Frederick and Edward lay on the cold bed with their legs dangling off the edge and their eyes staring up at the sheer white canopy. They hadn't talked in almost an hour. They simply sat in each other's company. Since Frederick had returned from the war with his injury, he had spoken less, smiled less and eaten less. Edward visited every once in a while but they didn't seem to have anything to chat about. So now, almost six months later, the two were fine with uncomfortable silences.

"Do you pity me?" Frederick asked. His leg had been shot and he would never regain full function of it. But that wasn't what was killing him. It was the memories of a war he had never before dreamt of.

Edward turned his head to stare at Frederick's profile. "No," he whispered thickly.

Frederick closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Then he rolled over onto his side. "What am I thinking right now?"

Heady exhilaration rushed through his body as he raced between the trees, his hair damp from the slight drizzle and his eyes dark onyx from hunger. He loved to hunt because it was the one time he could use his speed without holding himself back. He heard appetizing heartbeats in the jungle. He swerved to the right when he heard a particularly strong one, a deer of some kind.

The doe hardly stood a chance. Edward knocked it against the tree, making sure it died with one snap of the neck. He did not care for pain, so why should he make others suffer? He crouched down and bit into the hot and fleshy neck with relish. He hadn't eaten in weeks and this blood against his tongue was exquisite. His fingers soon scrunched the blood-soaked fur in his greed to drain every last drop from the deer's body.

His head shot up when he heard a soft crack of twigs off in the distance. He tilted his head while attempting to hear more. But his hunger was still too strong and his senses were failing him. He picked up the carcass with ease and loped off towards a thicker part of the forest where he could drink in peace while keep vigil. He ended up pressed against a tree with thick shrubbery in front of him providing a good cover. He went back to feasting on the plump doe.

But then he smelt it. That scent.

He lifted his lips off his meal and sniffed the air, trying to ignore the appetizing metallic tinge wafting around him. Something else. Something familiar. He stood up in a daze and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood unconsciously.

Through the thicket he saw Evans walking down the overgrown trail, a travel backpack on his shoulders and dressed in an attire entirely suitable for trekking through the Amazon rainforest. Edward felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria at the sight of the man, and that made him question his thoughts. Why would the sight of Evans make him feel this way?

Evans paused in front of a large shady tree, looking up into the boughs that hid away the sky. Water fell from the broad leaves and onto his face. He flinched away and wiped it off absently. He looked tired, as always. His skin had browned from the sun. His hair was pulled away from his face by a bandana, which was soaked with sweat from the humidity.

He sat down on the trunk of a fallen, mossy tree and stretched his legs out. So human.

Edward watched him for a long while. He didn't do anything. He simply sat as he was, staring at his shoes and his fingers moving against the rough bark of the tree trunk. So why now? Why would they run into each other now, after all this time? Edward glanced away when he remembered his last conversation with the man. They weren't meant to meet. He stepped back quietly. He wasn't feeling hungry any longer. He escaped the forest and his urges by sprinting away.

If he had stayed back, he would have seen Evans' satisfied smile.

His head was nestled against Frederick's shoulder and their eyes moved together over the words on the book. It reminded him of all the times Frederick had read a book aloud to him when they were younger. He lay atop the covers and Frederick lay under it to keep warm and to hide his bandaged leg. They had been sitting this way for over an hour now.

Frederick pressed his cheek against Edward's head. "You always know what I want, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"Mhm," Edward nodded. "I know."

Frederick closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't need you to protect me," he whispered. His hand slipped into Edward's, their fingers entwining easily.

Edward stared down at their hands. "How…" He looked up at Frederick. "How are you going to turn the pages, Freddy?"

Frederick smiled at Edward as he closed the book and laid it on his lap. He shifted down and rested his head on Edward's lap. Their fingers stayed interlaced.

The next place they met was in the middle of a warzone.

The air strike had been unannounced and occurred in the middle of the night, creating chaos in the streets as people tried to flee the city frantically. Screams and blood riddled the dusty air. Overhead, sounds of jets echoed to the ground jarringly. Children and men alike cried for their mothers. Dirt covered their cheeks, making their tear tracks terrifyingly apparent. There was no way out and yet they tried to run.

Edward let his instincts pull him forward. His hand reached out on its own accord and his fingers gripped at damp fabric, then he pulled.

Evans stumbled back, falling into Edward's arms.

The fear Edward felt wasn't for himself. He didn't care if he died. But Evans… Not like this. His fingers curled into fists and he bunched Evans close to him as he heard the sharp whistle above him. "Please, God," he breathed shakily. Not like this.

And, suddenly, there was silence. The heat was replaced with cold. The dusty air was replaced with a clean scent. Against him, he felt Evans' heart still beating. Alive.

His hands fell to his sides and he sank to the ground. He hadn't felt genuine fear in so long. He couldn't stand up, his knees refused him. His thoughts were muddled in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of the situation. He felt carpet under him, not rubble. No blood, no screams, no fire.

He felt arms wind around his shoulders and he didn't protest. "It's okay," Evans whispered. "We're okay."

How? Edward leaned against Evans and tried to calm himself down. Had he been dreaming? Had he finally managed to fall asleep?

