Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Owen wrapped the fresh linen around his arm with automatic movements. The crisp and soft material under his fingers was even more familiar to him than that of his own skin, and the motion more so than even walking. He didn’t stop till his arms, hands, and neck were hidden away, then he grabbed his bag and set for the town.

The fresh morning air bit his nose, but remained more pleasant than what awaited him once he left the cottage he had built for himself. Owen wrapped his cape tighter around himself. The soft ground underneath his feet swiftly turned to gravel that crunched with every footstep, and it didn’t take long before the hustling and bustling of the other early birds in town could be heard. 

Owen preferred to come early, so he would run into as few as possible on the spare occasion he went to the market, but there was another reason he was taking the trip today.

The main cobbled street leading through Oakhurst had market stalls on either side. They sold everything from crops, to steak, paper, lumber, and luxuries. From first light, people could be found there, selling, buying or simply catching up with familiars. It was the busiest part of town, and it was said to be impossible to walk through without running into a close friend. For most people, at least.

As soon as they spotted him, the townsfolk stepped out of the way, at this point not even bothering to be subtle about it. Owen kept his head high and teeth clenched as he moved with determined steps.

In his head, he was running through the pitch for the presentation. A new mill would be good for the town, the job would earn him extra money he desperately needed and… if he was useful, if he contributed, then maybe… maybe the townsfolk would be a little kinder.

He turned down one of the alleyways near the edge of the market to find the first stall. The seller didn’t quite reach his gaze. Owen put the correct number of coins on their table, and waited as the seller reached for a piece of cloth to pick them up, then put the potatoes out. It wasn’t until the seller had fully retracted his hand that Owen grabbed the potatoes. He continued the trip, dancing the same dance at every stall he stopped by and listened to the sellers eagerly making small talk with their other customers.

Owen blocked out the loud whispers and stares, as well as pushing down his anger, as he moved about. He focused instead on the light pain coating his skin. He had to buy more linen wraps soon too.

When he was finally done, he walked to the town hall and mayor’s office, a large building in the middle of town. Owen had never seen the mayor, due to his dedication to the job, even though he had been in this position for a few years now. He was much more elusive than the previous mayors, who enjoyed taking walks through town to a crowd of admirers. Then again, this mayor was from out of town.

Owen let himself into the building, through the large door with the intricately carved design. The hall was a large open room with a red carpet running down the length. Smaller carpets led to the doors on the side of the room, each separated by a large painting. High-standing townsfolk were walking in and out of those, chatting or hurrying along. Owen followed the main path that led him to the secretary at the end.

She jumped when she spotted him and now hurried to look busy; moving papers from one place to another and stirring her cup. Her fretting got worse the closer Owen got, so he stopped a good distance away from her.

“I have a meeting with the mayor.”

“Oh, oh, yes, of course. Uhm. Name?” Her greying hair was pulled back neatly, but a few strands loosened when she scratched her head.

“Owen.”

She flipped through a book on her desk, and nodded along. She almost got up, but quickly sat back down. “Very well. H-he’s in there right now. You just go ahead.”

She kept her nervous gaze on him as he moved around her.

Owen stopped in front of the door to take a moment. He had to work hard to get this approved, and going in with a sour mood would only dim his small chance.

With a deep breath, he pushed the door handle down and stepped inside.

The back of the room had a large, red mosaic window above a row of shelves and cabinets, overflowing with papers and books. In front of that was a large desk made of dark oak, that seemed at least a little more organised.

The mayor had been flipping through one of the cabinets but swung around when the door opened. His eyes widened in surprise, followed by a soft smile. “Oh. Hello.”

He had long white hair and soft features. His clothing wasn’t completely unlike what other rich folk in town wore, but it was more intentional. The others wanted to look as bedizened as possible, but the mayor had a more unique style. His outfit leaned heavily towards red, and along with the sharp angles, it gave him a more dramatic impression.

Owen cleared his throat. “Good morning, sir.”

He was ready to go straight to business; present his idea shortly and concisely so he could get out of the mayor’s hair, and hopefully not ruin his chance by overstaying his welcome. But all that flew out the window when the mayor, against all expectations, stepped closer.

He extended his hand, holding it up between them. With a little hesitation and slow movements, awaiting the moment the mayor would realise who he was and recoil, Owen lifted his arm to shake it. Once their hands were locked together, the mayor squeezed. His hands were soft, and cold as if he had just been outside.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Louis.”

“I know.” Owen struggled to remove his gaze from their hands, but managed to drag his eyes upwards to meet Louis’ red eyes. There wasn’t any hint of disgust. “I… I’m Owen.”

Louis let go, so Owen retracted his hand. The imprint left behind made him dizzy.

“You are here about a new mill, right?”

“Yes, I uhm. I am.”

Louis’ smile spread easily. It curved upwards at the corners, pushed his pale cheeks up and reached all the way to his eyes. The slightest bit of his teeth revealed itself in the tiny gap between his lips. “I’m glad you’re coming to me with this. I think it’s a good idea, and I’ve been looking forward to hearing what you have to say. Come sit with me?”

The leather on the chair squeaked when he sat on the edge. Owen fished out the plans and drawings he had made and spread them on the desk. Louis generously helped him unfold them.

His mind was reeling, but he pushed forward.

“The current mill is overrun and overcrowded, so I figured a new one could lessen their burden, and they can better serve the town.” Owen gestured to the drawing while he presented. “It’s a standard design, but I’ve come up with some details — trims with designs that will lift the overall impression. It’ll, of course, be practical and functional above all, but I figured since it’s on the edge of town, it’s what travellers and newcomers will see.”

Louis nodded along while he spoke. “Do you have any trim designs in mind?”

Owen reached into his bag for samples, and Louis accepted them straight from his hand. His eyes widened. “You made these?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“Wow. They’re beautiful,” Louis said, sounding so sincere that Owen couldn’t help the rush of blood to his cheeks. His heart began beating harder against his chest. “I love all of them, but this might be my favourite.”

Owen forced his gaze down to the wood in front of him. “I’ll do that one, then.” He lifted his shaky hands to the drawing of the mill. “I figured the trims could go along the beams here.”

Louis reached over and pointed to something on the drawing too, resting it right next to Owen’s hand, with no qualms or hesitation. And he kept it there. If Owen stretched his little finger, they would touch. As Louis asked a question in his light voice, he let his hand linger.

Owen blinked himself out of the daze. “Sorry?”

There was an amused tilt to Louis’ smile. “How about around the door and windows too? Would that be doable?”

He nodded faintly. “Easily.”

He would figure it out later.

Louis retracted his hand to stand and found a map of Oakhurst that he spread across the table. It had many lines drawn and things crossed out, along with outlines of buildings Owen wasn’t familiar with.

“I had thought this might be a good placement.” Louis gestured to the map. “Far away from the other mill, so those on this side of town won’t have to walk as far to get there.”

Owen was about to blindly agree — he had already planned to give into the mayor’s every demand to increase his chance of getting the project approved, but so far the meeting had been nothing like he expected. Honestly, it wasn’t like anything Owen had ever experienced.

He took a deep, hopefully subtle, breath before speaking. “I was thinking here, because we have stronger winds on that side of town, and it’s a little away from the houses, so they won’t be bothered by the noise. And, uhm, it’ll still be a shorter walk.”

Louis listened intently. “Could it be a little further out, even?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Perfect.”

Owen almost drowned in Louis’ smile, but he just about managed to keep himself afloat to continue the meeting. They spoke at length about his plans for the mill. The dimensions, the wood and the budget. For every input that Owen had, Louis listened and considered what he had to say.

At no point during the meeting — and Owen had kept constant watch — did Louis ever wipe the hand he had used to shake his.

When all had been said and discussed, Louis gave his stamp of approval, allowing Owen to start right away. Then he was let to the door, given another handshake and received well wishes for a good day.

When he stepped back into the cold morning, he had to hold himself up against the stone wall to keep upright.

Owen’s heart was doing things it never had before and his head was swimming. But it wasn’t unpleasant like when he was feeling ill, in fact, he had never felt so light in his life. Before he even made it outside the walls surrounding Oakhurst, Owen vowed to visit Louis again the next day.

Owen hadn’t ever concerned himself with luxuries, partially because he had never been able to afford them, and his house reflected this. He had a bed with old covers, a kitchen with less than the bare necessities, a small table with two chairs (because owning only one felt odd) and then a few chests to store his things.

