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The fading light of day had given way to the moon, peeking out from behind Yharnam’s tall steeples and spires. Though he found he had no interest in watching the sunset. Laurence instead had found himself closing the door to his home with a frankly embarrassing slam, already starting to strip of his heavy robes the moment he was in the door. He lingered by his kitchen, staring into his own reflection through the glass of an ornate cabinet, before huffing and grabbing a bottle of wine from the bottom of it.
Laurence rarely found himself inclined to drink, generally far too busy for all the nonsense that came with it. But after the utter shitshow he'd been through today, and considering he was already indulging himself in a bath, it didn't seem such a bad idea. He fetched himself a glass, before making his way upstairs, no more relaxed than he'd been when he'd come through the door.
Light was fading from the house by the time he got to his bathroom. Laurence grumbled, flicking on the tall lamp by the door before turning on the tap. He sat on the bathtub's edge and undid the rest of his clothing, relishing in the feeling of cold air on bare skin. There was guilt itching at the back of his brain for taking time away from his work to relax like this, but the warm water soothed his mind in such a way that he couldn't find it in him to care.
Gods, it was nice. To be comfortable, to sink into the inviting water of the bath. It had been some time since last he did this, and Laurence finds himself wishing he did it more.
The house is silent, but not alarmingly so, punctuated only by his own movements. He felt in control of his body and his surroundings for the first time all day. But of course, like every other moment of peace he’s managed to allot himself, it’s soon broken by the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.
It's Ludwig, he knows, which shouldn't make him frown the way he does. He takes a sip of his glass, listening to the footsteps stop outside the door.
"Laurence?" The man's voice is soft as it always is, muffled behind the door. "Can I come in? It's only Ludwig."
He thinks on it, part of him not wanting Ludwig to come in. Not at all because Laurence doesn't want to see him, quite the opposite. But he fears his vulnerability, knowing that Ludwig has a hunt in hardly an hour from now. He worries he'll get so caught up in his husband's eyes and kind words that he'll keep him longer than he should.
In the end, he decides it a risk he's willing to take. If only to hear Ludwig's smooth voice again. "Come in." Laurence calls out, slack grip on his glass tightening only slightly.
Without his spectacles, he can't quite make out Ludwig's face when he walks in, but he can tell his eyes glide over him. It's not in any way he's not used to, and Laurence knows Ludwig smiles at him. Though, he can't help but feel the slightest bit self-conscious, bringing his knees to his chest.
Ludwig sits down on a stool next to the bath, wood creaking under him. "I heard you were in a frightful mood today." He says, but there is nothing but affection in his voice.
Laurence lets out a loud, exasperated sound, much to the other's amusement. "Too many bloody things went wrong."
Ludwig laughs, before schooling his features into something more serious, taking off his gloves and setting them down beside him.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
He looks at him, deep brown eyes flickering in the low light. Laurence wants to, really he does. Perhaps it would ease his tense shoulders, loosen his grip on the glass in his hand.
"You have the Hunt tonight, my love. I wouldn't want to keep you from it." He half-mumbles.
"Nonsense, there's still quite some time before I'm to head out." He stands up, moving to grab and soak a washcloth from the basin behind Laurence. "Besides, I'd hate for you to hold on to it all. I'll help you wash while you tell me about it."
Ludwig pauses, voice suddenly softer. "Only if you'll have me, dear."
He doesn't say anything, offering a sigh and a nod in place of words. It's enough for Ludwig to understand. He moves the stool to rest behind Laurence, before gingerly taking the wine glass from his hand and sitting down. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind Laurence's ear, holding his head in his hands from behind. Laurence finds himself leaning into the touch.
"How did things start?"
"…Like any other day, really. I was busy transcribing that set of texts I told you about. Nearly done, in fact." Ludwig takes his hands away, only to bring them back to Laurence's neck with the washcloth in hand. It’s cold on his skin, prompting a hiss at the change, but Ludwig's movements are gentle. "Until I was rudely interrupted. By one of my own Church doctors, no less, telling me I was expected in the lower Cathedral Ward."
"Why on earth would they say that?"
Laurence grimaces, recalling how he'd snapped at the poor woman in white. "Precisely what I'd thought. As it turns out, I was supposed to have a public appearance with the patients in Oedon Chapel."
He closes his eyes, frustrated. Ludwig drags the cloth down the nape of his neck, before moving to his chest. He says nothing, leaving Laurence to continue. The tenderness in Ludwig's movements despite his rough hands has his breath hitching.
"So, I had to compose myself, pull a speech out of my arse and act as if I had things together. Which I— I mean I've done that before." He laid back against the bath, hands hanging over the sides. "But I just…"
Laurence found that words were escaping him, an annoyed sound catching in his throat.
