Roleplay City
Infusco => INFUSCO: Enter The Shadows => Sanctuary => Topic started by: Trillian on March 14, 2013, 09:04:56 PM
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HE WAS STANDING IN THE rain across the street from a coffee shop where he knew Vincent had arranged to speak with Owen. He cut a solitary figure, for unlike the people that walked around him dressed in raincoats and carrying umbrellas, he wore a black leather jacket over a white tee and light blue jeans soaked dark, the denim clinging uncomfortably to his legs in unusual places. His lime green chucks were drenched also, as were his socks and feet within them. Wet socks were something Ben despised, but at this point he spared them no thought. He was unaware that he was attracting wary and concerned looks, because nobody stopped to question his state of mind. It was safer to disregard the problems of strangers, especially so in this city.
He could see Vincent and Owen at a table at one end of the shop, chatting animatedly, smiling and laughing. He doubted Vincent had told Owen the news yet. He lowered his gaze to the street, seeing the rainbows of city lights in the puddles and hearing the nuances of different tyres as they spread water in varying patterns while they sped down the street. The most prominent noise was the shushing sound of rain, interspersed with the hushing of the cars as they sped past, and then the muted noises of life; people walking with quickened steps as they hurried to get wherever they were going whilst trying not to get wet, brief conversations as pairs discussed trivial matters, doors opening and closing as pedestrians took refuge into stores that were not yet closed. The hour wasn't so late, the night was young.
He lifted his gaze to find the pair of vampires in what looked to be serious conversation. Ben's body seemed to jolt in awareness. His stomach suddenly felt as though it had been hollowed out. A giant had taken a spoon and scooped out Ben's insides like he was ice-cream, fee fi fo fum. Jack's giant. Jack, who Ben finally realised had been dealt a worse hand than Ben. Jack had inherited his memories, so he could experience life on Earth. All he'd inherited was confused, misplaced love and then been murdered over it. Even with his understanding, Ben could not feel compassionate. He recognised it had been a sour thing, but too bad. Ben's path had always been filled with exceptional troubles; a few caused by outside influences, most of them caused by his own ill-considered decisions. Take this, for example.
Vincent's profile was stunning, especially when he was thoughtful. Ben found himself admiring it, glad for the absence of Owen's presence on this night so he could look as he wished to look, without fear of being accused of staring or behaving inappropriately. He'd been challenged a number of times throughout his existence for staring as he did. It made people uncomfortable, and emboldened others when they met and held his gaze. They would almost always misinterpret his measured stare. He usually didn't want them to change their behaviour over it, he just wanted to watch and think. That was all. That was why he usually kept his face impassive, expressionless, unreadable. When Vincent turned to look at him, however, Ben couldn't stop a tiny smile from lifting the corners of his mouth.
There was so much about Vincent that reminded him of Kerr. They were around the same age, they both had the same personable, unselfish manner. They were both thoughtful, considerate and clever. They both appreciated mortal life and valued it above even their own. They both loved their fledges to a fault, even if the fledge was undeserving, or taking them for granted, or giving them more trouble than was necessary. It was a dangerous thought to entertain, and even more so to become enamoured with Vincent solely because of the reminder. He couldn't help himself though - he compared Vincent to Kerr on multiple leves, both conscious and not. They were different enough for Ben to understand that Kerr was dead, and would forever remain dead, and that even a similar vampire with similar values and similar character could never replace him in his heart. Ben did not love Vincent, and he didn't think he even lusted for him, but he wanted him. It was easy to be around him, easy to be himself and not have to act a certain way. Vincent understood him. That was probably one thing he had over Kerr, in fact. Vincent actually understood him, and it was a relief, because he also liked him.
It was hard to decipher what had compelled Ben to lean over and kiss him. Perhaps it was the answering smile and the kindness in Vincent's eyes. It could've been because Ben had been thinking about missing Kerr, and substituted an old love for who he was seated next to. Maybe it was just because Owen wasn't around and Ben wanted something from Vincent for himself. Either way, why didn't matter. It was done. He pressed his lips firmly against Vincent's and stroked his tongue against Vincent's closed lips - not firmly closed, but enough to know that they wouldn't open to invite further intimacy. A firm hand upon his shoulder was enough for Ben to pull back - he hadn't received, nor needed, a push.
"Oh, Ben," Vincent said, sounding a mixture of disappointment and compassion.
"A moment of madness."
Ben watched as Vincent stared at him, looking at him in a way Ben imagined he did to make others uncomfortable. Ben held his gaze and hoped the excuse would hold.
"I have to tell him."
Those words struck fear into Ben's heart, and now his expression changed from minor apology to something that could be interpreted as anger.
"What? No! Why? He'll stop us from seeing each other!"
Vincent's eyes narrowed slightly at Ben's protest, and Ben had a tiny moment to appraise what had just come out of his mouth. Before Vincent replied, he thought he knew what the trouble was.
"Ben, we're not seeing each other," Vincent explained, now massaging Ben's shoulder in a way that was supposed to be comforting but now felt like something Ben wanted to shake free of. He chose not to, only because the contact was better than none at all.
