Chapter XV

When He's Calling For You

"M y anger," Jeremiah said to himself, "It's getting the better of me."

Having walked a ways out into the surrounding woodlands of the castle, he'd returned to the closer perimeter a moment ago, instead stationing himself in a spot he often went to when things escalated between him and Demiesius.

Seated in the rear gardens, the gleam of the moon could reach him from here, and he was surrounded by the vibrancy that'd returned to the castle after Hamilton was returned to it as well. He still wasn't quite sure why this spot in particular brought comfort when it was lacking, but after his dad's return, Jeremiah assumed it was a strange sense of knowing something else was out there at the time. Be it Hamilton, more to life, the quiet, or…as of now…Min-jae; he was out there somewhere .

Not just somewhere, Jeremiah thought, he knew exactly where Min-jae was and as the self-wallowing carried through him, he had to convince himself to hold off from impulsively returning to him. He'd found exactly what he'd been looking for when Min-jae collected him that moment ago. All of Jeremiah's troubles evaporated for the time being, nothing else had mattered, and the only thing he'd felt was the entirety of Song Min-jae.

Thousands of kilometers separated them now, and with that distance returned the ache of this inner transfiguration. He didn't know what it was and doubted anyone could tell him what was happening to him, but as the pique of anger showed itself, and the ability to feel and retain damage done to him wasn't curbed, Jeremiah's fears of things getting worse also grew worse.

How bad could it get?

Jeremiah doubted he would lose himself in frustrated hunger like long ago, but the anger was returning even without the nudge of famine.

Allowing his hearing to wander, as was something he tried not to do ever since overhearing a moment between his parents one night, Jeremiah listened into the walls of the castle.

Dominick wasn't here tonight, but two distinct visitors were: Lucius and Cedric. From what Jeremiah could hear, Sebastian was mingling closer to Lucius at the moment, Lysander, and Gabriel as well, and it sounded like they were in the middle of playing video games.

Jeremiah couldn't help but think they were so young and so ordinary. They might not be permitted to leave home without supervision, but nothing about their sheltered lives seemed to bring issue. They still had their fun with each other and were able to enjoy their youth to the fullest extent.

When Jeremiah's ears ventured further through the castle, he picked up on Avery elsewhere, perhaps in the kitchen to gather food and drinks for everyone. Cedric was near to him, and Jeremiah's brow dipped when he heard something he assumed Avery might not have wanted him to.

"Cedric?" the young dhampir said, a coyness in his voice.

"Yes?" the vaewolf answered dryly.

"I was wondering," Avery went on. From his tone alone, Jeremiah could imagine a bashful hint of red against his younger brother's cheeks. "If you don't mind, of course, would you meet me in my bedroom later? I've been meaning to ask you something, but you're always with Lucius and Sebastian, and I feel terrible when it seems I may bother you."

"You've never bothered me," Cedric said. The response was dry but that was typical for him and his brother anyways. "What is it you want?"

"Well," Avery kept his voice to a whisper, as if already looking out for the possibility of someone listening in. "Actually, never mind. Just forget I said anything."

Fairly certain Avery would wring his neck if he found out he'd been overheard, Jeremiah wrangled with himself on whether he should ask Avery what was going on. It was a bit obvious the teen dhampir had a crush on the vaewolf boy, but since it seemed he was having trouble coming around to admitting it, Jeremiah wondered if he could use someone to talk to. Then again, he could already envision Avery's fret if he came to realize his secret crush had been unearthed.

"Jeremiah," he heard then, and he turned on the stone barrier.

Hamilton stood in the open arch of the rear doors. He was dressed as comfortably as he usually was; on this night adorning white and teal shorts and a thin-strapped top, hair bundled up with few strays hanging in his face. He loved to be here, at home, so his nightly attire tended to lean more toward leisure.

"I'd like to speak with you, if that's alright," Hamilton said. "But, if you still need time to yourself, that's alright, too."

"Do I seem unapproachable?" the dhampir asked then, hopping down from his placement. With his hands driven into his back pockets, Jeremiah neared Hamilton, and the soft glint in the vampire's eyes spoke of how impossible it was for him to see his children as anything other than affable and kind-hearted.

