Chapter XII

Shifting Back and Forth

H aving dulled his aura so that no one would detect his return, Jeremiah was able to get some much needed rest. Now that he lay awake at this hour of 9:15pm, the company of his thoughts returned, and with them came the events of his departure from South Korea.

Demiesius had allowed him to finish up what duties he'd tacked to himself over there, but now that the remainder would be taken on by someone else, Jeremiah saw no use in returning for anything else either. Min-jae was there, and when the last words spoken to him touched his memory, Jeremiah let a weighted breath leave him.

I want you to remember me.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he said to himself, as all dhampirs were blessed with a mind so sharp that the memory of their first breath could be played back.

Feeling as the shield he'd kept over his aura slowly faded, Jeremiah folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

A warmth touched his nose as he recalled the state he'd been in in front of Min-jae. What a mess, he thought. He was embarrassed at the idea of someone having seen him so sullen, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd let everything flood from him.

As not to get swept away by the past, Jeremiah sat up out of bed, his eyes drifting to the nightstand where the withering Pyrenean lay.

Gently bringing the flower into his hands, Jeremiah lifted the petals to his nose and inhaled. Its sweetness was familiar, and he couldn't help thinking it mimicked what Min-jae smelled like: captivating and welcoming.

Jeremiah closed his eyes again only to be met by a lonesome stir, but the threatening silence didn't last long when a quick pace of footsteps began to approach his bedroom.

Already able to feel who was getting closer by the second, Jeremiah held onto the flower and entered the hallway. The moment he stepped out, a pair of thin arms wrapped around his abdomen and he stumbled a bit. Touching a hand to the head of black hair, Jeremiah smiled, and said, "I guess it's safe to say I was missed?"

Looking up to his elder brother, Lysander's peaceful face beamed brilliantly, and he nodded. "Very much," he admitted. "Did you just get back?"

"I'll be honest," Jeremiah said, starting down the hall as the young dhampir stood on his feet; there was a minor struggle to keep moving, but he continued on anyway. "I may have repressed my being here to get some sleep. "

"You mean so we wouldn't bother you?" Lysander pouted.

"I didn't say that," Jeremiah stopped at a stairwell intersection, and when he peered over the ledge overlooking the lower floor, he met another pair of two-toned eyes that lit up when seeing him.

A burst of energy Jeremiah wasn't quite ready for dashed up the stairs, and soon he was standing there wrapped up by Lysander and Gabriel. The eleven and thirteen-year-old didn't let up until the embrace began to press a little uncomfortably around Jeremiah's lower ribs. It didn't hurt by any means, but being able to acknowledge what strong pressure was made physical touch a bit strange now.

"Alright, alright," Jeremiah kept a smile on his face as he worked out of his brothers' hold. When the compression flushed away, breathing came a little easier. "It's nice to see you both, too."

"Are you back for good now?" Gabriel asked.

"For good?" The smile on Jeremiah's face waned, and he shrugged, starting down the stairs and to where he could feel Demiesius and Hamilton were. "Yeah, I guess," he continued. "I'm sure Uncle Eros or Father will take over from now on, which leaves me the opportunity to get back to doing what I do best."

"And what's that?" Lysander questioned, a tilt of curiosity to his head.

It was supposed to be a joke, but Jeremiah knew there wasn't much of a jest in the routine he'd kept up with over the years. He'd entertain his brother's for a while, speak with his parents, and then throw himself to the winds of the things he wanted. Thoughts of tossing back glass after glass of crimson came to mind, the idea of sinking against the sheets of someone else's bed, or even the moments of one-sided passion that took place behind the doors of an establishment. None of the copious amount of blood that filled his stomach brought fulfillment; not the moments of carnal entanglement either. Yet, here Jeremiah oddly looked forward to returning to those walls. It would keep him from thinking too deeply and at the end of the day, that's what he looked forward to most.

Distractions that led to silence.

"You're too young," Jeremiah answered at last, leaving it at that.

Coming across the stage room past the dining hall, it was a grand area that looked more like it was made to hold small performances. Burgundy, golden-tassel curtains were pulled open over a dark wood stage, and the white walls reached high into an underworldly painted dome. On the stage was Hamilton, Avery, and Sebastian; the teenagers were seated on the polished wood as Hamilton looked to be going over different fighting procedures.

