Something about that- in particular, makes Alfred pause - his eyes flick away as he seems to be trying to recall something. Wasn't there a tree he had paused at on the way into the town? He could swear he asked to stop a moment there, to sit, to catch his breath before he had been ushered away by the Professor.
But...he lets it go. Herbert is clearly upset, and all he really wants is to comfort him. Reaching up, he wipes at his tears with his thumbs, putting a sad little smile on himself.
"...If he was important to you, then...I'm...I'm flattered, to hear that I remind you of him. I don't think it's silly at all." My dear, he feels the urge to add, but he tamps it down, wobbling a little where he sits.
"S-sorry, Engel, I'm - I'm very tired...."
And his chest still burns, worse than before - but he dares not mention that now. Herbert is rattled enough.
"Yes, yes of course." There's a tugging at his chest when he sees Alfred wobble like that. He grips Alfred's shoulders, a little too tight. A little too desperately. "Let's get you down into the crypt, and we'll rest. It's getting close to dawn, anyway."
He's smiling through his tears and he dabs at his eyes a little with his sleeve. "I love you, Alfred. I love you for everything you are. I want you to know that."
The tightness doesn't go unnoticed - he feels the anxiety from his lover, the needles of panic. He wishes he could look stronger, be less feeble...knowing that his current state is making Herbert so upset bothers him, but he can't help it.
Pulling the blonde in close, he kisses the tracks of his tears.
"I know, Herbert. I love you, too. And...." Oh, he's - he's really dizzy. He leans in, shutting his eyes to try and stabilize himself. Sleep tugs relentlessly at him, and his voice gets a little faint.
"It's okay...if you think of him sometimes. I...I don't mind...."
Whoops. Maybe he couldn't have shut his eyes. He can feel himself starting to drift.
Even though the statement is made tired, on the verge of falling asleep, it's appreciated very much.
He strokes Alfred's cheek and kisses him softly. "I can carry you, my love."
And he stands, lifting Alfred into his arms and cradling him against his chest. Carefully, he carries him down to the crypt, nestling him in the coffin amongst the blankets and pillows. Then he curls up beside him, arms around his waist, head against his chest. Not clinging, not exactly, but certainly holding him close.
He can't quite open his eyes as he's carried - but he manages to hold off sleep until he's being placed into the coffin, humming a soft little sound of acknowledgment that they made it down. Tilting his head, he places a blind kiss against his lover's forehead, clutching lightly to him.
"...Good morning...dear...."
And then he falls into slumber, swallowed by his dreams. They seem to be troubled, whatever they are, leaving him making tiny, fretting sounds.
Herbert fights off the need to sleep, needing to feel Alfred whole and real in his arms. To watch over him.
The whimpering is concerning, but it's the cough that makes the decision for him and he brushes his fingers against Alfred's temple, quietly entering his dreams to see what's causing his distress.
A small cabin, humble, kept warm by a fire the occupant had struggled to get up to stoke. A spinning wheel in the corner sits collecting dust, a loom half-warped before strength had given out. A shelf full of things that belong to a beloved boyfriend standing out, objects more ornate and less simple than the rest, hairbrushes and oils and ribbons brought back from city markets.
The dreamer himself is on the ground, gasping for air, the cough rattling his body deep and resounding, choking the life out of him. He's staring wide-eyed at the wooden floor, at the pool of blood leaking from his lips.
Oh god, this scene is all too familiar. All those times he'd come into Solin's home to find him in the middle of a coughing fit. This is towards the end, he can tell that. When Solin started getting sicker.
He starts to move towards the young man on the floor when he sees himself coming through the door. His past self had been holding flowers, which promptly get dropped as he runs to Solin's side to help him sit up.
The young man tries in vain to get up, broad shoulders shaking as he tries to get his hands under him - but he can't, he can't stop coughing, and his palms slide in the blood. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, even as he tilts his head towards where he hears someone enter.
"H-herb-ert-" He wheezes, face screwing tight with pain as he is lifted into a sitting position. His lips are off-color, a little blue from lack of oxygen...his skin is burning, flushed deep with fever.
"Is - is that you, my d-dear? I can't...I can't see...."
There was so much blood. Everything was dark. Just as Alfred had said.
Solin struggles through a rattling breath, the coughing pausing as he is reoriented - he leans heavy against young Herbert's chest, blood leaking in a slow trickle from the corner of his mouth. He squints, trying to focus, desperate to see his lover's face. It comes to him, slowly, but his vision is...so gray, so dark. Everything is so dark. "Th-there you are. I'm s-sorry, love, I -"
Another cough, accompanied by a horrible gurgling sound in his throat, in his chest. A slow, painful end creeping up on him over days, weeks. Drowning in his own body.
