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"A blindfold?" Bob cocked his head to one side, setting his empty cup back onto the saucer. "And you are certain that will aid me?"
"I have some hope towards it, yes." Northdin held out his hand for the cup, and carried it back to the little side table where his own empty dish already stood. "You recall what I have determined to be the source of your difficulty?"
"Uncertainty." Bob recited dutifully, folding and refolding his hands in his lap. He yearned for a stake, a rosary, a prayer book, a walking stick, sometimes, when his hands were empty. "Fear. I lose control of my powers because I am afraid of losing control of them, and that is a devilishly vicious circle I cannot escape."
"Precisely." Northdin looked pleased to have such an attentive disciple, and Bob, privately, was pleased to have pleased him. "If you want me to teach you how to best use your powers, then you must learn to control them first. Learn to find the inner equilibrium from which we can work further. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Sire." Bob inclined his head. "So, the blindfold...?"
"Vampires are calmed by the dark, by tight spaces - that is why many choose to sleep in coffins." Northdin explained, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa Bob sat on, gesturing as he lectured. For all that he often kept a stoic and frozen-cold appearance, he tended to get animated while teaching, and Bob loved to see it. "The blindfold's intent is to simulate that sort of environment, the darkness of it at least, which should calm you and inspire in you a feeling of safety. It's all vampiric instincts, which I hope to exploit with this."
Northdin held up the piece of black fabric, very similar to the cravat bound around his own neck.
"In this calmed state, we will run through some of the exercises that previously caused you to lose control - and hopefully, with your mind and body at peace, you will be able to complete them without issue."
"That it might be so easy to trick my powers into cooperation..." Bob marvelled. He truly was grateful beyond words for Northdin offering guidance, offering lectures. He would be lost without such a knowledgeable teacher - and a so dedicated one, too. Bob had seen the stack of teaching manuals Northdin discreetly consulted at every opportunity, and felt his chest almost burst with gratitude and tender feeling. "Amazing!"
"Nonsense, only common sense. Shall we begin our exercise, then?" Northdin held out the blindfold, and, when Bob nodded, moving to take it, added "let me tie it, to make sure it is tight and will not fall off while we work."
"Yes, milord." Bob turned his face up slightly, closing his eyes, and tried not to shiver at the brush of gloved hands along his temples.
Fabric settled on his skin, the light shining through his eyelids snuffed out by the additional layer of the blindfold...
And deep inside Bob's chest, deep inside his mind, something quite unexpectedly broke with a sharp >CRACK!<
It's dark.
He's cold.
He's so cold.
And it's so, so dark.
Tight. No space. Arms folded over chest, too tight, difficult to breathe.
Can't move.
Cold. Cold, cold, cold.
Air smells of ice and of blood. Difficult to breathe it in, difficult to breathe, can't breathecan'tbreathecan't
He was asleep. He's awake now. The dream was dark and empty, too, but not so cold.
Not so tight.
Arms unable to move.
Still trying. Still twisting.
Palms pressing against a flat, cold surface above him.
So so so so cold.
Scrabbling, scratching, pounding. Ice shards rain down on him. Ice shards cut into his hands.
Help! Help!
His throat hurts. He can't breathe. Can't scream.
He still tries.
Nobody comes.
He's alone.
He's cold.
And it's so dark.
He's crying. It gets colder. His tears freeze on his face. It hurts.
He feels like he might die.
He feels like he's already dead.
This cold, dark place is his coffin.
He shudders, thrashes, screams. He cannot break free. Nobody comes.
And it gets colder.
It's so cold here in the dark, and his limbs feels so heavy.
He's lightheaded.
He's tired.
It was easier when he was asleep.
He's so tired.
He'll fall asleep again. He will. The cold and the dark are rocking him to sleep.
(He'll wake again and cry and scream again, and fall asleep again, over and over and over.)
It's getting colder.
He's so tired.
He's so cold.
And it's terribly, horribly dark.
"-rgy! Clergy!"
Cold. Dark. Oh God, God help me.
"Please! Cle- Robert!"
