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.
