"No, no I would have hated it. I would have forbidden it, absolutely. Completely. I'd have tied you down like you are now to keep you from doing it."
He sighs and sets the bowl down, running a cool hand over Alfred's forehead, stroking his cheek. "No, you didn't attack him. He pinned you down before you were able to do anything. Don't worry about Father, he can handle himself."
There isn't anything Alfred can say to that - all he can do is whimper, looking very guilty indeed and looking down. Shame. Of course, of course he knows better. 'How could I have been so damned stupid?'
The touch feels nice, soothing, and in spite of feel as though he really doesn't deserve it, he leans into it, sighing a little.
"G-good. I...I don't know what I would do if I had hurt either of you. I can't remember much, only...being...thirsty, angry, and - and...."
Oh.
Oh god.
Oh no.
He doesn't go on, but he does go very red all of a sudden, looking equal parts mortified and witheringly guilty.
"I'm not mad about that part, cheri. Neither of us are. You were out of your head, you didn't know who or what you were. Father thought it was best to just let you wear yourself out so he could get you into bed more easily."
He pushes Alfred's hair back off his face and leans down to kiss his cheek. "You should have some more blood. I'm not leaving your side until you're fully back in good health, I hope you know." Which brings up uncomfortable memories he has to push down and away. He can be sad about Solin later. Right now, he needs to care for the wonderful boy in front of him.
"I...a-all right. I'll...I'll have to apologize to him later, too."
Alfred sniffles, at least a little relieved about at least that one thing. He still feels shaky, weak...a little bit off, in a way that he can't quite quantify. He can feel a pang of sadness from Herbert, one he's felt before...and this time, something in him pangs back.
He doesn't know why. "...I...I will. And I know you won't, I know." He leans against the ropes to kiss his lover back, soft and gentle against the tracks where Herbert's tears had been.
"D-do you think...you could untie me now, my dear?"
"My dear..." Alfred never uses endearments like that. Not like Solin did. The mark on the back of his calf, the way he just called him my dear like Solin used to, and it tugs at Herbert's heart in a painful way.
He sighs and blinks hard, trying to ignore the comparison between his past lover and his current one. It's not fair to Alfred. "I don't know if I'm allowed to untie you, yet. But I can loosen the ropes a little if they're hurting you at all."
The expression that crosses the younger man's face is quizzical - he hadn't realized he said anything out of the way, and...there's something about the way Herbert's expression falters that -
What did he do?
"If...if you could loosen them a little, I would...I would like that. I just want to be able to touch you, Engel." A pause.
"Engel, that's more like it." He sighs and smiles, though it feels forced and awkward as he reaches up to loosen the rope a little, to give Alfred more leeway to move his arms.
He can feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and he wipes them away quickly. "Fine, just fine, mon cheri. Just worried, that's all." Herbert pecks Alfred on the lips before he takes up the bowl again and offers Alfred another spoonful. "But I'll have you back to full health in no time."
The forced nature of the smile, the way Herbert is acting...it isn't lost on Alfred. He wants to ask, wants to press, wonders why he feels so...so sad.
But does he deserve to question, after putting Herbert in this position?
"...Okay," he murmurs, though he sounds unconvinced, something weighing at the back of his mind. Obediently, he swallows another spoon of blood, then... gently, tentatively, he reaches out to rest his hand on his lover's shoulder.
"I'm okay," he offers. "Engel, I promise. Never again. No more secrets."
"No more experiments," Hebert fusses. "And if you must, then let us be there with you in case something happens. All right?"
There's blood speckling Alfred's lips and he looks so tired, so pale. Herbert's chest clenches and he reaches up to pat Alfred's hand where it sits on his shoulder. "You're not okay yet, but you will be. I'll make sure of it."
"I promise. I...I did learn some things. Important things. But...but we can talk about it later."
Alfred does not hide his feelings well. He never has - and so his concern for the way Herbert looks is plain on his face, gentle and kind and loving. He looks to where their hands are resting together, then back up to meet his eyes.
"I'm fine." But his face crumbles even as he says it, tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. "Oh Alfred, I -- "
He clears his throat and stares down into the bowl rather than try to look at Alfred. "I lost someone. Very dear to me. It was a long time ago, but the wounds feel very fresh. Some day I'll be able to talk about it, but for now it's too close. Too real.