That was the way it had looked for years, because Owen had no reason to change it.

But one thing was different in the little cabin today.

With the lack of company through its life, the cabin had acquired a natural quiet. But not on this particular day. No, the change in routine was so stark, that even the small critters outside noticed the difference and looked at each other in wonder.

Inside the cabin, Owen had been pacing since the early hours, and was now frantically trying to brush his hair into something neat and pretty. Everything he did just seemed to make it worse, but he stubbornly continued. As part of his mission with the townsfolk, Owen always tried to look decent, but there was a difference between them and Louis.

When light filtered in through the window, and it was a reasonable time for Owen to head to town, he decided it was enough.

With a lot more enthusiasm than he had ever shown, he was on his way. Owen had only on very rare occasions walked into town two days in a row. He didn’t need to visit the market every day, and most of his wood deliveries were handled on or near the outskirts.

The walk through the market was accompanied by its usual whispers and stares, but Owen barely noticed, because the closer he got to the tall building, the louder the beat of his heart echoed in his head.

Owen tried to walk through the hall as if he was definitely supposed to be there. The secretary wasn’t pleased to see him again, if her fretting was anything to judge by.

He ignored it. “I would like a meeting with the mayor, if he has time.”

She anxiously flipped through her book again, then got up. Before turning her back, she told him to wait there. He could barely make out the muffled sounds behind the door. Once she was sitting down again, she allowed him to go by himself. Owen had to fight himself not to run.

Louis was standing in the middle of the room, ready to greet Owen, and showing no sign of what he had been doing before. He was wearing red again, but it was a different shirt to what he had on the previous day.

“Good morning.” Louis shook Owen’s hand shortly, although the impression it left behind stayed till the day was over. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again so soon?”

Owen’s mouth was dry. “I, uhm… the mill. I had a question. Just a quick one.”

He was led to the chair, but Louis lingered by his side. “Would you want a cup of tea?”

It took several minutes for him to heat up water over the fireplace, pour the cup and mix in the tea leaves. Louis put a tray with two cups and a small bowl of sugar on the table between them. Owen watched him go through the familiar motions of his routine, until he sat down in front of him.

“So what’s your question?”

With Louis’ undivided attention, Owen’s brain struggled to function. “Wood,” he blurted out.

“Wood?”

“Yes, uhm.” He breathed deeply in a desperate attempt to compose himself and come across more normal. “I could build the mill out of spruce like we discussed, which would fit with the rest of town, or I could get pale oak, if you want it to stand out. Or I could even mix them. It would be more work, so it would cost more, so it depends on your budget. And preference.”

Louis nodded slowly, like he was deep in thought, as if Owen’s ridiculous question needed a serious answer. “Your price is already more than reasonable, so I wouldn’t mind the pale oak. I think either of them would be good, so it’s up to you. Keep it a surprise if you want.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Was that all?”

His cheeks flushed. “Yes.”

“Good, well, unless you have somewhere to be, please stay till your tea is finished.” Louis’ offer was accompanied by a warm smile. Owen’s wild heart almost burst through his chest.

A silence settled over them, and Owen couldn’t tell if it was a couple of seconds or decades of drawn-out hours. What were they supposed to talk about? What did people normally talk about? The sellers and customers at the market most often spoke of the weather, and how their day had been and how was the family doing. Was that appropriate?

Louis moved forward on the chair, resting his arms on the table. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Wood chopping, mostly.”

“How is it to be outdoors so much?”

“This time of year, it’s fine. Summer gets a little too warm sometimes, so it’s going to be nicer when we get to the other side of it.” Owen scratched his forearm, but it wasn’t satisfactory with the linen wraps in the way. He refocused on Louis, taking in his pale skin, a stable of the richer folk in town. “Is that something you want?”

“Yes. I’m in the office so much I still get lost around town half the time.”

Owen lifted his cup for a taste. He never really had tea, but did occasionally spice up warm water with plants he could find in the surrounding forest. This was so much better. “Where are you from?”

“A large town very far away from here. I’ve been travelling for quite a few years, trying to find somewhere to settle down.”

“Why Oakhurst then?”

It was a fine town, Owen assumed, certainly become better since Louis arrived. But it surely couldn’t be the best of what the world had to offer.

Louis thought for a moment. “It’s quaint. Peaceful a lot of the time. And I like the surrounding nature. I didn’t specifically plan to stay long, but then I was elected as mayor, and I like it here.” He gave a little shrug. “Did you grow up here?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t know where else to go, even if I had the opportunity.”

Owen belatedly tried to soften the statement with a soft laugh, as if this conundrum didn’t bother him at all. He wanted to say something to brighten the mood, but Louis’ soft smile stole any words he could have thought of.

“I hope you get to one day. There are many beautiful places out there,” he said, and it sounded like he meant it. Like it would genuinely make him happy if Owen explored the world. “Where did you learn to carve those trims?”

Owen shrugged. “I’ve just been taking scrap bits of wood and then been practicing in the evenings.”

“So you’re self-taught? That’s just… I’m impressed.”

Owen’s cheeks heated up under the admiration in Louis’ eyes.

“I like the peacefulness of the task.”

He also liked to feel productive on days he couldn’t get out of bed, but Owen didn’t want to share that. No one had ever shown interest in the trims before. Owen had tried to sell them to some of his regular clients, but they always said no before he could get far.

Louis was a treasure trove of a person.

Over the course of the morning, Owen learned that there were many more interesting things about his life than he realised. At least, there were a lot of things Louis wanted to hear. He also learned just how slowly he could drink a cup of tea, and that he could handle it even when it became disgustingly cold.

When he couldn’t play it off any longer, Louis saw him out the door once more, shook his hand, and wished him a good day. Owen might as well have forgotten how to walk with how unstable he was.

Even before they separated, Owen had vowed to visit Louis again the next day.

Owen came in the following day under the pretence of asking for Louis’ opinion on the cloth for the sails, which was ridiculous and stupid. Granted, they still had a lovely cup of tea and a conversation Owen never wanted to end, but it wouldn’t make do again. Whatever pretence Owen was going to use the day after that had to be better. So he thought about it all day and all night, right up until the moment he stood outside Louis’ door once more. The secretary had allowed him to go ahead before he even opened his mouth. His mind was blank, but his desire to see Louis washed away any worry he had.

Seeing Louis’ smile once he entered the room made his heart soar and forget he had worries to begin with.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” Louis was behind his desk, writing in a book with ink, but pushed it aside immediately. He got up to greet Owen by the door, like he had all the other days. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss about the mill?”

“Yes.”

There was already hot water over the fire, so it didn’t take too long for Louis to prepare two cups of tea. Owen helped himself to a spoonful of sugar that Louis had set out and stirred it into the cup. They had such a good couple of minutes in each other’s company that Owen forgot why he was there to begin with.

Louis tilted his head. “So what is it?”

“Uhm…”

Owen opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, willing his brain to come up with an excuse, any excuse. Even a dumb one would do, but he was blank.

Louis laughed softly at his struggle, but it was nice. Like if Owen had shared a joke. “You know, you don’t have to make up an excuse to come see me.”

His cheeks flushed terribly. Before Owen could wish for the ground to swallow him whole, his brain registered the implication of Louis’ words. The hope churning in his stomach was so unfamiliar to him, that Owen thought he was going to be sick. “You mean I can see you again?”

Louis nodded once. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Owen’s heart was like a wild rabbit getting to run in the forest after a winter of staying underground. He absentmindedly rubbed his cheeks while he tried to comprehend that Louis’ words were real. “I… good. Yeah. I’d like to come by without thinking of an excuse first.”

“I was sort of excited to see how long you could keep it going.”

“You knew the whole time?”

“Your presentation on the mill seemed so thorough that I doubted you had forgotten something vital.” He took in the mess Owen was sure he was, and it tugged the corners of his lips upwards. “Didn’t you notice that all my mornings have coincidentally been free?”

No, because the idea that someone would make time to be around him more, was so out of the realm of possibility in Owen’s mind that he wouldn’t have come to that conclusion in a million years. But he didn’t say that. “I don’t really know what this whole… being mayor thing includes. So I don’t know what’s normal.”

“Oh.” Louis’ already large, beautiful eyes widened. “Well, my mornings are usually packed with meetings.”

