TW/CW — mention of supernatural being's suicide
Trevor couldn't believe his eyes when he saw their van standing in the forest they hadn't even taken it to. William had told him and Eleonora to sleep there, and so the best person to ask was Eleonora. Especially now, since she was unfolding the sleeping bag on the floor. Of course, Trevor got the couch, as his leg wasn't healing well enough lately.
"How the fuck is this van here?" he asked, sitting down on the couch to look at her.
Eleonora straightened up and smiled. "I sent the werewolves its location as soon as we got out of that wicked warehouse. I had a phone, didn't I?"
He furrowed his brows. "Since when can you contact them?"
"Austin gave me his number when we were leaving them in the hut. Oh, don't pull this face. You weren't with me. I left you two alone for a moment, don't you remember?"
"Okay, it does ring a bell. Why did he give you it? Didn't you beat and tie him up?"
"Well," she began, putting her hands on her waist, "it's complicated. He didn't give me it exactly. I made him do it. But I got it in the end, didn't I?"
"I don't know if it works that way, but if you say so. It kind of saved us there."
"Yeah," she admitted in a low voice. He assumed she was thinking about Daniel's death while saying that.
After that, there wasn't much talking, as they both went to sleep quite early. Their bodies forgot how it was to have a regular sleeping schedule.
William came by in the morning. Eleonora was still asleep, while Trevor couldn't sleep anymore, so he'd sat up and did nothing else than watch the ceiling or walls. The vampire shot him a smile as he appeared in the doorway. He knew what it meant, so he signalised for him to give him a moment and he would join him.
As soon as he left, William told him they needed two folding chairs for them to sit in. So they came back and tried their best not to wake Eleonora up. By this time they figured out on many occasions Eleonora was a heavy sleeper. Trevor couldn't believe Eleonora hadn't yet got an instinct of waking up by even the quietest of noises as he had. On the other hand, it could tell him how much Eleonora had gone through and that this journey clearly hadn't been her first serious and dangerous one.
Yesterday, or even earlier, the snow had begun to melt and, over the night, disappeared completely, leaving only paddles and muddy, wet spots as the reminder of its former existence. They unfolded the chairs, less than a metre from each other, far off so no one could eavesdrop their conversation. Some of them had probably heard this story already. Trevor thought Eleonora and Jackson had, but maybe William didn't want them to relive everything all over again. He was the only one who had agreed to do so.
Trees and bushes surrounded them, only the sound of a swooshing stream missing in the background.
"So," he said, crossing his legs; he was now sitting the same way Trevor had found him at the lake. "Where should I begin?"
"Where you want to, I guess. It's not like I know a lot about him."
He arched an eyebrow at him. "Didn't you mean you knew nothing?"
He wondered if telling William the truth would harm or make him question his trust in Eleonora. They seemed close after all, so it shouldn't affect her.
"Eleonora told me a bit. But she didn't go deep into the details. I don't know how Gilbert died."
"Oh—" William opened his mouth, clearly searching for the most appropriate words he could think of, but closed it shortly after. "Well, in this case, I may as well retell Gilbert's—and then our—entire story. What do you think?"
Surprisingly, concern appeared on Trevor's face. "Won't it be too much for you?"
"Isn't it what you wanted?" He frowned, thrown off by the question.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed, "but I don't want to take from you more than you're willing to give, if you know what I mean." William nodded. "You were right when you told me I shouldn't have made you tell me it in the first place. I pushed too far, and I don't want you to feel like you're forced to tell me all this because of me. I was a total jerk."
Trevor had had this revelation at night, and it made him feel like a bad person. Was he really make-ing William do something he didn't want to?
William laughed, but he kept this warm, genial facial expression, especially his famous delicate smile, but then he stopped. "That's kind of you. I thought it through as well, you know. And I think I want you to know. Gilbert's story is not well-known. I guess it did change me in a way. Gilbert's death did change me. I can't say it didn't. He loved me. He did a lot. But all this"—he pointed at the air; Trevor guessed it meant the world—"overwhelmed him. He couldn't comprehend how this world has changed. He'd like to live in the medieval era again."
