Chapter XIV

Dry at the Roots

T his feels nice, Jeremiah thought, turning a long lock of his dark tresses around his finger. The walls and mirror of the bathroom were covered in a layer of condensation, the heat of the water causing a low level of fog to arise and wisps of steam to whirl from the tub in which he was seated with Min-jae.

Between the Korean dhampir's legs, Jeremiah lounged against the sturdy and welcoming wall of Min-jae's chest, eyes open to the warm ray of light shining through the frosted window. It was so quiet throughout the entire building, but the outside world was there; the sounds of traffic, distant chatter, and city birds seemed to be acting as a reminder that there was more to the world than what was in reach.

With thoughts of constant reminders of his time spent with Min-jae turning through his mind, Jeremiah bit back on his lip when a smile threatened to show, but he couldn't repress it. He brought a hand to his mouth as if to shield it, but it was taken into a mild grasp as Min-jae tangled their fingers together.

Jeremiah's gaze settled on the knuckles laced with his, the slight difference in skin tone, the trails of veins that traveled up the back of Min-jae's hand and to his wrist, up his forearm and disappeared. Jeremiah's palm came open then, and Min-jae turned it toward them as if to inspect the defined lines curving up and down it, sweeping his thumb over it until at last letting it rest upon the center of Jeremiah's chest.

A drop of water sounded from the faucet, sending rippling rings toward them as Jeremiah rested his head back and smiled. "I'm surprised we fit in here," he said.

"It is a bit of a tight fit," Min-jae admitted, still not minding how snuggly they fit into the decently sized bath. They'd washed up properly after their spontaneous and memorable time together, and were now enjoying a bit of the stillness as if also letting the realization of it all settle in.

Neither of them had expected what had taken place to have occurred, but there certainly was no taking it back, and they were content to understand not a single regret could be traced from the other in this harmony.

They'd gone again after the first round, and then again until enjoying one last finish before ending up here. Every second, every sensation had been marked with a defining ecstasy Jeremiah couldn't say he'd ever known until now.

Flashes of Min-jae's figure atop him, shadow casting over him, and all the instances that formed their dive into intimacy made themselves known to him again, each detail and tune causing his face to warm in complete understanding that he'd had a new experience for the first time in so long. He was glad to feel no regrets unlike each of the attempts he'd made in the past seventeen years to be intimate with another, to take another into his arms. This time around, however, he'd been taken ─ he'd given himself over willingly, and he was glad for it.

"Can I ask you something, Min-jae?" Jeremiah asked then, the tune of his fluent Korean bringing a smile to Min-jae's face. He wasn't sure why, but he quite liked the way it sounded gliding off Jeremiah's tongue.

"Eung," Min-jae responded with a nod.

A few seconds crawled into many more before the courage to ask was gathered. "Are you sure that was your first time?" Jeremiah asked.

"It was my first time," Min-jae said. "Why would I lie?"

"I'm not saying you would lie." Jeremiah chewed his lip. "You seemed to…know what you were doing. That's all."

Unable to help the boost of confidence the admission lifted in him, Min-jae was almost tempted to ask the same, but from the encounter he'd witnessed with whomever that Luca person had been on top of Jeremiah's time spent alive, he let the query pass.

"If it makes you feel any better," Min-jae said, sitting up and the water shifted as he wrapped his arms around Jeremiah's abdomen, held on and he propped his chin upon Jeremiah's shoulder. "I was incredibly nervous. I just didn't want it to come through to ruin everything. I'm sure first times are supposed to be nerve wracking and awkward, and maybe that's how it would've been if I'd been with anyone else, but…"

When nothing more came forward, Jeremiah turned a little and met Min-jae's eyes. Their shape and color and the shadow present in his brows brought a spec of renewed desire to the surface, but he tried to swallow it whole. "Say it," Jeremiah insisted.

Min-jae leaned in, pausing momentarily before their noses brushed. He could feel Jeremiah's breath on his lips, and he was tempted to capture them again; seeing the clear desire for him to do so in the eyes looking into him nearly pulled him forward, but he held off to speak his truth. "If this is the start of something new," he confessed, "I want it to be perfect the whole way through. I don't want nervousness or fear to ruin what time I'm given with you."