Why hast thou forsaken me, O Lord? Why do you leave me in the cold and the dark?
"I'm here. I'm here - you're safe!"
I'm so afraid. The dark will consume me.
"BOB!" Fingers, touching, soft kid-leather gloves, at his eyelids. "OPEN YOUR EYES!"
Eyes. Open. They ARE open, it's only too dark to see.
Isn't it?
Aren't they?
Or...
Bob blinked open his eyes, lashes weighed down with clumps of frozen tears, and was for a brief moment deeply confused to see bright light and a cosy room, instead of ice-glittering darkness. To be able to move his arms, curled tight around his chest, without the tight confines of a coffin restricting him.
(The blindfold lay, torn and covered in glittering ice, on the ground nearby. Bob couldn’t bear to look at it for longer than a few seconds.)
For a moment, he felt just as disoriented as when he'd 'woken up' in the dark, confused and afraid, and still strangely, unusually tired.
"There you are." There was a man- Northdin. His teacher. His Sire. Northdin- kneeling on the carpet in front of him, one hand holding Bob's shoulder in an iron grip, the other cupping Bob's cheek. Both arms were covered in hoarfrost up to the elbow, though the shaking of the hand at his cheek did not seem to come from the cold at all. "Breathe. You are safe, Bob. I am here."
He called me Bob. He doesn't usually do that, Bob thought, faintly, trying to breathe and instead letting out a weak, hiccuping sob-gasp. He doesn't like it. Thinks it's too common. It's always 'Clergy' or 'disciple' with him. Or 'Robert', at best. But just then, he called me Bob.
"How can I help you?" Northdin's voice was firm, steady, but Bob could feel the tremor in his touch, could see the panic deep in the glowing red of his eyes. He remembered it well, from the first time they had locked eyes over a cup of young Draluc's tea, that soul-deep fear Northdin took such great care to conceal. "Tell me what I can do to help."
Help? Bob didn't know. Bob didn't know anything, except fear and dark and tiredness and-
"C-c-cold." He stammered out, through chattering teeth. He was still freezing, and it felt like the cold was coming from inside him, inside his bones. "P-please, I'm s-s-so-"
Without even letting him finish speaking, Northdin snapped his fingers, and one of the cupboards was thrown open by vampiric telekinesis, an electric blanket flying out of it and into Northdin's hands.
Immediately it was draped over Bob, Northdin's hands firmly and methodically brushing the ice and snow from his clothes before wrapping the quickly-heating blanket tightly around him.
A moment later, the door was pushed open and a yellowish blur shot through it, Scone clearly having been summoned by his Master and rushing over to Bob at speeds he frankly wouldn't have thought the rather circular ball of cat capable of.
"Mrrr!" Scone's fur was all puffed up with his Master's shared distress, and he wasted not a second, making a beeline to Bob, where he jumped onto his lap, pressed tightly against him, and started making biscuits on his legs, while at the same time licking whichever exposed part of Bob he could reach.
Bob cried harder, around quick, shuddering breaths - but at least his tears were no longer freezing solid on his cheeks, dripping down instead to soak into the blanket and Scone's fur.
He wasn't in the ice coffin anymore. It wasn't dark, and it wasn't cold.
And he wasn't alone.
"Right then." Northdin rose sharply, awkwardly clearing his throat. "I will go make you some hot milk, to-"
"N-no!" Bob practically lurched forward to grasp for Northdin's sleeve, Scone on his lap making a panicked sound and scrambling to not be dislodged. "Don't-" another violent shiver ran through him "d-don't leave me alone, not now, p-please!"
Don't ever leave me alone. I was all alone for so long, rejected and shunned by everyone, I can't stand it anymore. Aren't I yours? Your disciple, your fledgling, your - dare I think it - friend, even, perhaps?
If I am anything to you, then you can't abandon me now. Please.
For a moment, Northdin seemed stricken, wrong-footed, and like he desperately wanted to tug his sleeve out of Bob's grasp and flee the room.
But only for a moment.
Wordlessly, Northdin sat down on the sofa, and pulled Bob into his arms - who went, bonelessly, melting into the embrace.