Do you see, now? Why I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, too?"
Watching Herbert's mask fall away, Alfred's eyes widen - he listens, carefully, as he speaks...and as he does, a chill runs down his spine, for reasons he can't understand. His heart aches for his lover, sympathetic tears springing to his own eyes as he FEELS the sorrow, the heartbreak.
(His lungs, useless now, burn. Why?)
"Engel...I...." Reaching out with his free hand, he carefully rests his long fingers along Herbert's jaw, using his thumb to wipe away a tear as it falls.
"I'm so sorry, Herbert. I do. I do see." His own tears fall freely now - he can't seem to stop them, or stop the faint tremble that's shaking his body. Why? What is that, slinking around the edges of his memory?
Sniffling, he guides Herbert gently to look at him again.
"You have me. I'm not going anywhere. You...you need me. And I need you. This was - this was stupid of me...but no more. I swear it."
Alfred wouldn't care if Herbert were being selfish. He would give all he has to give just the same, without question, because... that's just who he is.
Besides, it's nice to be needed, and that's a little selfish too.
"Thank you, Engel. I love you." He wicks away another tear, smiling a sad, lopsided little smile. Now that he's fed a little, he feels a bit better...but still frail, that burn in his chest making him feel like he should rest again.
But not yet, not yet, something else in him urges.
"...C-can I...will you get the brush, so I can brush out your hair? I can tell you haven't yet tonight, and...." He lets the statement drop, but the meaning is clear - he's seeking normalcy. Alfred likes the quiet ritual of helping Herbert see to his hair, the gentle intimacy of the action.
He debates for a moment, then reaches up to start undoing the ropes around Alfred's wrists. "Oh -- forget what father says. I trust you. You're not going to hurt me, now.
I'd love for you to brush my hair. I must look a little wild right now, I know. But first promise me to finish this bowl, all right?" Once Alfred is untied, he hands over the bowl and spoon.
It will feel nice, having Alfred brush his hair. It will help calm them both, help them feel better about tonight. Settle them in to get ready to sleep in a few hours.
The moment his wrists are untied, Alfred groans with relief, rubbing at them as he watches Herbert speak. Obediently, he takes the bowl and spoon - he's still hungry, after all, even now that he's calmed.
"Of course, Engel," he agrees, setting immediately to sipping at the blood - politely. Eating too fast in his state seems like a bad idea.
Something is still bothering him, but he can't put his finger on it - and honestly, he just wants to lift the mood, now. As soon as he finishes with the bowl, he sets it aside, focusing up and retracting his fangs (with some difficulty) to prove he's got his control back.
Maybe proving it to himself as much as to anyone else.
"Good boy," Herbert coos and kisses Alfred's cheek. "We'll have you back to normal in no time. Now you don't move a muscle. I'll bring everything over here to you."
And he does, moving over to the vanity where he's started keeping some of his things. A bottle of perfume, a brush, a small ornate box filled with ribbons and hairpins. He brings the brush and the box over to the bed, sitting crosslegged in front of Alfred.
The kiss is returned with a little smile, sleepy and placid. He's glad to make Herbert happy - glad that, maybe, they can put the worst of the night behind them.
When his lover sits down, Alfred immediately sets to work, taking up the brush and gently, calmly running it through his long blonde locks, softly working out tangles with his fingers.
"First you tie me to the headboard, then you tell me to do what I want with you. Mixed messages, Engel."
A joke, spoken lightly. His voice is...a little bit strained, but at least there is joy in it.
"Oh now we're making jokes!" Herbert laughs, holding still so Alfred can detangle his hair. Hours of running his fingers through it nervously have left it a bit of a mess.
There's a little giggle at that - he's glad the joke got a laugh. It's relatively recent that he's gotten comfortable enough with his own sexuality to start saying things like that out loud.
"Well, I'm sure those good things will be worth the wait." Once the tangles are suitably worked through, Alfred sets the brush down...then, automatically, he reaches out and starts to section the hair.
He's braided Herbert's hair before, but a French braid is about as elaborate as he has managed - but impulse makes him do things a little differently this time.