"...It's getting...so hard...to breathe," he rasps, sweat sticking his unruly chestnut hair to his forehead. His whole body is shaking, shivering, clammy and cold despite the fire in the hearth. "I don't...I don't think I can - hhhhhh - my dear, I can't...get up. Can you...can you...help me...off...the floor...?"
"Yes of course, of course my dear. I'll help you back to bed." He's trying desperately to stay strong, not to cry, to be brave for his wonderful boy, his Solin.
Herbert wraps an arm around Solin, under his arms, and lifts him to at least be half standing. Enough to turn him and get him sitting on the bed. "Lean back against the pillows, darling. I'll get your legs up on the bed."
At full health, Solin had been so strong, capable. He could lift a sheep, bales of feed....and he would regularly pick up Herbert for fun.
So it's in stark contrast in this moment that he can't even stand up unassisted, his breath coming in thin, wet rattles. He's wasted a bit, feels thin, frail.
He leans heavy back on the bed, green eyes fluttering, long callused fingers - so very like Alfred's, aren't they? - clutching at the shawl he has wound around his shoulders for warmth.
"Thank you, my dear. I...I had to stoke - hhhh - the fire, and everything went...everything went black."
"I'll stoke the fire for you, of course. Can't have you catching a chill, can we?" he fusses, helping Solin get his legs onto the bed as well, sitting propped up against pillows. He tucks the blankets in around him and goes to tend to the fire to make sure it's nice and hot.
"Do you think if I got you some water, you could drink that?"
"You're so good to me, love," he rasps weakly, managing a little smile despite it all. Always smiling, right until the end. He watches Herbert blearily, and from this outside perspective, the dream walking vampire will see something he never got to see before -
The tears Solin shed and wiped away when his back was turned. The look of resignation, of sorrow. He knows.
But the smile is back again when young Herbert looks. "Yes...please. It tastes like I have been...hhhh...sucking on fence nails....."
The sight of the hastily wiped away tears makes the real Herbert's chest clench, like a fist squeezing his heart, while his dream self fusses over getting Solin a glass of water and joining him on the bed again.
And once again - when Herbert steps away, Solin watches him like he can't bear to stop, like he's trying to memorize every part of him.
He takes the glass gratefully in shaking hands, taking a drink, the water turning pink from making contact with his lips and tongue. It's a struggle for him not to choke, to try and stifle his cough.
He is quiet for a moment, leaning on Herbert.
"I'm... I'm glad you came here tonight, Herbert." He struggles to keep his composure. Trying to be strong. "Today has...has been.... difficult."
A cough shakes him, and he fumbles for the rag in his pocket, once unbleached white cloth...now completely soaked, stained dark red.
This particular night is likely to start to be all too familiar.
"Of course I'd come. I wouldn't miss it for the world." The scent of blood is strong, and Herbert hates himself to his very core that he finds the smell appetizing, of all things. That he craves it. What sort of monster is he, that he can think of his hunger at a time like this?
Solin coughs and Herbert rubs slow circles over his back, hoping to ease the cough a little. "Tell me how to help?"
He stops. He can't finish that thought, and in spite of himself, his eyes well up. His expression is that of someone who has to say something, but doesn't know how to begin.
Under Herbert's hand, he's shaking, the coughing percussive and resounding and wet, too wet. When he pulls the rag away from his lips, it's so saturated that it's soaked through to his hand, and he looks at it in horror before looking to Herbert.
"...My dear, I...." He stops, hesitating. "There is...there are things...I will need you to do for me. But you...you aren't going to like them. And I need you to - hhhh! - to listen."
"Here, my love -- " Herbert tugs his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs at Solin's lips before pressing the cloth into his hand. It pains him so, to see Solin like this. So weak, so pale. And his cough sounds like it's getting worse by the minute.
Gently, in shaking fingers, he takes the handkerchief - it's clean, compared to his, delicate and soft, smelling of roses. Looking at it makes him want to cry, but he keeps trying to bite it back. If he starts to cry, it's only going to make this harder.
"...All right, my dear. When - when you leave here, before dawn...I need you to - to make noise. So that someone will come, and know-"
He chokes - wobbling, leaning harder against his lover, blood soaking into the cloth in a spreading stain. Swallowing hard, he continues, hoarsely.
"...And know that the...the flock will...will need someone."
Warily, he looks Herbert in the eyes, letting the implication fall upon him.
"Don't talk like that," he says, more sharply than he means to. He doesn't want to -- can't think of Solin dying. Not now, not like this. "You're -- you'll be fine. Just a bad day, that's all.
But yes, of course I'll look after you're sheep while you're not feeling well."
The young shepherd winces at the reaction - a couple of tears track down his cheeks, his hand shaking around the glass of water.
"Herbert. My love. Please...please promise me."