"You know what I mean," he replied sullenly. "He won't understand why I did it. He doesn't get it."
"A moment of madness?" Vincent repeated with a sigh.
"I'm lonely," Ben said, watering at the eyes now so he began to lift his hand to cover his face but Vincent stopped him. Ben glared at him, not liking the emotional nakedness that Vincent was enforcing. Was this punishment? He supposed he must look ugly, pulling the crying face that he did, his chin trembling in a way that felt exaggerated. Why wasn't he allowed to cover up?
"Don't hide," Vincent pleaded with a whisper. "Get it out."
"Get what out?" Ben said, attempting a cynical laugh after his question but it sounded flat and mechanical so he stopped. He twisted his hand in Vincent's grip to get away but somehow he ended up holding the older vampire's hand. Had that been something Vincent had manipulated or himself? "I kissed you, you pulled away," except Vincent hadn't, "and it ends there."
Vincent shook his head and the hand that had been squeezing Ben's shoulder now dropped to cup Ben's hand in both of his. This maneouvre led Ben to believe that Vincent had manipulated their hands to be holding one another, whilst Ben had tried without real intent to pull away. He fought control over his face, and banished the crying face for a moment. It came back when Vincent started talking again, because of what he'd said.
"I can't keep this a secret from him. You know the love I have for him."
"Like Kerr for me," Ben whispered, and this time he did manage to pull his hand from Vincent's grasp and shield his eyes with it. His other hand was fisted upon his leg.
"He's not emotionally crippled, he's able to understand what you're going through," Vincent said, and Ben felt the hand on his shoulder return.
"I was thinking of Kerr when I kissed you!"
He didn't see the expression on Vincent's face and was glad he hadn't, considering the comment that came back.
"Honestly? Or is it easier to remember it that way?"
Ben was cut deeply, but he couldn't remember exactly how his thoughts had gone to argue it properly. He uncovered his face so he could scowl at Vincent, who remained with his same concerned expression until Ben gave him an answer.
"I was thinking of your similarities," he said. "He could be cruel like you, as well."
Vincent nodded and said nothing, so Ben continued.
"I don't think he ever intended to be," he said, defending his deceased lover in the very next sentence, for it had made him feel like shit to say something bad about Kerr, who couldn't speak up for himself. "Unlike you, right now."
"You think I want to hurt you?" Vincent questioned, summing up Ben's accusation in a tidier package.
"Wouldn't that be the best kind of dampener for me?"
"I don't think so. I think you like the idea of being hurt. I think that's why you kissed me." Ben stared at Vincent, unable to think of a reply. Vincent had more to say. "You sabotage yourself. From what you've told me about your past tonight, you've been doing it for years. To your credit, I don't think you're doing it on purpose, but I think you feel undeserving of whatever good hand you get dealt. You refuse to play the role of a victim, yet you orchestrate things to remain in that setting. Maybe facing adversity makes you feel strong."
Ben was astonished.
"So you're saying I wanted Kerr dead in order to--"
"No! Ben, don't go there." Vincent shook Ben's shoulder a little, as if it would shake some sense into him. "I think the last time you sabotaged yourself was when you cut Ichabod out of Kerr's inheritence." Ben's face grew stony. "No, don't look at me like that. Tell me right now, what would you gain from kissing me? What would you have gained, if I'd kissed you back?"
Ben stared at Vincent in confusion, expecting that his silence would draw out a further explanation of what lay behind the question. Vincent was very good at riding out silences, unlike Kerr. Ben could almost always manage to get the other party to speak first, when there was something that was too difficult to answer, or he could deflect. Kerr hadn't liked the deflecting, so Ben had adopted a different technique. Shut up and wait it out. Vincent did nothing, said nothing, looked at him with an intensity that was palpable.
"A new partner," he said, finally, daring Vincent to argue.
"A new love?" Vincent expanded, and Ben frowned. "No, thought not."
"I..." the words choked in his throat. They were not throwaway words, not when Kerr was so fresh in his heart. "I do love you," he managed to say, because it was the truth.
"Mmhmn," Vincent murmured agreement, "but you're not free to love me, because of Owen, and you know I would never feel for you as I do him, and that makes your choice of me a very safe one." Ben looked at him uncomprehendingly, and Vincent read his confusion correctly so he made it clearer. "You can't go after someone who's available. That wouldn't set you up for failure."
"That's hurtful."
"I know, but you forced my hand when you kissed my lips." Ben was struck by those words, because it sounded like the start of a song. It had the ring of an indie rock song, sung by someone who would croon their torture into the microphone backed with solid drums, heavy bass and wild guitar riffs. There would be a music clip to go with it full of weird angles and innuendo. Vincent had continued talking, and Ben focussed on his words at the end of his sentence. "...surprise yourself."
"How will I surprise myself?" he asked, and because of the way Vincent looked at him, he realised he'd given away his inattentiveness. "Sorry."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Vincent said kindly, and it was because of words like this that Ben had wanted to kiss him in the first place.
And now Vincent was telling Owen all about it.
