*　　ᵗʰᵉ　(　b̶o̶y̶　)

qotd / accepting.

the vampire's eyes grew wide in disbelief. he would claim to be surprised by the nature of daniel's crash words but he couldn't , not if he was being honest with himself. given the context of their conversation ( mortal or creature, it was not picky on the pain it would dole out. ) they would fight — silently waiting for the other to give in, or for some peace to befall both of their heads by some unforeseen force rooting for their perseverance. and when they both thought they were being wronged — they became ruthless. but daniel. daniel knew how to dig beneath his skin.

racked with overbearing emotion, armand could sometimes become lost with his feverish rants. you'll hate me, regret my gift and regret me. you'll miss living.. so — when interrupted, he had a spell to feel some guilt for simply telling him how he was going to be. daniel was not a simple mold of the many ugly and distorted experiences in his past, not someone who would grow to hate him after. these were but his waking fears come to life.

the dark gift was many, many things to the vampire but unlike a handful of others out there, armand did not readily see the benefits. nothing of reputable gifts he's heard of and yes, he would be labeled a hypocrite since he already bore the eternal gift, he still stood by it. he cherished life. one he never got. most importantly, he wanted that life for daniel. was that unfair ? he couldn't tell.

cruel, he said, and there was a time when the boy would have seemed sheepish at the spat-out word, with guilt clinging to his eyes when facing the hurt brought by his hand. this time, he chuckled instead, disbelief in the shake of his head. how could a mortal be cruel to a dead thing? an unchanging, selfish monster who stood above all as the man he claimed to love slowly faded away, watching him die while sitting on the cure with the resigned conviction there was nothing he could do. how was daniel the cruel one?

" no, you don't get to run away… there's still plenty of time 'til sunrise! " the nights are ours. fighting the warm tears in his eyes, daniel stood his ground, holding the devil's shirt in a tight grasp as if that would force him to stay. they both knew there was nothing he could do to keep him that wasn't a kind gesture of the monster to offer the boy an illusion of control. it didn't keep him from trying.

stubborn and relentless, he knew the hypocrisy of his words. how many times had his bags been packed? how many times had he cowardly fled under the protection of daylight? how could he demand armand to stay if he no longer wanted to when he had let daniel go so many times? he let go of his shirt.

" i'm just saying, armand… it's not fair. you can't be sure any of that will happen! you don't know, no one does. and it's not fair… " a sob racked through his body and there was no biting back the tears falling from red-rimmed eyes. god, he could really use a hit right now, abstinence made him pathetic, [ but armand wouldn't drink from him otherwise. ]

" you saw us side-by-side in the mirror today, right? in the lobby? i look older than you now… my hair's greying already. don't you get it? i— i thought— " a raspy sigh, hands roughly rubbing away the wetness from his face, before finishing through gritted teeth as he looked away. " i thought we'd be together forever. " it hurt to say it out loud, yet he faced the monster with feigned courage, jutting his chin out and bracing himself for the chill in his own voice. " but you're just gonna let me die like i'm a fucking dog you always knew you'd have to bury. "

it is an all too human sensation , the way his stomach is compelled to twist at the request . disgust boils , shuttering and shocking his expression to momentary stillness as the impact is felt , and it is armand's doing surely , spurred by the dramatic chain that always looks heavy around the boy's neck .

ah , but would retribution ever taste so sweet ? he is nearly as strong as he once was , powerful enough to do it again if he so desired . an eye for an eye , a joy for a joy . perhaps instead of throwing a fit , the devil would instead throw him a parade , grateful for the continued gift of his minion's fascinating little mind .

the presented hesitation left a bitter taste on his tongue,   one the boy was all too familiar with.   was he not good enough to join them in immortality?   then why hadn't they killed him?   red tinged his cheeks,   the reminder of his true part in the vampires' lives.   a blood bag,   and a willing one at that.   thrill-seeker,   the word 'no' felt foreign in his mouth.   and they knew that,   making a pet out of the boy.

no one wants you for eternity.

annoyance had daniel pushing away the hand placed on his chest,   the sight of lestat's placating smile and the mention of armand boiling the sustenance in his veins.   what a fool he had been,   trusting he would eventually be given the dark gift.   he had told armand that he would find someone else to do,   and he did.   yet the devil still came in the way.

"    forget about him!   he doesn't get a say,   it's my life   —   not his!     "      childish to his own ears,   he couldn't help it.   his time on earth was counted and it didn't have to be,   the monsters dangling all he could have in front of his nose at every opportunity.   why would he want to grow old?   why would he want to die?   they kept him tempted to keep him loyal.

it made sense.   you're not special,   you're just gullible.

" so why won't you take the bite? " legs cross and your hands find their way, proper as ever, in your lap. your voice is but a hollowed reflection of what it was before: the same can be said for your whole being. while the show must go on, it isn't the same and never will be ( when he was here, when he was holding your hand through it all, that rage was something better, something warmer, but now all that remains is a cold winter that courses through your veins ). " you wish to interview louis, and sneak in a question here and there to me and armand... as if we aren't noticing, so now it's your turn. " the tilt of your chin moves red curls as if blessed by aphrodite herself, and the corner of red painted lips twitches in anticipation.

her question lingered for longer than he would have liked it as an interviewer himself, and he might have been faster had she not promptly vetoed the only answer that he didn't have to face old demons to voice. ever since feet bravely brought him past the penthouse's threshold, daniel had avoided the thought.

a dead man walking, the pros of the dark gift in his case were stark. no more trembling hands, an end to the constant reminder of his own frailty, the opportunity to know everything there was to know for time wouldn't be a problem any longer, sating the what-ifs floating around in his mind. but an addict never stopped being an addict, a condition carried through the ages, and vampirism couldn't fix it in the way it could the effects of time.

" 'cause i can't. " what kind of monster would that make him when humanity was drained from his veins? when the drug he should avoid was the same ichor that kept him alive? no, he couldn't be a fucking vampire. no matter how tempting it looked to the youthful part of the weathered mind. for the sake of the world and his own peace. and oh, the boy was tired, painfully so. eternity sounded like a drag when years had been spent preparing himself to die — the testament drawn in his name speaking for itself. he was ready, and daniel had always been the stubborn type. chin jutted out, lips tightened into a self-satisfied smile as if she didn't intimidate him.