"Heaven's no," Hamilton's smile lifted and he looped his arm with Jeremiah's. "With that said, what your father approached you with, it must have been hard to speak of. You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to, but I wanted to ask if you are alright."

"I'm fine," Jeremiah assured, "You don't have to worry about me. Things just got complicated between me and someone I was…associated with."

"Min-jae?"

"No," Jeremiah couldn't fight the unconscious smile that came to his face, and Hamilton beamed toward his son when catching the sly smirk. "Actually, I went to see him after what happened at Nocturnal Heights. I needed to get away to clear my head, and he was the first place I thought to go."

"Does that mean you consider him a friend?" Hamilton asked, walking with Jeremiah when they started inside, the rear doors of the castle closing behind them. "Your father and I only spoke with him briefly, but he was very well-mannered and seemed kind enough. He also complimented my garden, which was nice."

"You've brought it back to life over the years," Jeremiah said, remembering when the flowerbeds and vegetation closely surrounding the castle were nowhere near as vibrant as it was now. "It's definitely worthy of all compliments. But, as for Min-jae…"

Jeremiah's thoughts trailed to their time spent together, the detail in both touch and scent. If he focused hard enough, the undertones of morning and hints of citrus made themselves known to him. He wanted to go back and sink into those notes again. So splendid and comforting, all of him wanted all of that again…whatever that had been.

Jeremiah heard Hamilton chuckle then, and they stopped before where the stairs led to the second level. "What's funny?" he asked.

"Nothing," Hamilton still leered, and he looked his son over as if inspecting him for flaws. "I thought you looked a bit familiar just now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Hamilton unhanded Jeremiah and circled before him, sizing him up and down like he would soon reveal a camera and begin taking pictures. "I would say you look more like your father, but from this angle—," he stood to Jeremiah's right, where his hair seemed entirely blond and the blue of his eye showed. "I see all of me, and when you spoke of Min-jae just now, I thought you looked a lot like me when I first met your father."

"I'll be honest," Jeremiah admitted. "That's embarrassing."

"Why do you say that?!" Hamilton demanded, no true offense in his eyes .

"Dom told me you were embarrassingly persistent when you and father first met, to the point of obsession, really."

"Am I supposed to be ashamed of that?" Hamilton curled a brow, hands on his trim hips. "Forty-three years may have stood between us when we were apart, but not a second has gone by where my love for that man has dwindled."

"I know," Jeremiah groaned. "Trust me, everyone knows."

"Then what's there to be ashamed of?"

"It's not that I'm ashamed," Jeremiah said, turning away as images of his time with Min-jae flickered by. "But I think the last thing I can say about Min-jae is that I love him. I hardly know him—," yet they'd had such a memorable time together. "He's also got more important things to worry himself with than me, and I've got some issues of my own to work out."

"Do any of these ‘issues' involve what happened to you tonight at that bar?"

Jeremiah held in his response. Hamilton was easier to talk to when it came to personal matters, but that still meant opening up about what it seemed that damn serum was doing to him, his previous coping mechanism of drowning in one-sided sexual engagements, and the fact that he might be losing a hold over his emotions. He was too grown to be acting out in what ways he had, but still his courage disappeared at the idea of Hamilton and Demiesius seeing trouble in him.

Jeremiah met Hamilton's eyes, "Is it alright if I keep it to myself? I'm sorry. I know you and Father want to help, and you're worried about me, but I don't want to be a burden even if you two would never see me that way. Father's always got a lot on his mind and none of it should pertain to me any more than it already does. From now on, I won't get into any trouble. I promise."

"You don't have to promise anything," Hamilton said, taking hold of Jeremiah's arm again, and he began to lead them upstairs. "If you're ever having trouble you need help with, you are surrounded by so many people who would jump to help you with anything. Myself, your father, Dominick, and so on and so forth; we're always available to you. But, before you start refusing and go about the rest of your night, I'd like to show you something."

"What is it?"

Without answering right away, Hamilton led the way through the castle, further from the other auras, and they moved down long corridors until reaching a doorway Jeremiah was used to seeing closed these years.

