Chapter Text
Mizrak still hadn't adapted to that world; a reality shaped and built just like the one he had grown in, but with colors far more vivid and smells strong enough to overwhelm his senses. The darkest alley appeared before his eyes like a day street with a blue hue caused by the cooler lightning of the night.
Even the sounds felt unbearable to hear, his feet striking the ground in stomps didn't create a nice rhythm but a punch to his eardrums. Everything was so clear and yet blurry and flickering.
He had to relearn the streets all over again, to walk around with the knowledge a new kind of instinct and desire growled in his chest as soon as he became aware of the presence of a human. And each time he'd stop at the religious symbols scattered in the streets, be it a simple cross on a wall or the statue of some saint, his heart ached and his guts twisted: was this how the world felt like when your tie to God had been abruptly cut?
That week had been the longest he hadn't prayed in years, the prayers tasted like flames on his tongue and his throat seemed to dry up and close whenever he tried to step foot in a church. Sometimes he could almost feel it perfectly, each of God's fingers against his skin as they wrapped around his neck and squeezed to shut him up, to stop a soulless creature to try and profess the holy gospel of the church of Peter.
He thought of martyrdom. Have saints ever felt like this? Have saints ever felt a desire for blood and meat during their fasts in the deserts? Have they ever seen more familiarities in the faces of devils when they felt their God wasn't answering back? Have they ever found themselves crawling or slithering back to a hole when the sun rose and the divine light that cleans the world from the shadows of night was ready to burn holes in their skins?
It had been a week since he had been turned, since he had sneaked out of that bedroom before the sun could come up in the sky and had started what he had defined as his period of reflection. He wasn't stupid, he knew the implications of being turned by another vampire, he was aware that between him and Olrox, the tie had become impossible to undo.
But then again, did he want it to come undone? In those last moments, where everything seemed to slip away through his fingers, he had begged for his lover to save him from the flames of hell, to hunt death away from him and let him see another day…in the end, even if he couldn't admit it to himself still, he had begged for this knot to be not only made but had pulled on one end to tighten it himself.
Was it a punishment or a blessing? Had he feared the fires of hell enough for them to have found him in this reality and created a new damnation for him, the damnation of living even when he wasn't supposed to. Or had God heard his prayer and gave him a second chance of rebirth but he was still too blind to see it?
And there he was, stomping down the dark hallways and following that beloved sweet perfume. He could feel his heart beat like a war drum, announcing something difficult and frightening was coming; it was time to face his creator.
The gate was left half open, the acute gothic arch making it look slander, elongated, as if it was escaping towards the sky. In a way, that was the shape Mizrak had always given to the Gates of Heaven; something that extends upwards, the end impossible to reach by the human eyes, like an old tree in a forest that grows taller than others to find sun, the metal grows in the search of closeness to God.
He had expected for the gate to screech uncomfortably as he pushed on it, but its hinges must've been oiled up recently as he smoothly managed to get in. His steps too, they were far less threatening in sound as the grass absorbed their impact and barely made him hearable to a human.
“Are you ready now?” That voice, smooth and warm as freshly melted caramel, like a symphony written specifically to seduce his ears. “It's been a week.”
Orlox appeared under the silver moonlight like a lighthouse in the stormiest of nights, the waves that had been turning to tsunamis and throwing Mizrak’s boat around like a toy, suddenly ceased the moment he looked at him again. The ocean was calm and warm enough to swim into, and it had become so sweet he could drink it, just for him to end his thirst gulping on nectar.
“I told you, I needed time.” His voice was up an octave as he now could almost feel the sensation of the man's hair against his face, something he remembered so vividly and that he could relive every time he stood by his side.
Olrox’ eyes crawled over him, taking him in from head to toe, he didn't need to say he had missed him, it was clear as day in the way his pupils immediately dilated at the sight of him. “I gave you all the time you wanted, you chose to come back now.” He pointed out.
“Being turned is frightening, it's a new world you need to rediscover…” he kept talking, his ears twitching slightly at each step Mizrak took towards him, both of them aware just how much their crave for each other had grown. “But you asked me to leave you alone, and so I did.”
Mizrak thought it must've been the first time he had initiated something, his hand moving forward and gently cupping Olrox' as he raised it before letting their fingers braid with each other. He had never seen that look in his lover's eyes, he had never been allowed to, the warmth and light veil of tears making the green irises softer but at the same time even more vivid.
“I was angry, I didn't want to admit that I was fully aware of what I had asked you on my deathbed.” Mizrak said, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, his eyes once again walking the bath from his shoulders up to his face as to see those eyes look at him like that for the first time again. It was tragic, both of them were suffering, but this suffering was brought by a deeper love that only consolidated the more Mizrak let himself back in Olrox' hold. “I asked you to save me and you did it, I told you I was afraid of dying and you stopped it from happening…I can pretend I didn't want it, but I knew well what I was asking for when I begged for your help.”
Olrox' nodded, his eyes unable to watch as Mizrak had broken down in front of him, how the tall man didn't even seem to recognize how he had started to sob so openly pained by how they had left each other that night. “I should've given you the choice.”
But Mizrak shook his head, his arms coming around Olrox suddenly, holding him as tight to his chest as the Aztec vampire had done with him time and time again. “I chose my path when I decided to follow you that day, after your invitation.”
Olrox wanted to interrupt him, to take accountability and blame as to what had happened, to remember Mizrak he never outwardly asked him anything. His ears got lower and lower, the points all the way back as he tried to contain himself from talking over him. It wasn't fair, for once he wanted to take responsibility for his actions and Mizrak just wouldn't let him.