* * *
VINCENT HAD SO FAR TOLD Owen that Ben had confided many of his troubles to him, when last they'd got together - and not for training. This was in itself a confession, for Owen hadn't known about Ben's impromptu visit. Vincent had thought it best not to mention it until the whole story could be said, but certainly it had to come out before their training night together, which was tomorrow. When Vincent had asked Owen to meet him here at this coffee shop, he suspected Owen might think it would be a lighthearted get together - a little follow up after their successful date. He'd not launched into the tale immediately, catching up first with Owen's news - and then when there was a pause, he'd dropped the information casually, knowing Owen would pick up on it immediately.
"He doesn't relate easily with people," Vincent said carefully, "and I have some shared characteristics to his sire, so it's natural he would seek out my opinion on things that haven't gone smoothly in his life. I think you intimidate him."
He waited for Owen's opinion on what he'd said so far.
-
Owen blinked, feeling that last comment was somewhat out of left field and he laughed warily at it. "What? Why would you think that? Because I hounded him about wanting to know how I knew him and embarrassed him with the modelling stuff?" he hazarded, tilting his head curiously to regard Vincent. Ever since he'd entered the coffee shop to find his husband waiting for him, he'd been huddled close, unable to resist his charisma, his jeans-clad knee pressed to Vincent's, his arms folded on the table so he could lean forward to get their faces closer together. Now he was slightly withdrawing that proximity as Vincent told him something rather startling. He couldn't quite connect how Ben sharing his life secrets with Vincent related to him intimidating the older blonde anyway; because Owen could've been an option for new bff if he wasn't so intimidating? The idea was laughable!
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"No, nothing you said," Vincent said with a brief shake of his head. "But because you have what he used to have, and you've chosen to do what he's forced to do now," Vincent hypothesised. "After listening to some of his decisions lately, I feel as though he's trying to punish himself. I don't want to say too much, because he told me these things in confidence, but some of it you will have to know, in order to understand," he said, not clarifying what Owen would have to understand and hoping that his fledge wouldn't focus on that part of the conversation. "His relationship with Kerr, for instance, wasn't as smooth as he would've liked. There's guilt, for that. And the circumstances of his sire's death - he blames himself for it. He has a fledge brother too, he admitted, but one that he is at terrible odds with. He feels guilt over that. All of these things drive him towards a need to punish himself, I believe."
He waited for Owen to reply again.
-
Owen had never felt any animosity towards Ben - hell, he barely knew the guy, why would he? - but hearing those first few words out of Vincent's mouth had him stiffening and feeling immediately hostile. He wasn't sure who he was mad at, Vincent because he'd said it or Ben because Vincent believed it of him, but he wasn't particularly happy with either of them when he heard it. He also didn't listen too intently to what his husband had to say beyond the initial stuff.
"Because I chose to leave you? Like I felt I had a choice and just flippantly decided to walk out on you one night, he gets to judge me and... what? Punish himself? What the hell does that even mean? He doesn't even know what the fuck happened between us, does he?" he demanded heatedly, frowning darkly at Vincent. A great deal of his reaction was guilt because he had walked out on Vincent but... it hadn't been a fucking choice! How could Vincent believe Ben was judging him and being intimidated by him based on the worst fucking part of his life?!
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Vincent recoiled from Owen's vehement questioning, wondering why his lover had decided to pursue that particular nugget. Those were words Ben hadn't used, for they were his words.
"Stop," he said, though whether he meant himself or Owen was irrelevant. This conversation was going in the wrong direction and it needed to be halted. Why was his previously smiling, happy love of his life suddenly walking down a hostile path? Had something happened last night that he wasn't sharing? So far all Vincent knew was that Owen had applied to work at the Ward. Was he stressed over this? "Ben has said or implied no such things. All of what I'm telling you are my thoughts about what Ben is going through. It is my guess that he is intimidated by you, which is why he approached me on a night that you weren't scheduled to be there. Perhaps he can sense hostility or jealousy from you?" Vincent asked, though not unkindly, and knowing he'd probably face more accusations.
If Owen kept up with this behaviour, he wouldn't divulge Ben's sensitive mistake to him tonight.
Perhaps not at all.
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Owen blinked, looking surprised and still rather confused. "Why would he? I wasn't the one that made him leave the house that night, you did! I was nice to him, not hostile! And what've I got to be jealous of him about?" the blonde scoffed, still feeling affronted but calming down the more he talked. The fact that Vincent clarified they were his words helped (though it still wasn't a nice way to put the hardest thing he'd ever had to face, in his opinion, he also knew that Vincent wasn't phrasing himself in a deliberately antagonistic manner and he had to keep calm about the wording).
"Are you telling me that the only reason you think I intimidate Ben is that he came to visit you on a night he knew I wouldn't be there and dumped all his troubles on you, rather than feeling secure enough to do it with me there? But isn't that just common sense? He knows you better than me, he's closer to you, why would he spill his guts with me there? I don't think it's intimidation, I think he's just more connected to you, that's all," Owen decided, shaking his head and shrugging as he negated Vincent's fancy wording.
