Work Text:
"Please." There were tears streaming down Tommy's face as he stared down at the broken body of his friend, clutching his shaking hand as a pool of red began to seep into the concrete surrounding them.
Phil was pale. Paler than he should be. His bright blue eyes were dull as he stared up, past the towering walls of the dingy alleyway, and into the sky. The deep, gaping wound in his chest glistened wetly in the light of the distant streetlamps, and even as Tommy desperately pressed against it to try and staunch the bleeding, he could tell Phil's breath were coming faster. Wetter. Closer to the end.
"Please, Phil." Tommy's voice cracked, thin frame shaking as he knelt beside Phil and begged. "I need to turn you. I have to, or-" His breath faltered. He couldn't say it. He couldn't say the word die, it made it feel too real. Too possible.
If only Phil hadn't jumped in front of that damned vampire hunter's weapon. If only Phil hadn't been so stupidly mortal, fragile, and selfless.
Phil stuttered in breath, head lolling to the side as he choked on a bit of blood in the process. It splattered onto the dirty alleyway pavement as he coughed it out, vainly trying to clear his lungs. Tommy inhaled sharply at the sight, choking on the metallic scent of it as his heart plummeted in his chest.
"Y'know, mate." Phil whispered, refusing to look at him. "There comes a time for everything. You've been alive a lot longer than I have, I'm sure you know that." Phil tried to smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace as a wave of pain wracked his body. His hand shook in Tommy's grip, rapidly growing weaker from the strain of it even as Tommy continued to squeeze desperately.
"There comes a day, sometimes, when you have to say goodbye." Phil said gently, kindly, keeping his eyes to the sky. Always to the sky.
Tommy remembers Phil telling him once, about how much he loved the constellations. How much he used to dream of soaring next to them on strong wings, far away from where any worries could reach him. Tommy would always laugh and joke that he really could do that, if he became a vampire. Phil would scold him and change the topic every time.
The sky was cloudy tonight. No stars were visible, but Phil stared like he could see them anyways. Tommy hated it. He hated how ready Phil looked to leave him.
"This isn't a goodbye." He insisted, putting as much conviction into his voice as possible. "You're going to live, because you're going to let me bite you. Please."
"I don't want to be a vampire, Tommy." Phil's voice is barely audible at this point, practically an exhalation of words and nothing else. Tommy had to perk his ears to even make out the sound of it over the distant ambiance of the city. "We've talked about this."
"And I'm telling you to reconsider." Tommy hissed, desperate. He could feel Phil's pulse stuttering. His skin was growing cooler beneath Tommy's touch, and Tommy felt like he could die from the idea of it. The idea of Phil's death.
A world without late night chats over warm drinks. A world where Tommy no longer gives horribly butchered accounts of historical events just to hear Phil laugh. A world where Tommy cries over times long past, of friends long gone, and Phil isn't there to hold him softly and tell him everything was going to be okay.
A world where Phil was just a memory, barely more than a lost voice and a fading face to join the other million lost voices and fading faces that haunted Tommy's mind.
A world without Phil.
The very thought makes Tommy's want to scream.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't live without Phil.
He had to bite him.
"Please." He tries one more time, bowing his head and squeezing Phil's hand between both of his own like the word was a desperate prayer. Honestly, it may as well have been- Tommy would gladly take a miracle right now. Hell, he'd take a curse right now if it meant Phil could just keep being alive.
Phil wasn't responding anymore. He wasn't responding anymore. Tommy's eyes flicked towards his chest, panicked, heart stuttering when he noticed it was barely moving anymore and and and-
Fuck it.
He couldn't do this.
"I'm sorry, Phil. I'm so, so sorry." He sobbed before, in one quick motion, pulled Phil's arm close to his chest and let his fangs sink deep into Phil's skin.
The effect it had on the man was immediate, his body jerking briefly as Tommy's venom took hold, racing through Phil's bloodstream like a wild thing to begin it's nasty work. It would hurt. Tommy knew it would hurt. He remembers how much it had hurt when he turned, all those hundreds of years ago. There is a moment, however brief, where he watches Phil tense and wonders if this is the wrong choice.
Then he imagines standing, cold and alone, at his and Phil's favorite places. He imagines howling all of his anguish at the stars and feeling the deep burn of fury when they refuse to answer. He imagines grieving the loss of his friend for the rest of his immortal life, just like he grieved the loss of the many other friends before him.
He keeps the venom flowing.
He isn't sure how long he stays kneeling in that dingy, dirty alleyway with Phil, but it's long enough for the sky to begin to pink with the signs of early morning.
Knowing the touch of sunlight would be a death sentence for a newly turned vampire, Tommy forces himself to stand, ignoring how his legs tremble like a newborn fawn's as he stares down at a cold pool of blood and the now-still form of a man he couldn't live without.