Ever since Sebastian's birth, the office in which Demiesius typically tended to incoming communications hardly went used for longer than necessary. That wasn't to say the elder didn't still receive word from those trying to get a hold of him, but as to not keep him in the small space for too long, all information was filtered through before determining if it was serious enough to call him away. The extra effort made it so he was home more often than he'd been in the past.

Pushing open the double doors to the office, Hamilton let light shine from the overhanging fixture, and there at the far end of the room was the same dark mahogany desk. There was a small layer of dust atop it, and the curtains over the tall windows were shut.

Going for one of the many in-wall shelves fitted from top to bottom with journals and leather bound books, small lock boxes were filled with what Jeremiah had always presumed were pieces of information collected through the centuries, many of which he'd caught glimpses of Demiesius writing in from when he was young up until 2016.

Reaching for a bronze leather journal, Hamilton smiled musingly and turned it open to the first page. He stepped nearer to Jeremiah, allowing him to see and pointed out Demiesius' handwriting at the top left of the inside cover.

It read: To you, through 1974.

As Hamilton slowly turned each page whose lines were filled with endless projections, regrets, and affirmations, Jeremiah was given a look into what had consumed his father's heart and thoughts through the first year of his life that they were made to be without Hamilton.

Every page was taken up by the elder's elegant cursive, front to back, short and long passages alike, and always Jeremiah spotted his name or mentions of him, of how he was growing, the elder's fears of his future, their moments of bonding, struggles, and Demiesius' many nights of self-doubt for what it was like to be a father to a boy who needed more than a father and a brother…no matter how much they loved him.

"As the months turned into years," Hamilton said, tucking the journal away and opening another marked with a distant year, "You were always at the peak of your father's mind. Your well-being, how sweet of a boy you were, what more he wished he could give you, what more he knew I would have been able to give you if I'd been here. Jeremiah, if there is anything I feel I know about your father, it is that his love for those he loves consumes him in a way that he can hardly take."

Hamilton returned the second journal, and Jeremiah plucked another and another from the shelf, reading over passages that spoke of old birthdays, his clashes with Demiesius, the times Dominick stepped between them, their apologies to one another only to argue again…and again…and again.

As Jeremiah turned page after page, he came across an entry dated 21 November 1988, and secured to the page was half of a pale scallop shell that left a permanent dent in the journal.

He read on.

Hamilton,

I faltered yet again, my love.

I traveled with our son to another part of the world. He showed excitement, and I should have noted his wonder, but my single thought was to return us home as quickly as possible. As I know these walls will always be the safest place for our son, it has occurred to me that my fears have brought yearnings and curiosity into him.

Jeremiah, he wanted only to see the ocean in this distant, coastal city. Due to such a desire, he ventured far from where I left him, and in my alarm upon discovering his disappearance, I may have overreacted. No, I did. I was fearful, my love. In that moment, our son was gone, and terror struck through me in a manner I have prayed to Lilith to never feel again. I thought I lost him the way I lost you, Hamilton.

In our quarrel, Jeremiah spoke what words were on his chest. They pain me even now as I tell you this, but perhaps he has every right to hate this empty husk I have become. Every year, I come to see how desperately he needs you.

I am desperate for you.

Now and then,

Your Husband

Remembering the details of their quarrel during that time, regret for having spoken those heated words sank into Jeremiah again. However, in spite of that, it was strangely comforting being able to acquire this glimpse into his father's feelings. He wished he'd known much more of them all through their years without Hamilton, but that couldn't be helped now.

In between Demiesius' notes of Jeremiah, there were lengthy entries detailing the elder's sorrows, the deep love he still and would always hold onto for Hamilton. It was when Jeremiah spotted a verse that essentially thanked Hamilton for the time they'd had together and for seemingly giving him the gift of ‘a most perfect son' , that Jeremiah at last noticed the sting in his throat and eyes had returned, and his cheeks glistened with tears Hamilton cleared with his palms.

"The years were hard for you two back then," Hamilton said. "I wasn't here, your father was barely holding on, and you were something so new to him that we should have been able to raise together. He loved you as best he could without crumbling, sheltered you too closely on many occasions and even still wants nothing more than to make sure you are well. You could reach your hundredth century of life, and still your father would see you as the boy you were when this castle was occupied by just the two of you. The same goes for your brothers."

