#interview with the vampire#iwtv#amc tvl#jacob anderson#sam reid
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luhan is suffering and you don't even care.
“And who are you to tell me I don’t care?” He utters as quirking a brow, his demeanour unfalteringly calm, as it usually is
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you're a terrible boyfriend, leon
“And why is that?”
You’re doing so well, old man. I’m so proud of you. Can you--- will you answer one more for me? It’s the last one, I promise. Jihoon, can I come home?
“ I... am not doing well. Not in the way I should be. But I’m trying. I’m really.... trying for once. “ His lips twist, hands tugging on lights strands of hair for a moment as eyes come to a close, lips parted for breaths he barely wants to release. “ Of course you can come home. You’re always allowed to come home. I... I want nothing else than that. I really don’t. “
If I came to you, if you could see me even once more, would you let me stay? I wouldn’t ask for anything else. I wouldn’t even ask you to love me. Would you let me stay?
[ —Slowly. He breathes slowly after every single word has slipped past his lips. When everything he has bottled up inside of himself for the past months have come to revelation. When the things he hasn't intended to say, has all slipped through his fingers. Like raindrops slip through the cracks of a broken window. And with that the way he stands changes, the way he holds himself simply falters. Shoulders hunching, head lowering further and back almost bending beneath the weight of something he does not want to carry. Because those words, all those words. They've torn him apart for months and now when they're all finally out there, in open space he doesn't know what to do with them.
He could easily tear his hair out at this, scratch his arms open until they bleed for hours. Set fire to his own fingertips and watch it slowly turn purple only to devour him whole. Because all he wants, is to have Jonghyo back. To have the only thing he desperately knows as reality and truth back within arms reach. And he will never ask for anything else.
" Of course I would let you stay. "
He mumbles, voice fragile, lacking traces of playful authority. Even its timbre form previously spoken sentences is gone. Lost in the translation of the words his heart wants to scream — that the pain wants to wash away.
" That's all I would ask of you. To stay, with me. I don't want to be alone like this anymore. I don't want to wake up and realize the only times I get to see you is when I close my eyes and sleep. I miss you, I miss everything that is you, and I can't stand it anymore. "
He shakes his head, blinks away the stinging behind his corneas in desperate attempts to seem unfazed, without much success in honest words.
" I just want you back, Jonghyo. I don't... I don't care for circumstances, I wouldn't even care if you hated me. I just want to know, that I can see you. Know that you're alright. See you live your life even if I have to distance myself from it. I just want you here. "
He pauses, breathes, covering his hues with slender fingers.
"I love you too much to be without you like this. I made a promise, not to do anything stupid. And hope is what I breathe. I tell myself, that if I stay here, like this. You'll come to me. One of these days. No matter where, no matter when. Just sometime. "
It doesn't make sense to him, any of those words that he's allowing to escape, mind not in pace with the way his heart seems to be acting up. With the way he's giving away every secret he has. Everything, that he would never had said, had things not turned out like this.
"So, of course I'd let you stay. Until the day I'd turn to ash, I'd let you stay. Unhesitatingly. "
Jihoon, do you ever think of me?
[— A single breath, and it feels as if his already non-beating heart has come to a second stop. It feels as if choking, as if strangled by his own thoughts. That very moment, when words reach his ear drum and it takes him more than ten seconds to even make out their meaning. Because they hurt. That voice, hurts. And there’s nothing he can do to change it. And if is mood hadn’t been color coded by glowing irises, he would definitely have lied. The red is murky, dark like the finest of wines. Skin pale, paler than usually. There have been many changes to the way he takes on himself lately, hair as fair as that of his maker, changed in style together with the way he dresses. His exterior has changed, because at the core there is so much darkness. So much pain, that he needs to rebuild the wall he created centuries ago.
He needs, to regain something that has been lost. And let go of what was never to be.
But going into rebellion against your own heart, is not an easy thing.
His hues rise properly, fingertips dusting over what feels like his gaping chest. The void, where nothing lingers. They’re shaking. His shoulders are shaking, and he knows he’s not ready for this. Not after so long. Not when everything he wants to say keeps dying on his tongue. But he doesn’t have any other choice, does he? Even if he did, he wouldn’t give up what might be one of the last chances he has, to speak words he has kept written for so long. Words, he has never intended to share. But when surprise strikes, when there’s that sudden spark of weak blue flames, burning everything that you are from the inside. It is so easy, to let yourself snap.
