genessia | closed ; for two.

Entry tags:

closed ; for two.

𝓌𝒽ℴ ; D

saxophone
𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 ; Distant One searches for his likeness in the other
𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓃 ; Dusk
𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ ; Detour through the alleyways of jazz town
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃ℊ; NSFW

The color of dusk was the same here as it was back in his world. A canvas of orange, yellow, blue, and red mixed together and hugged the buildings as the star of light descended beneath the horizon. The shadow of night would soon take its place, blanketing the alleyways and dipping into the windows until stars would ignite a brightness unparalleled in their twinkle.

Night was D’s favorite, and though he could be in daylight without any harm come to him, it was still night he preferred. Midday, on his world, was close enough that it brought creatures in the thick of forests to push closer to towns, people, children of the sun, but here D was without the smell of the usual distasteful sentient ghouls that wandered through the shade for a piece of warmth off the nearest human.

However, he wasn’t tracking any smell other than one. Gren’s scent. He could track it through all of the cities here, his nose was skilled enough, his determination even stronger and with a cool step he crossed the distance and soon found the man he sought.

D was in his usual garb of dark clothes and large hat with a brim that covered his face with even more shade. His skin was pale enough to reflect, much like the buildings, the dying light of day. Feet away from Gren he called for his attention. “Will you be playing tonight?”

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The streetlamps flickered and then steadied, refilling the lower sectors that were siphoned of the day’s light. They were tasked in expelling shadows, but they were flawed as they often deepened them in the places beyond their reach. Gren was fortunate as he stood beneath one of them, swaddled in the warm glow of its spotlight. It fell over him like a golden swatch that lit up the crown of his head like a halo, but he was anything but divine.

When the light drained from his mind there was very little that could chase away the shadows that darkened there. They were impervious and unpredictable, capable of depriving Gren’s mindscape of light for days at a time. Even when the light returned the shadows never left. They would coil around the edges of his cognizance, threatening to unravel at any time, and they often did over and over and over again. They were the mementos from the battleground, the prison cell, the loneliness, and the grave. Like Gren, they were the sentimental type, and they clung to him relentless in their undertaking.

His shadows unraveled in time with the setting sun, the music he played on his sax growing darker just as the sky did. Eventually he couldn’t play at all and he only stood beside the open sax case that revealed a collection of crumpled red bills. He stared into a distant shadow, his face slack and indistinct as he inhaled a long, sluggish drag from his cigarette. He was gone and he didn’t return until he heard the sound of a familiar voice. It brought him back and his heart lurched in his chest.

He smiled as the other approached, but the expression wasn't fully developed. There was an emptiness still present in his eyes. “You just missed it. That’s pretty disappointing behavior for a fan.”

D’s head cocked ever so slightly and his eyes traced across the other’s smile. His words brought a word in which he was obliged to agree with: disappointed. His own lips parted and he drew a breath in and held it in his chest as his eyes settled on Gren’s once again. He exhaled through his nose and he blinked. His own countenance was calm as usual, though his eyes were full of Gren.

Under this light the human looked pale, thin, even weak. He wondered if he had performed here all day, it seemed unfitting for someone with his passion. D considered the other’s affair with music to be intimate and for a performer who was as skilled as Gren, there should be something like a pedestal for him to perform on. Crowds should be swept in by the notes of his sax off the streets to see him perform in room that would be akin to a treasure chest.

Did he not know the jewel that he was? D finally spoke, after his long pause of silence. “You’re worth more than to perform on the street.”

Gren settled onto the nearby bench and unhooked the neck strap from his sax. It was nice to see D again, but he wouldn’t be able to play for him tonight. When he felt languid and uninspired that was his cue to set his music aside. He didn’t want to risk becoming so frustrated with it that it becomes a target of his contempt. He was careful about not playing when his moods went from a dim, grey overcast to a shadowy plunge into utter blackness. During those times he was needlessly cruel to himself and he didn’t want to ever lose his confidence in his musical abilities. It was all he had left.

He watched D while he disassembled the instrument, his movements were quick and accustomed but still very careful. “The streets have a lot to offer.” He deposited the pieces of the sax into their case and then looked back to D, smiling. “Like you for instance.”

Despite his depressed disposition relief still wafted through him like a cool breeze against feverish skin. He hadn’t expected to see D again. Not after the mess he had made of himself that night. He revealed too much. He cried too much. He was too much. But D still approached him, so maybe it hadn’t been all that bad after all. He wouldn't be too hopeful just yet.

