The Count couldn't help the smile forming on his lips. If his surroundings reflected his mood, they would be in paradise, not in a gloomy dungeon cell where their shadows played across the wall.
"If that was true, then why have you been avoiding me? Why hide what you feel?" the Count asked, still smiling.
The hunter ignored him. He seemed to have forgotten that he was locked in the cell with the Count.
The Count was confused.
"Hey..."
"I didn't want it to be any harder for you, Vincent. I... I do like you, but..."
The Count's imaginary paradise melted suddenly into... into a gloomy dungeon cell.
"But what?" the Count prompted, dreading the reply.
"But our worlds are too different."
A blinding pain burst within the Count's mind. In his heart. In his soul. He momentarily forgot about their current situation. It always comes to this! Always!!
"You mean..." the Count struggled to say. Talking was very difficult. "You mean my being a vampire...?"
The hunter simply looked away once more.
"But..." the Count tried to say. But being a vampire means nothing! It wasn't my choice, Lukas. It wasn't! I... I am so tired of this...It always comes to this in the end. But he wasn't able to say anything more.
Sobs were suddenly ripped from the Count's chest. One. Two. Three sobs. Faster. And still faster. He wasn't able to stop them from coming. He didn't want to show this in front of the hunter, but he cannot do anything. He was... he was being ripped... apart.
"You know what," he choked through his sobs. "What's harder than you not... not loving me back?" The Count paused, and he cried some more. "What's harder is that... is that... I can't even show you how much I love you because y0u won’t let me!" And he totally broke down.
There was so much more the Count wanted to say to the hunter. So much more. He thought of how he would explain himself once the right time came, but now, when he had that final chance, he found that it was all useless.
He continued to sob more, uncaring whether the hunter saw him. Let him see, he thought. Let him see how much... how much pain he causes me.
He was surprised to feel something... someone... hugging him.
"I'm sorry," a soft voice whispered. "I'm sorry..."
The Count held the hunter's arms and released everything. Released all the pain he was brewing up inside. Released the hopes he was secretly nourishing inside him despite the drought of love, despite the sunless friendship, the rainless affection. Nothing's left. Nothing but coldness. Numbing coldness.
***
A voice was singing. The hunter's voice. "There are places I remember..." the hunter sang. "All my life, though some have changed... All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall..."
The Count let the song wash over him. He let it wash away his hurt emotions. There is a proper time for mourning, and this is not it, he thought. He waited for the hunter to finish his song though. He realized that he was now lying on the floor, his head on the hunter's lap. He would never be this close to the hunter again, he realized. He would never again listen to him sing. Never again. Still, this is not the time to be emotional, he reprimanded himself.
"I have a plan," the Count said without introduction.
The hunter jerked. "I... I didn't know you were awake. I thought of a plan, too."
“Well, what is it?” the Count asked.
“I suppose I could storm my way... our way out of here. I can... summon enough strength for that maybe.”
The Count frowned at that in confusion.
“But the dungeon gates,” the hunter hurried on. “Even if we do make it up to there, it cannot be forced open by sheer strength alone. Even if I pry the iron bars apart, the guards on the other side will kill me if I get too close.”
The Count raised his eyebrows at that. Surely, the hunter cannot be that strong.
“So, you said you have a... a plan? Let's hear it," the hunter stammered on.
And the Count told the hunter of his plan. He never took his eyes away from the hunter while he was talking. He wanted to know how the hunter would take it. When the Count was done, the hunter's eyes were tight.
"Will you do it?" the Count asked carefully.
The hunter took his time to reply.
Finally, he said, "Each step we take has its own consequences whether we are aware of it or not. You wouldn't have met the princess if not for me. She wouldn't have died this early, if she did not associate herself with you. You wouldn't have come back to me if she did not die. You wouldn't have gone on a killing frenzy if you did not see me with... with my friend. And you wouldn’t have been captured. I wouldn't be here if I did not come to see you. But I chose to visit you. I chose to be included here. And I choose to escape so I will do what there is to be done."
Despite the hunter's speech, the Count knew it wasn't easy for the hunter to reach that decision. Their plan was risky. Very risky. If they fail, there will be no turning back. They could not start again. If their assumptions were wrong... well, both of them will die.
The Count left the hunter to himself for a while. As for him, he calculated how long it would take for him to travel from the castle to the witch's dwelling. And most of all, he hoped that things would turn out okay. That they will both come out of there alive. And perhaps, things will change after he has rescued the hunter. Surely, whatever doubts the hunter has with him then, they will disappear when they get through this.
This is my last shot to show the hunter what I feel and I won’t fail because I love him. There might be a chance of a happy ending after all.
There was no movement inside except for their shadows playing on the wall. No sound except for their heavy breathing. But there was hope.
“You trust me, do you?” the Count asked as he placed his hand on the hunter’s hands. He squeezed them gently. The hunter squeezed the Count’s hand back.
