Open for business...

[oliver]

He'd have said yes a thousand times if it got the man to smile like that.

"Really? That's great! I don't mind Pyewacket at all...You might have to brush me off occasionally..."

It's Oliver's turn to laugh, shaking his head with fond exasperation at the mention of his feisty feline, eyes rolling a little in their sockets as he places the coiled up tape on the large oaken work table.
"Knowing that blasted cat we'll probably have to stock up on lint rollers."
A soft chuckle at the thought before he shrugs casually.
"Better the love of a feline than its scorn."

Pye had a reputation for his mood swings, and had vehemently expressed his displeasure for one of Oliver's earlier clients by chewing on his shoe when he was unaware. Thankfully the vampire baron was wealthy enough to purchase a new pair, but it was a lesson learned well; Cats hate being rubbed the wrong way, twice.

"Why do you work at night, anyway? Not that I'm complaining..."

The tailor doesn't even hesitate, using the same lines and half truths given to his non vampiric customers when they asked the same question.

"I find my inspiration by moonlight and star littered skies... Not that we get much of that in cloudy London, but I find the atmosphere much more agreeable for a productive working environment."

The wrinkle on Hayaki's collar calls to him like a strong tug of a leash and before he knows it, there are slender hands refolding and smoothing out creased corners and bent, uneven edges.
"The night brings peace and quiet to this part of town, less distraction from crowds and passing vehicles. Somehow, I do find that I work better in darkness than the glare of the sun."
Fingers press the tips of the collar-flaps into crisp, clean lines. He steps back to see the overall look, before nodding in satisfaction.

"And besides, I'm allergic to sunlight."

[hayaki]

Hayaki laughed at Oliver, his eyes dancing. "Cats are fickle..."

He found his words cut off as Oliver's fingers smoothed over his collar. Biting his lip again, he watched Oliver's face, his breath stilled. Damn it...if the man kept touching him like that...he had no idea, that much was clear. And I've seriously got to get control over myself.

He refocused as Oliver stepped back. Oliver's words about inspiration under the moon and stars sounded like some kind of poetic evasion, and he blinked as Oliver stated what was probably the real reason. "Allergic to sunlight?" he repeated, his tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips. "Ahh...I've heard of that..." he sternly repressed the urge to grab his collar again. "That must be uncomfortable..." he offered quietly, his eyes sympathetic. "I'd miss the sunlight, if I could never see it agian..."

[oliver]

"Oh it's not so bad."
The vampire says with a half-sigh, absently reaching out to brush some lint off Hayaki's shoulder, smoothing the material at the same time.
"What with television nowadays and the bright colours they can capture on screens, seeing the sun is no big issue. But feeling the sun..."

That same hand retreats back to unconsciously rub at his arm, as if trying to remember what the warmth of sunlight even felt like. A hard feat to accomplish when he'd spent the last few centuries living in shadows and cold. Sometimes, he forgets that there even was sunshine, that once upon a time he'd search the streets for even the slightest sliver of light...
Now, it was death for him and his kind.

"I guess after a while, you don't really think about it. And then as the days go by, you miss it less and less."

Hues of brandy-tinted ebony flick back to Hayaki's sympathetic gaze, and he smiles with the air of one who despite having been kicked in the shins by cruel fates, had learned to deal. Had accepted his current place.
Not quite submitting, but not trying too hard to fight back either.

"Nothing to really fuss over Master Hayaki, I can assure you."

Ah yes, just another reminder that Hayaki was human.
A child of earth and light, who could not live without the warmth that paints his skin in a tone of olive.

It suddenly seemed so tragic.
That this budding friendship, the strange tension between them... Was doomed to end one day. The man had a life to live, one that would force Oliver to watch him as he grew old and died, wither away under the hands of time. Even now as they stood there in his shop, every second that went by became like a murderous noose slowly choking life bit by bit. It was almost unbearable, that one day he'd have to make that choice to go away, or stay and risk losing Hayaki's trust and friendship for the remainder of his mortal life. Maybe that's why he said yes, agreed to let this man get closer than he would have normally allowed.

Playing with fire.

[hayaki]

Hayaki watched Oliver's face, his eyes sad now. To never feel the warmth of the sun? Impulsively, he touched Oliver's hand, his warm hand gently patting the other's. "I'll paint you a picture." he said suddenly, smiling at Oliver. "I'll paint you the sun...and then when you feel cold, all you have to do it look at it and you'll feel warm again..."

He could already see the picture in his mind. He'd capture it for Oliver and trap the sunlight itself into the canvas. If he could do that then Oliver wouldn't have to feel sad for missing the warmth. I hope I can do that...I can't imagine never seeing the sun again. To live in darkness...