There's that burning in his chest again. He tries to ignore it.
He settles in and gets comfortable as Alfred brushes his hair, humming happily at the feeling of the brush and Alfred's fingers carefully picking through the knots in his hair.
He'd been expecting a French braid, perhaps. But Alfred's parting his hair in a new and different way, and Herbert's brow furrows in confusion. "What are you doing back there, cheri?"
"Of course. We...we have lots of time, after all."
Alfred always takes on a different tone of voice when he's Doing Something - a soft, meditative tone, gentle and calm. This really does relax him, doting on Herbert in little ways like this, winding his long, silky hair around his fingers.
He passes strands this way and that - the pattern is new, but his hands seem to know it.
"Just trying something different," he murmurs with a smile. "I wanted to...to focus a little harder on you, Engel, so I'm doing something tricky."
"Well I'd love to see it, when you're done." Alfred's tone goes a long way towards relaxing him, as well. Hearing him sound contented and pleased, not in pain. It gives him hope that Alfred will heal and get better.
"I'm absolutely certain that I will." He reaches back to pat Alfred's knee. He keeps his back straight so that Alfred could properly finish his hair. It's nice, to have a moment like this after such a trying experience. Just a chance to spend some time with Alfred quietly.
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He sighs and sets the bowl down, running a cool hand over Alfred's forehead, stroking his cheek. "No, you didn't attack him. He pinned you down before you were able to do anything. Don't worry about Father, he can handle himself."
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The touch feels nice, soothing, and in spite of feel as though he really doesn't deserve it, he leans into it, sighing a little.
"G-good. I...I don't know what I would do if I had hurt either of you. I can't remember much, only...being...thirsty, angry, and - and...."
Oh.
Oh god.
Oh no.
He doesn't go on, but he does go very red all of a sudden, looking equal parts mortified and witheringly guilty.
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He pushes Alfred's hair back off his face and leans down to kiss his cheek. "You should have some more blood. I'm not leaving your side until you're fully back in good health, I hope you know." Which brings up uncomfortable memories he has to push down and away. He can be sad about Solin later. Right now, he needs to care for the wonderful boy in front of him.
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Alfred sniffles, at least a little relieved about at least that one thing. He still feels shaky, weak...a little bit off, in a way that he can't quite quantify. He can feel a pang of sadness from Herbert, one he's felt before...and this time, something in him pangs back.
He doesn't know why. "...I...I will. And I know you won't, I know." He leans against the ropes to kiss his lover back, soft and gentle against the tracks where Herbert's tears had been.
"D-do you think...you could untie me now, my dear?"
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He sighs and blinks hard, trying to ignore the comparison between his past lover and his current one. It's not fair to Alfred. "I don't know if I'm allowed to untie you, yet. But I can loosen the ropes a little if they're hurting you at all."
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What did he do?
"If...if you could loosen them a little, I would...I would like that. I just want to be able to touch you, Engel." A pause.
"Are...are you all right?"
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He can feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and he wipes them away quickly. "Fine, just fine, mon cheri. Just worried, that's all." Herbert pecks Alfred on the lips before he takes up the bowl again and offers Alfred another spoonful. "But I'll have you back to full health in no time."
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But does he deserve to question, after putting Herbert in this position?
"...Okay," he murmurs, though he sounds unconvinced, something weighing at the back of his mind. Obediently, he swallows another spoon of blood, then... gently, tentatively, he reaches out to rest his hand on his lover's shoulder.
"I'm okay," he offers. "Engel, I promise. Never again. No more secrets."
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There's blood speckling Alfred's lips and he looks so tired, so pale. Herbert's chest clenches and he reaches up to pat Alfred's hand where it sits on his shoulder. "You're not okay yet, but you will be. I'll make sure of it."
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Alfred does not hide his feelings well. He never has - and so his concern for the way Herbert looks is plain on his face, gentle and kind and loving. He looks to where their hands are resting together, then back up to meet his eyes.
"But...I want you to be okay, too, Herbert."
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He clears his throat and stares down into the bowl rather than try to look at Alfred. "I lost someone. Very dear to me. It was a long time ago, but the wounds feel very fresh. Some day I'll be able to talk about it, but for now it's too close. Too real.