“I do,” the hunter replied and looked away.
The lone torch flickered.
"If that was true, then why have you been avoiding me? Why hide what you feel?" the Count asked, still smiling.
The hunter ignored him. He seemed to have forgotten that he was locked in the cell with the Count.
The Count was confused.
"Hey..."
"I didn't want it to be any harder for you, Vincent. I... I do like you, but..."
The Count's imaginary paradise melted suddenly into... into a gloomy dungeon cell.
"But what?" the Count prompted, dreading the reply.
"But our worlds are too different."
A blinding pain burst within the Count's mind. In his heart. In his soul. He momentarily forgot about their current situation. It always comes to this! Always!!
"You mean..." the Count struggled to say. Talking was very difficult. "You mean my being a vampire...?"
The hunter simply looked away once more.
"But..." the Count tried to say. But being a vampire means nothing! It wasn't my choice, Lukas. It wasn't! I... I am so tired of this...It always comes to this in the end. But he wasn't able to say anything more.
Sobs were suddenly ripped from the Count's chest. One. Two. Three sobs. Faster. And still faster. He wasn't able to stop them from coming. He didn't want to show this in front of the hunter, but he cannot do anything. He was... he was being ripped... apart.
"You know what," he choked through his sobs. "What's harder than you not... not loving me back?" The Count paused, and he cried some more. "What's harder is that... is that... I can't even show you how much I love you because y0u won’t let me!" And he totally broke down.
There was so much more the Count wanted to say to the hunter. So much more. He thought of how he would explain himself once the right time came, but now, when he had that final chance, he found that it was all useless.
He continued to sob more, uncaring whether the hunter saw him. Let him see, he thought. Let him see how much... how much pain he causes me.
He was surprised to feel something... someone... hugging him.
"I'm sorry," a soft voice whispered. "I'm sorry..."
The Count held the hunter's arms and released everything. Released all the pain he was brewing up inside. Released the hopes he was secretly nourishing inside him despite the drought of love, despite the sunless friendship, the rainless affection. Nothing's left. Nothing but coldness. Numbing coldness.
***
A voice was singing. The hunter's voice. "There are places I remember..." the hunter sang. "All my life, though some have changed... All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall..."
The Count let the song wash over him. He let it wash away his hurt emotions. There is a proper time for mourning, and this is not it, he thought. He waited for the hunter to finish his song though. He realized that he was now lying on the floor, his head on the hunter's lap. He would never be this close to the hunter again, he realized. He would never again listen to him sing. Never again. Still, this is not the time to be emotional, he reprimanded himself.
"I have a plan," the Count said without introduction.
The hunter jerked. "I... I didn't know you were awake. I thought of a plan, too."
“Well, what is it?” the Count asked.
“I suppose I could storm my way... our way out of here. I can... summon enough strength for that maybe.”
The Count frowned at that in confusion.
“But the dungeon gates,” the hunter hurried on. “Even if we do make it up to there, it cannot be forced open by sheer strength alone. Even if I pry the iron bars apart, the guards on the other side will kill me if I get too close.”
The Count raised his eyebrows at that. Surely, the hunter cannot be that strong.
“So, you said you have a... a plan? Let's hear it," the hunter stammered on.
And the Count told the hunter of his plan. He never took his eyes away from the hunter while he was talking. He wanted to know how the hunter would take it. When the Count was done, the hunter's eyes were tight.
"Will you do it?" the Count asked carefully.
The hunter took his time to reply.
Finally, he said, "Each step we take has its own consequences whether we are aware of it or not. You wouldn't have met the princess if not for me. She wouldn't have died this early, if she did not associate herself with you. You wouldn't have come back to me if she did not die. You wouldn't have gone on a killing frenzy if you did not see me with... with my friend. And you wouldn’t have been captured. I wouldn't be here if I did not come to see you. But I chose to visit you. I chose to be included here. And I choose to escape so I will do what there is to be done."
Despite the hunter's speech, the Count knew it wasn't easy for the hunter to reach that decision. Their plan was risky. Very risky. If they fail, there will be no turning back. They could not start again. If their assumptions were wrong... well, both of them will die.
The Count left the hunter to himself for a while. As for him, he calculated how long it would take for him to travel from the castle to the witch's dwelling. And most of all, he hoped that things would turn out okay. That they will both come out of there alive. And perhaps, things will change after he has rescued the hunter. Surely, whatever doubts the hunter has with him then, they will disappear when they get through this.
This is my last shot to show the hunter what I feel and I won’t fail because I love him. There might be a chance of a happy ending after all.
There was no movement inside except for their shadows playing on the wall. No sound except for their heavy breathing. But there was hope.
“You trust me, do you?” the Count asked as he placed his hand on the hunter’s hands. He squeezed them gently. The hunter squeezed the Count’s hand back.
“I do,” the hunter replied and looked away.
The lone torch flickered.
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