Chapter 3
~o~
Alfred was beginning to doubt that Arthur was a responsible person.
Arthur, why are you showing up drunk in the house? You're setting a bad example!
To which, the author promptly pounded on Alfred's door. "Alfred! You're coming out drinking with me!"
"I'm not twenty-one!" Alfred cried in horror.
"Don't you have a bloody fake ID?!"
...Well, yeah. But that was besides the point.
~o~
Alfred was beginning to doubt that Arthur had ever cooked anything in his life.
Arthur, why are you harping on my son's eating habits? You always do delivery!
The vampire jumped one day when Arthur slammed a giant pot of something at his elbow at his computer desk. "The hell is that?" he asked, looking over at the ominous black sludge in the pot. It smelled like death. He should know.
"Curry," Arthur replied, his hands on his hips. "Now eat up. You need some meat on your bones."
Alfred stared at it. He wasn't quite sure how to get around the fact that his digestive system didn't work that way anymore. "Um... yeah, I'll get to it," he said, thinking he might feed it to the neighborhood cat.
They had to bury their neighborhood cat a week later.
~o~
Alfred was beginning to doubt that Arthur was any sort of gentleman.
Arthur, could you possibly clean up after yourself? Alfie's not a maid.
The vampire always cringed when he saw the laundry strewn over the ground floor, along with cigarette butts and bottles of beer. Arthur seemed to have an aversion to any sort of activity that disrupted his writing muses (aka cleaning). The attic was always a fog of cigarette smoke and Arthur always sat in his seat cross legged with a glass of wine in hand. He blasted music at all hours. He was rude and crass, though somehow he always managed to make it sound charming. He didn't even drink tea properly, just dunking in his tea bags thrice in hot water and deeming that steeped properly.
"I am a perfect gentleman!" Arthur cried when Alfred dared to insinuate otherwise. "But there's no reason to behave like one with a brat like you."
~o~
Alfred highly doubted that Arthur at all acted his age.
God, he's still such a kid, the vampire thought to himself, his lips twitching in amusement. Arthur lay sprawled on top of Alfred's lap on the couch, (not for warmth obviously) snoring softly as he passed out in the middle of the movie. He'd pulled two all-nighters to meet his editor's deadline and just hadn't been able to last.
It was unbearably cute. Alfred brushed his fingers along Arthur's bangs, bringing the fringe out of the young Brit's face. Arthur woke only briefly, a brilliant green eye peeking up at Alfred from underneath his lashes, before he settled down back to sleep against the vampire's stomach.
Maybe thirty really wasn't that old after all.
~o~
Art, I hear you're getting on really well with Alfie now. It's nice to hear.
Oh? Has he been talking about me?
Only nice things, I promise.
Oh good. I was rather worried you would disapprove. You seem to have gotten it into your head that I would ruin the boy somehow.
No way. Nothing like that. I'm just overprotective. He's only had me, after all.
Yes, I understand. He's a bit frail. A week ago I accidentally opened a curtain while he was passing by. I'd never seen sun allergies before, but that was a severe reaction. I can see why he prefers the basement.
Well, who doesn't like a good man-cave? lol
Don't laugh, Alfred. He got seriously hurt.
Oh look at you, all fussy and disapproving. Who knew you'd turn into such a mother hen?
Shut up, Alfred
What? It's cute~ You big softie~
STFU ALFRED.
~o~
Polymorphous light eruption (PMLE). PMLE is a reaction that does not appear to be linked to drugs or diseases. It happens in people who are at risk and who are exposed to intense sunlight that they're not used to. For example, people living in northern climates could experience this if taking a winter vacation in a tropical climate.
Symptoms are a severe skin rash, usually appearing several hours after going out in the sun.
The rash may be itchy and include:
* Small bumps over the sun-exposed areas of the body
* Dense clumps of bumps
* Hives, usually on the arms, lower legs, and chest
An inherited form of PMLE occurs in Native Americans. It can last from spring until fall. Symptoms at first include redness, burning, and itching, which usually last 2 or 3 days but can persist for weeks. Other symptoms may begin within a few hours of sun exposure but go away in a few hours. They include:
* Fatigue
* Chills
* Headache
* Nausea
Treatment for PMLE depends on its severity. Other than staying out of the sun and protecting yourself when you are in the sun, you may not need treatment. The rash can clear by itself within 7 to 10 days.
