"Oh!" Hebert presses his hand to his mouth, looking thoughtful. He did it without thinking. Because Alfred needed it. Because his only thought was of helping Alfred, making sure he was safe and warm and comfortable. "Because I let you drink from me, we're connected? Rather than you and -- " He gestures vaguely, to refer to Sarah.
Alfred nods enthusiastically, momentarily forgetting that he just hit his head pretty hard and regretting the swift motion a little bit afterward. "The ribbon was what I had to grab onto, it's how I came back. I think...."
He pauses, realizing all at once that Herbert's cheeks are also messy with blood. Reaching towards him, he tries to rub some away with his thumbs in gentle little motions - must have been from when he was trying to feed Alfred. (He would learn otherwise later on, after all.)
"I think, if you hadn't done that...I don't think I would have come back." Terror flares in him at the thought, and he shudders, nearly whispering:
"Then -- " Something, a heat, blooms in his chest and he presses his hands over Alfred's against his cheek. He's trying not to start crying again, because poor Alfred doesn't need to know about vampires crying blood just yet. So he swallows hard and nudges his nose against Alfred's with a soft smile.
"Then I'm very glad I did. I would have hated to have lost you."
"I couldn't have left." He blurts this out without thinking about it, nose to nose with Herbert still, his own hands still cradling his face. It's funny...he doesn't seem so cold anymore, now that Alfred has turned. The reality of it all hasn't quite had time to set in, perhaps, but...for now? For now it's okay.
"I couldn't. You were crying for me, I saw you. And I don't...I don't think I have anyone else in my life who would have done that."
It's a depressing thought, but it's the truth, isn't it? His mother has been dead for a few years, his Father distant and clinical - the Professor would likely have said a word or two, but may well have already replaced him.
He smiles, and it's...bittersweet. His fangs have settled properly now, the same pearly white as the rest of his well-maintained teeth. "So I...told Death no. That you needed me."
"I was, oh I was so worried you might have been gone forever. But you told Death no. You told Death no, for me. And you were right, I do need you. My sweet Alfred, you mean the world to me. I do need you so desperately. You have no idea."
Finally, someone to take away my boredom, he'd said. But truly, he'd been so lonely. Preferring short term lovers who he could leave before they left him. But Alfred, oh. He wanted Alfred to stay.
Herbert flings his arms around Alfred in a passionate embrace. One full of longing, full of need and loneliness. "They stay with me. You do, my love, you do. You belong here with me. And I will dote on you endlessly."
He can't imagine what might be making Alfred cry, only that -- perhaps it's the same thing that had him crying, earlier. The wretched loneliness they both suffer, that has now at last come to an end.
For a minute or two, he doesn't reply - he clings tightly, weeping openly against Herbert, the sobs shaking his cold body. He just almost died. He just almost DIED. He TALKED TO DEATH and he STOOD UP TO DEATH. For the man holding him.
It's so new. It's all so new.
"...I want...." It's quiet, muffled, shaky. "...I want...to do the same...for you...."
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He pauses, realizing all at once that Herbert's cheeks are also messy with blood. Reaching towards him, he tries to rub some away with his thumbs in gentle little motions - must have been from when he was trying to feed Alfred. (He would learn otherwise later on, after all.)
"I think, if you hadn't done that...I don't think I would have come back." Terror flares in him at the thought, and he shudders, nearly whispering:
"I think you saved me, Herbert."
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"Then I'm very glad I did. I would have hated to have lost you."
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"I couldn't. You were crying for me, I saw you. And I don't...I don't think I have anyone else in my life who would have done that."
It's a depressing thought, but it's the truth, isn't it? His mother has been dead for a few years, his Father distant and clinical - the Professor would likely have said a word or two, but may well have already replaced him.
He smiles, and it's...bittersweet. His fangs have settled properly now, the same pearly white as the rest of his well-maintained teeth. "So I...told Death no. That you needed me."
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Finally, someone to take away my boredom, he'd said. But truly, he'd been so lonely. Preferring short term lovers who he could leave before they left him. But Alfred, oh. He wanted Alfred to stay.
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Almost immediately, Alfred tears up, starting to cry.
"...No one. No one has ever said that to me before...never...."
And he had never quite realized how much that had hurt him. But here's someone, crying for him, holding him, feeding him his BLOOD -
"...I want to stay here, Herbert," he sobs, suddenly overwhelmed by everything happening. "I feel like...I belong...."
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He can't imagine what might be making Alfred cry, only that -- perhaps it's the same thing that had him crying, earlier. The wretched loneliness they both suffer, that has now at last come to an end.
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It's so new. It's all so new.
"...I want...." It's quiet, muffled, shaky. "...I want...to do the same...for you...."