Northdin was not a man of physical affection. Aside from that first frenzied hug in Draluc's office-flat - an outburst which he had seemed to regret the moment they parted again - they only barely touched beyond an instructive touch to correct a hand gesture, or fingers brushing in handing something over.
Bob hadn't realised quite how much he'd yearned for it to happen again, to be held like he was precious, a miracle; embraced with that gentle care he'd once experienced the sin of Envy over when the kind Sister had given it to another orphan boy instead of him.
"Hush, now." Northdin murmured, softly, under his breath, his hand running over Bob's hair in the same rhythm as Scone's ongoing kneading. "You need not be afraid. I am with you, and I will not abandon you. You are safe - I will not let anything harm you. Not even your own powers. Nothing."
Bob was perfectly capable of defending himself. He could fight - he could kill, even. Had done so, often, and regretted much of it.
And yet, to be assured of someone else's protection made him feel much safer than his own fighting prowess ever could - and to be held against Northdin's undead, always-slightly-chilly form made him feel warmer than any heated blanket.
Slowly, slowly, Bob's breathing evened out, the terrible shivers quieted, and his helpless tears began drying out - and Bob felt no small measure of ashamed of himself.
Heaven help, he was a grown man of thir- of over 200 years! He had survived - in a manner of speaking - his flesh being rent asunder by wild dogs! He had gone on vampire hunts that made contemporary hunters pale when he started describing them! He had frozen and starved and wallowed in loneliness for three whole years!
How ridiculous, to break down here, in Northdin's living room, because of nothing more than a scrap of fabric over his eyes and some unpleasant memories. For all that he was inexperienced and newly-Turned, there was no reason for him now to act like a frightened child - and in front of Northdin, too, clinging to him! Oh, it was mortifying, truly.
Still shaken, but regaining some measure of composure, Bob forced himself to pull out of the embrace again, wiping a hand over his face to rid it of leftover tears.
(Northdin's hand left his hair, but slid down to his neck, resting almost possessively against where an old bite scar lay covered by Bob's turtleneck.
Bob wanted to cover it with his own - instead, he buried his trembling hand in Scone's fur, feeling him purr under his hand.)
"I-" his voice sounded wet and hoarse to his ears. "I m-must apologise."
A shaky laugh.
"I've failed this exercise quite spectacularly, haven't I? I must try harder next time - I hope you are not upset with me for my recurring failure to control myself."
"Upset? Upset?" Northdin echoed, incredulously, something of snow storms in his eyes when Bob dared to look up into them. "I AM damn well upset - but, Heavens, not at your failure, not at-! Sod the bloody exercise!"
He grabbed Bob by the shoulder, shaking him gently.
"Listen to me, Robert: I am furious with myself for letting someone I care deeply for experience pain in front of me, failure be damned! And if you never learn how to control your powers, I would still- it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter! It's secondary to your happiness. I'm not sitting here, upset, as your teacher, or your Sire. Only as another man who cares for you. Do you understand? That is all I am. Only someone who cares about you."
Bob blinked.
And then, in a burst of bravery - or perhaps idiotic recklessness - he leaned forward, and clumsily, shyly, pressed his lips to Northdin's.
("Meep!?" meeped Scone, startled, though neither of the two men paid him any heed.)
The kiss did not last particularly long, which was in part owed to Bob's complete inexperience - there were many passages of Thomas Aquinas he could recite from memory, and he knew about ten different ways to kill a vampire simply with the objects he currently had in arm's reach, but the art of romance had of course always been forbidden to him - and in part because Northdin froze (metaphorically, and somewhat literally) at the first touch of lips, and did not offer much in way of reciprocation.
Bob pulled back. Northdin was staring at him in disbelief (and so was Scone).
"Ah." He muttered, weakly, and if the previous outburst hadn't exhausted his power reserves, he might fall into a cold coma from sheer embarrassment right here and now. "That was- I may have- miscalculated that. Apologies."
Bob tugged the heated blanket tighter around himself, wondering if his vampire skin still blushed. He hadn't ever thought to check.