As if his strength to practice his own self-control waned, Jeremiah stole Min-jae's lips for himself and fulfilled their shared yearning. If this person before him wasn't going to allow anxiousness to hold him off from the things he wanted, Jeremiah decided he'd try his hand at doing the same. In return, he quite liked the way Min-jae's forwardness sounded coming from his lush lips, and he hoped the other dhampir would never shy away from being and showing his authentic self.

When Jeremiah brought his mouth away, he turned all the way and fixed himself in Min-jae's lap, an unconscious smile pulled across his face as this pair of arms held him closely. "I'm sure you can assume I've…had a past, I've been with others, but I want you to know no one has ever touched me the way you did. You've seen a side of me, touched me in ways only you have, and…I'm glad for it."

A strange sense of honor entered Min-jae as he registered Jeremiah's words. Their moment together was still considered a first time in some sense, and he was grateful he and Jeremiah could experience something special in the hours that'd gone by.

After some minutes, the pair were dried and redressed, and Jeremiah followed Min-jae with his eyes as he stood with his back to the kitchen counter, Min-jae's stomach now touched with a bit of hunger.

Still not having much of a variety in terms of what to consume besides blood packs and instant ramyun, he merely turned from the barren pantry and sighed.

"Since I shouldn't be confined to this apartment now that my father is here," Min-jae said, "I think I'll step out to get some actual food. A serving of pure blood is bound to hold me over, but…I want real food, and I'm sure my mom is starving, too."

Glancing at the time above the stove, with it being a little passed 12:00pm, there was still so much time left in the day that Jeremiah wanted to spend here, but with having vanished from the London area so suddenly — and hours going by now — he figured heading home would be in his best interest.

"Well, while you do that," Jeremiah said, pushing away from the counter, "I think I should go."

At the mention of the sheer amount of distance that would separate them, a wariness crossed Min-jae's eyes. He neared Jeremiah, both of them seeming a little hesitant to touch the other even after their time together. They'd said so little and so much, showed a side of themselves no others had seen, and yet, a difficulty still stood between them.

Not wanting that state of distance to reside for long or at all, Min-jae abandoned the thoughts of his hunger, and said, "When can I see you again?"

From the question alone, a sort of goodness entered Jeremiah, a light contentment in the simple notion that Min-jae did in fact want to see him again. They'd just kissed for the first time, had sex, and said things to each other that Jeremiah was sure Min-jae had never said to anyone else. There was no confession of love or claim put over the other, but it was as though Jeremiah had placed his entire heart in the palms of this young man. It'd been taken and handled with tenderness, collected, and stored so that it couldn't be reached by brute force, and the manner Min-jae's eyes looked patiently into him made Jeremiah want to open himself up a little more.

Just a little.

"I don't quite know when," Jeremiah said, "But it shouldn't be long. Since I won't be working with my father or Elder Eros in finding out what your home's purpose was, I'll likely have all the time in the world ahead of me. For right now, at least, I should probably head home."

"Why?"

Telling of the stunt pulled between him and Luca wasn't a story Jeremiah figured Min-jae would be all ears for. "I left home abruptly," he confessed. It wasn't a lie, nor was it the entire truth. "They're probably worried about me. Do you have a mobile phone?"

"I don't…" Min-jae looked down at his hands in disappointment. He had one in his old kitchen, but with no intentions of returning to Saengsacho anytime soon, being without a mobile for a while would be something he'd have to deal with.

"If you do get one before the next time we see each other," Jeremiah said, searching the drawers of the kitchen, and when he happened upon a pen and paper, he scrawled his mobile number on it. "You can call or text me, or if you feel confident in your new mastering abilities, I don't think I'd be bothered if you showed up at my place unannounced."

Seeing it as an all-around open invitation, Min-jae smiled toward the numbers provided. "Thank you," he nodded. "Goodbye, Jeremiah. "

"Don't say it like I'll never see you again," Jeremiah laughed. "Give me a day or two. If you don't come see me in between that time, I swear I'll come to you. Agreed?"

Not about to let Jeremiah out of his sight, even for a day or two without receiving a parting gesture, Min-jae neared the other dhampir without fret and embezzled a much needed kiss.

There was a moment of pause before their lips touched, a spark that bridged, but soon their tongues whirled just as their thoughts began to sink into mush, into the depths, and when Jeremiah found himself wanting to return to that deep end where all of his mind and body became Min-jae's to do with as he pleased, he used all the willpower he could muster to back away.

"I'll see you again," he struggled to promise, reclaiming his composure, and he took a step back.

