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It had been a rough couple of days: confusion, chaos, coupled with lots of… cleaning up that had to be done. However, Vincent and Victor would be what you could call a “dynamic duo”. They eventually had a better grip on things, and finally some calm could be had.
Nothing a pair of old college roommates can’t overcome, right?
Victor found Vincent sitting at the front steps of the mansion, gazing into the horizon with his arms hugged around his knees. In his usual attire of a black tuxedo and black dress pants, Vincent looked almost like a black cat curled up into a ball from behind; and Victor realises that he still found Vincent adorable, despite all that had happened.
Perhaps he always will.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Victor settles down right next to Vincent, “I never get tired of sunsets.”
From the corner of his eye, Victor notices Vincent momentarily turning his head to look at him in acknowledgement, before facing the landscape again. A slight breeze grazes them both.
“I didn’t think I’d get to see one ever again.” He manages to say. Then something overcomes him, and he turns to face Victor, melancholy in his demeanour.
“I thought I’d never see you again.”
Victor meets Vincent’s eyes and musters a smile. “Well, my dear Vincent, here I am now, in the flesh.” He then raises his prosthetic arms slightly, “or more accurately, in the flesh and metal.”
Vincent chuckles a little.
“Guess that makes two of us.”
Victor giggles, and soon enough Vincent joins in- Victor’s laughter always had been a little contagious. The irony of laughing about the greatest suffering of each of their lives - caused by the same person, or rather, corporation - does not escape either of them, but they are willing to let it slip by, if not just for that moment.
Amidst their mirth, Victor takes in the way the orange hues of the fading sunset danced around Vincent, tracing the contours of his face. The enhanced prominence of his features, along with his lightly glistening suit, created an image worthy of being immortalised- though, there was no need to, for the subject himself was the epitome of perpetuity. Permanence. Persistence. Eminence. His existence at that instant, in itself, was a testament to this.
Victor’s eyes dipped down towards Vincent’s tie, and he eased into a gentle smile.
“You really are a man of your word, aren’t you?”
As if wearing just one specific tie ever since they graduated from RMU wasn’t enough, he had kept it unscathed throughout… all that.
Vincent followed Victor’s gaze, then held up the tie by its end. His thumb fiddled with the tip, the hint of fondness ever so noticeable.
“There was no word to be kept. I really do treasure it. Because I treasure you, Victor.”
Heat rushes to Victor’s face. He wanted to say something back- it wasn’t as if they were unfamiliar with exchanging cheesy words of sentiment- but for some indiscernible reason, this time, he was at a loss for words. Maybe the fact that Vincent’s sincerity toward him stayed unwavering, despite what he had been through, overwhelmed him. Or maybe it was the reality of their situation that made those words much more profound, and he was afraid of uttering a reply that would fall short in intensity.
Spontaneously, he reaches out for the tie. Impulsively, he lifts it up to his nose and sniffs it. Vincent lifts an eyebrow.
“What are you doing?”
Victor looks up at Vincent, cybernetic eyes twinkling, and gives an awkward half-grin.
“I was just wondering how bad it would stink, especially after everything; but it seems you are meticulous as always, my dear Vincent.”
Rolling his eyes, Vincent playfully nudges Victor’s leg with his, and something of a back-and-forth shoving contest ensues. Their lives were now far from ordinary, far from simple, but they were just two normal friends after all.
They soon got over their excitement. Vincent, already against Victor’s shoulder, leans into him and envelopes him in a sudden embrace. Perplexed, Victor belatedly returns it. He starts to give Vincent a few slow pats on the back, and patiently awaits anything he might have to say. Or not. He was fine just staying like this, too.
“Thank you...for being with me, all these years…” Vincent tightens the hug, “...I mean it.”
It was almost as if he was trying to escape from something by hiding deeper into the embrace they shared- something abysmal from deep within. It had always been there, but this recent incident seemed to have brought it to life; Vincent could swear he feels it writhing in his thoracic cavity, spreading out beneath his skin: waiting, to swallow him whole.
Victor was aware of this. The loneliness. Even out of the chamber, he could only imagine the deep-seated despair that would linger amongst the crevices of Vincent’s thoughts and each moment in his life. And to begin with, despair was not foreign to Victor himself. He held Vincent closer. He could now catch the faint scent of the shampoo they shared.
“It’s a given.” He ruffles Vincent’s hair, then, remembering something, lets out a laugh. “I told you, didn’t I? You aren’t getting rid of me just yet.”
At that statement, Victor felt Vincent smiling against him, before nuzzling into his shoulder. The heat returned to his cheeks. Then, Vincent’s lips clamped down ever so slightly. He opened wider.
“Vincent?”
It felt like several spikes being punctured through his skin, into his flesh; Vincent started moving his jaw, and the searing pain coursed through him. Victor immediately grabbed at Vincent’s arms, squeezing them, trying to will him to stop. A metallic odour hits his nostrils, and he gripped Vincent’s arms harder- the shredding of his flesh, all the sensations and sounds that came along with it, was getting unbearable. Vincent was gnawing right at the area where his prosthesis met his original body, which did deter him a little, but it would still be ideal if he didn’t experience losing an arm again.
He started shaking Vincent, or rather, trying to. He was unmovable.
“Vincent? Vincent. C’mon buddy, snap out of it.”
Vincent started loosening up, albeit tentatively, almost hesitantly- it was a struggle between his rationality, or more precisely, his humanity, and an instinct that could only be described as animalistic. Victor continued to utter words of encouragement, and when Vincent finally retracted from his shoulder, Victor held him steady to check on him.
Vincent was wide-eyed, his lips quivering. Blood trickled down from his mouth. The sun had already set, and the glint of the veranda lights in the dripping crimson created an uncanny sense of comfort. Ignoring the growing patch of red on his sleeve and the intensifying stinging of his shoulder, Victor gathered up his most reassuring smile.
“Ah...I guess it’s happened again, huh?”
Vincent, on the other hand, was not able to shrug it off. He turned his gaze towards the ground, and soon enough his figure started to tremble. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he was gripping them. It was not the first time Victor had seen Vincent cry, but he still felt a tang in his heart. He placed his hand over Vincent’s, to soothe him into unclenching it. Metal on flesh. Flesh on metal.
“I’ll...fix you the usual.”