"It is only- well. You ought to know, perhaps, that I harbour a deep affection towards you. As your student, as your fledgling, I feel beyond grateful to you, Northdin, and will gladly give you the love a teacher, a Sire, is owed."
He swallowed. Kept his voice calm, and steady. It was like reciting psalms, only words to be spoken. His tumultuous emotions had no place in it.
"Only, I have found that I love you in another way, as well. As a man loves another - or, well, usually loves a woman. But that is... not the case, with me." Miki-san had had a word for it. Many words, even, in Japanese and English both, but Bob had been so relieved his friend wasn't going to cast him out for his strange proclivities, and that the world had changed so in regards to such love affairs, that he hadn't thought to commit them to memory. "A love of such nature, however, is quite inappropriate from a student towards his teacher. Perhaps even from a fledgling to his Sire, I don't quite know the conventions well enough. I thought it would not be right to speak of it."
Bob couldn't bear Northdin's blank stare anymore. He cast his eyes down into his lap.
"But just now, you said you were not my teacher. Not my Sire. At least not in that moment. I thought it was an opportunity I could not allow to pass by, to sit with you only as two men who care for one another, and nothing else. I thought I had to seize my chance, and I thought you would, perhaps, welcome it."
(He had always prided himself on a level mind and calm disposition, thinking carefully before acting. How awful, that he had betrayed his nature at the worst possible moment.)
"You will forgive me, I hope, for letting my shaken state induce me to think wrong on all accounts."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"Not." Northdin forced out. Cleared his throat. Looked supremely stiff and awkward in that manner he had when there was a great deal of emotion he was trying with all his might to repress. "Not actually. Ehem. All accounts."
Something burst into flickering life in Bob's chest at those words, warming him from the inside out. A tiny little spark of pure, glowing, relieved hope, the likes of which he hadn't felt since a vampire with an old-familiar child's grin had invited him in for tea and cookies on his first day in Shin-Yokohama.
Which ones, then? Bob meant to ask, hopefully - but was not given the opportunity.
Northdin had cupped his cheek again, with that same care and only slightly terrified tenderness, and leaned in to kiss Bob this time.
It was a much, much better kiss. In this matter, too, Northdin was a man of far greater experience than Bob could ever hope to gain, and there was something easy and very much practised in the gentle fang-nip against his lower lip, the quickly-perfected angle, and the teasing brush of his moustache against Bob's skin. The previous kiss had been Bob's first, but this one clearly wasn't 'only' Northdin's second, years of experience in each movement.
They were not teacher and student, in that moment - and yet, Bob learned a great deal more about kissing in the span of a scant few seconds than he ever had in over 200 years of life.
The angelic choir sang in Bob's heart, and there were a number of rather blasphemous thoughts swirling about in his head; and he understood, vaguely, why the Church had put so strict a ban on intimacy. If Northdin had kissed him the day they first met, then there would've been no doubting, no uncertainty, no need to return to question his superiors and search his own heart for the truth - Bob would have spared him without question, and fallen willingly into the Blizzard Demon's thrall.
Eventually, they parted, foreheads still resting against each other, breathing the same air in solemn, stunned silence.
Bob wondered, with an almost giddy curiosity, watching Northdin watch him, if the other was going to come up with one of those rather smooth and eloquent flirtations he so often directed at ladies in his immediate vicinity. Bob had always found them a little silly and lacking earnest feeling, from an outside perspective, but perhaps it would feel different if it was directed at him.
However, when Northdin finally spoke, it was nothing of the kind.
He simply gathered Scone up in one arm, and with the other, reached to take Bob's hand, almost shyly - and said, simply, without any verbal embroidery, "shall we go to the kitchen together? I would still like to make you some hot milk, to chase the fright away."
Not smooth, not eloquent - but overflowing, Bob realised, feeling the gentle squeeze of gloved fingers around his, with genuine care and the most earnest of feelings, from one simple man to another.
And that - someone to keep him company, to be a light in the dark and provide warmth in the cold - was all Bob had ever wanted, really.