"Annyonghi gaseyo," Min-jae nodded, still unable to let go of his disappointment.

"Annyonghi gyeseyo," Jeremiah replied, seeing how hard it was for Min-jae to watch him leave as he would be made to stay right where he was.

As the tendrils of his shadows began to collect around Jeremiah from the ground up, he shifted his gaze to the floor. It was hard to watch himself go, too.

For the time being, it was goodbye.

***

Appearing on the front steps of the castle instead of the inner foyer, Jeremiah breathed a sigh as the night splayed over the lands surrounding his childhood home was made clear to him. The last mists of his mastering faded and with its fade came the realization of something he hadn't known for some years: what it was like to truly miss someone.

He could have stayed, at least for a few more hours, but there had been an urge motioning for Jeremiah to not get too comfortable too quickly.

Too late, he thought, the notion of being a fool coming to him. He'd been so disoriented and undone by his stress that it had led him to Min-jae's doorstep.

There was no regret for having done what they did. None. If anything, the only regret Jeremiah could speak of was his hasten to get away. He hadn't wanted to leave, but…here he was.

Staring out past the long, cobblestone drive that curved and disappeared into the darkness of trees that may as well separate the castle from the outside world, Jeremiah took a seat on the top step. He touched where Min-jae had bitten him, and he could feel the two points that now marked him much like the other scars new to his body. But he didn't regret these. They were small and hidden by the collar of his shirt, belonged to Min-jae, and Jeremiah…quite liked the feeling of them as his finger tips passed over them.

An alleviation to the constant rattle of despair following Jeremiah day and night was beginning to sprout, and he found himself able enough to smile at the quaint thought of Min-jae. But as all things came and went, so too did the impression of delight when a similar engagement hurled through him.

As he'd lain so readily with Min-jae to take hold of something new — something new he hoped would lessen his inner tussle — Jeremiah saw clearly that this hadn't been the first time he'd done so. Although a lot different and for different, base reasons, he' d also lain with them without second thought to accomplish the same.

An old expression of ‘home' crossed Jeremiah's mind as the thought of being seen stepped onto an even pedestal. He shouldn't compare them. They weren't alike in the slightest, but there was similarity in them that Jeremiah could say matched up at least a little. There existed a desire to hold onto him regardless of his resistance, and the aspect of being cared for by someone who could see and accept his flaws, still want to touch him, hold him, that was what made them similar.

It was a terrifying understanding to grapple with.

Odd, Jeremiah thought then, able to feel the familiar approach of his father. It was distant yet so near, and a couple seconds went by before the heavy, main entry door was opened, and Demiesius emerged from the castle.

Jeremiah didn't bother looking as the elder's shadow stretched off to his right, Demiesius' broad shape rippling down the steps like a phantom shroud. "Would you care to explain yourself?" Demiesius said, no tone of upset in his voice, but that didn't take away from the fact that there was a desire for an answer in him.

"Explain what?" Jeremiah asked, standing at last, one step lower than the ancient immortal, and there, in Demiesius' dark eyes, was the dissatisfaction looking into his son.

"I consider what you do with your time outside of this home to be your own business," Demiesius said. "However, Jeremiah, when order of any kind is disturbed in our world, no matter how small it may be considered, I would have you know it more often than not reaches a higher figure. With that said, a disturbance claimed to have been caused by you within Nocturnal Heights was reported some hours ago."

An exasperated laugh escaped Jeremiah, and he huffed. "You've got to be joking," he said. "Something as petty as that reached all the way to you?"

Seeing as there was no denial of the matter, it confirmed to Demiesius that Jeremiah was indeed involved in the reported altercation. "What happened?" the elder questioned.

Not about to give the details of his falling-out with Luca, Jeremiah looked away, and said, "Like you said, it's none of your business."

"It is when your exploits leave their mark," Demiesius said. He'd seen the room that'd been destroyed and had been requested by the owner of the establishment minutes after Jeremiah's clash with Luca, shown footage of the vampire fleeing the back area with blood staining his hands and neck. When he'd seen the shattered mirror and damaged furnishings, Demiesius apologized for his son's apparent actions and arranged for repairs to be made.

"It doesn't matter," Jeremiah said, starting a bit further down the steps. "Can we just forget about it? I doubt I'll ever be going back there anyways."