It seemed like his sire was trying to... build up his importance to Ben somehow but Owen couldn't fathom why. He didn't need to matter to the older vampire, Vincent was all he cared about. The fact that there was Ben hanging around at all was just a Vincent thing he kind of wished wasn't happening but he also had no reason to fight it. He did feel pity for Ben, after all, his was a tragic situation and Owen couldn't bear to think about what it would be like if their positions were reversed.
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Vincent wiped his face with a hand as he realised belatedly he'd approached things the wrong way. He'd expected Owen to simply take his word for it, to accept his explanation, and that had been his biggest folly. He was no longer the greatest influence on Owen, and every time they conflicted it helped him realise that he wasn't treating Owen like an equal - he was still acting the superior, expecting Owen to fall into step rather than having his own march.
"Yes, you're right, it is just common sense," he said, defeated. He sighed and sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, aware of Ben's presence nearby. He'd always been able to discern whether other vampires were near, and as soon as he'd picked up on the fact a young vampire was in the area, he'd identified the source as Ben. He assumed, mistakenly, that Ben was indoors somewhere and not watching them. Knowing Ben was in the area was making him feel more pressured to do right by him, if only because Ben had chosen him to help him in his grief. Vincent had involved himself by approaching the youngling at the grave, so even though his priority was to Owen, he still felt obliged and protective of Ben. He opened his eyes and looked frankly at his love before trying again.
"I listened to his confession of guilt and loneliness, and said very little to him. I didn't give him supporting words or advice or anything like that, I'm no counsellor, but I listened, enough to understand that he's fallen into a pattern. He's angry and directionless, and he needs someone to be his buffer. He feels like I could be that buffer, because he told me all his secrets."
He took another moment, to hear what Owen might say to that.
-
Vincent's body language was very obviously unhappy and Owen couldn't figure out why but he'd learned enough by now to know he should just ask. Talking about Ben was what had brought this frustration between them, they'd been perfectly happy and relaxed until the topic had come up so Owen also thought it prudent to move away from it. Their relationship was up and down enough as it was, without dwelling on subjects where the two of them had differences of opinion.
Although he was vaguely curious about what, exactly, Vincent believed he'd be buffering Ben from, he didn't think it was important enough to go on with, not when Vincent was wiping his face exasperatedly, closing his eyes to steady himself, sighing and sitting back, away from Owen. That distance was very obvious to the fledgling, who'd been thinking that something really intimate might come out of tonight; he'd been rather hopeful that Vincent's idea of a date would end with more than just a kiss, frankly.
Owen needed to figure out what was going on, fast, because he was watching it all slip away. "Are you mad at me?" he asked worriedly, a tentative hand sneaking over to encroach on Vincent's knee. "Did I say something to upset you? Do something to annoy you? I... I'm sorry," he hazarded blindly, hoping whatever he'd done wasn't made worse by him not knowing what he'd done.
-
Vincent frowned at Owen for a moment, realising he should've been more guarded around him, because Owen was very easily reading him. Of course to guard himself would be deceptive, and he'd never been that sort of person.
"No," he said gently, patting Owen's hand. If his confession about Ben damned the younger, then so be it. No matter the obligation he felt to him, even if it came at the cost of a lost friend or more drifting, it had been Ben's action that was causing this potential splinter, and Vincent had to remember that. He would do the best he could for the other vampire, but not at the expense of Owen's happiness. "I'm worried that I'm going to upset you," he admitted, because this was the real concern. "When Ben came over to visit, and told me all his troubles, there was a quiet moment that passed between us that he misinterpreted, because he filled it with a kiss. Of course he realised his mistake quickly, when I didn't kiss him back, and he called it a moment of madness."
The words hadn't been rushed when they finally came, but they were certainly succinct.
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Owen blinked. "He kissed you?" he repeated stupidly, quite unable to believe what Vincent was saying. After he spoke, his brain kicked in and he started to think, but it took quite a few moments for all the appropriate connections to be made.
Now he realised why they were talking about Ben at all, when it seemed a difficult subject. Vincent had been working his way up to telling him this horrible news. Worse, he'd been pre-defending Ben to Owen, talking about how he was intimidated by Owen but also felt a deep and mis-placed connection to Vincent as a pseudo-sire. A connection he'd wrongly acted on by kissing Owen's husband. At that point, Owen was just angry, he felt no sympathy towards Ben (despite feeling it earlier) and thought of the guy as a creep, sliming his way in where he didn't belong. Preying on Vincent's vulnerability. Well, at least Vincent had shown him the error of his ways.
"Well. I can't say I'll be sorry not to have to train with him any more. What an ass!" he enthused, rolling his hand beneath Vincent's in order to hold it. He assumed Vincent had kicked the fucker to the curb when he'd been kissed but, suddenly, as he made his declaration and looked at his husband's expression, he got the sinking feeling the fool in this situation wasn't Ben, after all.