“My mornings are usually spent felling trees before the sun gets too high.” The linen wraps gave him an extra layer of warmth, which was nice during the winter, but impractical this time of year. So Owen had to take advantage of the cold mornings Oakhurst had.

Louis folded his hands on the table. “Let’s make this easier on both of us, then? How does the late afternoon work for you?”

“It’s… yeah. It’s a lot better.” He might actually have time to start on the mill.

“You can come to my home, if you want. I have a larger tea collection there.”

Owen had never been invited to someone’s home before.

Despite the reservations he would usually have, he walked to Louis’ manor the next day. Following the instructions he had been given, Owen found it easily, even though he had never been to that side of town before.

The building was impressively large, so much that Owen had to lean his head back to take it all in. It had details all over that must have taken an army of workers months to craft. It looked more like a dark castle than anything else. The front garden alone was enough to outperform anything Owen had ever built.

More than a couple dozen windows were staring at him, judging him with their dark eyes, but Owen walked up the path leading to the front door anyway. He thought he might have a moment to prepare himself once he had knocked on the door, but Louis opened it a couple of short moments later.

He smiled like he had been looking forward to this all day. His white hair wasn’t tied back like the other times Owen had seen him, instead hanging loosely and beautifully framing his face.

Everything inside was pristine. Louis owned a large collection of paintings, all decorated with golden frames. Large, red carpets with patterns along the edges ran down all the main hallways. All the sideboards had incredible craftmanship, but Owen hadn’t expected anything less.

In his ratty and dirty clothes, Owen had never felt more out of place, but Louis barely let him feel it for a second. He gave Owen a tour of all the rooms in the manor (even the broom closet), casually leading him with a hand on his shoulder, and eagerly talked about the memorabilia he had gathered on his travels. Owen had thought such a large house would feel empty, but Louis filled it. Not even the dark interior could dim the brightness in him.

Unlike his office, the whole manor was clean, so the last room was a surprise. It had a big window with the curtains drawn. The large desk in the middle had a mess of pens, ink and charcoal spread across and several half-finished drawings. The walls too were overflowing, and Louis took him to the one that had rows of small cards covering almost the whole thing. Again, with a casual touch to his shoulder to steer him in the right direction.

“There was a limit to what I could physically bring with me, so I started drawing the places I visited. I uhm… got better with time.” Louis smiled awkwardly, and it had a certain charm to it.

It was very clear which places Louis had visited first, due to the progression of his drawing abilities. “I think they all look incredible,” he said truthfully, and it widened Louis’ smile. “Do you have a favourite?”

Louis’ eyes scanned all of them while biting his lip, and he eventually pointed to one. It was very messy in comparison to the ones around it, but it had colour in it. “I saw this meadow just filled with flowers, and the biggest variety of insects I’ve ever come across. They were thriving in that environment. It’s the most…” His gaze swiftly shifted to Owen before continuing, “Well, the next most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wanted to capture that, so I tried to get colour from the flowers, but it didn’t work that well.”

“Then why is it your favourite?”

“It’s the most unique, and it was fun to experiment.”

“I get that,” Owen said quietly. “The table in my cabin has these large, dark splotches all over it. I can never sell the wood as anything other than firewood if it has that, but I think it looks interesting.”

And why should wood perfectly good for a table be thrown away just because it was a little strange?

Louis’ smile was bright, like if the sun had caught it, even though the room was dim. “I’m working on a few of Oakhurst too.”

They were all a nighttime view, but Owen easily recognised most of the places, like the outpost tower in the dead forest and the small pond just outside of town. 

Owen studied them closely. “You must spend a lot of time in the woods if you’ve drawn this much. It’s funny we’ve never run into each other.”

“I usually go at night, because I work all day.”

“You have to be careful out there. The wolves will be migrating eastwards in the fall.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m very strong.”

Owen pressed his lips together. Rich, pampered people weren’t the epitome of strong when it came to the forces of nature. He tried to hide his expression, but Louis had a habit of noticing every little movement on his face.

He crossed his arms. “What about you, then?”

Owen shrugged, buying himself a second to think of an explanation. “I’ve grown up in these woods. I know how to defend myself and avoid the dangers entirely.”

“And I am very capable, thank you very much.”

Owen would have worried that he had offended Louis and ruined everything, if it wasn’t for his amused smile.

After letting him look through the drawings, Louis took Owen back to his small living room, where he got to choose from his large tea collection. Having never faced so many options in his life, he took his time picking a flavour. Then they sat together by a small table, drank and talked.

Owen stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. “Does Oakhurst have any interesting insects?”

Louis put down his cup. As he talked, his eyes twinkled. “All insects are interesting. Even the ones that are common in many places are rare or unheard of somewhere else. It’s all about your perspective. Like the difference between moths and butterflies, where their appreciation really comes down to their looks. I’m partial to moths, they’re very undervalued, but both are great. The transformation they go through from larva to moth or butterfly is such a beautiful and interesting one. There is so much more to the world than what we first see.” Louis rattled on about different species of insects he had seen in Oakhurst with a persistent smile. He eventually stopped himself, sat back in his seat and cleared his throat. “Pardon, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” Owen assured. “Everything in Oakhurst seems so normal to me. I’ve never thought it could be interesting to someone else. It’s nice to hear.”

Louis looked at him in a strange way that made his insides warm. “Okay. But you have to stop me if I start to bore you.”

He would talk for eternity, then. Or in this case, until Owen had to leave.

Their meetings continued over the following weeks, quickly becoming a staple in each of their routines. Owen would come over every day, and Louis would greet him with a smile. They had a new flavour of tea and talked about anything and everything. Laughter harmonised and thoughts were shared. It was the happiest Owen had ever been. It was the most human he had ever felt.

For every afternoon that passed in Louis’ company, Owen wanted more. He had never had someone to be himself around, hadn’t ever had anyone to be around. Louis was all he thought about. Felling trees, chopping wood, delivering orders, it didn’t matter. Those afternoons were magical, no matter what they were filled with, because Louis was there.

One of those days was filled with flowers.

“I was out on a walk last night and found these for you.” Louis presented them to Owen as soon as he opened the door. They had an odd, mute colour and looked to be missing a couple of leaves. The ones left on the stem had small holes from bugs. “I thought uhm… weird flowers for your weird table.”

Owen opened and closed his mouth. His cheeks darkened. “I don’t own a vase.”

“Oh.” Louis’ eyes widened. “You can have this one.”

Owen took it from his hand. Out of habit, he grabbed it as far from Louis’ hand as he could, but when he let go, Louis let their fingers brush.

So many feelings washed over Owen at once that he couldn’t find one to settle on. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

He ran his thumb over the leaves of the flowers.

The vase was without a doubt the most expensive thing Owen now owned, but Louis thought him worthy of the gift. When he got home, he put it on the table, so it could catch the sunlight from the window. He made himself comfortable at the table, and stared at the flowers while his heart sought to burst through his chest.

Sweat was slowly building between the linen wraps and his skin, but Owen continued steadfastly with hauling his wagon with lumber to the other edge of town. He would usually walk around the buildings, but the wagon was easier to handle on paved roads. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could see Louis. That thought alone was enough to push him forward.

As he made his way through, mothers stepped out of their homes to drag their children inside, interrupting their play. Owen pretended not to notice.

When he finally arrived at the building site, Owen wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. He stood by the back of the wagon while waiting for the buyer to come over.

Mr Wickenham was a tall man. He had a long, black coat wrapped around his curvy body. His white shirt underneath was spot free, and shone almost as much as the silver chain leading to the watch in his pocket. He was also Owen’s main income.

Wickenham stopped a good distance away and threw a pouch at Owen, who fumbled to catch it. Pouch being a generous word, as it was just a scrap piece of fabric with a tiny string. And even then, the material Wickenham saw appropriate to throw away, was fancier than anything Owen owned.

No words were exchanged between them as Owen slowly counted the coins. The art of silence was one Wickenham liked to use with him, and Owen couldn’t afford choices.

He shakingly lowered the pouch. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”

Wickenham smiled condescendingly. “No, but it’s what I’m offering.”

“It isn’t enough,” Owen said through gritted teeth.

“I’m doing you a favour by buying from you at all. It’s not like you have good business from anyone else.”

Owen’s fingernails dug into the palm of his hand, burning into his skin. “Don’t act like you don’t benefit from this too.”