He hesitated, then gently released Oliver's hand, his eyes staying on the other's. "Oliver..." he stopped. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, really, only that the silence suddenly seemed to heavy and there was something in Oliver's gaze...some kind of saddness that Hayaki couldn't understand, but he could see. Melancholy. He'd heard of the word but he'd never understood it until he saw it on Oliver's face.

I wonder what he's thinking of... Hayaki shifted, torn between conflictiing desires, unsure and unwilling to make any move that might be the wrong one. It was easier to do nothing, to let the moment slip away dispite the pang of regret he could already feel. Safer, in the long run...

[oliver]

He barely stopped himself from shrinking away or jerking back, not because he didn't want to be touched, but it had been so long and just the very feel of those living hands on his own... It burned like sunshine only instead of pain, he felt warmth and a tingling sensation that forced him to repress a shiver.
It was as overwhelming as his concept for his painting.

Imagine that...
A mortal setting him against a sunlit backdrop.
It was so surreal, this conversation, this situation... This man. So open and genuine, so unlike the many jaded men who now walked the streets with ice in their hearts and emptiness in their souls. He could feel his pulse through the connection of their hands, thumping against his own colder hand. He could almost see the rush of a million blood cells racing through veins and tissue, the very life force he was supposed to feed from... But stoically refused to.
Oliver was not a thief.

And yet here you are, already stealing something from him, just as much as he is stealing something from you...

That was true.
Technically speaking, the vampire had no real heart, the muscle lying embedded in his chest was still like a clock that no longer worked. And yet, he feels as if something inside of his supposedly dead self was stolen by wide, searching eyes.

"Oliver..."

Even when his hand was left to fall slowly back to his side, the warmth and heat still remained... He wondered absently if Hayaki even noticed the coolness of his own skin, the unnatural smoothness of youth trapped in time. From the looks of things, he hadn't and for that Oliver was extremely grateful. He knew he was being selfish by prolonging their time together, but he just couldn't help himself.
And there was this man-child, watching him, waiting for his response. Like he was expecting to be let down again.
Oliver had to remind himself that Hayaki's emotions were probably going around on a rollarcoaster ride; getting fired, faced with uncertainty and a new country... And of course the tailor himself.

"Master Hayaki," he said softly, afraid to break the fragile atmosphere that hung around them like icicles at the turn of Spring, "I hope you'll forgive me for asking... But how old are you?"

[hayaki]

Hayaki, startled, laughed softly. The question was strange, and yet fitting. He shifted a little, his eyes still watching Oliver's. "Twenty seven." He said, still smiling. He once again firmly resisted the urge to touch Oliver; it was hard. His fingers itched to touch him. Not sexually; that was there, but it was something else too. Something gentler. He wanted to pet him, to ease the shadows he could see in the other man's eyes. Eyes like that shouldn't be sad.

He still wished he knew what caused those shadows, but he wasn't going to push or rush. He would simply be; if he was what the other man needed, then Hayaki would give himself away. It wasn't hard-it would come so very effortlessly. Maybe this is what I've been looking for... And maybe not. Too early to tell. But he knew, already, that he liked the other man very much. He was funny and charming and sweet, so very different from any other man he'd known before.

He curled his fingers into his fists, waiting patiently, the smile still curling his lips and lighting his eyes. The moment stretched on for him, a strange timeless interlude that seemed unreal somehow. But not uncomfortable. Safe. As if nothing could harm him here.

He was poised at the edge of something he couldn't understand, couldn't see, only vaguely sense, but he was okay with that. He would step off and spread his arms and see if he could fly...

[oliver]

"Twenty seven."

"Twenty seven..." he repeated softly, awed and almost disbelievingly.
Another step taken forward, still not close enough to be considered intimate and yet close enough that he could reach out and brush back an errant lock of hair that had fallen over his eye.
"So young."

They always were.
Little gifts that each era would send his way, or curses depending on how he looked at the situation. Every time they opened his door and walked in, these mortals, so uniquely different in their own ways, charmed him into a state of secret longing. Just like Hayaki would ,if the tailor wasn't careful with the reigns on his emotions.

Sometimes, I wished my emotions were as dead as my heart...

And yet, he didn't. For he'd be no better than a walking doll, and his love for his craft would die along with the loss of emotion. No, he could never wish for that. But he could at least wish for a stronger will power... Something that his sire seemed to have sucked out of him during the first feeding. Like he'd been created for immediate obedience, and was left alone to fix himself.