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"Would you be so merciless, to make him pay further for his bad judgement?" Vincent asked, thinking about Ben's guess that Owen would no longer want him around. Ben didn't know Owen, not as Vincent himself did, and he knew his love was a considerate, emotional man. "Isn't it enough he loses his partner and sire, he has to lose his trainer too? I don't believe he'll make the same mistake twice. He doesn't really have designs on me, my love, he's grieving."
Grief was something he would understand and forgive a great deal for in the name of it.
-
Owen was shocked and - oddly - scared that Vincent hadn't kicked Ben out of the house and told him not to come back again, but part of him wasn't surprised. It was typical of Vincent to believe the best of Ben, like he believed the best of everyone and saw only the positives in every situation... until they rose up and bit him in one metaphorical sense or another. Owen pulled his hand out of Vincent's and tucked it back into his own lap as he replied.
"You think he's grieving and you believe he won't ever do it again but do you know that? Has he said exactly those words? Because, as far as I can tell, he could also be coming out of his grief and looking to you to be his Prince Charming! Every training session could be one step closer to you, to splitting us up permanently! You're too trusting and you don't know his motives," Owen said firmly, shaking his head as he glowered intently at Vincent. His voice was a little louder than the cafe space warranted but he was too swept up in his reaction to notice the couple of heads turning his way to watch him animatedly argue his point.
"How many chances do you plan to give him? Do you seriously expect me to forgive him, say, 'Oh yes, it's sad that you made a mistake and kissed my husband because you lost your own, Ben, but please don't do it again, thanks!' and then continue to train with the creep?!" the blonde demanded disbelievingly, getting the feeling that this was the least of what Vincent expected of him.
-
This had not gone well, Owen had reacted in the way Ben had theorised - a complete stranger to Owen had known more about how he would behave than Vincent had. He wanted to argue his own case, that Owen should trust him, that if there was a second chance given and taken advantage of, then Ben would be banished from their lives. He wanted to point out that Owen wasn't there, he hadn't seen the misery, he hadn't seen the regret, the fear of losing yet another thing in his life.
"Yes, I think he's grieving. Yes, I believe he won't ever do it again, and no, I don't know it." Just like I don't know you, he thought to himself. "I was going to give him a single chance. One chance. I never expected you to forgive him, and assumed there would be very little chatter during the training sessions as a result," he explained, then took a deep breath so he could sigh some of it out before finishing.
"I'm not going to force him on you. I'm not going to force this situation on us. If you want him punished, then I will stop training him."
He waited for Owen to give the word, because he no longer had faith that Owen wasn't ruthless.
-
"That's not fair," Owen protested, a deep frown dominating his face even though he could feel the bewilderment there, too. "Don't make me out to be the asshole by saying I'm going to be punishing him if I don't want him near you! Who says he doesn't deserve punishment? He kissed you," Owen said slowly, his head dipping and his voice deepening as he looked up at Vincent from beneath his brows.
"Now, maybe I should think like you, that there are a million reasons behind it, that it was a moment of madness, that it'll never happen again but I don't have to fucking like that, at some point in time, he thought he had a reason to kiss you and he took it, because he's a selfish prick who has no consideration for me or for you, as far as I'm concerned. He obviously likes you. That won't change if things just continue the way they were. He'll think he's forgiven, that you like him back or some shit- I don't know!" Owen said in exasperation, sitting up straighter and shaking his head as he huffed a sigh of frustration.
He didn't feel he was making his point particularly well, because he and Vincent were on two sides of this coin and they were fantastic at getting things spectacularly wrong in such cases. He flopped back in his chair as well, looking at Vincent frankly, shrugging and flicking his hands upward with his next words.
"I dunno. I don't know what you want me to say-- well, I do, you want me to say that it's okay, that I understand he made a stupid decision and it's fine if you still train him but... I mean, how would you feel if I brought the guy that I used to sleep with when I was staying at the Chambers on a date one night and told you nothing ever happened, we never even kissed, but sleeping with him used to keep me sane when I left you and my whole world was falling apart. Would you be perfectly okay with that guy just sitting by? Would you eagerly have a conversation with him?" Owen challenged, wanting Vincent to see things from his side.
What it came down to was that Ben was closer to Vincent than Owen was comfortable with and even though none of them could predict what would happen from here on out, thinking things could ever be the same was ridiculously naive.
-
Vincent listened with as open a mind as he could, but his mind was made up on the subject of Ben. He felt the young vampire deserved a second chance, and he wasn't entirely sure why Owen wasn't comfortable with the idea that he was the sole reason Ben wouldn't be given that chance. It would be Owen's decision alone, after all.
The conversation took a turn and Vincent gave his love the time he needed to assemble his words in the order he needed them. It was a difficult topic, he knew, for he'd already had his turn at not explaining himself properly. Owen deserved to be listened to, for his point to be considered, though by the time he made it, Vincent realised that this was another thing that separated them.