Wickenham sighed heavily and had the gall to pull the watch from his pocket to check the time. “Yes, the missus will be very disappointed with no new jewellery this week. I’m sure you’re facing similar problems.”

“Just pay me what we agreed!”

“Look, I do not care to discuss prices with you.” His nose scrunched in disgust. “This is my final offer. Do you take the deal or not?”

Owen weighed the coins in his hand and the stabbing hunger in his stomach versus his pride. He was supposed to stop by the market today because his cabinets were empty, but he was already working for scraps, and this offer would only be lowered if he gave in now. Owen found he could neither afford to decline nor accept the offer, but scraps were still something.

Wickenham stared at him like he already knew what Owen’s answer was going to be. He was the polar opposite of Louis: he didn’t care about anything other than his own profit, especially not those he hurt to add another coin to his pile. Men like that thought they owned the world, so did whatever they wanted in it. Wickenham was tapping his foot impatiently, as if Owen was just a thing that tediously had to be dealt with so he could get back to important matters.

In a moment of stupidity, Owen threw the pouch back at him.

Wickenham’s mouth curved at the corner in surprised amusement, like how one might react to an animal performing an ordinary task. “Look who finally grew a backbone. You can come back when you find out pride doesn’t put food on the table.”

“That joke of an offer won’t either,” Owen bit.

“We’ll see.” He wiggled the pouch, making the coins clink tauntingly against each other. The melody mixed with the growling of his stomach, even as it faded away.

Deflated, Owen marched the long stretch back to his cabin with the wagon, now weighed down by the pain in his stomach. Once home, he searched through every cupboard and barrel for anything he could scrape together for a late lunch, but they were as empty as the hole in his stomach. He took the long walk through the forest to Louis’ manor to pick berries from the bushes and apples from the trees. They weren’t quite ripe, but sort of got the job done.

He threw the cores against rocks he found on the way, gaining minuscule satisfaction from imagining it was Wickenham’s head being smashed instead. Owen hoped the walk would clear his head, but the pain in his stomach made it impossible.

When Louis greeted him with a smile and a handshake, Owen thought his bad day was over. But the bliss only clouded his anger for one measly minute. They had only just made it to Louis’ small living room when Owen’s soured mood slipped through the cracks.

Louis paused their tea-preparing routine. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”

Owen opened his mouth to spill everything, his frustrations, the unfair treatment and the hunger, but the words disappeared from his mouth. All of that was tied to his condition, and bringing it up meant acknowledging this unspoken thing between them. The rest of Owen’s life was tainted by it; he didn’t want to ruin the peace he had with Louis.

Tears spilled out of him instead, even though he hadn’t meant for it.

Before the first drop could start rolling down his cheek, Owen was sent a step back as Louis crashed into him. Owen stiffened in his hold; it took him a second to even register what Louis was doing. He had his arms around him, holding their bodies close together. A steady presence. When Louis pulled away shortly after, it forced Owen into action, scrambling to reciprocate the hug. His arms wrapped around Louis’ waist, and he was rewarded with a tighter hold back. His cold body extinguished the anger.

“No need to talk,” Louis whispered. “But if there’s anything I can do...”

“This is good.”

Owen’s mind was reeling, desperately trying to recover from the whiplash of going from having an awful day to one of the best of his life. He tried to ground himself, because nothing in the world was more important than the fact Louis had his arms around him. He barely dared to breathe, afraid it would distract him from trying to memorise every last detail. The feel of Louis’ arms, exactly where he held them, and the closeness. The silkiness of his clothes. It was soft. He was soft. And cold, like a breath of fresh air.

Owen wanted to stay there forever.

He held a little tighter than he perhaps should, but Louis didn’t seem to mind it at all. He smelled a little of flowers and something underlying metallic. Louis moved his hand, gently stroking patterns on Owen’s back. The movement untied the tension in his body till he was practically a puddle in his arms.

When Louis pulled away, no part of Owen was ready to let go, but he let him slip from his grasp anyway. With a hand on his shoulder, Louis led him to the sofa by the window.

He let go, and the impression it left behind was the loneliest Owen had ever felt. It wasn’t a comforting touch that could keep him going, but the only memory of a ghost that had left him behind.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Owen shook his head, even though it might have been nice. “I, uhm…”

He didn’t know what to say. How to say it. Owen wanted Louis and nothing else. He wanted to be close to him and have more. Louis waited patiently for Owen to find his words, but he couldn’t. His mouth couldn’t form the words, because he had never uttered such a wish before. He didn’t know where to start with expressing the thing that he needed more than anything else in the world.

Louis nodded slightly. As an encouragement or permission. He didn’t know, but it was enough.

With a rapidly beating heart, Owen scooted closer, pressing their sides together. Like it was a natural action, Louis wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer, closing the distance Owen wasn’t brave enough for yet. He rested his head on Louis’ shoulder, breathing deeply to hold back tears of relief.

When he spoke, his voice was even. “I’m… a little tired, sometimes.”

Louis slowly ran his hand through Owen’s hair. “Tired how?”

“I work so hard, and it can never amount to anything.” Owen picked at the edges of the linen wraps on his hands, teasing his skin by lifting the edges but never even committing to the idea that he could take it off.

Louis thought for a moment.

“You do amount to some things.”

“Like what?”

He shifted slightly, so he could bring Owen even closer. “You make me very happy. I hope that counts for something, even when that’s not what you mean.”

“It does.” Part of Owen thought he should be used to Louis’ unashamed way of loving someone by now, and another thought he never would. One might need eternity for that. “Do I really make you happy?”

“Yes,” he said, like a fact so true no one would ever dare dispute it. “That’s why I have you over all the time. Your company never fails to brighten my day.”

Owen turned his head, so his mouth was right above a scar on Louis’ neck. “Even this time?”

“With you in my arms, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Likewise,” he breathed.

For a moment, there was only the two of them, and the comfort of being held by someone dear. There wasn’t a town full of people who hated him, or ones who tried to scam him because they knew they could get away with it. There weren't empty cabinets or no money in his pocket. For a blissful moment, Owen was allowed peace in his body and brain, to enjoy someone who wanted him for him.

“Owen, if you could…” Louis’ light voice broke the silence, but he trailed off when Owen’s stomach grumbled loudly. He leaned back and looked at Owen with surprise in his eyes. “You’re hungry.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, I’ll make you something to eat.”

Owen wanted to protest, but his grumbling stomach interrupted him.

At least Louis took his hand, apparently finding separation as dreadful as Owen, when leading him to his large kitchen. His skin was cold, like it was unfamiliar with a caring touch. Owen desperately wanted to rid his skin of the linen wraps perpetually wrapped around it, so he could have a full, proper touch, but he accepted what he could get.

The kitchen had a long row of shelves and cabinets along one wall, a worktable in the middle and an indoor well. All of it was made from dark woods, matching the rest of the manor. The opposite side of the room had a small table, still fancier than Owen’s. He knew it wasn’t where Louis usually ate, because he had a whole separate room for dining. It always felt a little strange to Owen, not being able to see the whole house from one corner.

Louis looked through several cabinets and drawers to find the things he needed: a cutting board, a knife, and lastly a carrot.

“Let’s see if I can, uhm… remember…” His eyebrows were drawn together. He took the knife to the carrot, but it kept rolling away, so every slice he managed was choppy and thick.

With amusement painting his features, Owen walked over to put his hand on Louis’, instantly drawing his gaze to him, and gently pried the carrot from his hand. These rich folk… as powerful as they were, seemed to lack some of the more basic life skills.

“Let me,” he said gently, prompting Louis to back away.

Owen looked through all the chests and barrels. There was a little bit of everything, so plenty for him to get creative with. Except garlic, which was a shame. He cut the vegetables, and cooked them over the stove in a pot of water. Louis had a large variety of herbs Owen usually had to go into the forest to collect, and ones he had never heard of, so he spent some time exploring his options. It didn’t take long before the smell of the stew filled the room.

Louis silently stared the whole time. Owen could feel his gaze following his every move, and it made him grow warm, but he didn’t mind. How could he ever complain about having Louis’ attention?

He poured the stew into two bowls and held one of them in front of Louis, which broke him out of his daze. “Here.”