He takes a breath, in and out. He feels the air curl through his lungs and focuses on the biting chill of it. He clenches his hands into fists until they stop shaking. He comforts himself with the knowledge that it is now impossible for Phil to die.
He ignores the guilt that gnaws at him.
Picking up Phil as gently as possible, Tommy could fall over at the relief that flooded him at the sight of the partially healed wound on his friend's chest. It would be okay now. The nightmare was over. The worst of it was over.
(But what if Phil doesn't forgive him?)
He blinks, ignores the thought and the way it poisons his mind with a very different type of grief, and leaves. He pays no mind to the bright red trail of footprints he leaves behind him. It wouldn't be enough for the hunters to track them if they bother to come looking.
The only thing that matters now is getting Phil to safety.
It's some months later when Phil finally broaches the subject, staring thoughtfully into his cup of tea as he and Tommy sat at a little wooden table in the abandoned house they'd fixed up and claimed as their own.
It was a warm summer evening. Golden sunlight spilled in through the windows, making the room feel as if it was glowing around them. Delicate particles of dust danced in front of Tommy's nose, and he was taking great pleasure in swiping his hand through them to make them dance faster.
"You know, I never thanked you for turning me."
Tommy's hand stills, ears pinning back and immediately wary of the topic shift. He squints at Phil in confusion, surprised to find no trace of anger in the man's face. It was that alone that gave him the courage to answer.
"Thanked me?" He asks, cautious. "Why would you thank me? We both agreed that what I did to you was shit."
Phil shakes his head, idly swirling the tea around in his cup as he speaks. "Nah, I really wasn't ready to die. It just took me a while to realize it."
"What?" Tommy bursts, shocked. "Then- what about all the stuff you said? About it being your time or whatever? What about all those times you said you never wanted to be turned? Ever? Did you just-" He throws his hands up in disbelief, gesturing emphatically as he talks. "-change your mind? Just now?”
Phil laughs, the warm and familiar sound working wonders to soothe most of Tommy's nerves. Still, he crosses his arms and scowls lightly at Phil, thoroughly unconvinced. There was no way he could just... Decide he thought differently. Not after all the grief he'd given Tommy over the years.
"Sometimes," Phil explains, still smiling. "one fear triumphs over another. I was scared of death, but I was more scared of what infinity could mean. Turns out though," He gave Tommy a meaningful look, blue eyes glittering with something fond. "infinity isn't so bad with the right company."
Tommy isn't sure how he feels about that. The word relief was close, followed closely by hope and joy, but it was mixed with something that tasted dark and bitter and far too close to guilt for his liking.
Still, it's hard to say all of that when Phil is looking at him so kindly, so he pushes it away for a moment.
"Well, I'd fucking hope so." Tommy says instead of all the thousand lingering sorrys he wants to give. "I'm the best damn company this world has to offer. You’re lucky you found me when you did, before someone else snatched me up as their best friend." He jokes halfheartedly, face feeling strangely warm, considering he was a vampire.
Phil smiled again before taking a long sip of his tea and looking out the window, content with letting the silence linger as the two enjoyed the remnants of the evening. It was nice. With the way they'd tinted the windows, the sun couldn't hurt them from inside, so they got to enjoy the beauty of the sunset. Tommy did his best to appreciate it and the way it bathed the world in colors so vibrant it could make a rainbow cry.
Still, even in a moment so serene, guilt continues to gnaw at Tommy. It bit and scratched and scraped at his conscience, eating away at him until he realized his fingers were gripping his cup tight enough for it to crack. He blinks as warm tea drips through his hands, soaking into the fabric of the tablecloth below.
This wasn't a question he couldn't ask.
"You know, it's just-" He puts the cup down a bit too harshly. It settles with a loud thump, crack worsening enough for tea to slowly start puddling around it. Tommy winces and Phil shoot him a worried look. "Are you sure it's okay, then? Really, really sure?" He's suffocating beneath Phil's gaze, so he looks away, staring at the floor. The floor couldn't hate him. The floor couldn't judge him. "Because I'd understand, y'know. If it's not. It was a lot for me to just... Do."
Phil is quiet for a moment. The dust continues to dance. The sun continues to shine. The guilt continues to gnaw.
"Tommy, I get to have wings now. It's more than okay."
The unexpected reply sends Tommy into a fit of laughter, head flinging back from the force of it as Phil laughs alongside him.
Things were still rocky between them. It would take more time for Phil to fully adjust to being a vampire, and even more time for him to really convince Tommy that he had been forgiven a long, long time ago.
In the meantime, at least they would always have each other's company to enjoy, and more sunsets to look forward to.