Arthur read the Sun Poisoning WebMD article again, tapping the table in annoyance. It was the closest to the symptoms he saw in Alfred, but it still didn't sound quite right. In all cases, none of the symptoms were instantaneous, as it was with Alfred. Nor did any of them mention the same severity, as though Alfred's skin had literally been scorched by fire. Just remembering it made Arthur gag all over again.
That whole episode had been terrifying. Arthur had been in a state of panic, trying to figure out how to get his charge to the hospital without exposing him to more sunlight. In the end, he was forced to call Ivan to come and see to him, as revolting as the idea had been. Really, Alfred would have never been able to joke about it if he had seen how much pain his son was in.
Still, this was a mystery that begged solving. Now Arthur was sure that the illness that his friend had so feigned belonged instead to his son. He'd always thought the entire thing very strange when he was growing up, but never thought to question it. Now the evidence of it was in front of his very eyes. Perhaps it was inherited from the boy's mother? Was that why she was this silent void that either Alfred had yet to address? Every ounce of Arthur's researcher skills demanded that he go out and investigate. Perhaps there might be a way to treat it so that the boy might have a semblance of a normal life.
The author hummed, thinking he would have to create a case of sun poisoning for Doktor Vlad in his book. It would justify all the leg work in the research he needed to do. Also, he really needed to come up with a better name than Doktor Vlad.
"Arthur!" Alfred called out from down the stairs. "The movie's on! Are you coming or not!"
"Coming!" Arthur called out after him. He closed his laptop, putting away his research for now.
~o~
Alfred panted sharply, fear washing over his already cold and clammy skin. There was a chittering sound, the clack of sharp claws against stone echoing in the cramped corridor. He huddled down, trying to hide himself in the dark, to get away from the unknown thing tracking him down. Stop it. Stop breathing, you don't need to breathe, he scolded himself sharply. He froze.
Two golden eyes peeked around the corner, cold moonlight casting a sheen upon a wiry fur muzzle filled with sharp teeth. The beast snarled, blood and saliva dripping from its maw and onto the cold stone floor. It was coming closer... and closer...
Please don't see me. Please don't see me, Alfred begged, his eyes wide in terror. He wasn't breathing now, keeping himself perfectly still. The beast uttered an unholy growl, raising the follicles of hair on Alfred's skin. He trembled, trying to desperately to keep himself still, when-
The wolf launched itself and Alfred let out an ear-piercing scream. He launched himself at the closest warm body, wrapping his arms tightly around his companion.
"Blimey, could you shriek any louder!" Arthur cried out, trying to pry Alfred's vice-like arms off of him. The Brit paused the movie, hoping that it would somehow calm Alfred down from his near-delirious state of terror. "Why on earth do you insist on watching these films if they terrify you so?"
"L-l-l-learning e-experience," Alfred babbled, knowing that Arthur just wasn't going to get it. Of course, Arthur didn't know about all the things that went bump in the night. If he did, he'd be scared shitless too. Granted, Alfred didn't know a whole lot of other supernatural beings, aside from himself and Ivan. Plus his own Sire, of course. He'd never even met any other vampires. Which was all the more reason to believe that all these things could be out there.
Naturally, the ignorant human only rolled his eyes. Once again, Arthur tried to pry Alfred off of him, his hands wrapping around Alfred's slender arms. "Cor, you're absolutely freezing," he fussed, sliding a hand over Alfred's cold skin. "Why are you always so cold?" Alfred only answered with a helpless shrug. It was better to feign ignorance with Arthur sometimes, he learned. The man was just too good at rooting out lies. "Here, have a drink will you. It will warm you up." A cup of hot chocolate was pushed into his trembling fingers.
Alfred scrunched his nose at it.
"Alfred, you are far too skinny. Drink it up," Arthur growled, giving the false-teen a sharp look. Of course he was skinny. He was subsisting only on blood and not even the real stuff fresh from the vein. It would be a completely different story if he'd been feasting on humans for a good decade (or going outside to hunt, or whatever).
