Chapter Text
When eight o’clock rolled around, Red didn’t knock on William’s door; that routine had long since changed. It was kept unlocked now, so Red just walked in. William was lying on top of the bed, his long dark pants and long-sleeved shirt looking as though they had just been pressed. He placed the newspaper he had been reading on the bedside table.
“Hi, did you sleep well?” Red said, climbing onto the soft bed. He leaned over to kiss William, who returned the embrace, pulling Red closer. It was comfortable, familiar now. Red pulled away, to settle on the bed next to him, taking how safe and warm he felt for granted. He thought about his dream: was now the time? His stomach still felt full and heavy from his dinner, and he felt so very, very comfortable. He was in no rush. Later.
“I did, thank you.” William’s reply was short and clipped, borne from urgency rather than indifference. William sat up, picking up the newspaper again to show him the headline. “Did you hear the news?”
“What news?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to read. His Italian was nowhere near good enough to read in a position as relaxed as lying down, let alone with the other distractions that laying beside William in bed was likely to encourage. He scrutinised the thick black letters of the headline—Hitler autorizza la ritirata tedesca da Roma—and stiffened.
His elementary Italian was well up to the task of deciphering that headline: Hitler had ordered the German forces to leave Rome. What did that mean? Would the Americans take the city? It was good news. He felt a pang of guilt for the terror pooling in his throat. This was the worst thing that could possibly be happening. Perhaps they wouldn’t find him, surely they thought he had died, would anyone recognise him now after all this time? Or maybe—
“I hear the Americans will arrive any day,” William commented.
The tension in Red’s shoulders radiated to his hands, balling them into the fists and crushing the edges of newspaper where he had been holding it. William didn’t understand what a disaster this was. He couldn’t. Red threw the paper down, cursed under his breath and repeated it, louder, getting to his feet. He began to pace the room.
“Are you not happy that your countrymen will shortly have control of this great city?”
“Yes. No. I mean…” He ran his hands through his thick black hair. It was getting to ear length now—unsat. It was the longest it had been since he was a child. It looked nothing like the regulation cut in his photograph. They wouldn’t see him. Wouldn’t notice him. Wouldn’t even think to look for someone like him. Would they? “I mean, I’m happy the war is going well for them, but this isn’t… they’re not exactly who I would want to run into any time soon.” He swore yet again, sitting down heavily on the bed, his face in his hands. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling the pressure on his orbital bones, trying to focus through the rising panic in his chest.
“And why is that?” William said, getting out of bed and moving to sit beside him.
“I'm not…” He rubbed his eyes; he’d always known this would come sooner or later, but he hadn’t imagined it would be like this. In this situation. “My name isn’t Carlo Rossi. It’s Reginald. Reginald Wilkins.” The name felt strange to say again. Felt wrong. “I… I was a soldier. I left. I ran away.” He started wringing his hands, rubbing them anxiously over one another, feeling the rough calluses on his palms. It still hurt to think about, brought a deep pain into his stomach. “People had died, and I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and I… I panicked. And I ran. The rest of my battalion is probably dead. I don’t know if they had reported me missing, or if they knew I had deserted, or if they thought I…” His chest felt tight. Like he couldn’t breathe properly. Like when he broke that rib in the playground by the park when he was ten and he couldn’t breathe because it just hurt so much and the air just wouldn’t go in. “If they find me... they execute people, William. I can’t…” Red took another deep breath, trying to force the air into his lungs. “I can’t… they’ll…” He felt like—
— like before with the bullets and the yelling and the dirt and smell oh god the smell he was going to die he was going to die —
Like he did before, when he ran. His chest felt so tight and he couldn’t breathe in here and he had to run he had to go he had to—
Then William’s cool fingers interlaced with his, stopping his hands from going one over the other, stopping Red from rubbing them raw.
Red took a small, rasping gasp of air. He took a deeper breath. Another. His rib wasn’t broken. No one was shouting. He didn’t have to go anywhere. There was no smell of dirt.
“I’m sorry, William. This isn’t your problem. I shouldn't… I shouldn’t have said anything.”
"You have nothing to fear.”
He scoffed before he could hold it back. “Are you kidding?” Red looked at him blankly. “I'm an American in occupied territory! I’d be lucky if they don’t think I’m a spy! Of course I have something to fear!” He cringed the moment the words were out his mouth. He pulled his hands away from William’s, guilt pooling in his gut, getting to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I have to…” He ran his hands through his hair again. “I would have loved to stay with you, but I have to go. I have to go before the Americans, before they—”
For the first time, William looked away from Red to stare at the floor. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Are you…” Red could feel his heart thudding in his ears. “Are you going to turn me in?” He felt fear rising in his throat, tightening every muscle, bringing a chill over him. He could feel it choking him.
“I would never hand you over to be executed.” William got to his feet, grabbing Red’s hands. Red hadn’t noticed that he’d started rubbing them together again. The burning in his palms that his fear had obscured began to fade, leaving behind the familiar, uncomfortable rawness.