Edited 2018-09-22 10:02 (UTC)

D’s lips pressed together, the corners of his mouth shadowed with a scrupulous countenance spreading across his face. Although he could see Gren on stage rather than on a street corner it’s not for him to say—

he may have said too much already. He lowered his eyes and he relaxed the muscles on his face. With a lick to his lips he exhaled and pulled a breath in before he looked back up to Gren. “If you would spare the time, I would take you for something to eat.” Or, perhaps, buy him another drink. This was incredibly awkward for him, but D pushed through his lack of social security and engaged Gren nevertheless. He was eager to see him again, smell him, hear him, feel him. He, however, did not want to give off the impression that he was only about one thing.

Perhaps that’s where the awkward mostly radiated from, the fear that Gren would think lowly of D for misunderstanding his intentions. Though, one thing was for sure, D just wanted to be close to the other.

With his sax case latched securely Gren leaned back against the bench and took a long, quiet drag from his cigarette. He didn't hasten to respond although he immediately knew the answer. Would his eagerness unveil the magnitude of his neediness? The sight of it would surely demolish any of his appeal. In his present state Gren already felt susceptible to exposure, so he would have to be careful in how he conducted himself with D lest he never got the opportunity again. Their encounter already felt like a misplaced bout of good fortune and Gren suspected that at any moment Luck would realize her mistake and snatch it away.

He exhaled one last smoky breath and then ground out his cigarette against the pavement. Of course he wanted to have dinner with D, but perhaps his affected nonchalance would quell any perceived desperation.

Finally, Gren stood and picked up his sax case. “Then it’s a date.”

If D was a physical man he would be ringing his hands, maybe even pulling his hair out in anticipation for what Gren was going to say to his invitation. The unsteady flurry in his stomach was evidence of his anxiety but ever the cool bastard that he was, he was not about to show his lack of confidence. Which, honestly, was rare in and of itself. Of course, however, he was long in between any sort of feeling for a human and mostly when such feelings surfaced he was off to another town to avoid it. This, here, would prove difficult and moot.

So, he stayed and allowed himself the luxury to feel; grateful, as he was, that Gren would even be tolerant enough of his company once but now twice so that he could continue to feel this with Gren. This sort of anxious-twitterpated arousal of interest for Gren.

The emphasized social title of their dinner pushed D’s lips into a smile. His heart palpitated and his fingers curled softly in his palms beside his thighs. He would have reached out and touched the other’s face; but he was unsure of their boundaries, well, he was unsure of a lot of things so he kept himself at bay. Only until Gren would invite him closer, D hoped Gren would. “Anywhere you like.”

Gren revealed in the sight of D’s smile, that rare and beautiful indication of the other’s pleasure. He wanted to press his lips against it to feel the curve of it. He wanted to outline it with the soft touch of a finger tip. He wanted to keep being the cause of it. Seeing it stirred something within him. It made him feel worthwhile and that maybe the things that he had deemed unobtainable were perhaps slowly inching within reach.

He resisted though and instead placed a hand to D’s back, feeling the soft drape of hair that laid there. Even that was something he revealed in. “I know a place.” He stated simply and then began his trek along the pavement dappled with light from the streetlamps. His stride was long and steady and in no time they found themselves entering a quaint, little Chinese restaurant. It had already received Gren’s stamp of approval as it was probably the most authentic Chinese food that he could procure without his mother being present to make it for him.

With the guidance of a pleasant hostess they were led to a table for two that set alongside a small, indoor pond that was paved in stone. Within its depths swirled a multitude of vibrant goldfish. Gren propped his sax case against a wall and settled into a wooden seat as the hostess passed them their menus with a smile before taking her leave. “This place is pretty good. Not as good as my mother’s cooking, but at least better than a buffet.”

D removed his hat and cape, he left them to the back of his chair and then took his seat. The restaurant smelled of familiar foods he had known from home. Of course, Chinese food was something familiar to him as well. Noodles, rice, - especially rice -, vegetables, meat, in a combination of sauces that derived from spicy origins to salty. All across the Frontier there were various families that took pride in the recipes they passed down from generation to generation. What has changed, in the years of harvest and produce, was the size of the fruits and vegetables. One single grape would be enough to make a bottle of wine, to be enough to juice twelve glasses from. They were as round as heads to the range of one’s arms held out in circles (the latter being something to boast about).