He tries to take in a breath and it sticks a little in his chest - another cough squeezes his lungs, rattles him, sends blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His voice is shallow when he speaks again.
"I need you to promise me...so that - so that when I - when I fall asleep, I...."
He chokes again, but this time on tears that he can't hold back any longer.
And Herbert is crying, too, the blood dripping down to mingle with Solin's on his sleeve. "I promise. I'll take care of your sheep. I'll -- I'll make sure that --
Oh Solin," Herbert sobs and pulls Solin close to cradle him against his chest, petting his sweatdamp hair.
When he is pulled close, he clings back, shaking all over, the sound of his breath a sickly gurgling in his chest. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to leave Herbert, but the choice has been taken away from him, and he knows that.
So all he can do is hold him, reaching up to wipe at his tears with his roughened thumbs.
"I'm sorry, Herbert...I - I wanted to be...to be strong about this, but I'm...."
More blood, a thin groan of agony that he can't stifle.
"...I'm...scared, my love. S-stay...stay with me?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-01-16 04:18 am (UTC)Something about that- in particular, makes Alfred pause - his eyes flick away as he seems to be trying to recall something. Wasn't there a tree he had paused at on the way into the town? He could swear he asked to stop a moment there, to sit, to catch his breath before he had been ushered away by the Professor.
But...he lets it go. Herbert is clearly upset, and all he really wants is to comfort him. Reaching up, he wipes at his tears with his thumbs, putting a sad little smile on himself.
"...If he was important to you, then...I'm...I'm flattered, to hear that I remind you of him. I don't think it's silly at all." My dear, he feels the urge to add, but he tamps it down, wobbling a little where he sits.
"S-sorry, Engel, I'm - I'm very tired...."
And his chest still burns, worse than before - but he dares not mention that now. Herbert is rattled enough.
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Date: 2022-01-16 04:23 am (UTC)He's smiling through his tears and he dabs at his eyes a little with his sleeve. "I love you, Alfred. I love you for everything you are. I want you to know that."
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Date: 2022-01-16 04:31 am (UTC)Pulling the blonde in close, he kisses the tracks of his tears.
"I know, Herbert. I love you, too. And...." Oh, he's - he's really dizzy. He leans in, shutting his eyes to try and stabilize himself. Sleep tugs relentlessly at him, and his voice gets a little faint.
"It's okay...if you think of him sometimes. I...I don't mind...."
Whoops. Maybe he couldn't have shut his eyes. He can feel himself starting to drift.
"Mm...might need...you to carry me...t-tired...."
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Date: 2022-01-16 04:44 am (UTC)He strokes Alfred's cheek and kisses him softly. "I can carry you, my love."
And he stands, lifting Alfred into his arms and cradling him against his chest. Carefully, he carries him down to the crypt, nestling him in the coffin amongst the blankets and pillows. Then he curls up beside him, arms around his waist, head against his chest. Not clinging, not exactly, but certainly holding him close.
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Date: 2022-01-16 04:52 am (UTC)He can't quite open his eyes as he's carried - but he manages to hold off sleep until he's being placed into the coffin, humming a soft little sound of acknowledgment that they made it down. Tilting his head, he places a blind kiss against his lover's forehead, clutching lightly to him.
"...Good morning...dear...."
And then he falls into slumber, swallowed by his dreams. They seem to be troubled, whatever they are, leaving him making tiny, fretting sounds.
Not long later...in his sleep...
He coughs.
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Date: 2022-01-16 05:03 am (UTC)The whimpering is concerning, but it's the cough that makes the decision for him and he brushes his fingers against Alfred's temple, quietly entering his dreams to see what's causing his distress.
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Date: 2022-01-16 05:13 am (UTC)A small cabin, humble, kept warm by a fire the occupant had struggled to get up to stoke. A spinning wheel in the corner sits collecting dust, a loom half-warped before strength had given out. A shelf full of things that belong to a beloved boyfriend standing out, objects more ornate and less simple than the rest, hairbrushes and oils and ribbons brought back from city markets.
The dreamer himself is on the ground, gasping for air, the cough rattling his body deep and resounding, choking the life out of him. He's staring wide-eyed at the wooden floor, at the pool of blood leaking from his lips.
But it's not Alfred, there in the dream.
It's Solin.
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Date: 2022-01-16 05:21 am (UTC)He starts to move towards the young man on the floor when he sees himself coming through the door. His past self had been holding flowers, which promptly get dropped as he runs to Solin's side to help him sit up.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-16 05:28 am (UTC)"H-herb-ert-" He wheezes, face screwing tight with pain as he is lifted into a sitting position. His lips are off-color, a little blue from lack of oxygen...his skin is burning, flushed deep with fever.
"Is - is that you, my d-dear? I can't...I can't see...."