"Like it was any better," Trevor noted humorously.
"It wasn't. That's true. He knew it. The world we're now living in has so much more options, potential, even when you're not that rich. But, Trevor, Gilbert had all those options before. He was a vampire: immortal, intelligent, strong, handsome." William smiled when he said the last part. "He... he..." William shut his mouth and formed a tight line with his lips.
"William, you're crying," he said.
Trevor didn't know whether he should go up to him or leave him alone. He didn't know what he preferred. He should have asked earlier. Now it was too late to work it out by trial and error. The subject was too personal, too delicate. Hurting William ever again was out of question.
"I know," he said, wiping the tears on his sleeve.
"You don't have to continue. Seriously."
"I know. I want to though. I want you to know. I hope it will help me get some weight off my chest too. I haven't told anyone this story yet. Even Eleonora doesn't know my experience first-hand," he explained, gazing at the brunet, who nodded in support.
Am I the first person to know this?
"Where was I?" William asked himself aloud. "Oh, he. He stopped being himself at some point. I've seen the change but I didn't think much of it at first. You know, I was in love. I was happy. So I thought he was as well. He wasn't. Sadly, it doesn't work that way. You can't just give the other person your happiness. Even if you'd want that more than anything in the world." He fell silent for a moment, which seemed like eternity. "Then, he lost all his appetite. I didn't know he wasn't eating. How could I know? He—well, I tried my best to help him. I went to buy blood for him. He didn't drink it the first time. The second, I was with him to make sure he did.
"I kept him half-alive, half-dead for some time. But it didn't seem like he wanted it. He didn't talk to me. Not really. But he wasn't aggressive or anything. One can think that every vampires' relationship is abusive and brutal, because they both can't die. But rising a hand at someone is abusive no matter if they, deep down, don't mean to hurt or they simply can't hurt you. We weren't anything like this. He wasn't like this. But he was—downcast. Or depressed might be a better term, though he was never diagnosed. You know, it was happening some time ago."
Trevor tried being strong for William, but tears were suddenly welling up in his eyes, blurring his vision like a water curtain. He couldn't help it, though.
"Then, he began growing weaker day by day. Gilbert didn't leave his bed at this point. Finally, the day has come. I thought I was ready. After all, it was inevitable. But I wasn't. Fortunately, Gilbert's death was peaceful, and I think it was how he wanted it to be. He didn't want me to suffer."
"William, I'm so sorry," Trevor wept. "You were so strong—" His voice cracked. He didn't know how William could be so serene.
"Trevor, please, don't cry. Just this one time. Can you do it for me?" The brunet nodded, although he doubted if he could keep such a promise. "Promise?"
"Promise," Trevor whispered.
"And it's not like I hadn't thought this day might come. You know, suicide in vampires is quite common. Gilbert was older by a couple centuries. People can't kill us. Most of them don't know how. So only other vampires, vampire hunters, or ourselves are the ones left. And Gilbert chose himself. It had to come eventually, didn't it?" William tried laughing; it was a horrible, broken laugh. "It's not the same with us. Our lives don't have a natural end. We—or someone—have to make one for ourselves. Well, the sun can burn us eventually, but I don't know if any of us can last until that happens.
"Besides, Now that it's behind me, I don't think seeing him slowly die from the arms of another person would be any better," he went on. "I don't think it would. The process wouldn't be shorter but it would be more painful. This person could cut him into pieces like we did with Jackson. I had at least something to hold on to. A body to bury. A body to mourn."
No one spoke for a while.
"How old was he?" Trevor asked through tears.
"He's a little younger than the Kingdom of Denmark itself," he said with a smile. "It was quite an age, wasn't it?"
Trevor couldn't seem to find his tongue, or he'd forgotten how to use it. William smiled at him, although a single tear was halfway through his cheek.
"You promised me you wouldn't cry."