A wise and beautiful starlet once told the vampire that he couldn't be alone for the rest of his un-life. And she was right. But always he kept turning them away, avoiding most of his kind as well unless it was strictly on business terms. But this ...man, this mortal who wasn't even a quarter of his age, was slowly stealing his way in and Oliver found himself powerless to stop him.
Even if he wanted to.

"I-I mean, you are so young for a professor."
His way of explaining his previously strange comment.
"Then again I myself am only twenty one, so who am I to talk about age and youth hmn?"

Technically, he wasn't lying.
After all when his life was so unfairly taken from him, he had only just seen his twenty first Winter.

"But for a man who isn't even in his thirties, who have accomplished quite a lot good sir."

[hayaki]

So close...

Haya smiled as Oliver's fingers brushed over his forehead. He had to resist the urge to lean into them, focusing on Oliver's face. So very close...and yet, so oddly distant. There was something...Hayaki wasn't sure what it was. But it had something to do with that odd saddness that still lingered in Oliver's eyes. He barely registered Oliver's words at first; he was too busy staring at him. But when he did, he frowned just a little-what an odd comment. So young... What did he mean...

The frown cleared as Oliver explained himself, but that feeling still tugged at Hayaki's mind. Just faintly, but insistantly.

Something was off-kilter.

"You're only twenty-one?" Hayaki blurted, his eyebrows going up. "Really? You seem so...much..."

Older....

"I mean..." Hayaki blushed, ducking his head a little. "You're so...wise, I guess, and kind. You just seemed older to me." He explained softly. "I was thinking you were more my age, I guess..." he paused, then suddenly, impulsively, lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over Oliver's cheek in a silent apology, as if he felt he might have offended him, his eyes sad and slightly wary-as if he was afraid Oliver would reject the touch.

[oliver]

The tailor smiled kindly as the young man stumbled over his words.

"I mean...You're so...wise, I guess, and kind. You just seemed older to me. I was thinking you were more my age, I guess..."

"Ah."
He chuckles and shrugs casually.
"Well, age does not often mean wisdom, you yourself have proved that to be..."

His words trailed off into a whisper, from a whisper it drifted into nothing. How could he speak when smooth, blood-warmed digits passed over his cheek in such a gentle caress. Oliver didn't even dare to blink for fear that if he did, the moment would pass too quickly and become just another fleeting memory.

Suddenly, he felt very shy.
Unsure of himself and feeling like he really was the age that his body was paused in; young and inexperienced. Funny that what he said rang very, very true indeed. Age and years of existing, didn't mean a cannier brain or sharper wit. In a way, there was a part of oliver that just never really grew, never really matured. And while he could easily blame his practically non-existent sire for this horrible flaw in his creation, it just didn't seem fair to.

Honestly, he shouldn't be thinking of such things when there is a man just standing in front of him, waiting for some sign that not everyone in the world was out to toss him back onto the streets once it was done with him.

"What I know, I learnt from my father, and what I've discovered through living, just like you have..." he smiled and brought his own hand up to keep Hayaki's fingers exactly where they were resting on a cool cheek, "We're not so very different you and I."

[hayaki]

Oliver's fingers on his made his heart flutter oddly in his chest. He was so cool to the touch, so strange...and yet so warm. Hayaki wanted to close his eyes, to hide himself. He felt vulnerable, open...painfully so. He felt like Oliver could look into his eyes and read his entire soul. It was a frightening feeling. Frightening and exhilarating. He'd not felt like this in a long time. I don't even know him...why am I feeling like this? What is this, between us? This is dangerous, stupid...foolish. But...

But he couldn't close his eyes, and he couldn't pull away.

"It's true." Hayaki sighed softly, a smile curving his lips very gently. "We're not...are we? It's strange..."

He gently freed his fingers from Oliver's, then, hesitantly, laid his hand on Oliver's chest, flattening his fingers. "I don't understand it, Oliver, but..." in his mind, something spoke up, that niggling feeling of wrongness that still hovered in the back of his mind. I can't feel his heart...he's so cold.

But he pushed it away, unconcerned with trivialities at a time like this. He tipped his head a little, his gaze searching Oliver's for something-he didn't know what he was looking for. Some kind of promise, or at least a hint of one. He needed it; he didn't realize how badly he'd been craving it.

Don't hurt me...

He didn't realize he'd spoken the words aloud.

[oliver]

The moment fingers touched his chest, the tailor felt his whole world reel and stumble clumsily down the rabbit hole and there was no way of stopping himself from just... Falling.
His breaths became shallow, eyes widening slightly when he realised that the very hand burning tattoos into his skin, would find no elevated heartbeat to match his own... Just cold and silence.