“Oh, I usually eat later, so I’m not hungry…” Louis trailed off when he looked at Owen, who swallowed his disappointment. This was the limit to Louis’ kindness it seemed. He turned to put the bowl away, but before he could move more than a few centimetres, Louis lunged forward to grab it from his hand. He held it in his grasp like Owen was going to take it from him. Then he smiled kindly, like he always did. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to. It smells delicious. Looks good too.” Louis grabbed Owen’s hand to pull him down. “Sit.”

Owen went willingly. He lifted the spoon to his mouth and immediately felt the relief in his twisted stomach. Louis did the same but closed his eyes and sighed dreamily.

Owen pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. “Okay, I know I’m not that good.”

“No, you are!” Louis insisted. His tone seemed completely sincere. “I never usually have homemade meals like these, so it’s a treat.”

Owen’s cheeks flushed. He dug his spoon into the stew again to distract himself from the effect Louis’ words had on him. When they had finished and Owen had gone back for seconds, a yawn sneaked through his body, putting a natural stop to their evening.

They strolled to the front door together, dragging it out as long as they could until all that was left to do was separate.

“Can I walk you home?” Louis was rolling back and forwards on his heel.

Owen thought about his little cabin in comparison to the manor. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Louis stepped a little closer, so Owen had to lean his head back slightly to meet his eyes. He could practically feel the pressure of Louis’ body against his despite what distance remained. Their faces almost touched, and it wouldn’t take much to bring them together. Owen’s mind was floating away, but he wanted to float up. He almost forgot what he was opposing to begin with. With what little functionality his brain managed to scrape together, he turned down the offer.

“Yes,” he breathed. Even knowing that Louis wanted to do such a thing for him, was enough for Owen. He lifted his hand, maybe to tuck Louis’ hair behind his ear, or just touch him again, he didn’t know. He lowered it before doing anything. “But thank you.”

Louis’ eyes didn’t stray from him for a single moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“So eager,” he teased.

“Yes.”

He said it like breathing.

Owen’s heart leapt. “I’ll come. I can’t wait.”

The cold air did wonders in cooling down Owen’s overheated cheeks. His heart ran and jumped inside his chest, keeping his mood up even as he furthered the distance to Louis. The streets were cold, empty and therefore free of judgement too. Owen straightened his back and pushed his shoulders down, walking comfortably and proudly down the street like any other person might. Even the bats made use of the lonely streets. Owen saw a couple fly across the red sky on his way, and one followed him for part of the journey.

His arms and legs were still aching from taking the trip with the lumber earlier twice. It would knock him out tomorrow as well, but Owen couldn’t bring himself to mind, because the morrow brought another day with Louis with it as well.

When he got to his cabin, he sat down on the front step and leaned his head back against the door. After a few minutes of listening, assuring no one was nearby, he began unwrapping his arms and neck. His marbled skin was disguised by the dark, so at least he didn’t have to look at it. It was just nice to let it breathe every once in a while.

Even now, the smile persisted on Owen’s face, and there was nothing he, nor anyone else, could do, that could wipe it away.

“I have a question, if I may talk business for a second?”

Louis was still standing by the side table, putting all they would need for tea on a tray. It had been a grey and rainy day, but no one would have guessed that by looking at the two of them. For the first time, Louis had greeted him with a hug, and Owen wouldn’t mind if this was a permanent development.

He frowned. “Business?”

“The mill.”

“Oh, of course.” Owen cleared his throat. It had been weeks since he last worked on it. If he didn’t get started soon, the gradually approaching autumn and then winter would be in the way.

Louis set down the tray and took a seat next to Owen, slightly closer than he usually would, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Would you accept a deposit? I’m hoping to lay off on your other jobs for a while so you can focus on this.”

Owen lit up. He had been just outside the market that morning, failing to trade firewood for scraps of food. He had also looked for jobs but found nothing. This could help him get by a few more months, even without Wickenham or resorting to scavenging the woods. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Good. I’ll get that to you tomorrow. I have to go by the official channels, so if you could come by my office in the morning, that would be perfect.” Louis’ smile brightened, and Owen lost himself in the view. “Then I get to see you twice in one day.”

Owen’s heart leapt at the thought, but he casually sipped his tea instead of letting it show. “How dreadful.”

Somehow Louis managed to see right through his nonchalance. “Exactly. Seeing you twice implies we’re apart.”

Owen averted his gaze as red creeped up his cheeks. When he couldn’t bear to let his eyes stray from him a moment longer, he found Louis already looking at him, with an amused tilt to his smile.

Louis tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, revealing a dark smudge on his upper cheek.

“You have a bit of ash, uhm…” Owen gestured.

He lifted his hand, hesitantly bringing it over, but Louis didn’t stop him. He wiped the smudge away, and added a couple of unnecessary strokes, because Louis’ gaze distracted him. Like his hands, Louis’ face was soft and cold.

"Your touch is very tender,” he said gently. Owen’s heart skipped a couple of beats, but Louis carried on regardless. “I like it.”

“Well, if you…”

He was shaking, but when Owen held out his hand, Louis took it. There was no pause or hesitation as he did, like he had been waiting for Owen to ask. The touch was a steady presence; a promise to stay near.

Neither was willing to let go, which did become a hassle at one point, but they always found their way back to each other.

Owen let himself live in the bliss that this new life offered as the weeks passed, as green leaves turned orange and fell off the trees. As the weather got colder and the sun set earlier, casting more darkness on the land. He spent every day with Louis, so spent every day getting more and more used to smiling, laughing and having someone he could talk to.

Owen woke up with pain blossoming across his body. He pulled the covers over his head to hide from the sunlight streaming through the dirty window. That simple action sent ripples of pain over his skin and made him sigh quietly.

If he worked through it, his recovery would be longer. This hadn’t stopped Owen from doing it in the past, but he couldn’t risk it now. He laid still for hours, hoping and praying that the ache would disappear before the afternoon.

But the holy spirits had never been particularly kind to his wants.

Owen got dressed and wrapped the linen wraps around his arms and neck, biting his tongue to keep himself from whimpering in pain. It took several tries to assure it sat neatly.

He should have seen it coming. His ailment was persistent. It was always part of him, coating his skin, strangling his insides, the very organs meant to keep him alive. The bad times came like clockwork. Owen knew his limits, knew what he was supposed to do to minimise the suffering and keep the worst of it away, but it came crashing into him anyway.

It didn’t take much.

A little bit of rain, a little too much cold, overworking himself just the tiniest minuscule of a second sent him slowly deteriorating over weeks before it finally caught up to him. The pain so normal he didn’t see how it was only a little worse. How the extra pressure on his skin from the inside pulsed at the blisters and scars. All his capabilities, tasks and jobs had to be set aside because his body punished him for thinking he could attempt a fraction of what everybody else could.

And all Owen could do was stick to a routine that barely worked, because it was the best he knew, and slowly build his health back up to a level where he could manage the pain. That would take weeks, or months if he didn’t fight hard enough through the suffering, to take care of a body that had never cared for him.

He had long ago stopped shedding tears of pity for himself, because what good would it do to make them fall?

The pain didn’t care.

No one did.

Louis would, but…

Owen couldn’t bring himself to tell.

He stepped into the damp afternoon and set course on the shortest route to Louis’ manor. That meant a walk through town. Owen pulled the hood further over his head, hoping that he for once could go unnoticed and unbothered.

It seemed at first that luck was on his side. The damp weather had dispersed most of the crowd, but it meant there were less voices to drown each other out.

“What’s he doing?” someone whispered.

Their glances were anything but subtle, and their giggles burned into his brain.

Owen clenched his jaw to keep himself from reacting as he walked past the group. Before he was far enough away, they continued the tirade.

“It looks like he’s waddling.”

“Or he stepped in something.”

They laughed amongst themselves, then shushed each other as if there was any chance they could hide what they were doing. The people of Oakhurst were of feeble minds if all it took for them to be entertained was watch a man walk down a street.

At least they would eventually stop if he just ignored them. The townsfolk were all bark no bite, because they didn’t dare get too close. He subtlety sped up to further the distance anyway, despite the extra pain it brought him.

When he turned a corner, Owen took a short break with his hand against a wall. His skin was prickling under the linen wraps, but he reasoned with himself that going back home wouldn’t make it better, so he continued, eventually reaching Louis’ manor, receiving a smile and a hug.

He took tiny steps to minimise the ache, but it helped very little.

Louis was already ahead with his normal speed, but noticing that Owen wasn’t by his side, he turned around. “Are you okay?”