"I know you would not have done what you did without reason," Demiesius acknowledged.

While the elder couldn't say he was as connected to Jeremiah as he was with his younger children, having close connections to determine their levels of anger and fear was made easy by their proper bond, but what bond should exist between Demiesius and Jeremiah was fractionated until it was erased. It was something that'd been made inevitable before Jeremiah was even a year old, but the elder still wanted to stand by the idea of knowing his son enough to say outbursts weren't common by any means.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jeremiah said, back still turned to the elder, and his eyes watched the region of trees sway in the wind.

"Jeremiah, you cannot lose yourself in anger," Demiesius persisted, raising his voice a bit as the dhampir continued his descent until he was at the bottom of the steps. "When you are somewhere with such close ties to the human world, you must think."

"You think I'm a liability." Jeremiah turned in irritation, meeting his father's eyes; they weren't angered, but they were frustrated, a state he'd grown accustomed to seeing in the elder, not recently, but the years had stacked one on top of the other no matter how long ago it was now. "Are you afraid of me losing myself in a different way? Are you having flashbacks, Father?"

Flashbacks of a time when his son had been the most unrecognizable did enter Demiesius' mind. A different sort of pain had taken hold of Jeremiah almost thirty years ago now, and in that vision, the elder could picture Jeremiah as he'd been.

Submerged by hunger and irrepressible rage, Jeremiah had been so lost, and Demiesius couldn't unhear the panic, nor unsee the frightening scene. Even now, it returned to him in full color; a state he would give almost anything to never see Jeremiah fall into again. The elder's only saving grace was at least being able to pull him out of it with a simple command.

Keeping with Jeremiah's eyes as he stood at the top of the stairs, Demiesius let the tone Jeremiah took with him slide, and said, "I would have you remain in the castle until further notice. I do not know of what reasons you frequented Nocturnal Heights, nor do I wish to know if it was indeed personal, but you cannot expect me to tolerate your behavior there tonight."

"My behavior ?" Jeremiah nearly exclaimed "You're speaking to me like I'm a child. I am not a child."

"But you are my son," Demiesius asserted, "and your actions have shed an unfavorable light on you. I would not want others to view you as though you are a danger."

"You care about what others think of me?" Jeremiah huffed, a disquiet much like the kind that'd drilled into him at Nocturnal Heights returning. It was cross and cold, and he didn't want to feel this way right now or toward Demiesius, but still his veins jittered and his frustrations rose until he burst.

"Jeremiah—," the elder tried, but he wasn't able to finish.

"Can you please just let it go?!" Jeremiah shouted, wanting to stop the words from coming forth, but still they spilled as his veins scorched. "You already spent the majority of my life showing me your back; it's too late for you to start being a proper father, now!"

By the time the last word left Jeremiah's mouth, the regret caught up with him, and it hit even harder when he laid eyes on who had appeared in the doorway of the castle's entry. There was a wariness in Hamilton as he looked upon the ill-starred bond growing more weathered between father and son, and while an apology sat at the tip of Jeremiah's tongue, he couldn't find it in himself to speak it and turned away to start down the long drive.

"I need to be alone," the dhampir said.

He didn't want to be alone, but it was for the best.

Nearing his husband as Jeremiah disappeared into the surrounding shadows of the castle grounds, Hamilton stepped up alongside Demiesius with a heavy heart .

"Give him time," the elder said, the frustration having dispersed. "Let him breathe."

***

Autumn of 1988

Fifteen years old and bored out of his mind, Jeremiah Titus paced through the central lounge; a large room whose furnishings faced a boxy, wood framed television set. The device had once been a wonder to him, its lit screen having shown him what more lay out there in the world, but now Jeremiah was often met with envy when the movies and television shows went by.

He was an onlooker from where he was to the activities it seemed were natural for other teenagers to get up to.

Learning to drive, enrolling in primary and secondary school, going shopping with groups of friends, attending music concerts and trips to the cinema; they were all things that were normal for other young people to do, yet here Jeremiah had never once left the grounds of his home without some form of supervision. He didn't know anyone his age, and he couldn't imagine when or where he would ever be able to befriend others his age.

There were places where humans and immortals came together; Dominick went to them all the time, but Jeremiah was always denied entry with remarks of: "Maybe when you're older" and "You're too young", both of which would hold him back once again, leaving him no choice but to spend his days and nights much like this. Bored.

