
Blaise threw his arm in the general direction of the clock, nodding his head towards his boyfriend. "Can I burn that thing?" he requested but only in spirit, hoping to change the silent topic. He fiddled with his lighter, poking at the switch.
Damon made a small noise, a hum in the back of his throat, before opening his mouth for a moment. Nothing came out. He tried again. "That wouldn't be such a good idea, would it be, Blaisie?" His voice was quiet, the usual booming quality replaced. It was a little scary to Blaise. He fidgeted at a faster pace, itching to turn the lighter on. He didn't want to bother Damon in this state, though. The big man in question closed his eyes fully this time. He was quiet.
The silent topic resumed. They missed Manfred.
Blaise kicked his bare feet a little, putting one over the other on the arm of the couch. He sighed, setting his lighter down next to his head. Closing his eyes in a mirroring motion, he folded his hands over his stomach and laced his fingers together, fiddling them slightly. He thought of his boyfriend — no, his ex-boyfriend, now. He must be having fun in Germany, that asshole. Leaving them all behind — who couldn't have seen it coming? The man was obsessed with work, perfection, being as cold as ice. He had barely let them in in the first place.
Still…
He thought of the teasing, the small chuckle coming forth from Manny's lips, the heat on his fingertips as he put a hand on his lover's blushing cheek. A different spark than his beloved lighter; a warmer one. He would love to prod at the irritable man, yet all the same, he would snuggle up against the warmth from the icy force. The way they all fit like a perfect storm, Damon, him, and Manfred. Even when he hurled insults the week before, he never meant them all. Just… he was angry at Manny, sure, but most of all he blamed the world for hurting their relationship as so. It was unfair. So unfair.
He missed Manfred.
Usually he had Damon to extinguish his anger, his passionate spouts of rage, but now? He was just so quiet. Both of them were, he supposed.
He drummed his fingers against his stomach, craning his neck a little to look at his lover again. Damon was breathing steadily, his chest rising evenly. "You asleep, babe?" His voice came out much quieter than he hoped it would, unmasking his uncertainty.
Damon opened his eyes, glancing over at Blaise. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He was silent, those green eyes boring a hole into him. Tick. Tock. Tick… tock. "I think," he started slowly, his voice quivering a little, "I have some work to do." He stayed still, unmoving, expectant.
"Baby, it's your day off."
"There's paperwork I need to finish."
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
The static cut out, the rain letting up a little. Some random comedy was on, the laugh track ringing in his ears.
They kept staring at each other. Damon looked away, repeating, "I think there's paperwork I need to finish."
Blaise took the hint. Getting up with a stretch, he strode over to the armchair and leaned down, giving his boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. Damon remained still, not making eye contact. "Okay," Blaise whispered. "Okay."
He passed through the apartment, back to the front door. He slung his slick red jacket over himself, pulling at the lapels so it hugged his shoulders. He slipped on his combat boots, buckling them up.
Taking one last glance back into the apartment, he saw Damon unmoved, staring into space. He just wanted his lover to be okay. Maybe he just needed some time alone. Maybe. He was never good at reading emotions.
He turned around, grasped the handle, and left.
It was still raining when he got outside. Not as hard, but decently so. He strapped on his biker goggles and made his way to his motorcycle. It was going to be a long night.
*****
Back in his apartment, Blaise was draped against the sofa, wearing nothing but a band t-shirt and underwear. He ran his hands through his fluffed hair; it was growing long. Good. He slipped a cigarette from the box by his side, taking his lighter out and flicking it on by his lips. He didn't burn himself this time. Good. There was no ticking here, just the pattering of rain against the window. The silence almost bothered him, now.
He puffed at his cigarette, not taking care to draw it slow this time. Smoke filled the room. He didn't give a shit about smoke damage; that was why his whole apartment was gray and ashy.
He coughed a little, put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table next to him, and put his head in his hands.
"Fuck."