Owen smiled through the pain. “I just need to sit down. And if you have any ginger tea?”

“Of course. Local too, so it’s homely.”

Louis silently slowed his pace. Once inside the small living room, he prepared a cup while Owen took a seat by the table close to the fireplace, trying to ignore the veins in his head tightening their grip on his skull, to the best of his ability. Louis set the cup down in front of him and stirred in a couple of teaspoons of sugar.

Owen smiled to himself. He hadn’t ever had anyone to take care of him when he was unwell. Not unless doctors counted, and they didn’t do anything like this.

He imagined for a moment what it would be like to have someone like that. Someone who would tell him to stay in bed, and take care of the cooking and cleaning so he didn’t have to worry. Someone who would take the day off work so he wouldn’t have to be alone or bored. Louis would do all that. Maybe he couldn’t take the day off from his mayoral duties, but he would want to, and that would be enough.

Owen briefly let himself imagine what it would be like to really talk about his ailment with Louis. Everything else in his life was tainted by it, but perhaps it wouldn’t be a taint with him. Maybe it would be nice to be taken care of. Maybe another day.

While waiting for the tea to cool, Owen slumped in his seat and closed his eyes. The crackling of the fire and the knowledge of Louis’ presence was soothing, lulling him deeper into relaxation.

“Are you asleep?”

Owen made a noise halfway between a yes and a no.

“Do you need to? I have a guest bedroom you can borrow.”

Owen wondered briefly how soft one of Louis’ beds would be compared to his own. It would probably feel like being wrapped in the softest wool from the fluffiest sheep.

“No. I’m okay. I came here to spend time with you.” Owen opened his eyes and tried to sit up straighter, but his heavy head kept him down. The motion made his vision spin. “I’m fine, really. Just sore all over.”

“Okay.” Louis kept staring at him. His kind eyes warmed Owen from the inside out. “I don’t know what’s good for sore muscles. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’d like it if you could make it a little warmer.”

Louis was incredible at taking care of others. It showed in the way he took care of the town, and more prevalently, how he made Owen comfortable. If Owen had Louis over, he wouldn’t be able to offer anything half as good. Partially because he wouldn’t think of it, and partially because he didn’t have much to offer. Even with no one to compare with, Owen was sure that Louis was better than most at making others feel welcome.

Owen stared at the orange light from the flames casting a glow on Louis as he tended to the fire. He was beautiful. In the way red painted the sky, how flowers brightened a forest and how the sun cleared a cloudy day. In the way he had given a reason to smile.

When the fire was alive, Louis took his seat at the little round table, opposite of Owen, whose heart hadn’t known a moment’s rest since they met.

“Do you ever have people over?” Owen asked.

“Occasionally for business, but... they’ve all lived here for years and know each other well. I find I’m… too strange for them most of the time, and I don’t like hiding what I am. And it can be exhausting trying to fit in.”

Owen lifted his heavy arm on to the table and opened his hand as an offer. Louis willingly took it.

“I know.”

He smiled sadly. “I’ve always had it like that. Even when I was younger. I didn’t really fit in with the boys, even though I wanted to, and I definitely didn’t fit in with the girls. If… if you know what I mean?”

Owen took in Louis’ soft features. His light voice. The clothes he wore that gave him a more masculine silhouette. He nodded and squeezed Louis’ hand.

“I understand. And I get…” He stared at the linen wraps coating his skin. “…not fitting in.”

Louis squeezed his hand right back.

Owen didn’t know whether the fireplace, their hands that were locked together or their shared understanding kept him warmest. They all worked together to bring him the most comfort he had ever known in his life, even though Louis’ hands were perpetually cold.

“How are you—” Owen said at the same time Louis said, “If you could—”

They shared a laugh. “You go first,” Louis said.

“How are you always cold?”

“I don’t know... Maybe I was made that way so I’d always need someone else to warm me up.” Louis raised his gaze slowly. The red in his kind eyes was like a cold night under the crimson sky.

Owen opened his mouth to answer but suddenly found his throat dry. His heart was pounding slow but harshly against the inside of his chest, slowing down everything else in the room with it. He looked to the side, suddenly finding everything overwhelming, but being unwilling to let the moment pass without trying.

“I’m… I’m willing to be that person,” he whispered. In the weightless silence of the room, Louis heard him easily, and he responded by squeezing Owen’s hand, and probably smiling. Owen pulled at his collar, suddenly feeling a little too warm. “What, uh, were you going to say?”

Louis didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his voice was solemn. Through his hesitation, he didn’t lose Owen’s attention for even a second. “If you could get rid of your condition,” he asked, “But live your life never truly belonging amongst those you care about, would you?”

Owen looked back over before he could stop himself. His clammy hand still wrapped around Louis’ almost retracted, but… Louis would never bring it up without good reason. And a little part of Owen was curious as to why. Why propose such a question, when his answer didn’t matter? Why now of all the months they had known each other?

Never belonging was so normal to him that he wasn’t sure what it was like to belong. The subtle but constant pain across his body was the same. It was all he had ever known.

“I am already an outcast,” he said. “Even now, I have nowhere to truly belong. If I had that still, but at least could live a life free of this ailment and pain, I would.” Owen let his gaze hold onto Louis’ while his pounding heart was rising to his throat, practically threatening to suffocate him. “Particularly if it meant living it with you.”

Louis was silent, his expression unreadable until he finally stood up and held out his hand again. Owen took it and let himself be led through the manor, down the stairs and into the cellar.

The darkness covered every centimetre of the room. There were no windows allowing even the tiniest hint of daylight in. Despite this, Louis easily navigated around, lighting a lantern to illuminate the cellar with a flickering orange. It was almost completely empty, but the stone coffin in the middle was presence enough.

Owen held nothing but curiosity in his heart while he waited.

Louis stood in front of him once more. His voice was as solemn as it had been before, and while Owen wasn’t unused to that from him, there was something different now. “I’m a creature of the night,” he said. His voice echoed through the cellar. “I’m a vampire.”

He frowned. “Vampire?”

“I know it sounds impossible, but I promise I wouldn’t lie to you. Look.”

Owen followed Louis’ gaze to his side, where a tall mirror reflected back the dark walls, the lantern and himself; everything in the room but Louis. He played with Owen’s hair, and it moved in the reflection as well.

Louis held out his hand, and Owen grabbed it on instinct. He brought Owen’s fingers to where his heart should have been beating in his chest, but there was nothing.

Owen had heard tales of undead creatures, but those were stories meant to cause a little fright, not… He swallowed the lump in his throat. This was too much overwhelming information to get at once, and Louis seemed to realise this, because he didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t anything Owen knew of that could make mirrors like that or stop hearts… He was a vampire. Vampires were real and Louis was one. Somehow, impossibly.

He held a hand to his head to keep the worsening headache at bay. “Why are you telling me now?”

“Vampires can’t get sick, and vampirism itself cures any ailment. I thought, if you want it, I could turn you, and you could be free of yours.”

“I’ve been promised a cure before,” Owen mumbled automatically. His brain wasn’t fully catching Louis’ words.

“This one works. I’ve seen it,” he insisted. “Vampirism is a gift, so I won’t force this on you. I want it to be an option for you, if you want it. It’s… a whole different way of living life. You’d get powers, be stronger and live forever. Experience everything there is to experience in the world.” A smile nervously settled into his features. “And I thought, if you wanted it too, we could do that together. I want to spend eternity with you, if you want to spend it with me.”

Owen snapped out of his daze. “With you?”

Louis held his own hand tight in his grasp. “Yes, this… This is two offers. I can turn you into a vampire to cure your ailment, and we can be together. You can choose either or none or both. It’s up to you.”

Owen had never had something to live for, never mind something to live forever for. He had made his peace with the fact he would die young a long time ago. But this… Louis was offering him eternity with him. Another of those strange feelings that Louis seemed to awaken within him swirled in Owen’s stomach. He hadn’t had many opportunities in his life to want, to choose, and Louis was offering him both. Wishes had been nothing more than fantasies in Owen’s life, just like vampires. But they were real.

Louis took a tiny step back. “You don’t have to decide right—”

“Both.” Owen exclaimed, subconsciously moving closer as he did. “I want both.”

Louis’ smile spread quickly. That heavenly smile. With the dimples and the glint in his eye and its magical ability to make Owen weak in the knees. It made his breath hitch and heart run faster than his legs had ever been able to.