Do you see, now? Why I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, too?"
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(His lungs, useless now, burn. Why?)
"Engel...I...." Reaching out with his free hand, he carefully rests his long fingers along Herbert's jaw, using his thumb to wipe away a tear as it falls.
"I'm so sorry, Herbert. I do. I do see." His own tears fall freely now - he can't seem to stop them, or stop the faint tremble that's shaking his body. Why? What is that, slinking around the edges of his memory?
Sniffling, he guides Herbert gently to look at him again.
"You have me. I'm not going anywhere. You...you need me. And I need you. This was - this was stupid of me...but no more. I swear it."
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"I do. I do need you. And I will, always. I'm going to take care of you, Alfred. Until you're well again, I'll take care of you."
He could ask his father to do it. He could avoid forcing himself to face such dark memories. But he needs to be brave. For Alfred, he can be brave.
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Besides, it's nice to be needed, and that's a little selfish too.
"Thank you, Engel. I love you." He wicks away another tear, smiling a sad, lopsided little smile. Now that he's fed a little, he feels a bit better...but still frail, that burn in his chest making him feel like he should rest again.
But not yet, not yet, something else in him urges.
"...C-can I...will you get the brush, so I can brush out your hair? I can tell you haven't yet tonight, and...." He lets the statement drop, but the meaning is clear - he's seeking normalcy. Alfred likes the quiet ritual of helping Herbert see to his hair, the gentle intimacy of the action.
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I'd love for you to brush my hair. I must look a little wild right now, I know. But first promise me to finish this bowl, all right?" Once Alfred is untied, he hands over the bowl and spoon.
It will feel nice, having Alfred brush his hair. It will help calm them both, help them feel better about tonight. Settle them in to get ready to sleep in a few hours.
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The moment his wrists are untied, Alfred groans with relief, rubbing at them as he watches Herbert speak. Obediently, he takes the bowl and spoon - he's still hungry, after all, even now that he's calmed.
"Of course, Engel," he agrees, setting immediately to sipping at the blood - politely. Eating too fast in his state seems like a bad idea.
Something is still bothering him, but he can't put his finger on it - and honestly, he just wants to lift the mood, now. As soon as he finishes with the bowl, he sets it aside, focusing up and retracting his fangs (with some difficulty) to prove he's got his control back.
Maybe proving it to himself as much as to anyone else.
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And he does, moving over to the vanity where he's started keeping some of his things. A bottle of perfume, a brush, a small ornate box filled with ribbons and hairpins. He brings the brush and the box over to the bed, sitting crosslegged in front of Alfred.
"Do with me as you please."
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When his lover sits down, Alfred immediately sets to work, taking up the brush and gently, calmly running it through his long blonde locks, softly working out tangles with his fingers.
"First you tie me to the headboard, then you tell me to do what I want with you. Mixed messages, Engel."
A joke, spoken lightly. His voice is...a little bit strained, but at least there is joy in it.
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"All good things in time, I promise you."
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"Well, I'm sure those good things will be worth the wait." Once the tangles are suitably worked through, Alfred sets the brush down...then, automatically, he reaches out and starts to section the hair.
He's braided Herbert's hair before, but a French braid is about as elaborate as he has managed - but impulse makes him do things a little differently this time.
There's that burning in his chest again. He tries to ignore it.
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He settles in and gets comfortable as Alfred brushes his hair, humming happily at the feeling of the brush and Alfred's fingers carefully picking through the knots in his hair.
He'd been expecting a French braid, perhaps. But Alfred's parting his hair in a new and different way, and Herbert's brow furrows in confusion. "What are you doing back there, cheri?"
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Alfred always takes on a different tone of voice when he's Doing Something - a soft, meditative tone, gentle and calm. This really does relax him, doting on Herbert in little ways like this, winding his long, silky hair around his fingers.
He passes strands this way and that - the pattern is new, but his hands seem to know it.
"Just trying something different," he murmurs with a smile. "I wanted to...to focus a little harder on you, Engel, so I'm doing something tricky."
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There is serenity in this moment - something sorely needed - but there is... something else, too. A sense of deja vu, of nostalgia.
Strange.
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