"This man that you slept with at the Chambers, that you did nothing with, and only used for comfort... I feel I would be perfectly okay to meet him, to talk with him. I see what point you're trying to make, but the example you've used is misaligned. If he'd kissed you and you pushed him away and then the pair of you discussed what happened, then that would be a closer example," said Vincent, before pressing his lips tightly together, stopping himself from saying anything further about that particular topic. "I like to think that, if you confessed to me what happened as soon as it did, and explained that it was a misunderstanding, that I would believe you were astute enough to interpret your relationship with him correctly, and that you were the better judge for such a thing, because I wasn't there."
He knew he'd flipped the argument back to his own case, and it felt a little aggressive to do so. He didn't want to be hostile with Owen, to gently explain that his lover and fledge couldn't possibly correctly judge the situation. It was about trust, he knew. And jealousy. He was vaguely reminded of the expression of distaste that always appeared on Owen's face every time he encountered Vincent's list of donor contacts - whether verbally or physically.
-
Owen simply stared at Vincent, digesting his thoughtfulness, his understanding, his total lack of excessive emotion. Everything that Owen wasn't. He felt blindsided and trapped by Vincent's reasonableness, unable to see past the red haze that Ben's offensive action had slashed across his mind's eye. Picturing them, picturing it happening and Vincent just calmly talking to Ben about the silly mistake he'd made afterwards only enraged him. He didn't understand that, he didn't understand it about himself, why he couldn't just accept that Vincent knew what he was doing and trust him that everything would be alright.
And suddenly he knew. His issue was still trust. In a slightly different outfit to the one it usually wore (when he imagined Vincent with his pliant donors) but the same underlying cause. He was making an ass of himself, but he couldn't think straight enough to figure out how to fix it. Not right now. Vincent's beautiful eyes were boring into him, imperiously showing him what a lost cause he was and waiting silently for him to declare it and submit. To agree that Ben was an acceptable addition to their relationship. Except he couldn't, didn't want to, was too angry, too devastated, too lost, too... everything.
He stood up abruptly, frowning down at Vincent. "I need to think this through," he said, shaking his head vaguely and reaching into the pocket of his coat for his car keys. "I'll call you," he mumbled, his lips a grim line as he turned to step around his chair then stopped because he was so disoriented by everything swirling around in his head that he needed a moment to figure out where the door was before he headed for it.
-
As soon as Ben saw Owen getting up and leaving the coffee shop, with Vincent staring after him and then lowering his head, Ben's gut lurched. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up, but it was different to that, because he was a vampire and there was nothing to throw up. He pulled out his phone, uncaring that it got wet, and speed-dialled Vincent's number. He was watching Owen, not Vincent, as the phone rang in his ear. Because he knew it would take time for Vincent to react to the phone call, he started to cross the road.
Horns blared at him, cars screeched and he realised upon his return to the curb that he couldn't just focus on Owen and nothing else. He was aware that he might've attracted attention with this move, and he glanced across the road to see where Owen was now. Surely he'd come through the door already? Yes, there he was, and he was looking over as well - alerted by the horn and tyres. Did he know it was Ben trying to get to him?
"Ben?"
Vincent was speaking in his ear now, having identified him via caller ID, but by this stage Ben was already on his second attempt crossing the road. Still doing it a bit dangerously, but this time he was looking at the traffic as well as his destination.
Owen.
He had a notion about how well he'd be received.
-
Owen left the coffee shop in a daze, trying to tell himself that he was an idiot to be this upset, that he should be looking to Vincent as his example for how together he should be, but the more he told himself that, the angrier he felt. It was all so fucking reasonable and he wasn't; even though he was doing all this stuff to get his life together, he could still come completely undone at the thought that Vincent could have someone kiss him and justify it. He hadn't even got to fucking kiss Vincent in nights and nights, how the fuck was it okay for some asshole to do it before him??
He knew he was being childish because he felt so ineffectual, and he knew he needed to get away as quickly as possible before he got himself so worked up he did something stupid like scream or cry; his emotions were getting more frayed by the second. He was both grateful and disappointed that Vincent let him walk out.
The traffic in front of the coffee shop was going a little haywire as well because someone was running across the road, so Owen paused at the door, where there was some cover from the rain, for that to sort itself out. He'd got his keys out of his pocket, spied his car up the block a little (about four cars ahead of where he stood) where he'd parked it and dashed forward to the next shop's awning, managing to stay dry because he could move so quickly. He came to a dead stop when he reached that spot though, because he realised that the person crossing the road was fucking Ben.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he blurted angrily, his hands balling into fists (his right crushing his keys). It occurred to him, after he said it, that it was probably a complete coincidence that Ben was here; he had his phone to his ear, after all, jay-walking around and no doubt talking so he'd been too distracted to pay attention to the traffic... except he was saturated. He didn't look like he was just casually wandering around, he looked like he'd been in the rain for a very long time, attempting to drown himself.
-
On his way through the traffic, stopping between lanes and running between the gaps of moving cars, Ben had time to ask a single question. The answer wasn't succinct, but by the time he was approaching Owen and challenged by him, Vincent had finished speaking and now it was Ben's turn to say something. Instead of replying, Ben hung up the phone, hoping that the sound of torrential rain had muted Owen's words from the phone. Supernatural hearing was one thing, but the quality of electronic speakers was another.