Louis lunged forward, closing the short distance between them. He rested their foreheads together, gently brushing their lips as he spoke. “I’m so lucky that I found you,” he whispered.

Then he pressed that smile against Owen’s. Louis’ lips were cold, but inviting and oh… how hadn’t they been doing this all along? Opposite sides of a table may as well have been a ravine. Louis’ icy body was a steep contrast to Owen’s warm one, so Owen held onto him like he was a lifeline. He stood on his tiptoes to be closer and grabbed onto his waist to keep his balance. Cold hands gently cradled his face.

He had to be the one to break apart to breathe, but they stayed close. Owen gasped for air, meanwhile Louis was completely unaffected. No, not completely. Once Owen looked closely, he saw the dumb smile on his lips and that lovestruck look in his eyes.

“Your heart…” Louis’ hand traced a line from Owen’s cheek to his chest, and a soft laugh escaped his lips.

“You can hear that?”

He hummed affirmatively. “It’s been fun listening to it.”

Owen’s cheeks flushed horribly when a flood of memories washed over him. But it disappeared as soon as it had appeared, because Louis kissed him again. He might as well not have had a brain, with how little it functioned. His neck, cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed red, but at least Louis took delight in it.

Louis kissed his cheek to accommodate Owen’s breathing need. “With eternity, I might also finally get that mill.”

He huffed. “I’ve been a little busy spending time with you.”

“I guess I can’t complain too much.”

Either Louis’ sweet words were making his knees buckle, or Owen’s ailment was about to get the better of him, but he couldn’t carry on like he was now.

“I need to sit down.”

Louis directed him to the coffin, where he helped lift him onto the lid. Not for one moment did either of them let their bodies lose contact. Owen slumped against Louis’ shoulder, feeling elated despite the pain persisting in his body, because it would be gone soon. A pain so familiar he had never known anything else, and he was finally going to be free of it.

Louis drew small circles on his back

Owen could never, ever tire of being held like that, but his body was begging for rest, so the sooner they could do this, the better. “How does vampirism work?”

“Well, in the typical sense, there’s sires, fledglings and a whole hierarchy system, but that’s not for us. It’s very outdated, more something you’d see four hundred years ago. Vampires can live together in covens, but many in the same place arise suspicion. And a vampire’s ego, especially an elder vampire, is a dangerous thing to behold, so it doesn’t always work out.”

Louis’ voice trailed off towards the end, but he shook it off.

“We’re stronger than humans and we heal much quicker. We can turn into bats, turn invisible. We don’t need to sleep, and we can see in the dark. But the sun burns our skin and we can’t hold silver. There are different stages to vampirism. We get more powerful with each stage, but also more vulnerable to our weaknesses. But they’re easy to avoid, so most of the time is pleasant.”

His thumb traced the edge of Owen’s smile

“It can be overwhelming in the beginning, but I’ll help you through all of it while you get used to it. You can move in with me, and I’ll take care of you.”

Owen’s smile stretched wider. He leaned forward, capturing Louis’ lips so he could digest his sweet words right from the source. Louis kissed him back in an instant, responding easily and eagerly to Owen’s wish.

When they broke apart so Owen could breathe (thank goodness that wasn’t going to be an obstacle much longer), Louis was smiling fondly at him.

“Are you ready?”

A willing walk into the undead life. “Yes.”

He cleared his throat. “I need you to take the linen wraps off. I can drink the blood from your arm or neck, but the neck will be quicker.”

Owen’s hands were shaky, but after only a moment of hesitation, he lifted them to unwrap the linen around his neck. It was an action he performed every day, but he had never done with a heart beating so harshly. With the knowledge that Louis could hear it, Owen’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t stop until his neck was bare. Until the scars and blisters were on full display.

Louis placed his hand on the side of Owen’s neck, holding him gently like he would any other part of his body. Owen’s gnarly skin was neither worth more or less attention or care. It was as if it was simply part of him like everything else was.

The last speck of doubt that Owen had vanished with that touch.

“It’s going to hurt a little,” Louis murmured.

He kissed the sensitive side of Owen’s neck, drawing a small gasp and sending shivers down his spine. Then he sunk his fangs in; Owen’s body jerked automatically with the small stab. Louis began sucking and the blood rushed from his body. It moved under his skin, flowing from his extremities to his neck, leaving a prickling behind. Owen couldn’t move his fingers, and he only managed to stay upright with Louis’ support.

His eyelids grew heavy. “Louis…”

Louis kissed the wound. “It’s okay, love. You’ll be asleep for a few days, and when you wake up, I’ll be right here.”

Owen wanted to say something, but his consciousness was already far too gone. The last thing he felt was Louis’ loving hands gently holding him, and the last thing he saw before falling into a slumber was his smile.

Fate had a funny way of hinging on the small moments in life. Those tiny, seemingly insignificant decisions like which way to go on a forked road or when to leave the house that morning. It was said that a butterfly flapping its wings could cause a storm on the other side of the world. The wind carrying seeds decided where a forest would be planted, and a path created led the way for many others.

Those weren’t something a person could protect themselves against. As so many other things in life, it was out of their control. An action taken hundreds of years ago could affect the outcome of the present, decide who got to live and who had to die. The inevitability of it all rendered some paralysed with hopelessness.

As it was, nothing was set in stone until the action had been taken.

But mountains and cliffs, as solid and steadfast as they were, were not immune to change. All it took was a little water and a lot of time, and the scripture could be washed away.

All it took was a small push.

Owen awoke from his slumber with a start. The small room — coffin — was bright grey. He was drenched in sweat. His skin was dry. It was claustrophobic. The lid of the coffin scraped against the bottom when he pushed it aside and pulled himself up.

The cold stone was burning to his touch.

The cellar was empty. Louis’ promise echoed in his head, but Owen didn’t think much of it. He had promised to be there, so he would be. This little hiccup was likely just a short trip outside the room before his return, and Owen’s waking up was bad timing. Maybe Louis was just getting food. Owen was certainly hungry. And warm.

Why was the cellar so hot?

He took a few steps then stopped in surprise. It felt odd. There wasn’t the usual pain accompanying it. No scratchy fabric was brushing against the blisters and there wasn’t a need to take careful steps to minimise the hurt. Owen walked a couple of times around the coffin. The unfamiliarity made this feel like his first steps. A small huff of laughter escaped his lips.

But even with this revelation, Owen couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Was that what vampirism just felt like? Had something gone wrong because of his disease?

And where was Louis?

Owen climbed up the stairs with an ease he had never experienced.

“Louis?”

His call echoed down the empty corridors.

Mud had been tracked from the front door all the way through the manor. Furniture had been pushed aside and things were knocked over, scattered where it had broken on impact with the ground.

Still burning up from the inside, Owen stumbled to the front door. He was so hungry. Where was Louis? What had happened? It was midday — no, the sun was setting. Everything was so bright. He was so hungry. Owen took a deep breath of cold fresh air, oh, that felt weird. He didn’t need to breathe. He needed to feast. His mouth was salivating, and his stomach had tied itself into a tiny knot. In the moment, he doubted whether he had ever eaten in his life. He was so hungry.

Where was Louis?

His organs swelled, pushing against his skin from the inside. Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong, and Owen had no idea what it was and he needed Louis.

Maybe he was still in his office? Working late so he could take a few days off.

Owen pushed himself off the door, stumbling towards the town, following the stench of ash on the wind.

His footsteps on the gravel grated his ears and despite the cold evening, his skin still felt warm.

As he got closer, Owen saw the flames from a pyre, reaching higher than the tallest buildings and casting an orange glow on the town. A creepy feeling washed down his spine. The light used the townsfolks’ silhouettes to create large shadows on the surrounding buildings, making the mob bigger and more threatening.

Their cheers hid screams of agony until Owen stood at the edge of the crowd.

They were burning someone?

Where was Louis? He would never allow something like that.

When the townsfolk noticed him, several rushed over. He could hear their pounding heartbeats, practically taste the stench of the rottenness rolling off them in heavy clouds as they spat their concerns. They kept their distance. They always did.

“Are you okay?”

“Where were you?”

“Mrs Wickenham said you visited the mayor every day.”

“When you disappeared, we assumed the worst.”