"I know." Trevor hurried to wipe tears off his face, embarrassed. "It's just... I wouldn't ever suspect you went through all this."
"You make it sound like it's a tragedy. I told you it's natural." He leaned forward in the chair and put his hand on Trevor's, squeezing it as he gave him a smile. "Well, maybe I've just cried all the tears already, and so there's nothing left. It's not out of the question."
"You're not mad at him?" he asked.
"No. I'm not. Perhaps I was at one point, but I'm not anymore. I shouldn't have been, though. Ever." He nodded, as if steeling himself to believe these words. "Maybe I should be angry that he left me. But it's not like he's my other half. I ought to be able to live without him, and I am. It's not like I've forgotten. I won't ever forget. I celebrate the anniversaries of both his birth and death. But I moved on, and I think it's what he'd like me to. You're the living example of it." He smiled again. Trevor hadn't seen him smile this much in ages, and wished he could smile back.
Then, another wave of tears attacked Trevor, and he couldn't stop them. This time, however, William got up, bent his knees beside Trevor, and took his head in his hands, before pressing it to his chest as he gently stroked his hair. They stayed like this until Trevor stopped sobbing, then slowly crying altogether. William was sad because Trevor was crying over his own battle. He didn't want him to.
Eventually William let go and sat back in his chair.
"Okay, can we switch to something easier to take?" Trevor sounded like he was speaking through his nose or without it. One of these had to be correct.
William smiled. "I wouldn't mind."
"Favourite colour?"
"What?" he said with a frown.
"That was a question."
"Oh, um, violet, I think."
"Violet? Who likes violet?"
"I do." William knew better than to argue with Trevor. "What's yours?"
"Blue."
"And you complain about mine?" William gave a laugh. "You're the most basic out of us two."
Trevor didn't seem to need to leave his comment on this. "Zodiac sign?"
"Pisces."
The corners of Trevor's mouth rose slightly, though his eyes stayed reddened. "You have an idea what zodiac signs are?"
"I do. You didn't expect that, did you?"
"That's true, I didn't. But wait, it's Pisces season. When is your birthday then?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!?" Trevor shot forward in the chair; his back was curved. "And you haven't told me? Why?"
"Because you haven't asked me. Oh, stop gaping at me. It doesn't work. What's your sign?"
"Aries."
William's face brightened up with a grin. "Oh. Oh, that explains a lot. So, your birthday's soon after mine, hmm?"
"'That explains a lot'? What do you mean?"
"It explains a lot about you. For instance, why you're so annoying and short-tempered," he said, the smile taking a sly overtone.
Trevor choked on that. "What did you say? I'm annoying? And short-tempered?"
William arched an eyebrow. "Did I lie? I haven't heard one. Have you?"
"Because you didn't tell any. But I didn't expect you to have the guts to say it out loud."
"See? How surprising I am."
"Oh yes, you are." He smiled at William, with William, again. He'd forgotten what it felt like. He was in a trance, but he managed to snap out of it soon after.
"Do you have a sibling?" Trevor asked at last.
"I thought we're finished with this."
"Did I say we are?"
William laughed and obediently answered the question. He didn't have any, which Trevor found surprising, as he thought people had had many more children during the Regency Period and being an only child was rare, if not unheard of. Perhaps William was rare all along.
"And you?"
"Maybe," Trevor said, looking out at the sky. "But I don't have a way of knowing for sure."
"Oh."
"No, it's okay. Really. I've come to terms with it long ago."
"Favourite band?"
"My favourite band? Oh wow, I don't know what to say. But mainly because I don't know if I have one." Trevor laughed. "Maybe ABBA? They're really good."
"Yeah, I've heard them a couple times. They're good."
William closed his eyes and seemed like he was about to start sunbathing. Trevor didn't ask another question and joined him. They remained silent for a while, relaxing beside each other. It was quite refreshing. No one to run from, nothing to fear, everything to look forward to.
At length William said, "I think we should go back."
"Yeah, we'd better go back."