"Are you hurt?" Evans asked. Edward shook his head. "Okay. Good." The man shifted into a more comfortable position, resting his back against the wall of the foyer. "Let's sit here for a bit."

Edward complied without complaint. He listened to Evans' slow breathing and pulse, somewhat envious of the humanness of it all. He allowed fingers to absently weave into his hair, a gesture he enjoyed. He closed his eyes and let Evans have his way. After many minutes, he opened his eyes and observed his surroundings. He was in an old house from the looks of it. It was empty and didn't seem to be lived in by the amount of dust that collected against the picture frames and walls. Perhaps Evans' home?

He pulled away and shifted so he sat opposite Evans, staring at the man blatantly.

Evans brushed at his dirty cheek while scrutinizing Edward for a bit. Then, apparently after convincing himself to speak his mind, he said, "You don't have a heart." Edward didn't answer. Evans twitched his mouth in mild exasperation and mumbled, "I see."

"How did you do that?"

He winked. "Magic." He got up to his feet and shook dust off his hair. "Let's go grab something to eat." He beckoned for the vampire to follow him through the dark corridor. They passed countless doors and curious objects before reaching what appeared to be a dirty kitchen. Edward started when light suddenly flooded the room. He looked around for a source but then realized that the yellow glow seemed to come from no place in particular. The kitchen was old and smelled musty. It hadn't been used in years.

"Truth be told," Evans went on say as he opened up a cupboard, "I had given up on finding you again."

"Were you looking for me?"

He paused for a moment, caught off guard. But then he went on to take out a bowl and an odd box off the shelf. "No," was the curt reply Edward received. Such an obvious lie. He proceeded to pour what appeared to be dry cereal into the bowl. Edward was surprised that the flakes still sounded crunchy. He wondered exactly how old that food really was.

Evans slid the bowl over the counter and it halted between the two of them. "Help yourself," the man said.

Edward stared at the bowl calmly. He would rather not help himself… He took a handful of dry oat clusters, feeling the odd texture between his fingers. So strange. He tried one tentatively, keeping his grimace to himself. Disgusting and strange.

Evans smiled as he pulled the bowl towards him and chewed on a handful of cereal. "Thought you were a vampire," he said, his words garbled behind the food.

Edward played with the remaining five clusters that sat on his palm. "I am," he said.

"Then why aren't you eating me?"

"I'd rather not."

Evans laughed easily, causing Edward to look up. This was the first time he had heard or seen Evans so thrilled. Now that wasn't entirely unpleasant. The vampire smiled as well. Somehow, their rapport had changed and he hadn't been made aware of it.

"Why are you so patient with me?" Evans asked. His tone was sincere.

Edward didn't realize that he was being patient. "Am I?"

"Yes. You never seem be fazed no matter how I behave. Why is that?"

"Because… you fascinate me."

"I am a very fascinating man," Evans wholeheartedly agreed. "You don't want to rub me the wrong way. Is that it?"

"Most likely."

"You were scared, weren't you?"

Edward glanced away. Of course he had been frightened. The mere thought of dying without speaking with Evans one last time scared him.

"Stay safe," Edward mumbled into Frederick's ear. "Come back soon."

"Just for you," Frederick teased lightly. "And you stay brave, will you? For me?" The train whistled loudly and the drafts started to board with their bags, looking sharp in their uniforms.

"Mhm." Edward brushed away his tears. "I'm not scared. In fact, I will be joining you soon, Freddy. Just you wait."

"I'll be waiting."

So foolish...

"Who are you thinking about?"

Edward looked up at Evans. "You," he answered.

Evans winced before grinning. "So cheesy," he groaned. He leaned over the counter towards his guest. "Are you always a smooth talker?"

"Always." Edward flicked his eyes over Evans' face, memorizing the glowing features. They had never been this close before. He suddenly realized that if they stood in that position for a moment longer, he would end up doing something utterly devastating. "Evans, I-"

"Harry."

Edward paused. "Pardon?"

"My name. Call me Harry."

"Harry…"

"Unless you'd rather call me Evans."

Edward felt somewhat staggered. "Would you rather be called Harry?" he asked.

"Hmm. Sure."

"Harry, then."

Harry smiled crookedly. "What did you want to tell me?"

"I forget."

They stared at each other for a while longer. Then Harry pulled away and turned to the door so his face was hidden from the vampire. "Really, Edward, I just don't understand why you would bother with me," he said. "You can take the bed on the second floor."

"I don't sleep."

Harry stilled. "Pardon?"

"I don't sleep," Edward repeated. "I don't need a bed."

Harry glanced back. "Alright," he said slowly. "Take the bed on the second floor in any case."

Edward frowned in confusion.

Harry arched his brow.

"But I-"

Harry exhaled loudly and reached over to grab Edward's hand and pull him out of the chair. "Stop being so thick," he muttered under his breath. Edward gaped at Harry as he was tugged up the stairs. "I don't know if you realize this, Edward, but you make me very irritable."

"Oh."

"And… I guess if you're around, forever doesn't seem so bad." He pulled Edward into the dark bedroom and closed the door behind them.