Just like he did...

*****************
Adrian knew.
Knew what Greta had known for a while now, about his alternative lifestyle and what he was. He didn't mean to lie to the man, didn't mean to keep him from the truth which he ended up discovering anyway. Oliver was ashamed, but that accursed, blessed man just wouldn't leave well enough alone.

"It don't matter to me Ollie, I still love you. And I know how lonely you are." he smiled so earnestly, so sincerely, "I can keep you company, you can see to that."

The vampire drew back as if he'd just been presented sunlight on a stick, eyes disbelieving and his lips thinning into a straight line.
"You cannot mean that, you don't know what you ask for," his voice was raspy and he had to lick dry lips to continue speaking, "P-please, just leave me."

"No."

"Stubborn child! Do you think I enjoy this life? I am no more than a parasite living off the life of another and you, I-I cannot bear that happening to you, I will hate myself... And in turn you will hate me for as long as you exist. Go home Adrian."
He couldn't look into the heartbreak he put in mortal eyes, the shock at seeing the usually good natured tailor with his fangs bared and voice set firmly like stone. But he had to, for the sake of this man's soul. So he ignored sobbing protests, pretended he couldn't hear confessions of affection and simply held that tear streaked face.

"You will return home, to Hollywood, and you will marry Janet Gaynor. You will go and lead the life you were supposed to lead... And that's not with me."
He left it at that, without even saying goodbye, retreating into the back of his temporary shop and locking the door...
It was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

*******************

The memory faded back to the present, back to Hayaki with the same expression Adrian had those many nights ago, waiting.

Oliver had tried to strive for a life with no regret or complications, but some how, no matter what he did, he'd always be faced with something that threw him off balance. Like a thread suddenly snapping in two. Too sudden, too quickly... Just like the current situation. He had never expected this to happen; the lure of Haya's eyes and gentle lines of his face. He was beautiful, almost cruelly so, tempered with a kind of innocence not commonly found today.

He would be Oliver's second death if he wasn't careful.

I have to end this...
He thought fervently as those soulful eyes searched his.
I cannot let this continue...

But just before he could reenact the same scene from the 1940s, a whisper of words drifted past his ear in the most gentle of caresses...

"Don't hurt me..."

So hushed, he'd barely heard them. And yet they were as harsh as a tight slap to the face, along with a touch that burned like sunshine right into his very core. Oliver hung his head, giving the briefest of shudders as he shook his head to clear his clouded mind. Then before he knew it, he'd pushed Hayaki's hand aside only to pull him into a tight embrace, hiding his own torment behind long dark hair.

"I-I don't want to, trust me I don't..."

But he was already hurting them both, just by this alone.
And he hated himself for it.

[hayaki]

So cold...

That voice was twittering in the back of his mind again, telling him that something was wrong, off, strange. But he ignored it; he couldn't think about anything but the fact that Oliver's arms were around him. It was happening so fast he couldn't think at all, just close his eyes and let go. And he would. For the second time in his life, he would just let go, let be, and not questoin or be afraid.

He slipped his arms around the other man, straightening a bit to rest his head on Oliver's shoulders. Oliver's soft words made him smile sweetly. Perfect...so perfect. He pulled back a little, trying to see the look on Oliver's face, but he was hiding behind his hair.

Haya slid his arms from around Oliver and gently pulled away a little-not enough to seperate them, but enough to be able to lift his hands and gently, hesitantly cup Oliver's face, brushing the hair away so he could look into Oliver's eyes. His smile faded into a kind of serious, thoughtful look and he just looked for a moment, his warm eyes trying unsucessfully to pierce the shadows and sorrows he could see in Oliver's eyes.

"What happened, Oliver?" he asked softly. "You were hurt..." he gently ran his fingers along Oliver's jaw, his touch feather-light. He wasn't sure he really wanted to hear Oliver's response. So to stop anything he might have said, Haya leaned forward and touched his lips to Oliver's.

[oliver]

Like a crumbling tower of stone, his walls began to crack and tremble.
Strong foundations rocked as strong, warm arms enclosed him in a ring of fire that threatened to burn him all the way to the depth of his frozen undead body. He was shivering so hard he feared his fangs just might fall out from the shaking, but it wasn't from the cold.... It was all that warmth.
So much warmth.

And his hair, soft against his face and smelling of rain in spring time, the musk of a male sweetened by the sharp spice of pheromones and something that was just so uniquely Hayaki. Oliver had just found his new sanctuary in the dark strands caressing his skin.

Just a little while more and then I'll tell him to leave, oh please, just a little while more...