Asking couldn't hurt, Jeremiah figured, shutting off the television. In doing so, it seemed morning was finally upon the lands again and the iron guards over the windows began to shut, stripping his view of the approaching morning's dull horizon until each window was veiled anew.

Jeremiah could hear movement on the upper floors of the castle, Demiesius no doubt preparing for bed after spending hour after hour being hounded by the issues of others. Distant phone calls and reading over documents shared with him from all over the world had kept the elder away the entire night, so Jeremiah prepared himself to see him off to bed.

Given the time, Jeremiah ventured to the grand library and plucked a book from its place before dropping down on a sofa. He wasn't much for sleeping even after being awake through the hours of night, so sinking into the pages of a book seemed how his morning would be spent.

Today, he pondered as he turned the pages, maybe he would try for a bit more freedom.

Try.

He already knew it might not go his way, but he had to make an effort or else nothing would change.

Flipping through the pages of the book in hand, Jeremiah at last felt the aura of Demiesius growing nearer, and soon the elder stood in the archway of the library. He was dressed properly, hair driven out of his face, and he looked about ready to leave regardless of the day's arrival.

"Good morning," Demiesius said, adjusting the cuffs of his dark coat.

Letting the book rest in his lap, Jeremiah removed his feet from the sofa and nodded in kind. "Good morning, Father. Will you be off to bed? "

The elder shook his head, and he remained where he was, Jeremiah coming to see he'd changed from his previous attire. "I would have you dress to travel alongside me," Demiesius said. "Dominick's duties have him stationed in Japan for the next week or so. For that reason, you will be accompanying me to a summons that will take me abroad."

"Abroad?" Jeremiah's intrigue piqued and he rose quickly. "Where?"

"Santa Monica, California," Demiesius answered, and when he stepped aside, he hardly had time to gesture for Jeremiah to hurry along before the dhampir raced up to his room and threw on jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was parted down the middle, grew past his shoulders now, and he raked his fingers through to manage its flyaways.

In no time, Jeremiah returned to his father's presence with clear excitement. This hadn't been what he'd planned to ask for, but this would be his first time leaving the country with his father, which was exhilarating, even if it still meant he'd likely be glued to the elder's side.

When Demiesius placed a hand upon Jeremiah's shoulder, father and son were engulfed by a veil of black, and when it fell away, the two materialized before the lofty, blue velvet-draped windows of a building situated in the coastal city of Santa Monica, California.

It was night in this part of the world and Jeremiah hurried to throw the curtains open for a look outside. The city wasn't as electric as he had expected, but there was still glitter in the nightlife, and what caught Jeremiah's eye the most was the distant pier that stretched out into the dark waters of the coast.

Before the fifteen story building was a strip of road not seeming meant for vehicles, little foot traffic moving about, most of it being young people, and it seemed there was a movie showing tonight. Outside of a movie theater, a line of attendees stretched as humans waited to purchase their tickets, families and groups of friends shifting inside.

"Wow," Jeremiah expressed, wanting more than anything to race down and see everything up close.

"Son," Demiesius called, and when the chipper dhampir looked his way, he said, "Behave yourself. Understand?"

"Yes, Father," Jeremiah nodded, eyes moving to those standing in his father's wake.

With as much potential and authority as Demiesius Titus, each of the additional elders were prepared for this summons to commence. Bethania, Eros, Minerva, and Nabadias were waiting for him to join them in a separate room where the meeting would begin.

For some reason, Jeremiah always got the impression they were looking at him with an air of curiosity, like he was a marvel or strange. One of the two. As Demiesius was the only one of them with a biological child, sometimes Jeremiah thought they viewed his mere existence as odd, something out of the ordinary for Demiesius to have. They'd never made him feel uncomfortable or unwelcomed, but if there was one thing Jeremiah was sure looked his way from their eyes, it was pity.

They pitied him.

They pitied Demiesius.

"I'll be here," Jeremiah said, and with that, Demiesius parted ways and the young dhampir was left without supervision. He immediately went for the window again and pulled the latch keeping it closed. The panes opened inward and a gust of sea air flurried inside, a cool, salty breeze driving Jeremiah's enthusiasm up and up.

It wasn't like he'd never seen the ocean before, but there was something so unique to itself over here, so different from the darkened coast of the North Sea or the English Channel, and Jeremiah was sure there were other far more beautiful beaches in the world, but he was here — somewhere new, somewhere he'd never been before — and although he couldn't appreciate it under the sun like he wished, he wanted so badly to get out there.

