Vincent watched his lover work, thinking and contemplating the man before him. Admittedly the blond was never far from his thoughts, but this was different. He meditated on the living statue before him, the tailored-linen-suit-clad coiled spring of power. The seemingly cold blue eyes set in the face that looked as if it had been carved from marble by a master sculptor.
Everyone saw the power, the frozen, overwhelming beauty, the imperturbable facade worn by the president of the most powerful company around. No-one saw the flash of pain everytime he was addressed as "President". No-one saw deeper than the act he had built up and pulled round himself like a cloak outside the room they shared and Vincent's arms.
Yes, Vincent had his demons. Yes, his nightmares still left him screaming and terrified, but his screams were not the only ones to pierce the dark silence of their room among the shadows of the night.
His demons were not the only ones in the relationship.
Vincent's demons had names.
Rufus' demons were nameless and hidden.
Neither's would leave them alone.
Vincent screamed to feel once more the ice-cold scalpel and the icier glare of the sadistic scientist.
Rufus screamed at his father's cruel, implacable hatred and contempt.
Each clung to the other in the dark.
When Rufus' shaking arms pawed at him in the middle of the night, Vincent would always wake immediately, murmuring sweet nothings in the other's ear and soothing the pain away with mismatched arms from a body that only he knew to be scarred under the suit.
Demons couldn't break this relationship.
Love was stronger than fear, even fear of memories.
When the arms wrapped together, everything outside the moment became a memory.
And the memories faded.