#thane-emblem

And so when they said goodbye, he gave her a tight hug and promised he would see her off at the station in a couple days. I love you Safu. Just not in the way you need me to.

Eventually they parted ways and Shion went home to help at the bakery. His mom mentioned that they’d received a large rush order for the theater by someone named Nezumi and that they’d need to get started on it before it was picked up the following morning.

And so the two of them stayed up well into the night, until they were both so exhausted that they fell asleep after putting in one of the final batches of cookies and didn’t notice when they started to burn.

Shion didn’t know what he'd done wrong to deserve the actual hell that he was experiencing. When he was woken up by Safu’s text asking to meet up at their usual cafe, he’d been nervous, but happy that maybe they’d be able to move past the awkwardness from the day before. And yet, for some reason completely beyond his understanding, Safu refused to let up on her request.

Instead of responding or letting the conversation die, Shion merely sighed and pushed back his chair. It seemed like Safu was going to continue to push, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it without hurting her. So if they were going to have that conversation, he was at least going to do it with something a little stronger than a cappuccino. 

It also didn’t help that he couldn’t remember actually making it back to his bed last night, or that he’d developed a cough. Hopefully his mom had been able to finish up the catering order and that it was picked up with no issues that morning. 

“Please tell me you sell Irish Coffee. Or espresso martinis. I’d even take a spiked hot chocolate at this point.”

The barista raised an eyebrow and let out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down his spine. “What, is that friend of yours still after you? I thought your brilliant response yesterday of ‘Oh no, not my sperm. Anything but that!’ would’ve been enough to send any woman running. And yet here you are again.”

Shion groaned and ran a tired hand through his brown hair at the other man’s teasing. “I was hoping that we’d be able to just… ignore it? I don’t know I’m not good at this kind of thing. Once she knows what she wants, there’s no one who can stand against her. She won’t let them.”

The other man simply shook his head, a derisive smirk on his lips. “She sounds like a real winner. A match made in heaven Your Majesty. With your airheadedness and her stubbornness, you’ll take the world by storm.” The barista, whose name tag only had a picture of a rat on it, shook his head and moved to start preparing a drink. “It’s not on the menu, and it’s not like we have alcohol just lying around. But I sometimes need a little extra ‘holiday cheer.’” And with that he pulled out a flask from his apron and poured some dark liquid (whiskey, maybe?) into the mug. And kept pouring.

Shion apparently looked as frazzled as he felt.

A smirk tugged at the barista’s lips as he handed the steaming mug of salvation to Shion. “Now go and confess how uninterested you are in having sex with her.”

15 minutes later and Shion was swearing that there was no way that the whiskey should’ve been strong enough to make him hallucinate. But there really wasn’t any other explanation for the fact that Safu was repeating the same conversation as the day before. Not a continuation like he’d thought when they met at the coffee shop. No, a full repetition of a topic he really didn’t want to discuss.

“I know we didn’t really talk about this yesterday, but I’m sorry. I haven’t seen you as more than a friend and I’m not ready to have sex with you.”

Safu’s eyes widened and hurt flashed across her face. But confusion settled and she took a sip of her tea - herbal, same as always - before trying to meet his eyes. “Shion. We… we didn’t talk about this yesterday. We didn’t even see each other yesterday. We were going to meet for dinner but you worked late since Yamase called in.”

The hot chocolate burned as it slid down his throat but he couldn’t tell if it was from the temperature or the whiskey. “Safu, that was Friday. We met here for coffee yesterday and we were having this exact conversation.”

A calculating look entered her eyes as she leaned forward, almost as if she was examining him. Actually scratch that, that is exactly what she was doing. “Shion, what day do you think it is?”

“What day do I think it is? I know it’s Sunday.”

Safu shook her head slowly. “No Shion, it’s Saturday. Check your phone if you don’t believe me. Have you been having other symptoms like this? Memory falsification is rare but not impossible. But it's still odd that you would have known what I wanted to talk about.”

