Work Text:
It was a rare moment in the swirling chaos that had become their lives. The morning was cool yet the sun bathed the balcony of his mansion in a quiet warmth while the wind called up a melody from the surrounding trees, singing to them in a hushed whisper of rustling leaves. A cup of his coffee sat in front of him on the small table and he could think of no better company than the red haired man sitting across from him. There was a time when this could have been described as a “Perfect Day.”
He was surprised when Victor had suggested they sit out today. He couldn’t recall the last time they had. What had once been a ritual for them had just become another thing lost and forgotten. It should have felt nice to regain some semblance of normalcy.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to block the thoughts bubbling up in the back of his mind. This was supposed to be a pleasant day… a beautiful day… Perfect. He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips. Felt its warmth in his hands and the heat of it burn as it passed into his throat, sensed its bitter essences lingering even after he’d set the cup back down. It should have been the perfect cup of coffee.
The sun should’ve warmed his skin and even in that heat the wind should’ve been just a little too cool and he should have felt that chill run across his skin.
Vincent stole a long glance at Victor who was lounged back in his chair, arms behind his head. He was seemingly taking in the splendor with that slight grin that was never far from his lips. Who could have ever imagined that a being such as Victor could ever find anything worth hanging around for in a man such as Vincent. Then he thought back to days of long conversations about a myriad of subjects both serious and nonsensical and nights full of laughter as the drinks quickly became too many and the antics elicited far too ridiculous to repeat. It should have brought a longing for those nostalgic days.
Again, Vincent closed his eyes. The thoughts crept closer to the forefront of his mind, whispering in an overlapping chorus of poisonous affirmations. Vincent would have loved this. Vincent would know what to say right now to start those hours long conversations. Vincent was the one that liked his coffee blacker than his hair and hotter than the sun. Vincent was the one that cherished the man sitting across him.
But I’m not…
Vincent is gone…
All this is…
Is an empty shell…
He wanted to be angry. He wanted to rage and throw the stupid cup of coffee against the wall so the sound of shattering glass would splinter through this make believe peace and silence.
He wanted to be sad. He wanted to bury his head in his hands and sob and lament the loss of himself.
He wanted… He wanted to see the man across from him and FEEL the love and care he once had. Not just remember it as a fact.
An incomplete puppet ...
a worthless doll...
trash…
“Vin?” Victor’s voice cut through the clamorous crescendo in Vincent’s mind and his eyes snapped open.
“Hmm?”
“Vin. Uh, your hand.” He gestured and Vincent’s gaze followed it down to his own hand deeply embedded in the wrought iron latticing of the table. His fist had closed completely, tearing away at the decorative swirls of metal and leaving a lump of splintered paint and metal curled in his palm.
“Cheap table.” Was all Vincent could think to say.
Victor sighed as he stood up and walked around to Vincent and bent down next to him. He gently took Vincent’s hand and pulled it slowly from the fractured edges of sharp metal left behind. He inspected it closely, the lacerations weren’t deep but they oozed a clearish liquid. He stood and picked up a cloth napkin from the table and wrapped it a few times around Vincent’s hand, securing it with a small knot.
“Victor…” Vincent’s voice trailed off. He had nothing to draw on to tell him how to react to this situation. No memories for such an awkward situation. So he just looked up at him, unsure and broken.
Victor seemed to stare down at him for an uncomfortably long time and Vincent couldn’t read the expression on his face but he also refused to look away. When Victor finally did move again it was a quick and smooth motion. He slid his hand behind Vincent’s head and pulled him against his chest, his other arm going around Vincent’s shoulders and he dropped his head until it was resting on Vincent’s.
Victor’s heartbeat was strong and loud in Vincent’s ear. His breathing was deep and slow. Comfort was the only word he could think of. Vincent would have found comfort in this. Without commanding himself his arms raised, settling themselves around Victor’s waist and he felt himself press a little harder into Victor’s chest as he drew him even closer.
Silent minutes passed as he listened to that heartbeat gradually soften into a gentler rhythm. He didn’t want to let go. HE didn’t want to let go.
When they finally did let go of one another Victor had that slight smile again.
“Victor-” Vincent started and Victor cut him off.
“Yeah I know. The sun is a bit too bright out today. Maybe tomorrow will be better.”
“Victor.” Vincent said a little more forcefully and Victor stopped as he was reaching for the glasses.
“It’s ok. Really. Everything is going to be fine.” His smile dropped for a second as he passed Vincent a quick look before continuing to gather the things on the table, “We’ll just try again tomorrow.” He was already smiling again, “Maybe tomorrow we should skip the coffee and go straight to the alcohol.” His smile widened.
Vincent knew to appreciate the out he was being given. He sighed and stood, looking up to the sky and holding up a hand to block the sun from his eyes.
“Perhaps you’re right.” He allowed the smallest bit of a smile to break across his lips. He was starting to think maybe he preferred cloudy days anyway.