Hamilton continued to wipe the tears from Jeremiah's cheeks, and he pressed a kiss against the dhampir's forehead.

"I'm sorry," Jeremiah said.

"There's no need for you to apologize," Hamilton reassured. "You're so grown and so strong, and you don't need to be as sheltered as you were when you were small, but your father loves you endlessly, Jeremiah, and I at least hope you can understand that he means well when that desire to protect you takes hold of him. It's what he strives to be: your protector. "

"I understand," Jeremiah nodded, clearing the rest of his face on his own. "Where is Father? I want to apologize."

"He is out looking for answers about whatever this thing is that's caused you to hurt," Hamilton said, making sure the journals were returned to their proper placements. "And, Jeremiah, he is never looking for an apology from you. As told in the hundreds of passages he wrote to me through the years, all he wants for you is good, and he knows he can be overwhelming in his love for you, but I hope you can always at least remember that all he does is driven by that infinite love."

Hamilton and Jeremiah turned to head from the room then, but not before an old, wooden trunk seemingly pulled from the 1800s caught Jeremiah's eye. It sat directly behind the desk beneath the windowsill, and when he opened it, he was surprised to see what appeared to be weapons crafted for a member of the Slayer Public.

On one half of the deep interior, silver stakes and various deadly tools were stored away, and on the other half sat a small box filled with loose papers signed with either Hamilton's or Demiesius' name.

"What's this?" Jeremiah asked.

"After Julius died," Hamilton said, a sourness on his lips at the mere mention of someone from so long ago, "My old weapons from my time with the Public were found in the home he'd lived in with Raeden and Jackson. As for the letters your father used to write to me, they were all Dominick and his coven at the time had been able to find when I came up missing. Sometimes I want to throw my old weapons away, but they're still a part of me, and I'm not particularly ashamed of what role I played in the organization. It was under control back then. Nowadays, the Public is lost and will be lost until they're no more."

"What about your letters?" Jeremiah added. "Can I see those, too?"

"No," Hamilton chuckled and directed them both from the office. "Like you and Dominick like to say, it's all just embarrassing babble we used to spew back and forth; writing pages of longing even when we were already going to see each other the same night."

"Geez…"

"Hey," Hamilton jested as they headed down the corridor together. "If you and Min-jae didn't have your New Age mobiles and what not, you'd be writing love letters back and forth, too."

"Actually," Jeremiah pouted, "Min-jae doesn't have a mobile right now, so I can't reach out to him without traveling. And there were such things as telephones in the 1970s, Dad. You two just opted for 16th century letters for whatever reason."

"It's romantic to still have them though, innit?"

"I guess," Jeremiah shrugged, figuring it must be nice to look back on whenever the desire to reminisce on the good of their beginning years came up. "Speaking of Min-jae…"

"You want to see him again?"

Jeremiah stopped alongside Hamilton in the intersection of the castle that separated the wing in which his bedroom was and everyone else's. He didn't want to get too attached, but that was feeling a bit unavoidable now. The thoughts of how sweetly Min-jae had spoken to him and handled him were stirring an attachment in him.

"This wouldn't be the first time I got too attached too quickly," Jeremiah said. "I should give it time, don't you think? Put some space between us? "

"You're asking the wrong person about taking things slow," Hamilton smiled brilliantly. "If I could go back and abandon everything and it meant I could have you and marry your father from night one…I would've in a heartbeat. But that's just me. If you feel the need to take your time from here, don't rush it, but if something about him feels right…" Hamilton started away toward where Sebastian and the others were, "Listen to your heart, Jeremiah. There's nothing wrong with that."

As Hamilton's words sat with him, Jeremiah let all of what he and Min-jae experienced together take hold again. He really had enjoyed himself beyond the scope of how Min-jae had assisted in draining his troubles away. He missed the feeling of the other dhampir's hands, the solace his aura provided when it blanketed him, his voice and all the other sensations that came about when merely being near to him.

Is he thinking of me now? Jeremiah wondered.

As much as he wanted to follow the beaten path of his desires that led directly to Min-jae, Jeremiah made an effort to resist falling too hard and too fast, regardless of if this person already showed him so much. New colors, new prospects, new perceptions of what it was to yearn; every second the name Song Min-jae lingered, Jeremiah plummeted further until the surface of this covetous cavern was just out of reach.