D’s thoughts ran away from him for a moment and he looked across to Gren with a thought, “I regret knowing now I may never know.” Unless Gren’s mother showed up here, which could be possible. Although, “has she not passed to you her recipes?” D’s posture was straight and his hands were held down on his lap. Despite his size, his strength, his activity, D was not a big eater. So, whatever it was they would serve him would likely be picked at for a few bites and then done.

His hair was left loose today and Gren pushed a mass of it over his shoulder to fall against his back. His shoulders rolled and he straightened his spine, trying to be mindful of his posture as he was typically inclined to slouch. “She tried, but I don’t like cooking.” He spoke as he looked down at his menu trying to decide as his appetite was apt to want everything. “She’d be really disappointed if she knew how I was eating these days…” His voice softened as his chest tightened and struggled with the emotional burden that came with thinking about his mother. The last time he saw her it had been behind a wall of glass and she had sobbed to see the state that he was in. After that Gren had denied visitations as his loneliness was easier to bear than witnessing his mother’s anguish.

He swallowed, probing his mind for another topic. One came to mind, but maybe it would be strange to ask. Of course Gren asked anyway and he did so with a little smile. “What happens if you bite someone? Do they turn into vamplings or do they crumple up into little husks?”

So, someone did their homework. D thought about the Midwich Medusas and how his single bite turned them into his slave. His bite could do that to a demon older than he was, older than most vampires were. He pushed the thought from his mind and pulled in a breath to hold before he lowered his eyes and exhaled. He needed a moment to think before he simply answered, “I would never bite you.” In case Gren asked on the account of himself.

His eyes then focused on the other’s face, handsome as Gren was, the immortal beauty of a human turned vampire would not be one to cherish; no matter what humans think. A vampire’s life was a cursed one.

“You know vampires here?” Assuming a vampire was where he had gotten this information from.

A flutter of nerves swarmed Gren’s gut and he shook his head, worried that he may have offended D. “...That wasn’t actually a concern of mine.” It was. A little. Though, not enough to bring it to D’s attention and risk making the other feel apprehensive about keeping company with a human. “I don’t know any vampires, but I’ve read a few things…” He trailed off as the waitress approached and he went about ordering Baijiu for the two of them. He was still undecided on his meal.

He refocused on D when the waitress walked away. “How old are you?”

Hesitation swelled in D’s gut, though he stepped outside of this situation and reexamined the scene. It’s a date.. This is what two did on a date, wasn’t it? To learn about one another, to ask these sort of questions, to share with one another about the mysteries of their life. D’s lips parted with a soft nod. “I’ve lived far longer than .. likely I should.” He closed his lips and his eyes lowered to the table. This was an unsatisfying answer. This was not being vulnerable with Gren. D wanted to be vulnerable with him, it just took some coaxing. “Over ten thousand years.”

He pulled in a breath and held it, his eyes immediately lifted to gage Gren’s expression, if there was to be any change for his answer.

“You are.. not concerned? About the possibility I might have.. intentions of taking you for my own?”

The blue of his eyes flickered behind a fit of blinking. Ten thousand fucking years? A hand crept behind his neck and raked a strand of his hair into his hand. He held it, twirling it around a finger. He couldn’t hide how dumbfounded D’s response left him and his brows bunched as he tried to process it. Gren figured that D may be 300 years tops, but ten thousand years descended into unfathomable territory that actually made Gren uncomfortable. How could he possibly hold the interest of something that ancient? Surely D had encountered thousands of Grens in his existence. The hair around his finger tightened as he felt his worth seep out of him and it wound even tighter as hope took several steps back.

He was so preoccupied by the blow to his confidence that he almost didn’t catch D’s next question. “...What?” He shifted in his chair, grateful when the waitress arrived with their drinks. He immediately picked his up and gulped greedily. “...No. I doubt you’d want to.”

The physiological change of comfort was noted. Gren’s heart pattered with a different rhythm as he processed this information, the smell of uncertainty wafted with the base of fear. Even without these keen senses, the sight alone of Gren’s discomfort was evident enough and D lifted his head with an exhale through his nose. Cleansing the disconcerting scent from his lungs. The comment was delivered wetly, the scent of the drink weigh with each word.

