For that first week, hearing nothing from James, Ichabod began to think he wouldn’t hear from the human again at all. The promise of something good happening and he had messed it up completely in his rush to grasp it. He’d grabbed too hard and felt it slip between his fingers.
So when James had finally called Ichabod had been surprised and pleased, despite the awkwardness of their first telephone conversation. He’d began to feel more at ease though, pleased that James was asking questions and that he was able to answer them. They’d chatted about everything and anything and it felt… normal. More normal than anything that had happened to him for years. Even when he’d settled into living with Kerr, it had never felt completely right. How could it with Ben there and knowing he’d never have what he wanted with Kerr.
But this was… simple. The only thing that was weird with chatting late into the night with James was that Ichabod was a vampire, but that wasn’t going anywhere and it wasn’t Ichabod that felt weird about it. The loss of Kerr still stung, every night when he woke up feeling that empty space, and when he lay alone before the sun rose and drew him back to sleep the grief was still there. But James helped him forget about it for a while every time they spoke.
The topic of Kerr had come up briefly in their conversations as James had asked about his siring, but Ichabod had only given the barest details, not delving into their relationship and how he’d been wedged awkwardly into the mix of Ben and Kerr’s love. It was difficult enough to explain in person, let alone by phone and Ichabod hadn’t wanted to waste those happy hours on the phone talking about things that would only make him miserable. He was grateful that James hadn’t probed further after hearing the short answers and curt tone of voice Ichabod used when the conversation had turned that way and it had been easy to turn the topic to other things.
When they had finally made plans to meet up again Ichabod was overjoyed and worried at the same time. He was terrified he would mess things up again by talking without thinking. It wasn’t even the flirting or the thought that there might be anything more than friendship – just talking to someone and feeling comfortable again was amazing and he didn’t want to lose that.
He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans as he paced back and forth across the apartment, waiting for James to arrive. He hadn’t been awake for that long, but as he’d waited, downing a glass of blood, it felt like an age.
So as soon as he heard the lift doors opening Ichabod had headed straight for the door, pulling it open before James had a chance to knock.
“I heard the lift,” Ichabod corrected needlessly, gesturing past James at the now closed doors of the elevator. “It’s good to see you too,” he added with a nervous smile, “I… I wasn’t sure if you’d come. Please, come in,” he said, stepping back to let James in before shutting the door behind him swiftly. He wondered if he should have given him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a touch on the arm? But it was too late now and Ichabod twisted his fingers together, inwardly reprimanding himself for not doing more than that.
“Did you want a drink? I got juice – orange or apple, and tea and coffee, I didn’t know what you’d want,” Ichabod said, gesturing towards the kitchen as he took a few steps after James. He’d even remembered milk, which he had been pretty pleased about, even if James didn’t want any of it.