As he entered with Lysander and Gabriel, Jeremiah spied their father standing at the head of the stage, and when the elder spotted his approach, Jeremiah could see the relief in his father's eyes.

"What's this?" Jeremiah nodded to the stage. Lysander and Gabriel had climbed up onto it but weren't joining in on what was obviously hand-to-hand combat training for Avery and Sebastian. They weren't being paired to face off against one another to let off some steam; they were sparring to test what they'd learned so far, and since everyone already knew about Avery's temper, Jeremiah didn't think it was a very good idea for them to go against each other.

"The boys insisted your dad teach them his old techniques," Demiesius said, seeming to not know how to feel about the idea either.

Sebastian and Avery's desire to learn close combat fighting implanted the idea that anyone with ill intent may someday threaten their wellbeing, and that alone didn't sit right with him. Nevertheless, there was nothing wrong with wanting to make certain your children could protect themselves.

After gesturing kindly to Hamilton who showed relief in seeing their eldest's return, Demiesius gave a warning to Sebastian and Avery to take their requested lesson seriously, which gave Jeremiah the impression getting either boy to act accordingly outside of Demiesius' supervision had been a struggle a moment ago.

"How was it?" Demiesius asked then, stepping out of the stage room with Jeremiah.

Without answering directly, Jeremiah handed off the wilted Pyrenean, Demiesius giving the awfully ordinary-looking plant a once-over. "Dae-jung has been returned to Seoul," Jeremiah added, "and Ha-yoon has others to collect more information from. She is anticipating either yours or Eros' company to decide next steps."

"And you?" Demiesius asked next.

The seconds it took for an answer to come forth was enough for the elder to know something more must have occurred. Even with that, however, the truth of his ordeal was kept sealed behind Jeremiah's lips. Recalling meant reliving and moving on was all he wanted.

"I'm standing, aren't I?" is what Jeremiah went with instead. " Now that that's over, I think I'm going to head out to clear my head. I'm sure you can understand how tiring ‘back and forth' can be."

Before Demiesius could agree to seeing Jeremiah off, the two looked toward the archway of the stage room when sounds of hostility emerged. A second later, Hamilton's pitched commands for restraint followed and so did Sebastian and Avery's burst into the wide hall.

Avoiding a swift kick likely strong enough to knock his head from his shoulders, Sebastian jumped back, a leer of conceit on his face. He grabbed onto Avery's ankle to throw him off balance, but the moment he laughed at the thought of immediate victory, Avery turned into a near impossible grapple and flung the seventeen-year-old over his shoulder.

Hardly giving his brother any room to breathe, Avery wasn't pulling any punches when he leapt for where Sebastian landed, fist balled, and he brought it down with all the force he could muster. When he connected with Sebastian's deflecting palm, his arm was suddenly caught, and he was tossed over Sebastian's head as well.

"Demi…" Hamilton sighed, Lysander and Gabriel beside him and unable to hide their laughter.

Before heading off to stop Avery and Sebastian from pummeling each other into the dungeons of the castle, Demiesius clapped a hand atop Jeremiah's shoulder. "I want you to take things easy," he said. "I will likely join Eros tomorrow in figuring out what this situation has done to you, so until then, keep up with yourself."

"Yes, Father," Jeremiah nodded, and just when Avery and Sebastian stood to launch themselves at one another again, Demiesius appeared before the two to take hold of Avery in an instant, Sebastian stopping on a dime so he wouldn't collide with the elder's chest.

Leaving the castle before the lecture started, Jeremiah ventured from home to the rooftops of Nocturnal Heights. The air was cool, ordinary as most nights were in a place he'd grown used to over the span of seventy years.

As his eyes passed over the darkened skyline, he couldn't help the smile that came to him upon remembering the awe Min-jae experienced upon seeing the London Eye in person for the first time. He recounted the nightly gleam against the earthy, oak brown of Min-jae's iris, the purple and rich gold specks that'd reflected off of them.

Suddenly finding himself adhered by the idea of Min-jae lingering in his mind, Jeremiah's vision went hazy against the portrait of the London skyline as well, every edge of the world blurring as a colorful and elaborate portrayal of Min-jae formed ahead of him.

Jeremiah was nearly convinced that if he reached out, his fingertips would graze the fabric of Min-jae's shirt, giving him the desired opportunity to feel the return of that now distant warmth. Something in him wanted to feel it again, so much that he nearly allowed the workings of his mastering to take hold and transfer him to a place he wanted to be instead.