There was so much blood. Everything was dark. Just as Alfred had said.
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Date: 2022-01-16 05:32 am (UTC)"Yes, yes, it's me, my love. I'm here now. Just rest. Rest with me."
no subject
Date: 2022-01-16 06:19 am (UTC)Another cough, accompanied by a horrible gurgling sound in his throat, in his chest. A slow, painful end creeping up on him over days, weeks. Drowning in his own body.
"...It's getting...so hard...to breathe," he rasps, sweat sticking his unruly chestnut hair to his forehead. His whole body is shaking, shivering, clammy and cold despite the fire in the hearth. "I don't...I don't think I can - hhhhhh - my dear, I can't...get up. Can you...can you...help me...off...the floor...?"
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Date: 2022-01-17 02:29 am (UTC)Herbert wraps an arm around Solin, under his arms, and lifts him to at least be half standing. Enough to turn him and get him sitting on the bed. "Lean back against the pillows, darling. I'll get your legs up on the bed."
no subject
Date: 2022-01-17 02:56 am (UTC)So it's in stark contrast in this moment that he can't even stand up unassisted, his breath coming in thin, wet rattles. He's wasted a bit, feels thin, frail.
He leans heavy back on the bed, green eyes fluttering, long callused fingers - so very like Alfred's, aren't they? - clutching at the shawl he has wound around his shoulders for warmth.
"Thank you, my dear. I...I had to stoke - hhhh - the fire, and everything went...everything went black."
no subject
Date: 2022-01-17 03:05 am (UTC)"Do you think if I got you some water, you could drink that?"
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Date: 2022-01-17 03:12 am (UTC)The tears Solin shed and wiped away when his back was turned. The look of resignation, of sorrow. He knows.
But the smile is back again when young Herbert looks. "Yes...please. It tastes like I have been...hhhh...sucking on fence nails....."
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Date: 2022-01-17 03:39 am (UTC)"There you are, love. Sip slowly."
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Date: 2022-01-17 03:52 am (UTC)He takes the glass gratefully in shaking hands, taking a drink, the water turning pink from making contact with his lips and tongue. It's a struggle for him not to choke, to try and stifle his cough.
He is quiet for a moment, leaning on Herbert.
"I'm... I'm glad you came here tonight, Herbert." He struggles to keep his composure. Trying to be strong. "Today has...has been.... difficult."
A cough shakes him, and he fumbles for the rag in his pocket, once unbleached white cloth...now completely soaked, stained dark red.
This particular night is likely to start to be all too familiar.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 04:56 am (UTC)Solin coughs and Herbert rubs slow circles over his back, hoping to ease the cough a little. "Tell me how to help?"
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 05:28 am (UTC)He stops. He can't finish that thought, and in spite of himself, his eyes well up. His expression is that of someone who has to say something, but doesn't know how to begin.
Under Herbert's hand, he's shaking, the coughing percussive and resounding and wet, too wet. When he pulls the rag away from his lips, it's so saturated that it's soaked through to his hand, and he looks at it in horror before looking to Herbert.
"...My dear, I...." He stops, hesitating. "There is...there are things...I will need you to do for me. But you...you aren't going to like them. And I need you to - hhhh! - to listen."
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 05:40 am (UTC)"Anything I can do for you, I will."
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Date: 2022-01-18 05:50 am (UTC)"...All right, my dear. When - when you leave here, before dawn...I need you to - to make noise. So that someone will come, and know-"
He chokes - wobbling, leaning harder against his lover, blood soaking into the cloth in a spreading stain. Swallowing hard, he continues, hoarsely.
"...And know that the...the flock will...will need someone."
Warily, he looks Herbert in the eyes, letting the implication fall upon him.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 06:15 am (UTC)But yes, of course I'll look after you're sheep while you're not feeling well."
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 06:22 am (UTC)"Herbert. My love. Please...please promise me."
He tries to take in a breath and it sticks a little in his chest - another cough squeezes his lungs, rattles him, sends blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His voice is shallow when he speaks again.
"I need you to promise me...so that - so that when I - when I fall asleep, I...."
He chokes again, but this time on tears that he can't hold back any longer.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 06:34 am (UTC)Oh Solin," Herbert sobs and pulls Solin close to cradle him against his chest, petting his sweatdamp hair.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-18 06:46 am (UTC)When he is pulled close, he clings back, shaking all over, the sound of his breath a sickly gurgling in his chest. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to leave Herbert, but the choice has been taken away from him, and he knows that.
So all he can do is hold him, reaching up to wipe at his tears with his roughened thumbs.
"I'm sorry, Herbert...I - I wanted to be...to be strong about this, but I'm...."
More blood, a thin groan of agony that he can't stifle.
"...I'm...scared, my love. S-stay...stay with me?"
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