Silence

Silence. Something Simon considered golden in the afternoons, as he enjoyed it with his newspaper with a cup of steaming, hot tea. But, now that elusive treasure had morphed into nothing less than an oppressive force. It weighed down heavily on the two men, creating a tension so thick, that it could be cut with a knife.

Simon's lips parted, only to purse, as his words failed him. The vampire wasn't fairing much better. A hesitant noise escaped Alabaster's throat, followed by a reluctant sigh. This was untested territory. The noble had been taught from an early age how to command a room, leaving a wise word in every ear, while the tailor had learned through trial and error how to spirit purses open with the right turn of phrase. However, upon seeing each other again, after everything that happened, it was enough to render the well-spoken souls, speechless.

But, the stalemate couldn't last forever. One of them needed to break the wall between them. Alabaster had approached the tailor first. By the rules of engagement, it fell to him.

It was a task he would take on with the utmost of dedication. Because he knew what would be lost if he held everything in; their story would come to an end. They would go their separate ways, the years would pass by and before he knew it, it would be too late. Simon Hart would slip through his fingers like sand.

In spite of his intentions, Alabaster hadn't come to Simon's door with a plan; a true sin in the world of aristocracy. Neither had he brought an offering of gold or diamonds or pearls. All that he had to offer was his heart. He would tell this spirited, stubborn man with talented hands how he felt and once that breached the air, everything that came afterwards would be Simon's choice. He wouldn't force the other man to comply with his wishes. Much like the ever meticulous Simon Hart, Alabaster was nothing, if not a gentleman.

"Simon-" Alabaster tried again, finding his courage.

The spell was broken. The tailor's eyes narrowed, before he spoke a single word, ever so elegantly, but with as much force as a hammer coming down.

"No."

Without skipping a beat, the mortal claimed the platter behind him, before kneeling down to survey the shards with the same intensity of a tactician. That should have been the end of it. Especially with how Simon seemed content to ignore his presence. But, the vampire just couldn't accept that. Not when he was already in too deep; his heart had officially run away with his head.

Though, perhaps his reasons for such feelings were as transparent as the broken glass on the floor. The vampire may have been dazed at the time, but he could still clearly remember Simon at his bedside. Sweet, lovely Simon, who returned his affection with vulnerable tears slipping down his cheeks. Ones that Alabaster had thumbed away with tender purpose as the human's stoic mask broke in two. It was a memory that would feed his soul for eons. Something he would hold onto, even in the face of a thousand deaths.

But, he needed more than just this. He needed answers. Why had Simon left him? Why was the tailor angry with him? And no matter how much the very idea of it shattered him deep inside, the vampire needed to know one thing above all else; did Simon Hart really want him to leave and never come back?

"Can we talk?" he tried again, patiently.

"There's nothing to talk about!" the tailor huffed, as his ever busy hands negotiated the larger pieces onto the tray.

He may have said that, but he hoped against hope that the tinge of red now adorning his cheeks didn't give him away. Simon knew that he was being juvenile. But, he didn't know what else to do. His conversation with Malakai hung over his mind like a dark cloud; he had agreed to stay away from Alabaster, if only to keep the nobleman from being thrust into another perilous situation. Because it was all his fault to begin with, wasn't it?

'YOU'RE killing him!'

Simon bit his bottom lip at that remembrance, before picking up yet another piece of the clear, broken bottle. His own guilt threatened to consume him. Like a snake, it wound around his neck, choking out all reason, until there was nothing, but a mantra echoing in his head. Just keep working. Yes, keep his hands busy! It was the solution to everything and had never failed him before-

"Let me help you."

-Until now. Simon's jaw dropped as the noble began his descent, intent on taking a knee. The very sight of the Crystal Vampire lowering himself down to his level caused everything inside the man who knew and respected his place in the hierarchy to rebel.

"Don't, you-!"

His alarmed protest was cut off by a sharp gasp. Silence once again found them, as two sets of eyes converged on a single point. As if he wasn't feeling anxious enough already, the one thing the tailor had been so careful not to do all of this time, happened. Like a scene fresh out of his nightmares, a drop of crimson bubbled to the surface of his skin; Simon Hart was bleeding.

The human's breath caught in his throat. His entire being began to tremble as memories resurrected themselves like the grotesque, twisting corpses of the dead. His mother and sister were gone. And what was the cause? Blood. That thick, red essence of life that he was now flaunting in the face of a vampire! His entire body clammed up, frozen. A treacherous voice whispered in his ear; It was going to happen again.

"Are you alright?"