"What are you, my mom?" the vampire muttered, taking a fake sip of chocolate. That insult seemed to strike a chord as Arthur jerked and only grew more indignant. Alfred smirked at him. "What? The infamous playboy can't stand the idea of getting soft?"
"I am not getting soft!" Arthur hissed, shoving Alfred away from him. Only the vampire's quick reflexes kept himself from getting soaked in hot chocolate. He leveled a glare onto Alfred, seething from his stung pride. "Well, you enjoy the movie on your own and fend for yourself. I'm going out." Grabbing his coat, Arthur left the house in a huff, likely off to find some bar or dance club or some poetry slam thingy that literary-type people liked.
Alfred sighed. Welp, he ought to be prepared for a hungover Arthur tomorrow.
~o~
Alfred stared at his computer screen, his eyes burning from lack of sleep and staring for too long at his computer. Maybe watching the rest of that werewolf movie by himself had been a serious mistake. Still, yay for getting two months of programming done in one night~! Yay~
Groaning, the vampire let his head thump on top of his computer desk. He'd stayed up way past his bedtime, feeling the heat of morning making his sluggish and lethargic. Yeah, it was probably safe to head to bed. Werewolves didn't wander around in the middle of the day. No moon.
Dragging himself the small distance from his desk to his bed, the vampire flopped on top of his bed without bothering to change into his pyjamas. Wow, his pillow felt so, soooo nice right now. So nice. His eyes fluttered closed, a heavy blackness falling over him like a blanket.
The vampire awoke with a gasp sometime later, only aware that something heavy was slung over his waist. It reminded him too eerily of his serfdom days and he was utterly disoriented when he awoke, expecting hay thatch and muddy floor. What he got instead was a tolerable IKEA mattress and a warm human body laid up against his.
Alfred's eyes went wide when he saw his bed companion. Arthur cuddled up against him, his warm, sour breath puffing against Alfred's cool neck. It made a sharp shiver run down Alfred's skin, his senses sharpening with prey in such close proximity. The Want in him was screaming. Completely unabashed, Alfred raised his leg up to Arthur's chest, then kicked him out of bed and onto the floor.
~o~
"Rosbif, 'ow 'as your new roomie been?" Francis asked from across the cafe table, sipping his cafe (coffee, just call it coffee). Arthur twitched behind his sunglasses, taking a sip of his own beer. He knew what Francis was getting at and he refused to lower himself to that level. His relationship with Alfred was far more pure than the Frenchman implied. He only tolerated Francis because he couldn't go out in the middle of the day with Alfred.
"Fine," Arthur replied in clipped tones, checking his phone to see if he received any new messages from Estonia. Nothing. "And don't call me rosbif, you cheese-eating surrender monkey."
Francis 'ohohoh'd' in amusement, his wicked eyes sparkling in mirth. "Ah, you seem a bit tense, rosbif. Iz it because I waz able to get your pretty boy to bed and you 'ave not?"
The pint slammed down on the table with a bit too much force. "And how would you know that you even got anywhere with him?" Arthur demanded, feeling something sharp prickling inside his chest. "You ended up in hospital." It was idiotic. He shouldn't feel jealous. He was far closer to his Alfred than Francis could ever hope to be. Strange that he thought of both Alfreds as his now.
There was also the blood-boiling reminder that Francis was likely the one who had ruined Alfred in the first place. He couldn't accuse the man though. Not without the proof. Besides he was 'outside' Kirkland now. 'Outside' Kirkland put up with this sort of thing from his acquaintances and had on occasion dabbled in it himself.
Francis gave him a slick smile that deserved punching off the Frenchman's ugly gob. "You do not forget a night of passion like zat," he crooned in a way that made Arthur's skin crawl. Then he leaned back and let his eye wander to one of the lovely waitresses attending to the tables. Arthur only grew more irritated that Francis was not choosing to disclose any detail. That bitch! Every part of the author prickled, his imagination churning wildly. No doubt that was the intended effect.