He lifted the hot chocolate (should he even really call it that? It was more alcohol than chocolate) to his lips as he took out his phone, only slightly surprised that it read Saturday December 24th. “I don’t know Safu. But I know - or at least I think I know - that we were here together yesterday talking about this exact same thing. And then I went home and helped my mom with the bakery. Some of her regulars came in, and a catering order was called in for the theater. Apparently the guy who put in the order had a weird name - Nezumi. I can’t make something like that up. And so we stayed up late to prepare the order - he must have been really desperate for my mom to agree on such short notice.” 

There was a choked coughing sound from the coffee bar but Shion didn’t turn to look as he was too focused on trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe he just had a really vivid dream? An extreme case of deja vu? 

Shion looked down at his gloved hands and sighed. Maybe it was nothing, but there was a part of him that felt like it was something more. Something that almost felt like a pull. But to where he couldn’t figure out.

The two friends sat there for a while, and Safu kept talking, mostly about her studies and how she was hoping that she’d find something that could help Shion, but he was mostly tuning her out at that point, choosing to stare out the window and the flurries of snow. 

As they said their goodbyes and Shion watched Safu get into the taxi meant to take her home, he heard a crack from above. And then felt a searing pain that wrapped itself around his body before losing consciousness.

When Shion woke up the next morning, he was expecting to be in a hospital room. Or at the very least in severe pain. But no, he was back at home, feeling completely fine. Well-rested even. But when he picked up his phone, he barely had time to see that he’d gotten a text from Safu to meet at the cafe. When he grabbed it, his phone sparked and its screen went black, with a small wisp of smoke winding its way through the air. 

But it wasn’t until he passed a mirror that he realized the true extent of what happened. Instead of the perfectly average brown hair and eyes he was born with, he now sported snow white hair and eyes red as blood. Not to mention the pink scar across his cheek that wound its way under his clothes. He was too afraid to see exactly how far that scar went though.

He took a few minutes to hunt for a beanie he knew he had somewhere, and he raided his mother’s makeup. It took a while for him to figure out exactly the best method to hide what looked like a scar, but it was passable enough by the time he left. But as he didn’t exactly have any colored contacts just lying around, he’d had to keep his head down as he called out to his mom that he was leaving.

He didn’t want to stand Safu up, even if he didn’t exactly feel like going to the cafe again. But that barista had also remembered the first day. So if he was lucky, maybe that man would have some answers.

If Nezumi had to go through this god-forsaken Saturday again was going to hurt someone. Probably that airheaded customer if he had anything to say about it. Sundays were his day off and that brat was (probably) the only one standing between him and a day of sleeping in.

The only bright side to having to repeat the day again was that write-up he’d gotten for not coming into work on what he thought was a Sunday just magically disappeared. Almost like it never happened. But he’d (almost) take a write up over having to work at that stupid shop for the 8th time in a row. Especially when he wasn’t even technically getting paid for it.

But when he checked his phone and saw that it was in fact Saturday December 24th for the third time, Nezumi begrudgingly pulled on a pair of black jeans and a matching long sleeve shirt. It was one of the only shops he could still work at - he’d been fired for fighting with customers at all the others, and he was still getting his foot in the door at the theater here. So he really needed this job and couldn’t afford another write up. 

Not that he thought he deserved to be fired over customers’ crossing the boundaries of what’s considered “acceptable” behavior, but he was a replaceable minimum wage employee and a brush of the hand to see if he was their soulmate really shouldn't evoke such a strong reaction from him. And it really didn’t - it was the pushy ones who would grab at him because there was clearly a mistake and there’s no way this random albeit attractive barista isn’t their soulmate.

Maybe he shouldn’t be working a customer facing job. But his face makes up for his patchwork experience so he’d deal with it until he could pay rent from the theater’s paycheck.

By the time he made it to No.6 (seriously, what kind of name was that? Where were the other five locations?) Nezumi was hungry and irritated and kind of hungover despite the fact that he hadn’t had anything to drink since the launch party on Friday. Which was really unfair and just something else to blame that particular customer for.

