Compass’ True North

The worst part was that Owen made it easy. Not intentionally. Never intentionally. That was what Louis told himself every time he slipped behind Legundo's eyes and found Owen already smiling at him.

At them.

At the body Louis borrowed.

At the voice that wasn't his.

At the hands that weren't his.

At the heartbeat that definitely wasn't his.

Louis had expected possession to feel powerful. Victorious. Like reclaiming something stolen from him by death. Instead, it felt desperate. Hungry. Like pressing his face against the glass of a bakery window and pretending the smell was enough.

So he stayed longer.

And longer.

And longer.

Legundo had agreed. At first. That was the important part. That was the thing Louis reminded himself whenever the doctor's consciousness clawed upward beneath his own.

Legundo had said yes.

Legundo had offered.

Legundo had wanted to help.

The rest was merely... adjustment. A necessary sacrifice.

For Owen.

For them.

The afternoon sunlight poured through the castle windows in golden sheets. Owen sat beside him on the couch, curled up with his knees tucked against his chest.

Comfortable.

Safe.

Louis couldn't stop looking at him. Even now. Even after all this time.

Owen noticed eventually. "What?"

Louis smiled. "Nothing."

Owen rolled his eyes. "You've been staring for ten minutes."

"Can you blame me?"

That earned him a laugh. A real one. The sound struck Louis somewhere deep inside his chest.

God.

He missed this.

Missed Owen.

Missed having him close enough to touch.

Close enough to breathe.

Close enough that Louis could convince himself nothing had changed.

His fingers found Owen's wrist. Gentle. Possessive. Owen let him.

Louis felt Legundo somewhere beneath him. A distant pressure. Like someone trapped underwater, beating weakly against the surface.

Ignore it.

Focus on Owen.

Focus on this.

"You okay?" Owen asked quietly.

Louis nodded. Too quickly. "I'm perfect."

The pressure surged. Suddenly. Violently. His breath caught. The room tilted.

For a split second Louis felt his grip slipping. Like oil through his fingers. Like waking from a dream.

No.

No no no—

A sob ripped from his throat.

Raw.

Broken.

Violent.

Owen jumped. "Legs?"

Another sob followed. Then another. The pressure exploded upward.

Legundo surfaced. Not fully. Never fully. Just enough. Enough to make Louis lose control of the body's face. Enough for tears to spill down their cheeks. Enough for the doctor's terror to flood through muscles that no longer listened to him.

Owen was already moving. Already grabbing his shoulders. "Legs?"

Legundo looked at him. Actually looked at him. For the first time in weeks. Maybe months. Time had become difficult to measure.

His vision blurred. Words jammed in his throat.

Help me.

Owen.

Please.

His mouth opened. Nothing came out except another strangled cry. His hands grabbed Owen's shirt. Desperate. Shaking.

Trying to hold on.

Trying to say something.

Anything.

Owen's face twisted with concern. "Legs, what's wrong?"

The words shattered something inside him. Because Owen genuinely didn't know. Didn't understand. Didn't see.

Louis returned like a slammed door. The body went rigid. The sobs cut off. Silence.

Then a shaky laugh. Weak. Embarrassed. Manufactured.

"Oh god." He covered his face. As if ashamed. As if this had all been accidental.

Owen blinked. Still confused. "Louis?"

"Sorry." A breath. Another. Louis forced moisture into his eyes. Made himself tremble. Not difficult. There was enough genuine emotion for that. "I just..." He laughed again. "I missed you."

Owen's expression softened immediately. Louis knew it would. "I missed you too."

God.

There it was again.

That warmth.

That love.

The thing Louis couldn't live without.

The thing that made all of this worth it.

"I know Legundo's letting me do this," Louis said quietly. "And I know I tell him all the time how grateful I am, but..." His voice cracked. Not entirely fake. "...sometimes it just hits me."

Owen's eyes grew wet. "Oh, Louis."

The vampire pulled him into a hug. Instantly. Without hesitation. Burying his face against Legundo's against Louis's chest.

The sensation nearly made him dizzy. Owen's arms wrapped around him.

Trusting.

Warm.

Safe.

"The doctor is great for doing this."

Louis froze. Only for a second. A tiny second. A second Owen didn't notice. His arms tightened around Owen. Just a little. Enough to feel. Not enough to hurt.

"Great," Louis repeated. The word tasted strange. Sharp. Bitter.

Owen nodded against him. "Yeah."

Louis smiled. A perfect smile. The kind Owen liked. The kind that hid everything. "Yeah."

Great.

That night, Owen went to town. The castle became quiet. Empty. Cold.

Louis hated it. Without Owen around, there was nothing to distract him from the truth. Nothing to distract him from the body.

The borrowed skin.

The mirror.

The eyes staring back.

Legundo's eyes.

Legundo's face.

Legundo's mouth.

Louis stood before the reflection. Studying it. Touching his own cheek. Watching someone else's hand move. He rested his forehead against the glass.

The reflection staring back wasn't his.

It hadn't been for a long time.

Sometimes he struggled to remember his own face.

Owen's hands on Legundo's shoulders.

Owen's smile directed at Legundo's eyes.

Owen burying his face against Legundo's chest.

Memory after memory after memory.

Louis collected them greedily. Kept them. Hoarded them. As though enough stolen moments could make something true.

"You almost told him today." His voice was quiet. Gentle. The sort of voice one used with frightened animals. "I know you did."

His fingers brushed the mirror. Tracing the outline of Legundo's cheek. "You wanted him to look at you." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "But what would that accomplish?"

He imagined Legundo glaring at him from somewhere behind his own eyes.

Angry.

Terrified.

Desperate.

Louis found the image strangely endearing. "Owen's happy." The words came quickly now. Like he was trying to convince someone. Maybe himself. "He's safe. He's smiling again."

His smile widened. "He hugs me." This body, a cruel part of him corrected. Louis ignored it.

"He loves me." The words slipped out before he realized he'd said them. Possessive. Devotional. Wrong. The mirror offered no argument. Louis laughed softly.

"Maybe you don't understand that." Louis tilted his head. "Maybe you never will." His hand flattened against the glass. "But you'll come around."

The certainty in his voice was frightening. Absolute.

"You always do." Another pause. “And if you don't..." Louis's smile softened. Somehow becoming worse. More sincere. "You'll stay anyway."

The room fell silent again. Legundo couldn't answer. Maybe he was screaming. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he had long since stopped doing either.

The thought made Louis smile faintly.

Louis would never know. They couldn't hear each other.

That was the tragedy of it.

The mercy of it.

Louis closed his eyes.

And imagined Owen's arms around him.

Imagined Owen's voice.

Imagined Owen choosing him.

Not the body.

Not the face.

Not the lie.

Just him.

I promise to draw more yaoi and yuri this month