“Oh thank god.” The tension in Red’s shoulders relaxed. But then… “But I can’t drag you into this.” A lump rose in his throat, separate to the fear. A different feeling entirely. One that made his eyes prickle and his cheeks burn. “You’ve been nothing but generous, and… if you’re caught with me, they could imprison you too. For—for all sorts of reasons. I can’t… I can’t let that happen to you.”
“Come.” He smiled, pulling Red towards him, bringing him tightly into his chest, holding him there until Red’s breathing slowed and the tightness in his throat began to fade. Until his heart thudded only in his chest rather than rattling through his entire torso. William pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eyes. “Reginald, you will be quite safe with me, I assure you.”
Red felt like he should argue, but relaxed further into the hug, clinging to William. Whether it was true or not, he wanted to believe William, he wanted to be told it would be fine, and that was enough. “God, I haven’t heard that name in a while. Everyone back home calls me Red.” He swallowed, the lump in his throat going with it.
He kissed Red’s temple. “I promise you shall be safe with me. I am more powerful than you think.”
“More powerful than the American army?” He believed in William, a lot more than he ever believed in anything else. But he was still one man. An upstanding and strangely secure man with considerable means, but still one man.
“I’m powerful enough to help you, Red.”
Red smiled. It was nice to hear from him, even with all things considered. He entwined his fingers with William’s. “Are we going to stay here? Or do we run?”
“I was planning on travelling Europe for a while.”
“But how are we going to get out of Italy? The Americans are coming, and the Germans…”
“I have my ways,” he said, with a calm completely at odds with the way Red was feeling, as though he didn’t know what it had been like, the fighting and the smell of the dirt and the sound of the aircraft and the scrambling and the waiting oh god the waiting for—
“Before we go, there is something I must tell you.”
“Oh?”
“Remember when I told you that all men have their secrets?”
“...Yes?” Would he need to smuggle Red out of Italy inside some antique cabinet? Or was it something worse? Was William a spy after all?
William gently placed his right hand on Red’s left temple and tilted Red’s head to the side. He placed his face against Red’s neck, inhaling deeply through his nose, feeling the warmth of Red’s skin.
“Your neck is beautifully shaped.”
“Thank you?” Red’s fingers encircled William’s left wrist, hesitant, but not fighting back. “What are you doing?”
“May I bite your neck?” he murmured, running his tongue along the underside of his teeth.
Red hesitated. “Sure.” It had been weeks since William had last asked permission for to bite him: he’d asked the first few times, but small bites to the neck, chest and shoulders had become well incorporated into their amorous routine. This hardly seemed the time for it.
“Thank you.”
Red caught the briefest glimpse of William’s canines—were they always that long?—before he plunged them into his neck.
The feeling was immediate and intense. A sharp, profound pain that had Red let loose a scream that was softened by the bare, pale hand that William had brought to his mouth in the same movement as the bite.
The pain faded away as quickly as it came. It felt as though every part of his brain was exploding, in a good way, and then going dormant, fully relaxed. His extremities tingled and then went numb. He felt as though the shadows of William’s mind were upon him: intoxication, confidence, lust, strength, and intelligence. He could feel that William was strong, that the American army put no fear into his heart. Red could feel his very life, the energy of his body, leaving him, and joining into William’s empty body along with his warm, wet blood. It felt for that moment as though they were one person, sharing a soul, sharing everything. It felt impossible. And the bliss —the numb feeling, his mind empty and clear all at once, it felt as though he was strong, as though he was smart, as though he was at the centre of—
It stopped.
After what seemed like only a moment, far too short a moment, William’s mouth left Red’s neck. William firmly placed the fingers of his right hand on the wound. It began clotting almost immediately. It stung, it throbbed, but the pain was too mild, beyond Red’s notice as the rest of him was still tingling so wonderfully, like the first stretch after a long sleep.
Instinctively, Red stepped back, out of William’s reach. Red’s fingers moved to his neck to feel the drying scabs that had formed there. He had expected to feel blood trickling down his neck, or… he wasn’t exactly sure what should be there.
He was expecting something.
He took his still-tingling fingers off his neck and examined them; they were smeared with blood, his blood, but not nearly as much as he would have expected. It was more like the small cuts he used to get when he was learning to shave.
“What… what was that?” Red touched it again, pressing in, expecting blood, expecting a bruise, expecting something. “What did you do?”
“Did you enjoy it?” William didn’t want to make a mistake, here, not after how invested he’d become in Red. He’d contemplated avoiding this revelation for now, but he knew the conversation would have to happen eventually, and their travel arrangements would be far less complicated this way.
Besides, it had felt good to finally taste him.
Red hesitated. He pushed down on the wound again, instinctively, still not sure what he should expect to have found there. “I did.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” William nodded, acting as though he hadn’t expected any other response. But on their first time, humans usually asked for him to continue. Some of them begged—Red’s reaction was one of the most restrained he had seen.
But Red wasn’t like the others. He hadn’t come to William, seeking out the rare thrill that was whispered about in disreputable establishments. No, he was here because he liked William; and William had found that he liked that.