Part of him was hoping that he was wrong, that the man who’d come in with a friend who propositioned him in public wasn’t his soulmate. But that man clearly remembered the previous day, even if he didn’t bear the marks Nezumi had come to associate with those Fate was especially cruel to. And there had been that incident the prior night…

He’d only met a handful of people whose time had noticeably stopped when meeting their soulmate, and only a handful of those bore the white hair and scars. And that man hadn’t had either of those when he saw him. So maybe it was a coincidence. 

But regardless of whether that man was his soulmate or not, he still had to go into work.

Someone was gonna die. Maybe even him. He really didn’t want to go into work.  

“What do you know about soulmates?”

Shion was surprised that the words coming out of the barista’s mouth - whose name he still didn’t know, because a rat drawing didn’t actually constitute a name - weren’t something like ‘What can I get you’ or ‘If you talk to me while I’m reading I’ll stab you.’ And given how angry he looked when asking the question… well Shion felt like he might get stabbed.

“Not much. Only that there’s no scientific basis for it, as we only have anecdotal evidence that supports the theory that time seems to stop when you touch them the first time. And since there’s no way of knowing when you touch someone the first time that they’ll be your soulmate, it’s nearly impossible to set up a controlled experiment.” 

The barista nodded, but the frown deepened and his brow furrowed. “I have people come in every day demanding to touch me to see if their time stops for a moment. And I have regulars who swear they felt it when they touched their partner’s skin the first time. And then people like you who don’t believe in soulmates at all.”

Shion cocked his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t actually not believe in soulmates. And even if I did, after the last couple of days I’ve been having, I think I’d be more inclined to believe in them. I think I’ll believe in a lot more after today.”

“Oh?”

“I… think I’ve been repeating this day. And to be honest, I think you have too. And if I’m wrong, I hope I get to repeat it again so you don’t remember this conversation.”

The barista’s lips drew up and he turned to start on a hot chocolate. Unspiked this time. “No, you’re right. I’ve seen that friend proposition you twice now. I was wondering if there would be a third time and part of me was hoping there would be. It’s the highlight of my day.”

Shion chuckled and handed over his card to pay for the drink. “I’m so glad that my misery brings you joy. I would hate for you to be bored while working. But I don’t think Safu will be here today. I fried my phone when I picked it up this morning, so I never confirmed that we could meet. I came here just in case, but mostly I wanted to talk to you.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed. There’s just something about hot chocolate during Christmastime that just soothes the soul. “So. soulmates. Are they connected to this?”

The barista hesitated for a moment but then nodded his head once. “I think it could be. But first answer one of my questions - what are you hiding under that beanie?”

Shion’s face flushed as he fidgeted with the edge of the hat. “Nothing? I was cold?”

He clearly didn’t buy it.

“Alright fine. So there may have been an…accident last night? I don’t remember for sure but I think I got electrocuted. And when I woke up I…didn’t look the same.”

The barista nodded. “There’s a group of people living on the outskirts of town. They’re an odd group, but one of the men there had gone through something similar. He’d died shortly after meeting his soulmate but hadn’t yet touched her. And he kept repeating the day until he did. Death has a funny way of messing with the soulmate bond. And if I’m right, I’d bet those changes have to do with those red eyes, and your hair is most assuredly white under that beanie of yours. And you have to have some kind of scar somewhere I’m sure”

If Shion had any surprise left in him, the fact that this man could so accurately guess the changes that he’d freaked out about that morning would’ve taken the last of it. He was talking as if it was the most normal thing. And so Shion didn’t say anything, but nodded his head all the same.

The barista came around the counter to stand in front of Shion, who put his hot chocolate on the counter. “If I’m right, then our time will correct itself and we’ll wake up on Christmas Day like nothing ever happened. But I could be wrong, and then you’d have to see who else you met today has memories of you.” He held out his hand with the palm facing up. This man whose name he didn’t even know was putting the choice in his hands. Both figuratively and literally. And that terrified him. But it was also a little exciting. 

Shion started pulling off his gloves. After all, that was part of the reason they were in that mess. If Shion hadn’t worn gloves, then even the slightest brush of their hands would’ve snapped the soulmate bond into space. But no. He just had to be cold enough to take off his gloves.

