Chapter 2: A Devil In Disguise
The bottoms of the sobbing individual's Converse clapped loudly against the concrete, sounding extra loud due to his insecure state and the desire to be unseen by the public that didn't even attempt to act like they weren't staring as he flew by. Hands pressed hard to his eyes as if it could stop the invasion of salty tears dripping from the ebony orbs, the boy was blinded by his own shaking palms.
It wasn't long before his body slammed into a hard, strong torso, sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap. Torn, broken states could sometimes be much worse on the inside than they could ever manage on the outside, but it wasn't like this tall stranger would know that. Who would be sympathetic to a black-clad, skinny figure who let himself be weak in public? The sniffling form wiped his eyes, looking up at the man he'd carelessly let himself run into. To his surprise he wasn't greeted by the expected yelling or gaze made of ice. Rather, warmth.
Vladimir didn't like pity, and the look of sympathy spilling from the man's gaze only made him feel that much smaller. Although he felt like he recognized this being, the long blonde hair and lean frame did not register until the sentiment dripped from his gaze into his mouth, the voice of an angel caressing the trembling body of the fallen youth.
"Are you all right?" Never did Vlad know that four simple words could hold such care behind them. He'd always thought 'I love you,' had been the only statement containing the ability to cause his heart to flutter the way it did, soaring right into his throat to where only a stammered jumble of words was the reply the green-eyed Casanova received.
Soon Vlad was swept up off of the ground, a strong hand enclosing on his own in a fashion that was surprisingly gentle. It was only a swift tug that brought him to his feet, and afterwards the callused hands of the other were wiping away the tears streaking his cheeks. Looking into the eyes of the one who was wooing him proved similar to staring at emeralds or looking over a green field. So basically, beauty was all that could be seen.
Suddenly, filth and disgust built in the young Goth's stomach at the thought of being attracted to a man. Plus, he looked at least ten years older than himself. Another thing to throw into the list, there was real such thing as love at first sight. Meredith Brookstone was the perfect example of that. He'd believed strongly that he'd loved her for many years, but then ended up picking Snow. Snow was beautiful and sweet and at the time she'd truly understood him. They'd practically been one, was once was due to the fact she'd been a drudge and he'd often escaped to feed on her.
After their relationship had grown some he'd discovered emotions that he'd never experienced before in his short lifetime. Sadness and pain had been felt often, but for the first time he'd found denial and true confusion. True love, true care, different than that he'd had with his family. And then, even now the life he had with her wasn't overly attractive. Al the fighting, the yelling, the bickering; it was starting to become too much. For many days he'd questioned ending their relationship.
And if he'd like to end it with his lover, did that mean that this man was just an excuse? A sudden decision made by his body to help him cope? Did his brain suddenly decide to tell him he was gay? So many questions, and no answers could be found for any of them. Not only were they too embarrassing to ask, but they just seemed impossible for a professional to answer as well.
As soon as light eyebrow was raised at him, Vladimir furrowed his brows and looked down. "Thank you for helping me up," he muttered, pushing quickly away from the other and starting to move quickly down the sidewalk, away from the strange man he'd incidentally run into.
"Mr. Tod! I'll see you tomorrow," was suddenly elicited from the mouth of the strange man he'd bumped into, that perfect voice turning to acid. So fake compared to the older man's previous reaction to him. It made a certain shiver go up the back and spine of the vampire, fear crossing over his features. Something about the change in tone brought out a familiar quality, and he didn't quite want to know where exactly it came from.
So, this was just a quick little thing I typed up for everyone. I'm going on vacation tomorrow and won't be back for a week, not to mention I wrote this pretty late at night and am not keen on the idea of getting yelled at to go to bed. I was thinking of adding another part, too, but honestly don't think I'm able. It's shorter than the last one, and I apoloize for that, but I'll try and make it up to everyone when I get back from the beach. Peace!