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Silence.
No greeting rang through the halls as Victor Blake entered the home of his cherished partner. Once again, his partner was not there to insist he dry off from the rain. No voice of concern. No tender greetings.
Just the cold, and bitter silence.
He didn’t bother to grab a towel, or to change his clothes. He simply set off in a bee line to the bar. Hair sticking to his face, and his shoes squelching from the rain that had managed to get inside, Victor grasped for the first bottle he laid his eyes upon. He no longer felt any care for which bottle he took each day, his preferences scattered into the wind.
Draco had originally tried to stop him, comfort him, anything. None of it worked. Eventually, Victor had snapped and demanded that Draco leave him alone. It worked, and now Victor was left to wallow in his memories each day. He did not know where Draco was, and he did not care. What he cared about now, was taking the lid off the bottle of whiskey, and taking the bottle straight to his lips.
Weeks - possibly even months - in the past, he would have taken the effort to reach for a glass. He had always deemed himself too good to drink fancy liqueur straight from the bottle. That was… before. Before he lost everything he held dear. Sighing, he swung the bottle back down, resting it on the bar. Drops of water fell from his hair, making near inaudible ‘plop’ noises as they landed on the solid wood. This wouldn’t be the first, or last time, that water droplets would land on this polished mahogany counter.
Victor kept one hand firmly on the neck of the bottle as he sat there. He did not speak, he did not make a noise. There was no need to. Why bother? The only man that he wanted to hear respond to him was not present. For the last few months, Victor had been repeating this behaviour day to day.
Every single day, he would enter the mansion of Vincent Edgeworth, sit at the bar in silence until he drank himself into a stupor, and spend every second of that time agonising over how cold, and awful this home was without him. Occasionally, he would cry. Sometimes, Draco would catch him weeping. Other times, he would vanish for days, then magically reappear - usually wounded. Draco dared not ask where he had been on these occasions.
Silence fell over the estate again like a thick, toxic fog.
Victor swung the bottle back to his lips, drinking as much down as he could manage in one motion. He slammed the bottle back down, and held his head in his hands. A sob escaped his lips involuntarily.
“Vincent…” he choked out, almost inaudibly, “I’m losing, I really don’t think I can live like this.” One more sob, then the sound of him gulping down the last of the bottle.
Silence again.
Draco, currently cleaning one of the many rooms, was startled to suddenly hear a loud crash. He instinctively ran in the direction in which he heard it come from, soon finding himself standing in the doorway of the room containing the lavish bar. His eyes widened in pure shock as he slowly took in the scene in front of him.
Glass was scattered over the floor and the mahogany bar top. The remains of the shattered bottle were held firmly in Victor’s metal grip. His back was turned to Draco, so he was unaware that he was being watched. A bitter, quiet laugh escaped from his lips as he looked up towards the ceiling. His hand gripped the shattered bottle tighter. Had his hands still been made of flesh, he’d have surely been cut and be bleeding.
Victor’s hands trembled as he started to raise his arm. He raised the bottle to his neck, pressing the sharp glass to it. A small droplet of blood formed where the glass touched his throat.
“Vincent…” He muttered, closely followed by a sob. His hand took the bottle away from his throat for a moment, and Draco finally processed what was happening.
“No!” Draco screamed as he lunged forwards, barely managing to knock the glass from Victor’s grasp in time. The two fell to the floor with a clatter, and Victor did not move.
Draco rushed to check on him.
Victor was laying on his side, staring blankly at the glass on the floor. His throat had a long, yet shallow cut on it, caused by the movement of the glass being ripped away from him. His hearing was foggy as Draco tried to speak.
He looked up at Draco, seeing his face full of concern.
“Sorry.”
Victor brushed himself off, got up from the floor and laughed.
“I’m fine, see?” he remarked, turning to show Draco a smile.
“I just watched you try to kill yourself, you are not fine.”
Victor’s smile cracked.
“I know you miss the master, but-” Draco was cut off short.
“He’s the love of my life.” Victor looked away as he spoke. “How am I meant to function without him? Surely… If he hasn’t come back to me by now, he must be…” a sob cut him off.
Draco simply stared in silence. Blood was pooling from his hands, as he had carelessly cut them in order to prevent Victor from harming himself. The sensation made him glance downwards, checking how bad his wounds were.
“I want to be with him.” a quiet whisper escaped from Victor, recentring Draco’s focus.
Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt stupid for allowing himself to say his thoughts aloud. He turned on his heels, grasped another bottle of liqueur, and headed towards the master bedroom.
Draco cautiously followed behind, anxious that Victor would try to harm himself again.
But… Victor did not. He simply sat on the large bed, slowly drinking the liqueur as he stared at the wall. Draco left him in peace, and returned to the bar so that he could clean up the blood and shattered glass. Victor breathed a sigh of relief as he was left on his own once again.
Placing down the bottle on the bedside table, he stepped towards the wardrobe.
He cautiously pulled out one of Vincent’s turtlenecks. He had only worn those when alone with Victor, too prim and proper to let others see him in comfortable clothing. Victor held it tight. It still had the warm, earthy, slightly minty smell of his partner.
He collapsed onto the bed.
Burying his face into his partner’s scent, Victor Blake finally let out the loud sobs he had been holding in since the day Vincent had disappeared.
As his cries subdued, his energy dwindled. The warmth and familiar smell soothed him, and in turn… He gently began to drift into sleep.
Silence fell over the mansion once again.