Sitting on the window's ledge, Jeremiah kicked his feet as debate after debate filtered through him. On one hand, he urged himself to stay put, but…he wouldn't be too far, and he promised to only be gone for a moment. Perhaps Demiesius wouldn't notice his absence since his gatherings often took time anyways.

So, why not? Just this once. Jeremiah chewed his lip in thought. Just once.

Watching the line of people disappear into the theater, Jeremiah scanned the footpath for any others, and while he could sense people getting closer, no one was in sight, and after inspecting his surroundings, he followed his desires and leapt from the window.

Out of sight, he landed like a feline, silent and faultless on the pavement below, and Jeremiah hurried through the shadows for the mouth of the street. Recalling what the area looked like from above, it wasn't long until he was standing at the sandy edge of Santa Monica Beach. The cool breeze blew through his two-toned hair, and the manner in which the moon glittered against the pitch blackness of the ocean's surface opened far more wonder in him than Jeremiah was expecting .

Stepping onto the sand, Jeremiah's shoes sank as he headed further out, spotting small crowds of people here and there, people who appeared to be teenagers around his age, young adults, and there were people standing at the edge of the water.

A sort of anxiousness found its way into Jeremiah as he passed a number of people huddled around a small fire in the sand. There was a boombox sitting atop a towel playing familiar music, and they were talking amongst themselves, laughing, some looking his way curiously, but he kept to himself and carried on.

He was surrounded by distant people, but there was still something so invigorating that allowed him to enjoy the area. The smell of the beach, the pulse of the waves, chime of laughter, and the faint music he could pick up on all added to the comfort of being outside even if he were on his own.

Someday, perhaps he would be able to enjoy a walk on the beach with someone, with a friend, and it was that thought of ‘friends' that suddenly reminded Jeremiah of how different he was compared to these people.

It didn't matter if he was half-human; he figured he might never know what it was to be close to someone unless they were family or just like him, and the idea of meeting someone like him? Was it a one in a million chance, a billion? The young dhampir tried not to think about it.

Several minutes passed into an hour as Jeremiah lost himself in thought no matter his attempt to stray from wallowing, and when he made it to where the water lapped under the Santa Monica Pier, he was joined by someone considered to be his uncle.

Having appeared from nowhere, Elder Eros looked a bit menacing as he stood at the water's edge. Towering with a bold, self-assured posture and lack of light in his otherwise sky-blue gaze, the moon's glow was casted upon his head of short-styled, white, silvery hair.

With hardly a line of time on his face, the elder curled a brow down at the fifteen-year-old dhampir, and said, "You're lucky Bethania talked your father into allowing me to retrieve you instead."

"He's upset…?"

"Understatement, Nephew," Eros said. "For now, he is more or less subdued, but I should return you to him before his still heart gives out. Come along."

Giving the dark waters a final glance, Jeremiah sighed and followed Eros' path back to the building in which they'd come from. He kept his eyes on the sand as they walked, each of his steps sinking as far as Jeremiah felt like he was into the Earth. He was afraid to return while knowing he would be walking into a wall of anger, but he hadn't a choice and kept his head down.

"Uncle?" Jeremiah said then, plucking a scallop shell from the sand to cart along with him. "Can I ask you something?"

"I won't defy your father, Nephew," Eros said.

"No, it's not that. I — I was wondering; do you think my father would be happier if I weren't here?"

The question seemed to have come as more of a surprise to Eros than anything he'd been anticipating, so much so that he halted with a look of puzzlement in his bright eyes. "For you to ponder a question as such tells me you know very little of your father," Eros said.

"How should I know?" Jeremiah mumbled, smoothing his thumb over the coral pink ripples of the scallop. "He hardly shows himself to me as it is. "

Fixing a hand rolled cigarette between his lips, Eros paused to light the tip, keeping his eyes forward as if this moment in itself was making him uncomfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation with a child, let alone said a few words to one so brooding.

Letting out a puff of smoke, Eros glanced down at the boy beside him, suddenly recalling all the times Demiesius would grow restless and riled if their gatherings went on longer than expected. "It is not my place to speak his heart," Eros said. "But know what disdain you carry for him is perhaps understandable, but undeserving in my eyes."