It was over, and it was his fault. Yet again he'd fucked up, but this time he had someone available to him to plead his case to. He was angry and upset and he knew the rain would cover some of that up, but not all. Pocketing his phone, he stood face to face with the taller vampire and started in a way that was probably not in his best interests.
"He said you'd understand!" he yelled, because the rain was deafening, though he knew neither of them needed his volume. "Did you really think I could steal him from you? He's yours! He'll always be yours! I just want Kerr back!"
It made no sense, his plea. Owen just had to throw the kiss back into his face. Unlike other mistakes he'd made, this time he agreed with Vincent, that he deserved a second chance. Vincent had been willing to give it to him. So why not Owen?
-
"That's ridiculous! How is kissing my husband going to bring yours back?" Owen yelled back, fighting off the urge to shove at Ben. His hands stayed fisted and by his side for the time being, though he was given to wonder, in the back recesses of his brain, what a fight between two vampires might be like. He'd never been one for starting fistfights but he'd ended one that had come his way once, years ago. He was confident that, even though Ben was older, there wouldn't be a significant difference between them and he'd be able to hold his own.
"He was wrong when he said I'd understand because what you're saying makes no sense and I don't!" he now yelled, as Ben's first words came back to him. The other vampire was his entire focus at that moment, Owen had no peripheral awareness of anything else - beyond the knowledge that no-one was staying near them as they screamed at one another over the rain. "I think you're gutless, starting shit that you don't finish! You sent him to do your dirty work instead of facing me like a man and explaining yourself and apologising !"
-
Ben didn't understand what it was Owen was accusing him of not finishing. The demand for an apology was something that he could surrender to, because he knew he'd made a poor choice, and he was sorry. He was so very fucking sorry.
"I'm sorry!" he shouted into Owen's face, aware that the other had his fists balled at the ready and expecting them to come at him at any point. For all his emotional hostility, Ben wasn't a fighter. He would take whatever punch Owen threw at him, and he figured the other vampire might feel better for it. If he could hit him, maybe he'd get it out of his system, maybe feel guilty for doing it, maybe relent in his anger and allow Ben to be trained by Vincent again. "Please tell him," he begged, the yelling dropped as his tone changed from hysterics to pleas. "Tell him you know it was a mistake. Please."
He didn't have much hope, but he asked anyway.
-
"How about you fucking tell me you know it was a mistake first!" Owen brayed, offended that all this was still about Vincent when it was him that was the innocent party, here. Vincent already knew Ben had made a stupid mistake and was willing to forgive, making Owen feel like the asshole because he begrudged Ben access to the man he'd kissed.
"How about you fucking tell me how it'll never happen again, how you're going to do better! How about you tell me why the fuck I should ever trust you near him again!" Owen's face was a sneer of demand as he looked down his nose at the sopping vampire in front of him, disliking the man for putting him in this position, angry at him and Vincent both for forcing him to be the bad guy.
-
"There's no longer any point," Ben replied, as he realised now how peculiarly Vincent had worded his response to the question posed him.
"What did he say?" Ben had asked while crossing the street in the rain, chasing down the vampire who he'd thought was between anger and forgiveness.
"He's uncomfortable, Ben. I'm sorry, but you can't come over anymore."
Ben had understood this to mean that Owen had declared his discomfort, but now he realised that Vincent had come to this conclusion on his own based on the fact Owen had reacted adversely.
"It's done," he said, and reeled away from Owen, no longer wanting to look at him. Not even Vincent's kind face would be a welcome sight. He'd ruined it with a stupid, single impulsive decision. There was something wrong with him. This was proof enough.
-
Ben's dramatics were more than Owen could stomach so when he spun away, Owen stepped hurriedly after him and slammed him in the back with an open-palmed shove, right between his shoulder blades. He didn't really care if Ben fell on his face but he was counting on the blonde's vampiric reflexes to keep him upright.
"There is a fucking point!" he yelled through gritted teeth. "It's called respect! Stop being such a coward and face me! You talked to him, convinced him but you don't even have the decency to give me your side of the story!" Owen realised that he might need to pin Ben down to hear what he wanted to hear from him so he began swiftly calculating ways to get him to his car - even if he had to swoop in and frogmarch Ben the short distance to his vehicle.
-
Ben, who'd been ready to cross the street and put Owen and Vincent out of his life forever, wasn't expecting to be shoved. His vampiric reflexes didn't save him because he wasn't in the right frame of mind. As a result, he went down on his knees, but his hands saved him from going any further. Two flares of pain travelled up his legs from the shock of his landing, and he grunted his surprise. Without looking over his shoulder to see where his aggressor was, he began the process of getting back up to his feet, intending on facing Owen but unsure what he would say.
-
Owen was there, facing him, when Ben got to his feet - in fact, he reached down to cup Ben's elbow and help him up, his emotions vastly different from what they had been. Seeing Ben stumble and fall had been the shock he'd needed to wash away his rage, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head and instantly dispelled it.