He couldn't resist.

He didn't want to.

"Fuck," Jeremiah swore under his breath, dragging his feet and he leaned against the rail of the balcony overlooking the grand foyer of the castle.

With his eyes closed, Jeremiah immersed himself in the detailed playback of his time with Min-jae. They'd had sex, but it was more than the sex that arrested Jeremiah's burn for more. He wanted more of the constriction of Min-jae's arms, the notable trails left by the fingers that'd dragged across his surface, the warmth of Min-jae's breath upon his body, the feeling of his hair against his face and unique spoor of who he was as an individual.

Jeremiah wanted a return of it all. He wanted to go back so badly.

Hamilton was right. There was nothing wrong with following your heart, and where Jeremiah's heart wanted to lead him to was wherever Min-jae was. He was ashamed of how powerless he felt losing to this lust, longing, and desperation, but he allowed the defeat to swallow him up as two days and two nights passed.

In those hours as the sun rose and set, the moon hung, and the stars shone, Jeremiah focused on the bolt that'd appeared in him when Min-jae's blood had entered his system. He'd enjoyed perceiving the flux of someone without guilt of it, the peace of Min-jae, how sturdy his spirit was at all times, like no fuss, no unrest could disrupt him.

Jeremiah wanted him, in all ways again, and he couldn't take barring himself from his wants.

He had to go back.

He just had to.

As evening arrived yet again, Jeremiah paced in the grand foyer, and he rallied what words he would say to explain himself, but he was at a loss as to how he should go about opening far more of his heart than he had in so long. His stress for the matter was on the verge of eating him whole until…

"Jeremiah?" he heard then, and when he looked up from the floor, his breath hiked when the dark brown of Min-jae's eyes met his.

Mystified by the idea that Min-jae had been able to hear his desperate debate, Jeremiah unhanded all of his resistance at once, and he hastened to meet the Korean dhampir.

You really came for me, Jeremiah thought, rushing and sinking into the embrace that captured all of his trembling pieces.

The moment Min-jae bound Jeremiah there in his arms, every edge once unsure of making this canvas whole clasped perfectly together.

"I couldn't wait anymore," Min-jae said, gracious words touching the dark streams of Jeremiah's two-toned tresses. "I hope me being here doesn't scare you."

"Why did you come?" Jeremiah asked, continuing to hold as the arms around him didn't let up.

"With all I said," Min-jae confessed, "and all we'd done, you think it was easy for me to accept going any longer without you? Or…should I not have come?"

Stepping back to put a morsel of distance between them, but still ultimately stood toe to toe, Jeremiah hoped no shade of red showed in his cheeks, and he smiled. "I'll admit I was in the middle of deciding whether or not I was going to see you just now. I'm embarrassed to say, but the thought of any more days going by was…crushing me."

When no recoil announced itself, Min-jae took Jeremiah's face in his hands, powerless to pull back from pouring his heart out right here in the grand foyer of this castle. It wasn't like he'd never known what it was to develop feelings for someone, to find appeal in them, but the ordinary mortals he'd come to see something in were absolutely nothing in comparison to Jeremiah.

This person whose warmth was all his own, the same warmth that'd blended with his, seeped into him, wrapped around him; this warmth merged into Min-jae even now, and he almost didn't want to let go so that it wouldn't be too far again…so that Jeremiah wouldn't be too far again. The distance, no matter how small, he didn't want any of it.

Not quite knowing what words to return, Min-jae's thumbs passed gently over Jeremiah's cheeks. They were no longer wet. There was no crying, no sorrow, no fear, and it was this charm looking into him that caused the pining in Min-jae to shatter into infinite, widespread pieces.

"There is so much going on," Min-jae said. "Between discovering my village's purpose, and your father's effort of finding out what you've been affected with, I can't see something between you and I going without hardship. As much as I don't want that, the difficulty, I still want to try. I still want you."

"I want you, too," Jeremiah said, leaning in and capturing a needed kiss. "All I ask is for the patience you promised."

"You have it," Min-jae reassured. "You have my word. You have my heart if you'll take it."