Not sure what to make of his uncle's words, Jeremiah continued to follow until they were inside, and before the door to the room he'd leapt from came open, Jeremiah could already feel the sting of his father's crossness burning into the top of his skull.

With Bethania, Minerva, and Nabadias standing by as well, Demiesius said nothing in front of his brothers and sisters and merely collected his son, wrapping himself and Jeremiah within his mastering until familiar walls surrounded them yet again.

Releasing the young dhampir, Demiesius' flames seemed to break loose, voice swarming in so much ire that Jeremiah could sense the walls still trying to contain his father's passion crumbling one chip at a time.

"Are you mad?!" Demiesius demanded, not giving any room for Jeremiah to speak. "What in Lilith's name made you believe it was a good idea to leave the way you did? I should not have had to order you to stay put!"

"I was only at the beach…"

"You weren't where you were supposed to be," Demiesius declared. "I returned and you were gone. Gone, Jeremiah! "

Avoiding his father's eyes, Jeremiah turned away, "It's not that serious!" he defended. "You're yelling at me for no reason. All I wanted was to see the beach, and you're acting like I exposed my true nature to everyone there. I didn't even talk to anyone!"

"You have shown me I cannot trust you outside of this castle."

"For going to the beach!"

"For leaving without me knowing where you were!" Demiesius shouted, the last of his walls crumbling, and his voice grew far hotter than before. "I do not care if you think your departure only took you so far. What if something happened to you? What if I could not get to you in time?"

Jeremiah dragged his hands into his hair. "You're suffocating me," he argued. "Do you even know what other teenagers are out there doing? Any other person my age would be out shopping, hanging out with friends, and learning how to drive; you're suffocating me under your protection. I don't need protection!"

"You are not like other children," Demiesius affirmed.

"I am NOT a child! You treat me like I'm some fragile piece of glass you're afraid of hitting the floor too hard. I'm not irresponsible! I'm not stupid! I can take care of myself!"

"Go to your room," the elder ordered then, and the command slinked its way through Jeremiah's bones.

Unable to resist it, Jeremiah turned on his heels and stormed away through the grand foyer, eyes blurring with frustrated tears, and a company of words he couldn't hold back sprang from his mouth as he chucked the scallop he'd collected from the beach to the floor.

"I hate you!" Jeremiah screamed just when regret caught up with him, but it was too late to swallow what he knew he hadn't meant, and he darted up to his bedroom .

Taking a seat at the side of his bed, Jeremiah covered his eyes as he tried to force back the tears that wanted to flow. He truly hadn't meant to say something so cruel, but it was done and he couldn't take it back. He'd been so angry and everything came forth without pause.

"I didn't mean it," he whispered into his palms, the tears he hadn't been able to suppress wetting his cheeks and hands. He hated to cry. Not for the weakness that was associated with it, but for the heaviness that took time to go away after he started.

Looking toward his nightstand then, Demiesius' words reverberated within Jeremiah's head again after laying eyes on the framed picture positioned beside his lantern. It was of him and his dad; the man Demiesius' words aligned with most, and behind the frame sat a teddy bear he hadn't held onto in quite a long time.

An uncomfortable knot formed in Jeremiah's throat and he wiped his face clear of the remaining tears, taking the stuffed animal into his hands and he looked it over.

The years went on and things were still so hard, and every day and night the man depicted on his nightstand wasn't here — where he was supposed to be — tensions grew, and Jeremiah was afraid the regrets would, too.

"Father," the young dhampir transferred through their mental link. "May I come out for a moment?"

"Do as you please."

With the allowance, Jeremiah left the bear in his pillows and quickly left his bedroom, following the pull of his father to a place he could more often than not be found.

Seated in the lofty chair within his personal office, Demiesius pushed aside a journal when his son rounded the desk. There was obvious remorse expressed in both their eyes, and when Demiesius stood, Jeremiah lunged into his father's arms and held on tightly.

"I didn't mean it," he said against the elder's chest. He wouldn't have been able to sleep or think straight if an apology weren't given. "I could never hate you, Father. I'm sorry."

Demiesius' nose touched the top of Jeremiah's hair, and he passed his hand down the blond half of the dhampir's tresses. "Forgive me for my own outburst," he said. "I only love you, my son. That is all."

"I know, Father," Jeremiah sniffled, catching sight of the fractured shell he'd discarded sitting atop the elder's desk. "I know."