He could finally see the resigned misery Vincent had been trying to tell him about, he could see that Ben was broken somehow. He hadn't forgiven him his transgression but he was sorry he'd kicked Ben while he was down. He wasn't a bully, not normally; anything involving Vincent seemed to send him to towering heights and deep depressions of emotion, however, because he couldn't control himself where his husband was concerned. Not even when Vincent was the one telling him to, it seemed.
"I'm sorry," he said loudly, frowning at Ben. "I don't mean to... I'm just angry, I told Vincent I needed time to think this through, he made me feel trapped when he told me what happened and then insinuated what an asshole I'd be if I didn't forgive you instantly but I just... I do want to listen, alright? We owe each other that much. Can we go somewhere, though? My place? My car's just here," he gestured towards the red Mustang parked a few metres away.
He had no idea how Ben had materialised at just the right time - nor had he put any great depth of thought into it - but he assumed, from the way he was so wet, that Ben didn't have a car nearby. If he didn't want to go anywhere though, they wouldn't, it was just that Owen was afraid Vincent would leave the coffee shop any second and find the two of them having a go at each other on the footpath in the pouring rain and Owen would get even more disapproval from his husband.
-
While all of this was going on, Vincent was still sitting in the coffee shop, trying not to listen in on the thrumming outpouring of emotion that was twanging along his bloodline from Owen. It was like peeping uninvited, he felt, especially when Owen was still upset. He'd hoped that Owen would get into his car and drive away, but after some time passed, it occurred to him that Owen might already be in his car, sitting there and trying to calm down before driving away. That was a sensible idea, and Vincent was proud of him. There was no other reason why his young husband would be lingering. He looked down at the ring on his finger and twirled it, having faith that this separation wouldn't last, and that hurdles like Ben wouldn't come up too often. Belatedly, he'd realised he should've relented as soon as Owen had reacted adversely. He'd promised himself not to push it, yet he had, so when Ben called, it made sense simply to end things as cleanly as possible. He was sad for him, but if Ben had gone through all that he had and survived, then he would survive this too. Vincent's path to Owen should be clear.
Ben was using the rain to wash the pain out of his hands, though his knees felt hot and itchy. He figured the itch would be from his knees healing. They'd felt as though they'd scraped through his jeans, but the pain was slight and grounding. It made him feel real, because everything else about this scenario wasn't.
He'd been right in his assumption that Owen hitting him would lead to guilt and an apology in return. Guilt was a powerful emotion, Ben knew this first hand. Why not wield it in his favour instead of letting it beat him down time and again? He nodded at Owen's words, though wary. If Owen was to be believed, he hadn't given Vincent an ultimatum, he'd asked for time to think it over. So why had Vincent ended it? Was his guess correct after all: that Vincent had chosen to deny Ben further training because Owen had been initially angry? He hoped not, that would just be a ridiculous expectation! Of course Owen would be angry upon finding out!
"Alright," Ben said, not caring about his own car even though it was in a tow-away zone should it remain parked there longer than a couple of hours. If it was towed he'd pay the fine and get it out. It was liberating to not miss opportunities because of financial concerns working in the background.
-
Owen didn't waste any time getting them to the car; with a terse nod of acknowledgement he raced ahead to unlock the doors, opening the passenger side for Ben before he braved the rain and got in the driver's side. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait for any cars to go by but he was still damn wet by the time he flopped into his seat and started the car. His interior smelled of leather maintenance products, the cologne he'd worn (when he thought smelling good for his lover might give him an advantage) and wet hair as the heater blasted warm air at them from its vents.
"This rain is fucking ridiculous," he muttered as he ran a hand through his dripping blonde curls to get them out of his eyes, got his belt on and checked that Ben was settled. When he was was satisfied, he watched his mirrors and pulled the well-maintained classic car out onto the road when there was a chance, sticking with the traffic's generally reduced speeds in the interests of safety.
He waited for Ben's response to his monotonal comment on the weather, unsure he wanted to get into any sort of meaningful conversation while they drove, especially in weather such as they were experiencing (where even he, with his reflexes, could make a mistake and end up wrecking his beloved car). Conversation about the rain or none at all he could handle while he was so heavily occupied with the road. Minimal thinking also kept his emotions on hold.
-
Ben didn't worry too much about the rain, he was already soaked. Owen didn't seem to have a towel handy either. Leather seats weren't so bad, he supposed, but he still felt a bit weird getting into Owen's car. It smelled like him, and even though it was nice enough, it wasn't the kind of car to excite Ben on a more personal level. He looked over at Owen's statement, knowing it was just a silence filler, and he reached up and ran his hands through his hair, trying to dry it out using the heat that was blowing at him through the small vents. He wasn't very successful.
"Yeh," he said, figuring Owen would want acknowledgement of some kind. Otherwise, Ben didn't talk, unless Owen did. The drive was spent in relative silence, and Ben said very little until they came to a point when it was time for him to explain himself. Unlike his usual behaviour, he didn't run the potential conversation in his head. He was too unhappy to worry at it, too exhausted to wonder about things that might not even happen.
Continued in A Reluctant Confession (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forum/index.php?topic=7047.0)