PSL - In sickness and in Death

[dirtyandtrue]

It was hours before Matthew and Joslin returned to the house with a distinct lack of corpses, and when Matt walked in, he was only in his boxers. There was a empty glaze to his one very dilated eye and his step was slightly unsteady as he made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. He felt scraped on the inside, torn raw and spritzed with salt water but full and blissfully high. The bitter weeping that had over taken the vampire as they had left the house before had left him nauseous and famished all at the same time. Crying meant spending blood and he'd been sadly low before hand.

The words that Blaine had snarled at him at the hospital, the anguished sound of his name before and the final soft cry of a however temporarily broken man echoed in his head, a mantra of guilt to a logical reassurance. It overrode the euphoria, but riding this kind of self deprecating high was something he'd done for 70 years after he was embraced. It was an old friend and some part of his soul was nostalgic.

But history really did repeat itself because an hour later, Lucchi was rapping on Matt's door and letting himself in. Being German and knowing full well how fluent Matt was in it, the elder vampire took to his native tongue as he shut the door behind himself. "Louis. Where have you gotten off too?"

"Here," he called from the balcony and Lucchi padded to the open french doors, hands stuffed into his pocket. Matt had found pants, but sat shirtless and barefoot on the just wide enough railing with a bottle in between his legs and a cigarette in his hanging fingers. One elbow was propped up on his knee and he didn't bother to even look to see who it was.

"I should throw you into the dawn."

A long handful of seconds passed. "Fuck you Luch." It lacked bite and edge; Matthew was numb and blank at the moment. Just absorbing, instead of reacting.

Lucchi dragged one of the chairs over and plopped down, crossing his ankles up on the banister. "It has been over half a century since we've spoken and that's your lead?"

"What do you want me to say?" He took a long drag and Lucchi knew him well enough to know that he would talk again because Matt was always weak to the level no bullshit stare that was boring into the side of his head. "I broke him, Lucchi. I killed and damned him and saved him and broke him and all in one glorious blaze of fire.... I can't find it in myself to be as sorry as I should be."

Lucchi studied his wards face carefully. "You feel too much."

"Oh fuck off," Matt swore, dropping his legs out to saddle the stone. "I tried, swear to god I did. The thought of losing him was-"

"Was too much," Lucchi interrupted with an impatient tone. "Yes, I know. And now you're feeling sorry for yourself."

"No," Matt corrected. "I'm not."

Lucchi scoffed out a laugh, turning his head away from the bullshit answer. "Christ, Louie, who do you think you're talking to? Do you remember what you did after each time you had a love taken from you? Seventy years you spent sulking like the donkey's ass you are. And to what? Have a break down in London that was remembered for centuries as one of the most violent random acts with a body count over 30? That's what got you shipped over to me. Disregard your guilt, you should be above sulking at your age."

Matt pinned him with a hard but unsteady gaze. "I've done a lot, but never had my own heart murdered." Lucchi raised his eyebrows, "And will you be blaming me for granting your request? Because I have no issue going into that boy's room and tearing his head from his shoulders. Then you have had him murdered and for nothing at all. Your little game of house is over Louie."

"It wasn't house," he snapped at the man, angry at the suggestion that this was anything close to a game.

"No? Tell me, why'd you bother? Why risk it? You're not a stupid man. It would have hurt you to watch him die, but time passes. And just like the other two, he would ease and fade into nothing. But now you risk him hating you and leaving. What will you do then, hmm? How much of your feelings with validate chasing him down and binding him to you so you can have your sick hope of happiness? You know how this could end and I will not hear you simpering about it in a few centuries."

Matt could say nothing and he stared at the rock beneath him. Would he go that far? Would the degradation of his humanity that had been so bolstered by Blaine and the life that he brought with him start to fade and send Matthew into the doors of the Elder Kindred's madness? He'd made a mistake that he wasn't sorry for but he was endlessly guilt for.

"What should I do?" He sounded younger in the moment, with a desperation behind the words that hinted at just how deeply this night had rocked him.

Lucchi sighed and shifted his feet. "Let him come back to you but do not let him position himself above you. You must maintain your strength. What's done is done, so clean up the mess you've put yourself in and get back to your duties. He was right to reprimand you - he makes you a fool and as a Prince, you are better then your whining tonight." Matt tsk'ed and looked over the balcony edge, but he took his mentors words to heart. A long silence hung between the two as Matt re-lit his cigarette and took a couple of lazy hits.

"Thank you for doing this."

"Like I said. You will owe me." The elder Brujah stood up while his reminder settled into Matt's head. Owing a favor to Lucchi was never a good or promising thing - the man was barbaric, even to the rest of their Clan which had made him perfect for beating Matthew's young fledgling heartache and rage under control. "Tomorrow night, I will fly back to Germany. The next time I see the both of you, I expect him prepared and ready to be presenting, like the old codes say."

Matt nodded mutely and Lucchi nodded back before turning away and starting back into the house. Matt looked back out into the sky that was just starting to threaten the darkness with light and knew he had maybe twenty minutes before the sun would peak it's first rays over the horizon. Long enough to finish his cigarette, anyway.

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[dirtyandtrue]

Brown eyes eased open as the sun finally sat fully behind the horizon and after a minute, he looked over to the empty spot next to him. It had been years since he'd woken up alone and in cold sheets. It served as a 400 thread count reminder of the night before and it took him a few minutes to gather the motivation to push himself upright and out of bed. Even then, he studied that carpet between his feet as he listened to the familiar sounds of activity in the kitchen.

How was he, Matt wondered as he got around to dragging himself into a scalding hot shower. There was no doubt it was Blaine down there. After scrubbing himself hard enough to bring a faint tint of extra color into his skin, Matt got dressed in a pair of slacks and a ribbed under shirt. He couldn't hide in his room forever..

Making his way down the stairs, Matt smirked ruefully at the sounds of Joslin and Maurice making their way from the far back room in response to the smell that was wafting out of the kitchen, and the vampire stepped into the doorway just as Blaine was putting his pans in the sink. The smirk quickly fell into a quietly somber look.

He still looked the same. It was foolish to think that he would look any different, but Matt was looking for signs that weren't there. Outside of the heartbeat he couldn't hear, Blaine seemed the same. Until the man realized that he couldn't eat and that the third fork and omelette were useless. Matt's brow pinched slightly and his heart twinged sharply.

"It smells good," he said quietly, breaking the silence and wondering how Blaine would react to him today. "They always enjoy your cooking."