To pour out the remnants of a dying heart.
" Yes. " Low. His voice is as low as it always has been. But it drips of sorrows and poison — regret he finds himself loathing more and more for each passing day. ” I do. ” His lips twist, and his smile is not radiant. Not kind. Nothing that it has ever been before. It’s bitter. V a i n .
" I think of you, every time I see my own reflection. Whenever I stare at my own hands in the dead of night. When I wander through halls I can no longer call my home and whenever I feel empty. And whenever I do, I feel emptier. As if I’ve lost everything that has ever made me human. As if everything I have ever fought for has been ripped away from be by forces I cannot stop." He sighs, lowers his head and drags shaky fingers through blond strands, tugs at them as if desperate to regain control.
" I think of you, with each line I write on white sheets of paper. Because everything my mind consists of is you. And I can’t run away from it. "
It’s bursting, crumbling at the edges and cracking at the center.
” I keep thinking, that there’s nothing I would not do, to be able to see you one more time.
Just once…
Even though I already know, that nothing will ever be enough. “
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Silence crawls for a stretched moment, Caleb not moving nor speaking, gaze fixated on century old stains of burgundy upon silk fabric. He is like a statue, frozen in the way that he ceases animation, true to the nature of something that should be, for all it is worth, dead, and six feet under. But inside, there is movement. Thoughts race as fast as he can move when he wants to, and suddenly he is standing directly beside the Russian prince. "We can create red." He looks at nothing in particular.
As there is more silence again, as it stretches wide between the two of them, Aleksei spends a moment eyeing his own spawn. The one of the two sons he has, that always comes back when he runs. Aside from that filthy stain on his pride that never seems to want to go away. But much more than the mere fact that Caleb always returns, gives the Russian King pride in his child. He resembles him, in bits of pieces, creates chaos flawlessly. And although their name is not shared, as it looks in this very moment. The word of his fatherhood is spreading like wildfire. " Create red..." Aleksei repeats with a silent hum, drawn from his lips as if instinctive. Although completely improvised. " Creating red, sounds like good entertainment. But we'll have to travel. "
There she stands, in the doorway of his office. She has not been summoned by him but the aura of the entire house feels different. He looked different; colder, sharper, as if ice covered every inch of the house. She does not pronounce a word but only one concern fills her mind. Alisa. Surely he knows why his older daughter is there. She hopes he does. She hopes she is at his service. To be still and feel useless is not her forte.
His air is different. Everythign about him is entirely different as those strong of hues of his glow with weak blue. From most it demands explanation, one he's not willing to give. And of course, even though he has noticed the presence of his daughter, not a single word comes to be spoken for several, dragged out minutes. He's merely writing, putting meaningless words on paper. A thank you note, for a given agreement. One he has still to bring up with her. Which seems to be a good point for him, to forget some of his own problems for a moment. By dealing with another. One part of him is quite sure, she won't be very pleased with this either way. As much as it should have worried him, there's not much inflicting more pain than what he already feels. Then what has already settled in the cavity that resembles his heart. And if he could have reached a lower point in his own sea of ruthlessness, he surely has by now. More so than imaginable.
It is truly amazing, what the loss of love can do to someone.
He exhales almost too sharply when he finally looks up, eyeing her carefully before he brings himself to rise. Royalty shines through everything he is, every motion carried with grace and authority, even when he feels as if there's nothing that keeps him standing. " How fortunate that you came. I have something that we ned to discuss. " He utters, gesturing for her to follow him, wandering towards the lounge on the same floor. " But I believe it is best that we sit, it will take a moment or two. "
At the sight of expected blue, Caleb still freezes in place, tilts his head ever so slightly as he takes in hues that he had never witnessed in the irises of his own sire. He remembers gold, he remembers red, he even remembers silver; but he does not remember blue. It is jarring, uncomfortable in a way that makes Caleb shift his position where he is perched. "We are not fond of blue, sire..." Amber is cast down at the tattered doll held within his arms instead. "She says it does not suit you."
Notion is of course taken, to the way the other freezes in place. Because Aleksei never misses a detail, wether his mind is on the edge of relapse or not. It makes him tilt his head just in the faintest. " Nobody, is fond of the blue. " He states calmly, the mere shadow of a smile playing upon his lips for a moment before he chuckles. Not as melodically as usually, no of course not. It is a dark, twisted version of what he usually gives off. " But alas, it cannot be helped. As much as I wish, there is currently no cure. "