As their hands met, Shion’s eyes slid closed without his approval. And together they experienced what felt like everything all at once. Happiness, sadness, anxiety, calmness. A fraction of a moment later and the feelings passed. 

The barista’s lips pulled into a smile. He dropped Shion’s hand to reach out, pulling Shion into a heated kiss. Once they broke apart when the sound of clapping echoed through the small cafe. They’d apparently forgotten that they had an audience. “I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“Shion.”

“Nezumi.”

“Oh my god you’re the reason I stayed up far too late that first time!”

“I was sure that my soulmate wouldn’t exist, that they’d be on the total opposite ends of the world and we’d never have the chance to meet them. Which, by the way, you and I will need to talk about the details - the world might have set us up, but I want to make sure we keep a level head. I’d like to try to make this work.”

Nezumi dropped Shion’s hands and shoved them into his pockets. “Yeah, talking would be good. But first we need to figure out how to stop you from dying. As powerful as this phenomenon is, I don’t really feel the need to watch your head be completely separated from its body again.”

To add insult to injury, there are altogether too many eyes on him, and he can't quite suppress the feeling that he's freely presenting these creatures with their main course just by walking in. He mentally counts through every concealed weapon on his body to shake the thoughts. Then he straightens his jacket. He's a professional - there's no need to let his quarry get in his head.

One specific pair of eyes burns into him and it's like the sudden pull of a magnet, deeply familiar and as powerful as ever.

Nezumi swallows hard.

Shion is here.

Their eyes meet across the dance floor, and Nezumi winks. Shion fidgets, the way he always does when Nezumi flirts with him, and the sight makes Nezumi cast aside his misgivings for a brief moment. He crosses the dancefloor, heading straight for Shion, who mirrors the motion. They meet in the middle.

If Shion were any less of an airhead, Nezumi would have to worry about how decidedly un-subtle he's being. Thankfully, Shion is still the same person Nezumi’s gotten to know so well throughout their various encounters, and so they move past awkward pleasantries and straight to the banter.

"You're looking well," Shion says.

"Checking me out, are we?" Nezumi returns. If Shion had a beating heart, Nezumi’s sure it would send blood to his cheeks right now. As it stands, he settles for averting his eyes and lifting his shoulders just so.

"I was just surprised to see you in a suit," says Shion. A note of teasing enters his voice as he adds: "This might be the first time I've seen you in a shirt without any stains or rips, actually."

"I have plenty of good shirts," Nezumi lies, running through his few possessions in his mind and reluctantly finding that Shion's entirely right. Shion laughs softly. Nezumi can feel himself getting distracted.

A trumpet solo from the live band's stage comes to his rescue just then. The crowd hushes as one, letting the trumpet player finish her piece and then staying quiet as the host, Lady Lynette, steps onto the platform to welcome everyone. Nezumi barely listens; whether it's Lynette or Kara or whoever else, they're all the same to him. Each of them is either a current or future mark. In fact, over three-quarters of the people in this very room qualify as such. Every last vampire is his sworn enemy-

"Oh, please not the waltz," Shion whispers.

Every last vampire, but one.

"And now, my dear guests, please find yourself a partner," says Lady Lynette. "We'll be dancing a waltz!"

"It's your lucky day," Nezumi jokes to Shion, offering him a hand. Shion’s eyebrows go up comically quickly.

"But Nezumi," Shion says, "for you to be in a place like this... You've surely got recon to do, right?"

Yes. That's what Nezumi should say - yes, because this is an important mission, and he can't waste any more time than he already has. Yes, because vampires are the very things he’s sworn to destroy, and he really, really shouldn't be flirting with one, let alone dancing with him. Yes, because-

"It can wait," he says, trying his best to play it off as a joke. Judging by Shion's expression, it doesn’t quite work. Shion takes his hand. Nezumi leads the dance.

They make it through several bars before Shion steps on his foot, but Nezumi can't bring himself to pretend to be mad about it. It figures that Shion could make even this viper's den feel like a safe haven. Nezumi’s still trying not to laugh as Shion loses his balance again, bumping into another couple dancing their way. Shion apologizes; the vampire pair only acknowledge his existence to sneer down their noses at him.