With the waitress there, beside them, ready to take their order D would had opted to reserve his thoughts on Gren’s comment for later. If Gren was ready to order then D would tell the waitress he would have the Tofu with Brown Sauce, if his date needed more time then D would reserve his order for that later time.

When the waitress left once again he spoke up. “Why, when you are desirable as you are?” Would he want to, that is.

After apologizing to the waitress for his absent-mindedness Gren ordered himself Yan Du Xian soup and stir fried noodles with chicken. He made sure to specify that he wanted the largest portions for both. He always found comfort in excess. When she left Gren settled back against his chair and resumed the twirling of his hair.

Skepticism was meddling with a temperament that had already been compromised. He regarded D with with an expression that was dubious and a little somber. “Desirable? In what way?” That came out a touch combative and Gren sighed heavily in an attempt to lull the unrest that was building within him. He bit his lip and then hurried to add. “I mean, after thousands of years this all has to be pretty boring, right? I must be pretty boring. How many thousands of people do I remind you of?” That sounded just as testy as the last line, if not more. Gren sighed again. He felt insecure and his fortitude was crumbling away.

The question was unfounded for the obvious answer of the night they shared together, and the time now that was between them. Then the next inquiry came and, once again, D found himself puzzled if not for the mere fact that Gren was unique, special, and D can truthfully answer, “none.” His eyes lowered to Gren’s mouth, the shadow of doubt and disillusion brought a pout to his mouth, still sweet, still attractive.

“Were I to know.. my age would have upset you, I would have thought better than to answer.” He offered, softly. Even though he was as old as he was D carried the physique of a 17-20 year old. Which, in his world, the lifespan of an adolescent was short lived. “Do you think I come to you because of a memory of someone lifetimes ago?” Again, the words were soft and his tone curious and non-confrontational. "I come to you, for you."

“And who else?” The poise that Gren had so carefully crafted labored against the onset of neediness and insecurity. They brutalized it as they strained at the seams and oozed out one pathetic word at a time. “You must have some gaggle of prospects to keep you fully interested, right?” He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table as he continued to interrogate D. Everything was beginning to surface and it all intermingled and churned into a bitter froth. “What could I possibly offer to someone like you? How could I ever be enough?”

As the last words left his lips Gren blinked with awareness. His blathering had been so pathetic and presumptuous and again just entirely too much. He leaned back in his chair to put distance between himself and the bleeding wreckage of his heart that he had left all over the table. He swallowed hard, feeling a thick wad of emotion budding in his throat. Would he cry on top of everything else, too?

He averted his eyes, allowing them to swim along with the goldfish that swirled around one another so blissfully oblivious.

And who else? D thought jealousy at first but there was a distinct denial, deep within himself, that promised humans could never be jealous of vampires. However, his own foolish denial was thwarted by the various cases in which he has come across in which humans longed to have the immortality that a vampire held—

but their interest? Their affection? Their passion? These were on a different manner of jealousy where as the previous covet for immortality would come from the human’s realization of mortality especially the closer they come to death and the older they got; whichever bequeathed the human first with a reminder of their own transience.

Yet, D was here, before the human with his own feelings of jealousy. Although, by exploration and discovery on his own world, he was something spectacular he was still something of a specimen. D’s eyes remained on Gren, though his partner was disinterested in returning the look. He was reminded of last night in the various times in which the vulnerability became too much and Gren closed himself off for some need of self-preservation.

Tonight was only their second night and Gren may need many more nights before he felt comfortable enough to know, to realize, that he was enough for D. “Even still, I would see you tomorrow and the next day… and the day after that … unless or until you have no desire to see me.”

Once he felt stable enough Gren looked over at D and tried to imagine tomorrow, the next day, and the days beyond with the other as a frequent presence in his life. It was a pleasant thought, but doubt came paired with it. It was too soon to be so sure about something like that.

Gren only spoke once the waitress returned with their food and his words were merely of gratitude in response to her exemplary service. Due to certain circumstances Gren had lived a fairly privileged life as a child, but one thing his mother made sure to instill in him was to always show kindness and appreciation especially to those who work in service as many people were apt to forget their humanity.

Once the waitress left Gren picked up his spoon and started on his soup. After two sips he looked back to D, his lower lip rolling into his mouth and his teeth briefly boring into it. Perhaps they needed a reset to get their date back on track. Despite his insecurities Gren was still interested in D, and somehow, D was still interested in him. Time would be the true test and Gren would just have to let it be. Or try, at least.