Keeping a firm hold over that self-control, Jeremiah shook his head and the vision of Min-jae faded, instead leaving behind the rather loud whispers of cowardice nudging at his thoughts. Even with Min-jae's encouragement to follow through with going to him for anything or for no reason at all, Jeremiah turned away from the idea and carried on .

At last entering Nocturnal Heights, how ordinary life used to be before Min-jae returned, as well as the familiar faces of the establishment and atmosphere surrounding Jeremiah. It was as comfortable as always, filled with the same faces, a few new patrons here and there, and when Jeremiah seated himself in his usual spot at the bar counter, his usual drink was set before him without having to ask.

As he tipped the glass against his lips, the smoothness of Type A passed down his throat, but something was off about the way it tasted against his tongue. Blood was abundant in flavor, either sweet, tangy, or savory, and Type A always leaned more into the sweet pool, but as the crimson spread across the surface of his tongue, Jeremiah couldn't help the confusion. The saccharine elements were there but were acutely dulled.

Noting the difference made the consumption of the otherwise delicious drink peculiar, so much that Jeremiah only finished half of the beverage before pushing it aside and going with something else, something with some strength to it.

Having never been a drinker outside of carbonated drinks, water, blood, and various fruit-based beverages, Jeremiah couldn't say he knew much about alcohol, but as his eyes took in the options available to the human patrons of Nocturnal Heights, he requested a popular choice and tossed a glass back.

The manner in which the whiskey traveled down his throat was unpleasant, and the flavor was just as unwelcoming, but when a cloud accumulated his thoughts into a withdrawing bubble, Jeremiah tossed back another and another until keeping up with himself became a challenge.

Looking down on himself when a pair of arms slinked their way around him, Jeremiah sat up fully when a chin was propped on his shoulder, and the close press of Luca against his back gathered his attention. "I didn't think you'd come back here," the vampire said. "I was harsh the last time we saw each other."

Turning in the bar stool, Jeremiah's legs opened and Luca stood between them, seeming to try to sort out whether or not the dhampir was still upset over their last interaction. Having been busy with Min-jae that night, Jeremiah didn't think he'd been deserving of Luca's anger, nor did he feel particularly giving in terms of offering understanding, or an acceptance of the apology coming his way.

On the other hand, Jeremiah's mind was too jumbled to find the will to care. There were many things he didn't want to waste his time thinking about, and one of them was the anger he had toward Luca and himself regarding the impotence spoken aloud for everyone to hear.

Then again, as Luca stood between his knees and dragged his soft touch up Jeremiah's thighs, looking at him with those evergreen gems, the intimate reminder of his body's response to Min-jae's own touch returned. Was there a talent out there in the world to be able to touch someone and inspire hope?

Jeremiah considered the idea that perhaps he wasn't as broken as he'd assumed. Broken. That's how the fact of his impotence made him feel, as it had never been something he had to come to terms with until seventeen years ago.

Seeing that his being there didn't appear to bring forth anger, Luca remained between Jeremiah's legs, passing his hands up the dhampir's chest to wrap around his neck. "I hope you can forgive what I said before," Luca said, his breath touching Jeremiah's cheek. "I think my jealousy got the better of me at the idea of you throwing me away for that other guy you were with. I hardly heard what you said, but since he's not here, I'll go with the thought of things not working out, which has left you no choice but to come back to me."

Regardless of Luca being incredibly attractive on the outside, jealousy didn't suit him, nor did Jeremiah think it suited anyone well. His image of Luca suffered from how unsightly the vampire now seemed at the thought of him dripping in the rage he'd admitted to. He was plenty appealing, could certainly hold firmly onto a reward of how beautiful he was, but still, Jeremiah saw only a possessive anger in Luca's aura. It was ugly. He was ugly.

But did it matter?

Jeremiah didn't think something such as jealousy mattered in his case with Luca. They weren't dating, weren't anything remotely serious, never met outside of this building, and Jeremiah knew if Luca decided to stop coming around because he'd found something worth staying committed to with someone else, he wouldn't bat an eye and would simply go about his night. He'd find a replacement, just as Luca had been a replacement for the immortal that'd come before him. And so on and so forth.

Your feelings don't matter, Jeremiah thought, just as mine don't.