Gritting his teeth, Arthur was determined not to ask anymore of the subject. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to ever try to act on his urges around Alfred, so it was not an issue. "Did you look into that other matter for me?" he asked, determined to change topics.
"But of course," Francis replied as he pulled out a large manila envelope and passed along to the author. "Names of ze most esteemed curators of bizarre diseazes in zeir field. Zough I wonder why you should be interested in such a zing."
"Research for my book," Arthur replied, pulling out the list of names. Almost immediately, he let out a hysterical giggle. "Doctor Vladimir Negrescu? What?!" he laughed aloud, mostly to himself.
"Quoi?" Francis demanded, not understanding the joke. However, Arthur merely waved a hand in dismissal, leaving the Frenchman unsated. "Arzur, you must tell me what iz so funny!" he tried again, but all he got out of the Englishman for the next half hour was a series of incomprehensible chortles.
~o~
Arthur arrived back at his front steps soon before the sun set. Dusk had cast the brownstone in warm vibrant orange, making it glow like amber. The author stopped at the foot of the stair, looking up at this place that he now called home. It was surely more a home than any other that he had ever inhabited. Likely because of the one he shared it with. He waited there, silently contemplating this particular change over a cigarette as he waited for the sun to set. He didn't want to risk Alfred somehow getting injured again. It occurred to him that he would never show such consideration to another human being, yet somehow the boy had gotten completely under his skin. Not only would he wait outside his own abode for a half hour, but it did not even seem like the slightest inconvenience. Strange, the effect of companionship.
When it was finally safe, Arthur stamped the butt of his fag under his shoe and headed back into the house to greet his roommate. "Alfred?" he called out, casting his gaze around the roomy home. Basement perhaps. "Alfred, are you down here?" he asked, feeling perfectly comfortable in heading down into Alfred's quarters. They had become far more lax in entering and sharing their separate spaces as weeks passed.
Arthur found the younger man dozing away in bed, the sheets kicked out around his feet. His shirt had ridden up over his stomach, showing off the pale luminescent skin over his abs. An arm was thrown up over his head, his expression completely peaceful over his boyish face. The sight of him made the author's breath catch in his throat. He swallowed thickly, feeling a strange, soft feeling kindling in his chest. It was unlike any other feeling he had ever experienced, either with Alfred or any other bed fellow he ever had. Yet all he could think was that this boy never looked so sweet.
His stomach swarming with butterflies, he turned back up the stairs to attend to that list he had procured.
~o~
Arthur checked his watch as he bound up the university building steps. 5:30 PM. A half hour early, but he was eager to make his appointment. After all, he had already gone through everyone else on his list. Hopefully, Dr. Negrescu would not mind if he impeded a bit into his office hours. Dr. Negrescu, Dr. Negrescu, he reminded himself as he perused the office directory. He had to train himself not to think of the professor as Doktor Vlad, lest he dissolve into some rather undignified giggles during their interview. A snort. Oh damn it, stop it!
The author took the extra time to compose himself. He was here for Alfred's sake. He had to keep it together.
"Come in," came the heavily accented voice once Arthur rapped on the door. Stepping in, Arthur glanced over the sumptuous wood-paneled office, filled to the brim with books and vintage knick-knacks such as a weathered skeleton and an antique stethoscope. Save for the random medical paraphernalia, it was a near perfect replica of the office of one of Arthur's old English professors in London. A little bit stodgy for his tastes, to be honest.
The professor behind the desk, however, did not meet his expectations at all. Instead of the brooding, old, tall, dark fellow he was expecting from the name, Dr. Negrescu was a young man with shaggy strawberry blond hair and a pearl earring on his left ear. He wore an easy, disarming smile as he held out his leather gloved hand. "Uelcome, Mr. Kirkland. Fank you for meeting after my classes."
"Quite alright," Arthur assured him, shaking his hand. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me. I appreciate the help." Then he halted when he met the professor's eyes. They were red.
Dr. Negrescu smirked, catching Arthur's gaze. "Genetic mutation," he explained, gesturing for Arthur to be seated. "It is uihy I decided to go into ze field I did. I assume zat is uihy you asked to see me."
"Ah, yes, that's right," Arthur replied, taking out his notepad to jot notes during the interview. "Dr. Negrescu, you are a highly acclaimed expert in genetic diseases, correct?"