Gren didn’t spare a thought to deliberate before he stood and crossed the short distance between them. He leaned down and braced a hand on the tabletop, and with his other he gently took D’s chin and turned his face towards his own to place soft kiss to his lips. The moment was brief as Gren didn’t want to make an affectionate spectacle out of it. Afterwards, he returned to his seat and picked his spoon back up. “Your eyes turned blue for a moment last night. What was that about? Can they change into other colors?” Gren would try to move past the wreckage of his derailment.

His heart skipped a beat and his countenance expressed the shadow of doubt as Gren stood. The thought the human was leaving came first, before Gren turned around the table to place a kiss to his lips. D’s fingers clenched in his lap and though the kiss was brief, he continued to feel it even as Gren reclaimed his seat. The smell lingered in his nose, the feel of the warmth on his lips, a hint of the soup trailing behind Gren’s wake. Perhaps Gren may never know, but the interest in the human was from these physical remnants of the other to the very presence of when Gren spoke, fought, laughed, cried, and allowed bliss to overtake him. These were all treats for D to relish.

“The change of color..” D brought his hands up to take purchase of the chopsticks. The tofu steamed in their sauce and he cut a bite sized piece of the tofu. “It happens when I have deep emotions. The other color.. is red.” Which also indicates the rise of something deep, but not pleasant.

Deep emotions. Gren smiled when he heard that. Obviously D had been deeply aroused, but the other’s phrasing pleased Gren’s romantic side. At the mention of red Gren thought to ask if it was related to blood thirst, but he decided not to lead the conversation into such grim territories.

He swallowed a few more spoonfuls of soup, bathing his tongue in the richness of the flavor as he considered his next question. When it came to him it hit him like a shock and he jolted a little, his posture stiffening. It was regarding something very important to him. “...Do you show up in photographs?”

D was unsure about the sudden change of something he understood as satisfaction to fretful. Until the question was posed to him. “Yes.” Though, it was true in his world, vampires did not reflect off mirrors and it appeared in some form of literature Gren found that fact for himself. However, there were vampires out there that would not forget themselves and adorned their castles full of mirrors, to what avail, anyone’s guess. The Nobles took great pride in their power, their presentation, and their influence. Such impressive residences were not for the faint of heart or for the weak. Mirrors were not the only surfaces that kept secrets in the castles of the Nobles.

D took a bite of the tofu, enjoying the soft taste of the vegetable in his mouth. It melted to his saliva and heat. His left hand remained down beneath the table on his lap, the face came to surface, on top of D’s thigh, and he could feel the ruckus of a muffled laugh pressed tight between his palm and thigh. The noise was evident but could have been taken as a noise from his gut. Hopefully.

Gren smiled at D’s affirmative answer. He was planning on buying a film camera soon and he was going to paper the walls of his new place with pictures of his friends. He only really had two so far, so he desperately needed D to be included in that. As beautiful as Faye was, D would likely be his favorite subject.

He moved on from his soup, sliding away the bowl that now only contained a small piece if bamboo shoot that laid in a shallow puddle of pork stock. He picked up his chopsticks to begin working at his noodles and chicken, but he paused when he heard an unusual sound.

He looked to D, concerned. “Is your stomach upset?”

The concern was touched him but the discomfort of his parasite showing up unannounced and all but mocking him with the laughter was foremost on his mind, bothering him. D swallowed and reached for the drink with his right hand. He gulped a few chugs down and set the glass down with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.” He pulled in a breath and closed his eyes with a sigh. “I’m fine.” He looked up to Gren and gave him a small nod before he looked to his tofu.

“Would you like to try some of this?” He thought to offer as he picked up his chopsticks again. “It’s.. quite good.” He offered the restaurant in which Gren favored a compliment of his own, part of him hoped to gain affection from Gren in doing thus.

Gren was reluctant to believe that, but he wouldn’t push as D seemed to be in a mild state of discomfort. He would be a bit more attentive, though. If it became more obvious that D was unwell Gren would end their date. He’d then try to convince D to allow him to care for him in his sickness. What sort of sickness could it be anyway? Would it require blood? Gren swallowed at the thought, but he would be willing to share.

At the offer Gren nodded and leaned across the table, smiling. “Right? It’s not bad at all. I was led here by someone who listened to me play music in the streets. I told you the streets had a lot to offer.” His lids then fell over his eyes and he parted his lips to accept the morsel.

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