So long as there was no substance, nothing would ever matter enough to hold onto.

"What do you say?" Luca kissed along the sharpness of Jeremiah's jaw and to his ear, the truth of what they were to one another whispering into him. "Why don't you and I get back to doing what we do best for each other? I'll be quiet and hand over my body, and you'll satisfy me in ways only you and your hands can."

Upon tossing back one more toxic drink, Jeremiah rose from the stool, Luca's accustomed thrill returning and he happily took Jeremiah's hand, pulling him along to the rear halls of the bar.

They were never bothered whenever they disappeared together, and soon they were closed off behind the locked doors of a personal chamber. There were rooms offered to patrons who wanted to partake in private feedings with their human lovers, and other times the rooms were occupied by couples looking for a moment much like they were.

The room had dark wood flooring and red-papered walls, a singular black leather chair was situated atop a round rug, and when Luca guided Jeremiah to sit down, the vampire undressed until he was in nothing but a pair of underwear. He brought a knee up to straddle Jeremiah, hands pushing into the silky tresses of the dhampir's hair, and he smiled at the inebriated glaze in the eyes looking up at him.

"You're plastered," Luca chuckled, seating himself properly in Jeremiah's lap and he dragged his groin down, the friction tugging a whine from his mouth. "Can't handle a bit of liquor, can you? That's alright, I can try my hand at doing all the work this time around. Maybe I can bring something new out of you."

Allowing things to flow whatever way Luca wanted them to, Jeremiah merely rested his head as kiss after kiss was planted around his face, down his neck to which Luca ventured, nipping his skin as though he might bite him.

An uncomfortable press of Luca's fingers gripped the top of Jeremiah's shoulders then, the hard grasp followed by the desperate drag of the vampire's groin against his own again. Nothing sparked other than discomfort, but Jeremiah tried to swallow it down. He began to think perhaps the ability to feel so much more than he used to might make these meetings better. Clearly it didn't feel too good, told by the lack of stimulation sparking in him, but now he'd have another array of things to focus on besides other things like…

Jeremiah couldn't seem to escape it, this bizarre yearning to focus on someone so distant, someone he couldn't say had done much of anything to stick so persistently to his thoughts, but here he sat as muse after muse of this person named Song Min-jae remained.

What was it? Jeremiah wanted to know as he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, fists forming, and he bit down on his lip at the feeling of Luca drawing the hem of his shirt up, pecking icy kisses upon his tight stomach.

He didn't want this.

Standing at last, Jeremiah caused Luca to stumble away from him. "I have to go," he said, going for the door, but before he could throw it open and bolt from the room, the amused huff that escaped Luca drew his attention.

Jeremiah peered over his shoulder as Luca busied himself adorning his clothing once more. "What, now?" he asked, already seeing the return of this bitterness Luca couldn't seem to escape.

Pulling on the clothing he'd thrown to the floor, Luca rolled his eyes and laughed. "Something really must be wrong with you," he claimed. "You've got someone that looks like me throwing themselves at you whenever you come around. I want to be fucked by you, I want to be handled by you, and you can't so much as get it up for me? Fucking pathetic."

Not about to let those words sit with him, Jeremiah's eyes darkened, and the scowl of disdain shading his brow bore into Luca. "Pathetic?" he said, drawing nearer to the petite vampire. "You want to know what's pathetic? Obsessing over someone who clearly doesn't want you. That's pathetic. Holding onto the hope of someone like me ever seeing you as anything more than a piece of flesh. That's pathetic. And don't forget the fact that you are as replaceable as they come. You are pathetic, Luca."

A smack crashed like lightning across Jeremiah's face then and it felt as though a burn reached the surface of his cheek. It rang in his ears and his left eye watered as a redness lingered at the rise of a purplish bruise quickly forming above his cheekbone.

Jeremiah wasn't sure if it was his anger, the alcohol, or both that caused the flames of his anger to come through in one wave of rage, but before he knew it, his thoughts escaped him, and Jeremiah wrapped his hand around Luca's throat. His talons formed and burrowed into Luca's flesh, and he slammed the vampire to the floor, rattling the few hanging pictures on the walls and cracking the wood below.

"Let me go!" Luca tried, but his voice wheezed and the rest of what would have left him was cut off.

Seething from the inside out, Jeremiah could have sworn the temperature of his blood raised far above the boiling point. "If there is anything different about me," he said, simmering with every word that left him, "it's how difficult it is to decide whether or not I should slaughter you."