He had seen him cry so many times, a giant man that tended to stumble and cry when life got too heavy on his shoulders; the long haired vampire found himself wondering if Mizrak had always cried this much or if he had brought so much trouble in his life that it had gotten worse the more they stood by each other.
“The day I asked you if you'd turn me too,” Mizrak interrupted his lover's thoughts, “you said you wouldn't because you didn't love me. That was my sign to go, to give my back to you if I didn't want this to be the outcome, to follow my God to a new pasture.” He spoke so firmly and confidently for a man that was short on air and with crimson tears staining along his cheeks. “But I stayed, I allowed you to fall for me fully knowing this would've happened. I just didn't want to admit to myself that it could be love that finally led me away from the gospel I had so rigidly followed and convinced myself of adoring.”
Olrox tried to find the words, for the first time his throat felt dry for something beside hunger, he wanted to contradict him and dress himself in the role of the devil he had learned to accept through words and actions coming from Mizrak in the past.
How could this be the same man that had sustained a creature of hell like him couldn't have a soul? How could this be the same man that had preached holiness in their shared bed? How could this be the same man that had genuflected at the cross and begged to be freed by the very existence of his tempter?
“Second Book of Corinthians 11:3; But I'm afraid that just as Ever was deceived by the serpent's cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ.” Mirzrak cited from the heart, his hand trembling slightly as they almost carved into his own flesh while he held Olrox right against his chest. “You were never the snake, Olrox, I was. I brought myself to bite into your fruits, so bountiful and perfectly ripe; you were nothing but a tree laying a branch my way and I was the snake that craved to slyther up your trunk.”
Olrox didn't know how to respond right away, which was a rare occurrence on his behalf. He felt his heart hammer against his eardrums, his breathing fastening as his hands desperately held onto Mizrak’s shoulders in the tight embrace he had found himself.
“Just hold me.” He whispered, his emerald eyes closing as his face buried itself against the monk's neck. Mizrak could tell he was feeling overwhelmed by emotions as his ears kept twitching nervously.
The brown haired vampire gently caressed his back as he asked in a voice just as low, whispering. “Were you scared I wouldn't come back?”
Just some days prior, Olrox wouldn't have even dreamed of responding to that question, his stubbornness in not showing just how vulnerable Mizrak made his heart feel, but in this moment, as he let himself be held and cradled in the arms of his lover, he nodded. A simple gesture accompanied by no sound except from the light melody of his earrings moving along with his head.
Mizrak felt a sensation that he had grown familiar to lately, something similar to feeling his heart grow thrice its size at Olrox’s little acknowledgments of the love between them, a love he himself had negated multiple times, that he had pushed away scared of sin and eternal pain just as Jesus had done with the grail in his moments of doubt and fright.
“You'll never lose me, my love.” He whispered against the top of the long haired vampire, his voice carrying so much sentiment and sweetness as he allowed himself to finally call him with the name his heart had craved calling him by. “I see it now, the value of this gift you gave me.”
“It's a curse, Mizrak. I know it too well.” Olrox sobbed out, finally letting himself seen in that vulnerable state, allowing tears to fall as he found refuge in the man's hold.
“No, not if it comes from you.” Mizrak answered, his trembling lips leaving a soft sequence of kisses on top of Olrox’ hair, feeling his heart fill with hurt at seeing his beloved cry but also knowing they both needed it. For once, they both needed to just hold onto each other and accept that this love would've blossomed into something beautiful if they stopped being scared and allowed it to grow.
Their heads raised in unison as they felt a shift in the crisp air of the early morning, the sun slowly creeping from above the rooftops of the nearby houses and slamming against the tall acute windows, creating a waterfall of colors as the stained glass narrating of the holy actions of saints seemed to come to life once again.
Mizrak swore he could've seen them move as Olrox grabbed his hand to pull him away, to start and walk to a safer space. He hoped it would get easier with time, getting to see just a hint of the sun and having to escape from it.
But as he followed Olrox down the streets to reach what the older vampire had claimed as his temporary safe lair for the daytime, he couldn't help but observe how the tallest buildings all seemed more colorful now as the sun hit them. He knew his eyes could see a wider range of colors now, but something in his way of looking at architecture changed too, everything had become more fascinating.
The stone houses that had first looked so rough and oppriment with their low ceilings now looked full of life as he could spot small sprouts of grass at their bases and could hear the life coming from the bird nests safely hidden under the roofs.
Even their lair, a small house with windows covered in thick curtains to block the sun, seemed lively, for once the world didn't look like a frightening place he had to rediscover alone. From now he knew that learning to live by Olrox's side would've brought memories in colors so bright he could already see them in the stained glass windows if he squinted his eyes.
He could imagine Olrox in his best clothes laying on a bed of fritillaries, heliotropes, hyacinths, edelweiss, dahlias and roses, a jubilation of colors and deeper meanings for those sensible to finding them. The artisans would've got him looking much softer than he appeared to the untrained eye, seeing him through a stronger lens that showed how fiercely and devotedly he loved.
He wondered what the artists would've gotten right about himself, if they would've depicted him kneeling at his feet in devotion like one does to the statue of the Holy Virgin. Or sitting down with his head resting on his lover's lap, reminiscing of the life he had lived but with his eyes pointed towards him, gazing at the future to come with a newfound sense of hope.
After all, he had whole of eternity to find an answer.