He begged unknown deities of forlorn vampire tailors everywhere to grant him a little more time in this illusion created so perfectly he didn't want to let go. But the young man wasn't having any of it and soon enough he could feel the mortal pulling away. The vampire just couldn't bring himself to look at the other man, it was just all so overwhelming and he was struggling with the insanity that was nipping at his heels like a ravenous dog.

Hiding behind his fringe didn't work either as bit by bit, Hayaki found his way back into Oliver's gaze, keeping him there with his hands framing his face, and for just a moment Oliver knew what it was like to feel trapped.

"What happened, Oliver? You were hurt..."

Calm eyes of sloe became tinged with gold, a little wild with uncertainty and painful memories that were resurfacing too fast. Under the light it would look like nothing but glimmer from the chandelier's lighting, the bleeding of slightly more feral colours in his irises as he struggled to deny what was so openly offered.
But just before he could say another word, his lips and fate were effectively sealed with a kiss.

From the time Oliver had been turned he'd abstained from as much bodily contact as possible, from both human and vampire alike. Even with those he'd gotten slightly close to, their kisses were more a formality and small token of affection than anything else... But this...

Barely the gentle press of two pairs of lips, light and grazing. But it seared through him like a flare of light, bursting from within, making his eyes grow wide before falling shut in a flutter of lashes. His words of protest melted into muffled mewls and throaty whimpers. Trembling hands rose up to curl over warm shoulders with every intention of putting some distance between them ,ended up clinging to him instead, latching on and tugging him closer when all he tried to do was keep him from getting hurt. But it was all for naught despite the slowly disappearing cries of how badly this would all end, he just couldn't stop himself from seeking more... Hayaki's heartbeat drowned out the noise in his head until he no longer heard the hundreds of voices that normally plagued his mind...

Yes, he was sinking.
And it was so beautifully frightening.

The tailor pulled his head back with a gasp, panting and still holding onto the mortal man.
"M-master Hayaki... W-we, we..."
There was so much he wanted to say; 'We can't' 'We shouldn't' 'We mustn't ' . But all that emerged from his lips as his forehead lolled onto a sturdy shoulder was a shaky breath.

"O-oh dear lords above," he whispered.

What have I done?

[hayaki]

So perfect. So utterly perfect. Hayaki felt his breath stilling as his lips touched Oliver's. He'd only ever kissed one person before like this and he knew immediately that this was, to him, the same. His heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. His eyes fluttered shut, Oliver's soft sounds filling his ears, drowning out the world. It lasted just a bare moment but it felt like a beautiful eternity.

Oliver's hands on his shoulders, pulling him in. He couldn't breathe or think, just cling to Oliver and kiss him, taste him for the first time. So sweet and soft and utterly, utterly...perfect.

Oliver's gasp as he pulled away brought Haya's eyes open; he stared at the other man, drawing in a ragged breath of his own. He noticed, distantly, that he was trembling and that Oliver's hands on him were trembling too.

But when Oliver spoke, it seemed to break the spell that he'd been under.

"O-oh dear lords above,,,

Haya licked his lips, then closed his eyes, feeling tears rush to the surface. Had Oliver not wanted to kiss him? Had he misread the signals? He tried to find his voice and failed as a tremendous wave of embarassed misery swept over him. Had he just...

"O..I'm...s...sorry..." he whispered, dropping his head. "Oliver..." He couldn't look at Oliver's eyes or face; if he did, he'd probably burst into tears of mortified shame. He'd htought...but maybe...god, what had he done?

[oliver]

"O..I'm...s...sorry...Oliver..."

His distress was tangible, and it cut through him like the sword of bitter truth. Oliver's logical mind told him that now was the perfect time to end this charade, this ridiculous hope he was putting in the hands of another mortal. Just like he had with Adrian; given him hope that somehow, it could work between a mortal and a vampire. And to make matters more complicated, Hayaki didn't even know that he had just kissed the lips of a murderer, a killer by nature. It didn't matter that he never hunted tasted human blood ever again, he'd already done so once, and that was a crime he'd never be able to erase from his memory.

But how could he deny this man? This lost soul with whom he'd become very fond of within a matter of days, hours even. The world had already dealt him such a harsh blow, would Oliver be responsible for dealing the next? It would be worse than what those wolves in human clothing had done to him, the betrayal and rejection.
No.
He couldn't do it.

"M-master Hayaki, p-please..." He whispered soothingly, making soft hushing noises to calm the erratic heartbeat that pounded against his chest, "Don't torment yourself so."

A soft kiss, initiated by himself, was placed on his forehead before resting his own against Hayaki's, hands curling at the back of his neck.
"Don't be sad."