A dizziness arose then, Jeremiah's mind swayed, and his frustrations veered every which way. There was so much tumbling through him right now and all he wanted was to mute it all.

Shutting off the world would make everything disappear; the throbbing in his head, the echo of his thoughts, the feeling of Luca's nearness, even the damn whine of the pipes hidden within the walls of the building, it would all leave him alone if he could turn it off at the flip of a switch, but he couldn't, and the barbed wire wringing around his nerves grew tighter and tighter as he suffered.

Why was everything so fucking loud?!

"What's happening to me?" Jeremiah breathed in and out haphazardly, backing away from the vampire below him.

Finding his way out without upsetting Jeremiah any more than he already had, Luca hastily disappeared from the back room, leaving the dhampir on his own to soak in his discontent. The more time that passed as Jeremiah couldn't quiet the ringing in his ears, the more he wanted to tear his eardrums loose and crush them under his heel.

As if it would help anything, Jeremiah picked up the leather chair and chucked it against the glass of a long, hanging mirror; its shards scattered across the floor, casting a truly broken image of Jeremiah back at him when he looked down and could see someone that looked a lot like himself but wasn't quite put together.

"Why do I feel this way?" he said and the shaking returned, sending his hands into a spasm that wouldn't cease. "What's happening to me?"

Rushing from the backroom and into the hall, Jeremiah held onto his head as though a throbbing met his skull. His hearing was disrupted by an echo and suddenly everything was too loud, too hectic. Before bursting from the door that led onto the rooftop, he spotted Luca at the end of the hall, the owner of the establishment beside him inspecting his steadily healing wounds. Their eyes were on him. It seemed like everyone's eyes were on him. Too many!

Ashamed and engulfed by this rupture happening within, Jeremiah hurried onto the rooftop and the door slammed behind him. Tense and overloaded, the dhampir approached the ledge of the building, hands grasping the lip as he looked over to the world far below.

Jeremiah let out a haggard breath, grip causing cracks to surface in the concrete of the ledge. Anger and fear and misery coursed into one torrent of panic. The more he wanted it to quiet and disperse, the louder and more frenzied it became, jittering his nerves and lifting a load of vexation too massive to shove off.

"Stop," Jeremiah uttered, shutting his eyes to welcome a blanket of darkness into his world. He dragged his hands down his face, whispering the plea again and again. And in that welcome of nothing against his vision, there began to appear the visage of a person he thought would have been easy to forget, to stray from given he hadn't expected much more after their departure.

Opening his eyes to the night once more, a watery glaze sat over his vision, but still the face of this person appeared unblurred before him. The waves of their dark hair rustled in the high-up winds, the personable edges of their face were so charming and desirable, eyes sharp and luring, and when Jeremiah's fancies paused on their full and attractive lips, the agonies began to loosen and drift away one flake at a time.

Jeremiah had to make the rest stop anyway he could, and as the only person he wasn't afraid of seeing him this way continued to float in his mind, he was collected almost instinctively into a whirlwind that took him exactly where he wanted to go.

When the darkness dispersed, he was faced with a doorway that came open without the need to knock, as if the person inside had known he would appear when he did, a smile of reassurance tugged softly at his lips.

Not letting a second go by, Song Min-jae held a hand out but Jeremiah didn't take it. Instead, the anxious dhampir bypassed the gesture and gave himself the freedom of colliding into Min-jae. He held on for dear life and the moment Min-jae's arms returned the much-needed embrace, the deafening annoyance of Jeremiah's nerves began to evaporate.

"Make it stop," Jeremiah urged for the rest to quiet. "Please…m–make it stop, Min-jae."

Given that he was alone in the apartment that was solely his going forward, Min-jae mindfully stepped back as Jeremiah never let him go, closing the door behind them before leading them into the living room.

"What do you need?" Min-jae finally asked. The question seemed to prompt Jeremiah to hold onto him a little tighter than before. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

Shaky but fully aware in spite of the obscurity that'd clouded his mind before, Jeremiah knew exactly what he wanted right now, what his heart and body was screaming from the rooftops for.

While the words didn't leave him so quickly, when Jeremiah loosened his arms to meet Min-jae's attentive eyes, he swatted the guilt away as a whisper of, "You," escaped him. "I need you."