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Owen thought this would be the cure. The remedy to a life alone. The antidote to his illness. The side effects were nominal, compared to the benefits.
To be a vampire, was to cure all his ailments.
Instead, he learned a whole new kind of curse. A sickness beyond the skin and bones, more painful and agonizing than any blister, burn, bruise, or abrasion.
A broken heart. The weak sizzle of sunlight upon his skin was nothing compared to the deep ache in his chest. A pain that has only grown as time pulse him further from the arms of his lover. He was cured, only to become sicker than ever.
Pointed ears flick at the sound of soft footfalls. Steps trained to be quiet and light, to test the surface for traps before putting its full weight upon it. Only a handful of souls in this dreadful town carry themselves in such a way. Knowing Owen's luck, it would be the soldier and her self-righteous pomp.
"Owen?" This is somehow better and worse at once. The vampire doesn't turn, doesn't speak, doesn't acknowledge. His eyes remain rooted to the scab amongst the forest known as Oakhurst. Emotions toil within him at it's sight. Louis's beloved home, but the place of torment for Owen. Of ostracization, both then and now. It's where he found the love of his life, and lost him. Oakhurst has always been a place of hypocrisy. "Owen, what are you doing?"
"Go away, Doctor. Don't you know it's dangerous to approach a brooding vampire?" He refuses to even glance at Legundo. In all honesty, he's afraid. The doctor is a hypocrisy of his own, and one that only tangles Owen's emotions further.
"Two hundred years of being alone wasn't enough for you?" It wasn't a taunt, but it stung all the same.
"Two thousand years would never be enough to properly mourn what I have lost."
The scrape of shoes alerts the vampire that Legundo, against all wisdom, has approached further. He now sits beside the monster, as if it were an old friend. "So that's what this is… grieving your sire."
A hiss, a warning Legundo is treading on thin ice.
But he continues to push. Ever dancing with danger, throwing his life to the wind. He doesn't look at Owen, and Owen doesn't look to him, but Legundo dares to tug on that thin strand binding the two together. "Would it help to talk?"
"You wouldn't understand." Tears well at the corner of Owen's eyes, salt stinging and vision blurring.
A long, heavy sigh, but only a few seconds of quiet. "You're right. I can't. I can't imagine how a loss like that must feel… someone so important to you, ripped away, and left to the ages alone-"
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Finally, Owen turns, crimson gaze fixing on the doctor as his lips turn to a scowl. Streaks of tears mar his mottled skin like scars, his breath hitched to hide further sobs. "Because right now? All you're accomplishing is making me want to tear your throat out."
Legundo barely blinks at the threat. "What I'm trying to say is… you shouldn't have to hold this in all on your own. Letting it fester and warp. A broken heart is a dangerous disease."
The scowl only deepens. "Oh, yeah? And what do you posit a cure for this malady?"
Owen's words are as sharp as his fangs, a warning and a reminder to the doctor who he's talking to. One who knows the cure may be worse than the disease, who has seen the malice of misguided medics. Legundo shifts in his spot, tugging on the hem of his smock and worrying his lips. Owen can see his mind turn over every words before it passes his lips. "It would be no cure, and I don't think it would fix you or your broken heart… but it might help you move on."
"And what if I do not want to move on?" Why would he want to give up his grief, if it's one of the last things holding him to Louis?
"Because I can see how much it hurts you." Eyes meet, and Legundo refuses to look away. Refuses to back down. "Moving on doesn't mean forgetting him. In fact, maybe it'd bring you closer to him." Silence. Owen doesn't speak, unwilling to even give Legundo the satisfaction of a response. He doesn't need one to keep speaking. "What was he like? Who was he as a…person."
He shouldn't answer. Shouldn't feed into whatever the doctor is trying to extract from him. Surely he will just use this knowledge against him, just as the merchants of Oakhurst used Owen as a scapegoat.
And yet, his heart begs to speak. To talk about him, memories buried two hundred long years crying out to be resurrected. A loneliness clawing from his chest.
So he speaks. He tells Legundo about Louis, about his smile and his gentle hands. Without much prompt, he tells how the two met, heart rending and tears flowing free. It was a dam breaking apart, at first just a trickle, quickly turning into a flood Owen could no longer stop. He feels he would only drown if he tried.
At some point, Legundo's hand comes to rest at the small of Owen's back, but rather than shirk the touch, the vampire seeks its warmth. Once upon a time, it was him who offered such a comfort. It was the most Owen has spoken in a single sitting, perhaps even more than he ever spoke to a single person- Louis included. It's like trying to cast a net and catch a whole river, describing his feelings for his sire.
Through it all, Legundo sits, and listens.
Eventually, words and voice fail Owen, and a long silence blankets the rise. Deep, ragged breaths shudder Owen's lithe figure, but the doctor remains as resilient as a rock. The one solid thing for Owen to cling upon as the flood threatens to drag him away. Gentle circles trace along his back, a connection between life and death, love and loss, monster and man.
When Owen finds his voice, it's raw and husky. "See, there-" He pauses, clearing his throat before trying again. "As you can see, there's no way to fix me. Your cure is futile, doctor."
"Is it really?" Legundo humans, tempo in his voice annoyingly cheerful. "Sometimes, the best way to heal a broken heart is to talk, have someone who will listen, share the grief instead of enduring it alone. I'd say we're on a good track… and I enjoyed getting to see you smile, for once."
For a brief moment, their eyes meet, Owen's red not from bloodlust, but tears. The vampire is the first to look away, voice low when he speaks. "I miss him…I'm- I'm afraid of forgetting him. I can't lose him again."
"You won't," Legundo reassures. "Especially if you tell his story, it keeps him close. Opens the old wound, yes, but gives it a chance to heal."
A soft press of weight against Owen's temple, something that takes a long second for him to recognize as a kiss. Legundo had kissed him, or at least his forehead. So soft, yet full of so much weight. Louis used to do the same.
"You're something special to me, Owen. Not as a patient, or a victim, but as a person filled with so much humanity it rips you apart. I love you, but I'm not here to replace Louis. I'm not here to be his stand-in, or make you forget him. Just know…I'm here, waiting. For if ever you're ready to open your heart again."
Before Legundo can lean back, or flee, or act on anything going on in that scholarly mind of his, Owen grabs the human by the shoulders and lurches into a kiss. It's not pretty, but what of Owen ever is? What of Legundo ever was? But it was real, and thrust into this bleeding heart of a world so keen to tear pretty things apart. They kiss, unrestrained and unrepentant, messy but passionate, until their lips are numb and Legundo is gasping for air.
"I hope my heart is ready in that time, Doctor."
As sudden as Legundo appeared, Owen disappears. Heart fluttering as fast as his wings, mind racing with the wind as his tiny chiropteran form flutters away. And where once a vampire languished alone, a human now sits. Dazed, confused, and a little lovestruck.
But, hopefully, having offered a cure for a broken heart.