Owen’s head was ready to burst, trying to take it all in at once. The crackling of the fire, the cheering crowd, their voices, their fake concern and the screams. It took every ounce of his self-control not to sink his fangs into them. He stumbled backwards as his chest tightened. His brain caught the two most important words and made them a throbbing at the back of his head so he couldn’t forget it.

The mayor.

His chest tightened like the weight of the world was pressed against him.

The mayor.

Louis!

Owen’s head whipped in the direction of the blinding fire. His body forced another horrible breath out of habit and it strangled him. The sound… those screams… they didn’t sound like him.

His sweet voice… Louis’ soft giggles, his light tone and the wonderful things he said. His stubborn kindness and promises of a better, happier future. All stripped away from him; stolen so that all he possessed was pain. So all he could do was scream in agony. His broken cry carried a prayer for help, that Louis would have answered had it been anyone else.

Owen’s world stopped.

All the pain he had ever experienced paled in comparison to the fear squeezing his heart now. His cry was pulled from the depths of his soul, strangled and full of terror. “Louis!”

He didn’t have to push through the crowd, because as soon as the townsfolk registered it was him, they hurried out of the way.

No matter how long Owen would have had to think it through, he would have run into the fire. The flames instantly caught his skin, digging into him like sharp nails. Owen blinked against the smoke clouding and stinging in his eyes, stumbling across the uneven firewood and sticks to reach Louis. He was tied to a post with ropes digging into his skin. Owen clawed and ripped till his fingers were rough and bleeding. The flames stole more of their bodies, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, until the last string of the ropes snapped and Louis fell down.

Owen dragged them both away from the pyre, tripping on the black firewood that crumbled under his feet. His own breaths were deafening.

Louis was completely still.

Owen put his shaky hands to Louis’ chest, desperately praying for even the faintest of heartbeats. Nothing. His chest was as still as a rock. The smoke was swirling in Owen’s lungs, burning his body from the inside out. He let out a strangled cry of Louis’ name, and just then, before Owen could completely despair in the emptiness of a world without love, Louis opened his eyes.

Owen hiccupped a strangled laughter of relief.

Vampires didn’t have heartbeats.

He didn’t get to revel in it for long. A battle cry surrounded them and several men charged with swords. Owen was up on his feet before his brain could catch up with what was happening.

He heard every swish of the swords as they cut through the wind, saw every blinding orange light that reflected from the flames. One after one, their lifeless bodies fell to the ground. The sound of his own wasted breath and the clinking of the swords landing on the cobblestone cut out everything else.

The last figure heroically charging at the people burned half to death had his rally cry cut short. Owen’s fingers lodged inside Wickenham’s throat. His nevermore blue blood buried itself under Owen’s nails and trickled down his hand. It had been so easy. Owen stared into the half-dead eyes of a man who had underpaid and screwed him over more times than he had received kindness in his life. A man who was now at his mercy. Wickenham was purple in the face and his feet were dangling. He tried to pry Owen’s hand away, tried to say something, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle. When his body slacked, Owen dropped him to the ground.

He brought his hand to his mouth on instinct, licking the bitter taste of the blood off his fingers. It wasn’t enough.

The rest of the townsfolk were running or backing away with their weapons still pointed at Owen. He was going to kill them. He was going to rip out their throats and colour the streets with their blood for what they had done. With their threat burying itself deep into his consciousness, Owen stepped forward. He was so hungry. He could already smell the metal in their blood, already hear them screaming like they had made Louis scream, feel the warmth of their bodies seeping away when he ripped out their hearts, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.

Carrying the same softness as it always did, and that was the only reason he was able to recognise it at all.

“Owen…” Louis was unable to lift himself from the ground, but he reached out anyway. His voice almost drowned in his tears. “We have to go.”

Owen was at his side in an instant. He lifted him up and half carried half dragged him through the market. Despite Louis’ whimpers of pain, he didn’t slow down. The townsfolk followed them with their weapons raised high and yells echoing between the buildings.

They kept just enough distance to protect themselves, and stopped by the town walls. Even though they weren’t followed, Owen set course for the forest. He knew it better than anyone. Everything was still so bright that it hurt, but it meant he could easily navigate the uneven terrain.

Owen didn’t know how long they ran, or where he was leading them. He didn’t stop until Louis told him to.

He used Owen’s body to pull himself upright. His face was covered by his burnt hair, and he was shaking like a leaf. His voice was raw from screaming. “You stay here, and I’ll be right back.”

“But—”

“Trust me.”

Tears built in the corners of Owen’s eyes. “Don’t leave.”

Louis looked at him suddenly. He shifted his weight to hold himself up with only one hand, and used the other to wipe the tears away. “I’m getting us some food,” he said, nodding towards the sheep.

“I can—”

“No. Trust me. Stay here, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Owen’s feet were nailed to the ground, but the rest of him floated away. The hunger that hadn’t stopped plaguing him for a moment deepened the gashes inside his stomach. His brain hurt like it was being poked with needles from every angle. He saw Louis limping and shaking, swiping his claws at a pack of sheep, strange visions that were too hazy to make out and a blurry figure walking towards him.

“I’m hungry,” he whispered.

“I know.” Louis put his hands on Owen’s shoulders, guiding him down. He pressed the palm of his hands against Owen’s ears, blocking out the noises of the forest, and put their foreheads together. His voice was muffled, but comforting. “Take a deep breath… hold it… breathe out.”

Owen’s stomach was tearing itself apart, and the fresh meat from the sheep begged to be eaten, but he followed Louis’ lead. With each repeat, the fuzziness at the edges of his brain disappeared. The steady force on his head helped keep his mind in place, gently guiding it back to his body.

“Louis?”

He didn’t move. “How are you feeling?”

Owen’s stomach answered for him.

Louis huffed a quiet laugh, and he gently stroked Owen’s temple with his thumb. “Other than that. Do you feel in control?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” Louis pulled away, and handed over the mutton. “Eat it slowly,” he said firmly.

Owen cried with relief. After the first mutton had been slowly devoured, Louis handed over another one. This continued until his stomach untwisted and his head cleared. Nothing had ever tasted so good in his life.

With his hunger satiated, Owen finally looked properly at Louis.

His skin was torn where the flames had done their worst work. It was cracked in uneven rips, curling at the edges where it had become black. Red blossomed underneath, a darker colour around the wounds and almost luminescent right under the cracks. His legs had gotten the worst of it, but the marks of the flames continued all the way up his body where it ended at his face.

He looked demonic.

Owen lifted his hand to his cheek to gently caress the burned skin. Louis leaned into his touch.

His voice was shaky. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. They raided my home, found proof that I… that I had hurt you, and brought me into town.” His tone switched suddenly, from deep in thought to reassuring. “Hey, I’m going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?”

“I’m a vampire. I’ll just have to sleep for a while.”

“This doesn’t go away with sleep!”

“Not a normal one, a vampire sleep. It’s not uncommon to sleep in a coffin or underground for a few decades to recover from injuries.” Despite his best attempts at being reassuring, he couldn’t hide the way his raw voice cracked every other word. “We’ll do it together. And when we wake up, we have the rest of eternity.”

Owen wasn’t sure what expression he made, but whatever it was, it made Louis cradle his cheek and pull him in for a soft kiss. He winced with every stretch of movement.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

Owen’s brain couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. His heart was still burning, clouding his reality with the thick smoke, forcing him to imagine a future without Louis. It wasn’t possible. That future held nothing but bleak darkness and unending, cold silence. No laughter, no companionship, no sweet words. No happiness. Nothing good. His life couldn’t even go back to what it was before, because now Owen knew what it was like to be loved.

He grabbed Louis’ shoulders, willing his brain to believe that he was alive and well, and that everything would work out. Louis held on to him too. Owen didn’t know if he understood, or if it was for himself, but they anchored each other through the tremors shooting through their bodies.

“Thank you.” Louis swallowed the lump in his throat. “For saving my life.”

Owen fell into his arms, carefully so he wouldn’t upset Louis’ injuries. The words fell easily from his mouth, as he had been holding them in for as long as they had known each other. “Thank you for saving mine.”

Louis shifted, placing his mouth next to Owen’s ear. “Eternity,” he whispered like a promise. “A short sleep. And then eternity.”

They walked to the outpost tower in the dead forest. Louis had to be steadied for the whole journey, so it took all night, and they reached the top of the hill just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Louis gathered supplies from the tower and Owen began digging.

When there was nothing else to do, they buried themselves underground, and in each other’s arms.