Snapping him out of his destructive thoughts was when Alabaster caught him by the wrist, crystalline eyes surveying the damage. Of all the things he could have been expecting, an opened mouth, a flash of fang, a damp tongue trailing along his aching flesh to sate an uncontrollable hunger, a raised hand glowing with a mysterious, white light hadn't been one of them.

"W-What are you doing?!"

"I'm fixing it."

Suddenly, Simon realized what was about to take place. It WAS going to happen again. Just not what he had initially expected; it was something so much worse.

"You will do no such thing!" Simon shouted as he snapped back to his senses, snatching his hand away from the other man's grip, "I know how this works by now! I-!"

Gibberish. That is what Simon had spoken, if the puzzled look on the other man's face was anything to go by; rambling, nonsensical gibberish! He could have slapped himself, as the well-spoken gentleman in him died a little bit more.

Simon took in a deep, calming breath. It would take a mound of effort, given his emotionally charged state, but he needed to get his words under control. He needed to make Alabaster understand!

"Why?"

That softly spoken word drew him out of his head; the human found himself peering into eyes of pure sadness.

"Why won't you let me help you? What have I done to make you distrust me?"

Words were powerful, mysterious, little things. Without a single weapon brandished, it felt like the tailor had just taken one to the chest. Closed lips slowly parted, as he gave a sigh of surrender.

Simon had been so determined to sit on what he knew; the arrangement. He was to stay as far away from Alabaster as possible, while Malakai kept his brother busy enough not to run into him again. But, obviously, this agreement had fallen apart at the seams. Because here they were again, drawn together like two celestial bodies by some mysterious, undeniable force. And there was nothing left to do, but to come clean.

"Your brother.. told me how it works," the tailor muttered as he shifted his eyes away, "Whenever you use your powers you.. you lose time."

Simon felt a deep, cold grief settling into his heart. He couldn't help, but to feel ashamed; like HE was the one who couldn't be trusted. But, there were bigger things at play than a mere spurt of deception. Because if there was ever a time to be firm, it was now. Green eyes hardened as they dared to peer up into orbs of purest blue.

"I refuse to be the reason for your death, Alabaster Stone. The final nail in your coffin WON'T be me."

The noble stared at the tailor for an enduring moment. Finally, he fished into his pocket and pulled out something so completely and utterly commonplace, that it seemed almost comical in that moment; a plain handkerchief. Keeping eye contact, the vampire pressed the fabric firmly to the cut. Once the wound stopped spilling crimson, Alabaster carefully tied the cloth off in a neat, almost pleasing bow.

"Is that better?"

"Y-Yes," Simon practically whispered, as his eyes lost all fire.

Suddenly, it became harder to justify anything; his fears, his doubts and especially his willingness to cut the noble out of his life, like scissors snipping through cloth. How could he possibly bring himself to distrust this man? Alabaster had saved his life. He even gave of his own time to insure that the tailor could draw at least one more breath. Knowing that, could he really find it in himself to deny the other man what he wanted?

But, the Crystal Vampire, for all of his sincerity, was still a complete mystery to Simon Hart. So, perhaps, it was time to ask a question of his own.

"Why are you doing this? What does a noble want with a common born man like me?"

"Simon," the regal figure said as he drew the other man's hands into his own, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"No. No, I don't."

The tailor's haughty response drew out a soft huff of amusement from the vampire. Could he really not see how precious he was when he made such an indignant face? It was almost as if he didn't believe in love, because he had accepted long ago that no one would ever feel for him that way; life was full of little surprises, wasn't it?

"There's no better time to start."

Simon's breath caught in his throat, almost squeezing a coughing fit out of the shocked mortal; his entire face lit up as red as a cherry.

'A very charming cherry,' the vampire's mind unhelpfully supplied him with.

"A-Alabaster! Do you.. Are you really implying that you have.. STIRRINGS.. for me?"

"Stirrings, you say? What an old-fashioned way of putting it. And I thought I was older than you by a fair amount. Thousands of life times, in fact-"

"Oh, do hush up, you infuriating thing!" Simon groused with embarrassment, only to be drawn into a tender embrace.

The tailor fell silent. He had no more words. No more questions. Nor did he need them. Because those warm, strong arms cradling him against Alabaster's body was all the confirmation he would ever need.

As his own, quivering arms slowly lifted to curl around the other man, he realized that he couldn't keep his promise. His word to Malakai, once as good as gold, had been reduced to a hearth-full of ash. Because as tears sprung to Simon Hart's eyes, he realized that he couldn't give this up anymore than Alabaster could. A scarred heart like his couldn't call it love; not yet. But, he couldn't help himself from thinking that it was damn close.