(Continued from 'Jagged')Pulling into their driveway, driving into the garage and pulling up beside his Mustang was a far weirder experience than Owen had expected it to be. There was something so gut-churningly final about this, because he wasn't coming back and it scared him. More even than bringing nothing more than himself into a relationship with Vincent, leaving behind everything he knew terrified him and it encased him completely as Vincent's car came to a stop in that garage.
What am I doing?
I have no idea what I'm doing!Panicked thoughts invaded his brain and he looked wildly at Vincent, only to have the memory of those secret papers surface and crowd in on him with
that anger in tow. Swallowing hard, he looked down at his lap, at his hands clenched into fists there and fought off the unexpected wave of anxiety. At the Chambers, it'd been easy to look around and daydream about how convenient it would be to have his stuff there, surrounding him, but now all he could think about was how intimidating this whole process was, how
hard it would be to pack a bag and not come back to a familiar bed every dawn.
He was leaving Vincent and maybe his sire had already processed that but he hadn't, not until he'd returned to actually do it and lost all confidence in his ability to go through with it.
He was mad! He had to be! Why would he walk away from this? Because of a secret, a silly, long-kept secret that seemed to have little bearing in the face of being alone in the world? Ha! Surely there were better reasons than
that, better excuses to empower him to walk away from everything familiar and comfortable!
Again, he glanced at Vincent, the words, '
I don't think I can do this,' on his tongue, almost at his lips, in his heart... but they froze when he looked at his sire. Everything about him was in mourning and as much as Owen regretted that, it was all he could see. It was all he
ever saw. Vincent was his world, the man who'd been there since the day he was abandoned by people who'd made him and didn't want him, the one who'd loved and cossetted and spoiled him as a child, the vampire who'd made him immortal and given him everything and suddenly he saw this for what it really was.
He had no identity. Nothing Vincent had never given him first and if he was
ever going to be whole enough to measure up in his own eyes, then he had to go now, while everything was falling apart. He needed to walk away and deconstruct himself so he could be built up properly. This...
shell that he was was false and he hated it, but there was an opportunity for more, to meet people and make connections and find out what mattered to
him. Vincent always would, he was
happy with what he'd created but Owen wasn't. There was more, and it was within his grasp now, and even though he was scared to death of it, he
had to do it, for his own self respect.
Without thinking too much more, Owen opened the car door and got out, closing it behind him with a quiet snick as he straightened his shoulders and headed into the house, prepared to be bombarded with doubt. He made it to the bedroom before he faltered and then he hesitated as he came down the stairs, looking from the floor where he'd sat to read all of Vincent's secrets, to their bed. His stare lingered there for a while, as he imagined what it might have been like for Vincent to sleep there alone through the first day with him gone and the pain of it sliced through him. He could imagine it all too well. He closed his eyes and turned his head away, taking a breath before he continued on to the wardrobe.
He froze again when he bent down to get a bag to pack his stuff into and saw the floorboards hadn't been replaced over the safe, for he could see it. It wasn't even locked, because the display was blank. All the papers had been put back inside it, he assumed (for they certainly weren't on the floor anymore) but... he supposed there was no point in locking the safe any more. He'd already discovered its secrets. After a slow blink, he diverted his attention to the overnight bag nearby, one of his and Vincent's well-used bits of luggage. It was reassuring to pull it out, unzip it and lay it open on the bed. He could pretend he was going on a trip somewhere and that it was no big deal; instinctively, he went for underwear and socks first, falling into a familiar routine and doing his damndest to ignore the smells in here (and the fact that he kept sniffing at them, like he was trying to soak them into his skin before he left completely).