William leaned slightly forward, almost imperceptibly, to monitor Red’s reaction. Red stepped back, just a little. It was a completely unconscious movement, born of confusion, not fear.
“Did you bite me? Did you really just bite me?” he demanded, more incredulous than scared.
“Yes.” William took a small step backwards. There was a slight slackening in Red’s shoulders.
“Why isn’t it bleeding?” Red asked, touching the raw scab again. There was an edge to his voice now. He was still confused, he wasn’t scared, but he felt… very odd. Agitated. “I feel like it should still be bleeding.”
William smiled. “It stops rather quickly, if it is done gently.”
Red stared, not having any idea how to respond. He had to close his mouth to avoid saying ‘who bites people?!’.As it was, he stood there, frowning deeply, still feeling where William’s teeth had sunk in.
William’s instinct was to relinquish Red, to accept he wouldn’t come back. There would always be others—any that didn’t want to come back weren’t worth thinking of.
But Red wasn’t involved with William because of the promises of boons or bliss; he probably would stay, even if he never got bitten again. Even if he never wanted to be bitten again. It was strange, to think a human might see beyond William’s nature.
He dropped that thought from his mind. Now was not the time for introspection; Red needed his attention.
There was no others like Red. None that William had met.
The silence was long, even by William’s standards. “I will need to make arrangements for our departure.”
Red considered it a few moments, his mind shifting gears from the confusion over what had just happened to practical matters. “Right. What do you need me to do?” He took his hand from his neck, clasping his hands in front of his stomach, suddenly too aware about what he did with them. They still tingled faintly; they didn’t feel raw anymore.
“Just be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. I will take care of the rest.”
“I can do that.” Red studied his hands, looking at the rough, sun-damaged skin around his knuckles. He cracked them without thinking, “If you do think of anything… I could help. I feel good. I feel like I could do anything right now.”
William took a step towards Red, reaching to hold his hands. “Excellent. You will need that strength for the journey.”
“But… do we have a moment first? To talk?” Red pulled himself away. He couldn’t let the conversation end, couldn’t let William get away with doing… that, and then not telling him anything. Not helping him understand. He remembered how his mother had always told his sister Dorothy not to let men toy with her, not to let them treat her as though she didn’t deserve explanations. Red had thought he wouldn’t need that advice, until now.
“Of course.” William let Red have the distance he made between them, gently placing his hands in his pockets. He seemed relaxed, which made Red all the more agitated: first the Americans were coming, and now the one person he thought he could trust had bitten him like that. And he didn’t seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation.
“I’m not clear on…” His hands went to the dry scab on his neck. “What you did. Why you did it.”
“You told me your secret, I only thought it fair I tell you mine.”
Red stared at him. Was William being difficult on purpose? “You didn’t actually tell me anything.”
“I suppose I didn’t.”
He was definitely being difficult on purpose. “You bit me instead of saying anything, really.”
“Well, it speaks for itself.”
Red clicked his tongue. “You know how I like to have things explained.” Red smiled a little. It faded quickly. “You bit me. Don’t get me wrong, it was…” He looked for the word. He touched his neck again. It still tingled there, but the rest of his body was returning to normal. “Nice. But why? Were you really…” He gestured to-and-fro at his shoulder, letting the incomplete question hang.
“Yes, I was.”
“So you’re…” Red didn’t want to say it. It was too ridiculous.
“A vampire, yes.” William’s voice was smooth, level, matter-of-fact.
“Is this why you never eat anything? Because you eat… people?”
William frowned. “That’s a rather vulgar way of putting it.”
“And why you’re never awake during the day.” This wasn’t even a question, more a realisation. Red had never seen him during the day. He just thought William was odd. Why had he never thought about it before?
“We are nocturnal creatures.”
“Oh.” He looked at William again, then took another step away from him and sat down on the bed. “Oh boy.” He rubbed his face with his hands.
“Will you be alright?” William sat beside Red, leaving a few inches between them.
“Yes. Yeah. Fine. I’m fine. I will.” He rested his elbow on his knee, his chin in his palm. “It’s… it’s a lot. I would think you were joking if you had… ever joked. About anything. Ever.” He took another deep breath, and pressed his finger tips against the corner of his eyes.
William waited for Red to break the silence this time.
After a very long time, he reached for William’s hand, and kissed the back of it. “Okay. I’ll be fine. I will be fine.”
“I am sure you have heard many legends about my kind.”
Red smiled. “I saw Son of Dracula last year.” His smile faded and he let go of William’s hand, remembering how dangerous the vampire had been in the movie. “Is it… like that?”
“I don’t know. I have not seen any vampire films yet.” He paused. “I have read Dracula.”
“Is it like that, then?”
“Somewhat. I eat blood, and I sleep during the day.”
“Okay.” He tented his fingers and pressed them to his mouth. “Okay. I can deal with that.”
“I am glad to hear that,” William said, closing the gap between them, placing a hand on Red’s knee. “Now, go gather your things. I will spend the rest of the evening making arrangements for our departure.”