"Anyway. After that, I went back to my office and tried to finish the work I'd been doing and I… I couldn't." Ludwig paused in his ministrations, wanting to give him the time to think, letting his hands rest at Laurence’s shoulders. "I–It's like I hit a wall. And… and it wouldn't have happened if I'd just remembered to put the meeting in my fucking planner like I do everything else. Foolish of me. Idiotic—"
He was cut off by Ludwig bringing his hands up to cup his face again, slightly wet from holding the washcloth. A kiss is pressed to the top of his head, almost imperceptible, but enough to stop him short.
"Oh, dearheart, I won't have you say such things about yourself. You are the most intelligent, most cunning, most brilliant person I know." Ludwig spoke low, though not in a condescending way at all. His voice rippled with fondness. "You've been stressed, it's quite the task to remember everything."
"That's— that's the problem, Ludwig. It was just one bloody meeting. If I can't remember to schedule something as small as that, what kind of Vicar am I?"
There's something desperate in the way he talks, and Laurence hates how his own words taste on his tongue.
Ludwig rubs his thumbs over his cheeks. "The first, remember? Laurence, no one has done what you're doing before. Things wouldn't be where they are without the Healing Church, without you." He is soft touch and loving words, something that always manages to floor Laurence.
"If there's anyone that can be sure of whether you're up to the job or not, it would be me. And I know just how much you're capable of."
Then a tear spills over, rolling down his cheek. All Ludwig does is bring his hand up to do away with it, so caring and careful that Laurence feels like it might sink him. But his husband keeps him steady. Ludwig holds him like he is glass and porcelain, but not because he thinks him fragile. He does so to show Laurence he is safe here despite it all, that this vulnerability will do him no harm.
When he talks, he finds his voice is small, apologetic. Guilty. "I'm sorry. For bringing you down with all of this before your Hunt."
The other stands up behind him, pulling his hands through black hair before letting him go and returning the stool back to its original spot. Laurence focuses on his movements — a grounding technique. How he is gentle with everything, and how the way he smiles, soft and warm, could light a room better than even sunlight.
"When we married," Ludwig makes no effort to hide the affection in his tone. "I promised I'd stand by you. Forevermore. That's not something I intend on breaking."
How Laurence came to be married to such a gorgeous, uncompromising, vision of a man, still baffles him. Ludwig’s words leave no room for doubt or uncertainty, blooming warm in his chest. Even when he feels the water turning cold against his body, the feeling doesn't shake.
"I should dress, the water's gone cold—" Laurence cuts his own sentence off with a groan, slumping in the bath. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I left my clothes downstairs."
His husband laughs, "I'll fetch them for you. I'll be back in just a moment."
When he returns, Ludwig places the clothes on the stool before shutting the door, allowing Laurence his privacy. It might seem a strange gesture to anyone else, after all, it’s not as if they haven’t ever seen each other naked, but Ludwig knows when he would rather dress without eyes on him. The air is frigid on his bare body, and he hurries to button and lace his clothes, before draining the bath.
Laurence opens the door again when he’s done, moving to press himself against Ludwig with his hands around his neck. "I love you, husband mine. You know that, don't you?" The words come quiet and sweet.
"More than I know anything else." Ludwig kisses him, then, smiling against his lips. He looks at Laurence like he is the cosmos itself. “And I you, my light. My love.”
He only holds him tighter, kisses him harder, wishing to live in Ludwig’s embrace. It's his way of thanking him for handling him so well, for always being so good at taking him apart piece by piece, only to put him back together whole again.
One of the things Laurence has always loved about Ludwig is that he is a steady constant. His shoulders are broad and sturdy, built just as you'd expect a hunter who wields a greatsword with one hand would be. And yet, his face is soft in a way that only seems to compliment it. So unlike Laurence, who is lithe and sharp in everything he does.
They stay close for a moment longer until Laurence pulls away, bringing his hands from around Ludwig's neck to rest at his arms. "Your hunters will be expecting you soon, I'd not want you to keep them waiting."
"I know, but it won't be long." Ludwig holds him still, his words quiet and meant only for the two of them. "We'll meet again once the Hunt is over, at the gate, won't we?"
He goes up for a final kiss with a grin, one slow and lingering on his lips. "If you don't, you'll never hear the end of it. Go, go. I've kept you long enough."
It's like they both have to drag their hands away, not wanting to let go of one another. Laurence watches him go downstairs, and gives Ludwig another smile when he looks back before disappearing from view. The whole time, Laurence spins the black wedding band on his finger, like he's hoping to burn the inscription written on the inside into his skin.
The waiting was always the most dreadful part. Though, he found himself clear of mind once more. Perhaps now he could lose himself to his old books into the early hours of the night, until every beast that thought themselves bold enough to try and fight was dead and limp on the streets.
Then Laurence can see his husband again, and they will hold each other once more. But for now, he must be patient, a virtue he finds himself lacking. Tonight's Hunt will be long, but the wait will be worth it. For Ludwig, all for Ludwig.