"Friends of yours?" Nezumi murmurs.

"Not at all," Shion replies, his voice equally low. Nezumi snorts.

"Right, I almost forgot. I've met your one friend."

Shion makes a face. "Safu isn't my only friend."

"Then how'd you know I meant her?"

While Shion struggles to come up with a response, the back of Nezumi’s mind whispers that that couple had looked familiar. He watches them move away from the corner of his eyes when, all of a sudden, it clicks: those were supposed to be his targets tonight.

"Nezumi?" Shion says. It figures that he’d only be perceptive only at the most inconvenient of times.

"It's nothing," Nezumi tells him. "Focus on those two left feet of yours."

And Shion, damn it all, smiles a self-conscious smile that makes Nezumi feel like a child seeing the ocean for the first time. He presses his lips into a thin line, trying not to think about the cold pressure of Shion's hand in his, the way his own chest rises and falls against Shion's still one, the distinctly human glimmer in Shion's eyes.

Ah, those eyes.

If it weren't for those, Nezumi could carry out his work in peace. He could make a real name for himself. Better yet, he could give the vampire population something to fear, show them that humans can strike back. But no, instead of that, he has to be here, wondering whether Shion's eyes have always been this luminous shade of red like a lovestruck schoolchild. He sighs inwardly.

All too soon, the waltz comes to an end. Shion looks directly at him as the band holds the final note of the song; around them, several couples share a kiss. Nezumi feels the back of his neck start to heat up.

"Nezumi-" Shion starts, his voice half a question, and Nezumi can't take it. He detaches himself from Shion, taking a step back and then sweeping out of the room without one more word. All of the haughty vampires are surely judging him as he leaves. He hopes they all trip on their own over-inflated egos.

The night feels several degrees colder now, in the absence of the crowds inside the manor. Nezumi keeps going at a brisk pace, never breaking his stride until the gates are far behind him.

What's gotten into him?

Shion is one of them. Shion drinks blood - preys on humans - just the same as any thousand-year-old leech. If push came to shove, Shion would drink Nezumi’s own blood just as quickly, those naïve eyes be damned. And Nezumi’s stake could- it could-

Nezumi yanks his blazer off and throws it to the ground, sitting down on it and crossing his arms over his chest.

The old willow tree stays steady behind him as he leans against it. Nezumi breathes in the crisp night air, clamping down on his emotions, getting himself back under control. He can't keep letting Shion do this to him. Shion's still a vampire, even if he's a handsome and unusually charming one. That's what they do. They charm their prey to expend less energy chasing their meals down. It's basic survival.

"Sometimes, I wish you'd just talk to me," Shion says from behind him. Nezumi’s spine goes rigid.

"Don't sneak up on me," he snaps.

"I just wanted to see if you're alright."

"I'm doing great. Now can you leave?"

There's a rustle of clothes as Shion sits down next to him.

"No."

Nezumi sighs, deflating as the frustration leaves him. Is there a real point in resisting Shion? It feels like they're fated to end up meeting over and over, in a hundred different contexts. They might as well enjoy it.

"You're as stubborn as ever," says Nezumi, with no real bite.

"Me?" Shion says. Nezumi looks at him.

"You. I'm a vampire hunter, you know." Nezumi leans in closer. "I kill creatures like you."

Shion doesn't flinch away. "I do know that."

"And you're not scared?"

"Why would I be scared of you? I know you won't hurt me."

And Nezumi knows that's true.

Shion takes a turn to lean in closer, adding: "You're not scared of me either, are you?"

"I should be," Nezumi answers honestly. Shion shakes his head, putting both hands on Nezumi’s shoulders. Almost of their own accord, Nezumi’s hands float to Shion's waist.

"I don't want you to be," Shion whispers, and then they're both moving closer, and then, despite everything, their lips meet. In this moment, they’re not a vampire and a hunter; they’re two people who keep being drawn towards one another. Nezumi shifts so his body’s against Shion’s.