these were all meant to be 200 words and they are getting longer every time. whatever. this is my first attempt at verrrry slight larten/alicia and therefore has some spoilers for SLC if you haven't read it yet!
Collide - Justine Skye
I know you think that you know me
But you ain't even seen my dark side
The lights of the city are twinkling like thousands of fireflies outside their second floor apartment. Larten feels like himself again under the moonlight, with Gavner tucked up in bed and no longer looking at him with those brown eyes, always wanting to know why. He unlocks the door and steps out onto the balcony, taking a deep breath of the night air and listening to the city hum.
This is the third night this week that he hasn't been able to sleep. It isn't worry over the business that keeps him awake, though that's what he blames it on when Alicia asks. He is concerned about the work he does for Tanish sometimes, worries over the morality of it, but this slight anxiety is nothing compared to the pain and the guilt he carries around night after night, year after year. If he could just stop thinking –
He rubs a hand over his eyes when he hears the click of heels behind him. When he breathes out and opens them again, Alicia is beside him, resting her forearms on the balcony and looking over the city. Her engagement ring and the crystal wine glass in her left hand catch the multicoloured lights and reflect them back onto her pale skin.
"What's wrong?" she asks, no preamble, and he can't help but smile a little. Alicia has never been the type to waste time skirting around an issue. It is a quality he has always found endearing.
He draws breath to answer, opens his mouth and then closes it again before anything can escape. He can't say a word without spilling it all, all of the lies he's told her, all of the secret things he's done and been a part of.
"When are you going to stop thinking you're so evil?"
To her, it must seem ridiculous. He is gentle with her, kind always, and though he is stern with Gavner he has never done any harm to the boy. But she doesn't know the story, can never know any part of it, and so it will always be impossible for her to understand. None of it is her fault, but sometimes keeping up his act is exhausting.
As he considers, she straightens up and draws close to him, laying a hand against the side of his neck and drawing his eyes towards her.
"You might not think so," she whispers, setting her glass aside so that she can place her other hand on his back, stepping into his embrace. "But I know you. I don't think you have anything to hide from me."
He thinks of Traz's last choking breath, of the terrified sailors and the blood spoiling out on deck. He thinks about the lies he can't help telling, wonders how she might feel if he tells her that she doesn't even know his name, and bites the inside of his cheek. The worst of it all is that he loves her, more than anything, but that's the very reason she must never, never know.
"You should not worry," he manages eventually, knowing that he needs to divert her attention, smooth all of this over for another night, another month – as long as he can. "I am just a fool. It is nothing."
It isn't a lack of trust that stops him. He fears that she'll leave him, of course, and knows that she would, that she should, but it isn't only that. He fears that if he lets her too close it's only going to be a matter of time before she's gone too, because isn't that what happens to everyone he loves? Isn't that how it's always been?
She frowns, not fooled. "What are you afraid of?" she wonders softly, tracing a thumb across the stubble on his jaw. "I love you. You must know that nothing would change my opinion."
He stares down at her, amazed by her apparent faith, not sure what he ever did to deserve it. "Nothing?" he repeats, wanting to believe it.
"Nothing, darling," she assures him, and her pale green eyes are soft and kind when he looks into them.
A pause, and he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and allowing her head to rest against his shoulder.
"Within reason though, I suppose?" he asks, before he can stop himself, testing the waters. "You would not forgive me a killing spree."
He is careful to position it as a joke, just in case, and she spins out of his grip instantly, eyes darkening.
"You shouldn't joke, Vur," she reprimands him, and the illusion is over all in a second. He is Vur again, a human, soon to be a married man, not Larten, not the vampire with the history of such despicable deeds.
And if I am not joking? That's what he wants to say - what he needs to say - but he can't. Maybe he's never going to be able to.
He draws her close again, whispering platitudes, brushing her copper hair aside to kiss her cheek. He knows now that this is temporary, that it will only be a matter of time before his deception is revealed, but he hides like a coward to wait it out as long as he can. Truthfully, he doesn't know what else he can do.