"Please, call me Vlad," the professor replied with an amiable smile, easing himself back into his seat.
Arthur paused. Don't snort, he berated himself, furiously taking notes to stall for time. When he was ready, he returned the smile. "Vlad, then. You may call me Arthur. In any case, I thought that you might be able to help with some research on a particular disease that I would like to include in my novel. I am having a bit of trouble pinning it down to something that would occur in reality."
"Uell, zat should be interesting," Vlad smiled. "Go ahead. Uat are ze symptoms?"
Arthur nodded, taking out a separate piece of paper that listed off Alfred's symptoms. "Extreme photosensitivity. The skin breaks out into red lesions immediately in sunlight. Nausea and fatigue during the daytime. Low appetite-"
"Except for blaad, yes?" Vlad suddenly interjected, all the lighthearted amicability suddenly shut out of his flat voice. The author looked up in surprise, a little alarmed to find the professor leveling him a red-eyed glower.
"I... what?" he asked stupidly, before the Romanian cut in again.
"I suppose you fink zis is very funny," Vlad said, getting outright irritated as he stood up from his seat. "To come to ze Romanian medical professor to ask all about a vampyre disease. I am sorry, Mr. Kirkland, but you are not ze first person to come and pull such a prank. I am disappointed zat your maturity level is not above ze level of my students."
"W-wait a tic!" Arthur cried out, getting the feeling he was about to be booted out. He couldn't leave now. Dr. Negrescu was one of his best chances of helping Alfred! He got up from his seat, slamming both hands on the man's desk. "I am not pulling a prank!" he snapped back, "This is a life and death situation!"
The professor seemed taken aback by the sudden ferocity in Arthur's voice, giving him a chance to clarify matters. "I apologize for coming here under false pretenses, professor," Arthur said with a breath to steady himself. "However, this is a real affliction that is affecting a dear friend of mine. And I do not write about vampires," he added shortly, offended that the professor would imply such a thing.
Vlad studied the author suspiciously. After a long moment, he sat himself back down behind his desk. "Very uell..." he said slowly, "I uill trust you are serious about zis." Tenting his fingers, he nodded for Arthur to repeat the symptoms. Then he asked, "So, uere do you fink your... friend acquired ze disease?"
"I suspect from his mother," Arthur replied. "However, I am not sure. I am researching this without his knowledge."
That seemed to stir some interest in the professor as he cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed," he said, "fen I uill assume you do not know everyfing..." He coughed lightly into his fist and turned behind him to pull out a large, dusty tome. He laid it flat on the desk, thumbing through it to go to the page he was looking for. "Here," he said, pointing it to a particular chapter. "From uat you describe, I uould say zat he has some form of Porphyria. Cutaneous Porphyria to be exact. Fere are subsets even beyond zat."
Arthur's eyes widened, taking the book from the professor almost reverently. His eyes quickly took in the words, matching up the symptoms. Finally, a name. God, simply knowing was a relief. "Is it treatable?" he asked quickly, looking up to the professor.
Vlad nodded, his expression softening upon sight of Arthur's genuine relief. "Yes, but he uill need to come to my research laboratory, so I can determined uether he truly has Porphyria or not. Hospitals do not have porphyria testing and I am not in ze business of handing out Panhematin to everyone who asks."
"Y-yes, of course," Arthur replied, his lips breaking into a giddy smile. "I'm sure that I can convince him to come. And money is no question. May I borrow this book?" he asked, gesturing to the enormous tome. Pure giddy relief was bubbling up in Arthur like a wellspring, hardly able to be contained, making his fingers tremble as he held onto the book.
Vlad gave the author a tiny smile and nodded, "Of course."
"Great- that's great," the author beamed, cradling the book against his chest as if it were a treasure. "Vlad, Dr. Negrescu, thank you so much. This is wonderful news. Thank you, truly."
"It is not a problem," the professor said with a dismissive wave. He got up and reached out to shake Arthur's hand. Once again, he disarmed Arthur with a charming smile, his red eyes glinting in the low light. "I look foruard to meeting your friend..."