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There were two lighthouses visible from the shores of Night Island. Their beams glittered in asynchronous loops across the water.
Daniel’s bare feet had sunk into the wet sand where he stood, transfixed. Cool water brushed against him as the tide pushed forward, but he paid it no mind. Just days ago, this would not have been sustainable. He’d have grown stiff or cold, tired or bored.
Now, he could do this for hours. He had done this for hours.
“Daniel.”
He turned to see his maker standing up the beach, hands shoved into the pockets of his gray slacks, hair whipping in the wind.
The sheer sight of him delighted Daniel, and he laughed, joy bubbling outward. His emotions seemed particularly close to the surface these nights, as though he was full to the brim with feeling, and any new stimulus might provoke an exclamation, laughter or tears in equal measure.
He wasn’t sure if this was a feature of vampirism that neither Armand nor Louis had mentioned, or something unique unto himself.
Armand held a hand out, and Daniel came as beckoned.
“What has captured your attention, beloved?”
Daniel moved to stand behind him, wrapping Armand up in his arms so that they both faced the waves.
“The lighthouses, see? I never noticed that second one before.”
“You couldn’t have noticed it before,” Armand said. “Your eyesight has improved.”
Daniel laughed again.
Enhanced eyesight, like a superhero in a comic book. What a thing.
“Don’t you feel like if you just look long enough, they’ll sync up?”
Armand tipped his head to rest against Daniel’s shoulder where it bracketed his body. He slid his hands down Daniel’s forearms, then tangled their fingers together, stroking a thumb over the knuckles.
Daniel hummed, pleased. He’d missed being the sole focus of Armand’s attention.
His immortal life had, thus far, been a crowded one. Their villa, once a fortress built for two, was filled to the brim with vampires, each with their own stories, and unlike his maker, these new vampires happily indulged his questions. So Daniel could hardly complain.
Still, it wasn’t exactly what he had pictured.
All his fantasies of vampirism involved twining his existence so closely with Armand’s that they would never be parted. The long days spent alone, waiting for nightfall, would be a thing of the past, as would that periodic itch he felt to escape.
But things hadn’t actually changed all that much.
Armand seemed terribly busy, or at least preoccupied, with all their new house guests, and Daniel found himself wandering alone as much now as ever.
Worse still, they weren’t even sleeping together! Every vampire needed his own coffin, Armand insisted. And besides, Daniel felt the pull of the sun well before Armand did and took longer to wake. It didn’t make sense for them to share a coffin, Armand insisted, no matter how much Daniel protested.
“You haven’t eaten tonight,” Armand said, pulling Daniel from his musings.
He was looking down at Daniel’s hands which were, admittedly, drawn and pale from the lack of blood. As young as he was, the effects of blood drinking seemed to show themselves and then fade just as fast.
Daniel suppressed the urge to sigh. Feeding. Another sore point in his new immortal life. In fairness, it had been a sore point in his mortal one as well.
“Not yet,” Daniel said, with all the enthusiasm of a kid being asked if they’d finished their homework. “But I will.”
“You should feed early in the night, so that you can be certain your needs are met before any distractions occur.”
Daniel turned his face to press into the downy bed of Armand’s hair and forced himself to relax.
“Yeah, well. A little urgency helps. And you know delayed gratification has always been my thing.”
An attempt at a joke, a little reminder of the games they used to play, back when Daniel’s body craved things besides blood.
“I suppose I should’ve known,” Armand said. “Shall I resume preparing your meals then? Perhaps I’ll have to provide you with an entire buffet, like I did at our very first dinner together.”
Daniel scoffed and tried releasing his hold on Armand, but Armand didn’t unclasp their hands. Daniel took a step back, and Armand turned to face him.
“It’s not an issue, Armand. I can handle feeding myself, for fuck’s sake.”
Armand just looked at him with his usual blank face, dark wide eyes staring fixedly.
“I never said you could not.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Well… are you going to feed now?”
“Armand!”
“There remains three hours til dawn, Daniel. If you do not go now there won’t be adequate time to clean up after your kill and you will find yourself somewhere other than your coffin at sunrise. Come, I’ll accompany you.”
“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood for another lesson from Professor Armand, right now.”
“Professor Armand?”
“Yeah. Strictest fucking teacher I’ve ever had, reams me out constantly, and not even in the fun way.”
“Daniel.”
“Fine, yeah, ok,” he rolled his eyes, “I am hungry, let's go.”
He tried to walk back up the beach, but Armand stood firm, still clasping his hand, holding fast. No matter how much stronger and more powerful Daniel was now, Armand still – would always, perhaps – have him beat.
“To what are you referring?”
Daniel gave up pulling against the anchor holding him back. The water shone behind Armand, captivating black light, and if he let himself, Daniel could become mesmerized again by how beautiful it all was: Armand, the night, them here together.
He didn’t let himself.
“You mean you don’t know?”
Armand’s jaw clenched, and he looked away before returning with a more placid expression.
“No Daniel. In case you forgot, I can’t read your mind anymore.”
He hissed the last bit, tone completely at odds with the serene face he was attempting to project. It was almost enough to make Daniel smile, the way Armand just couldn’t help but reveal the monster behind that angelic face.
“Well you shouldn’t need to read my mind to remember your own words. Didn’t you say I was hard to teach?”
Armand blinked back at him. It only added fuel to Daniel’s growing rage.
“And you don’t need to be a mind reader to know that no one enjoys being criticized every goddamn second of the day!”
“I have certainly not been criticizing you with any sort of frequency, we’ve barely even spoken of late,” he added pointedly.
“Exactly!” Daniel exploded. He must have caught Armand off guard, because his hand easily slipped from his grasp now.
“We’ve barely talked. For fuck’s sake, we don’t even sleep together. Don’t you remember how many times I'd try to get you to stay just a little bit longer before sunrise. And now we literally could just do that, and you have us sleeping in separate coffins!”
“This again? Vampires should have their own coffins, Daniel. That is not something I have artificed to inconvenience you.”
“All I wanted was to be with you! To do everything together. I thought it would be like it was, but better.”
“Two weeks ago you were dying in the street because you would rather be anywhere else than with me. How quickly you rewrite the past.”
The emotion in Armand’s voice, after the steely terseness that had infected all of his prior utterances, struck Daniel silent.
He simply stood there breathing hard, a reflex not yet shed from a lifetime where the added oxygen might’ve helped. Finally Armand spoke.
“I haven’t done this before, as you well know.”
“And you think I have?”
“I know you have not, and so I have been trying to offer counsel. For all the good that seems to have done. Would you have stood here staring at the stars til dawn if I hadn’t broken your focus?”
“No,” Daniel snapped.
And he wouldn’t have. Not til dawn.
But… he might have had to skip dinner. Or else feed hastily, like he’d done a couple nights before, offing a partier boarding a return ferry, despite what everyone kept saying about the dangers of feeding from the island's visitors.
They stared at each other, caught in a standoff. Daniel fumed, then, humiliatingly, felt his eyes prickle with tears.
This was supposed to be good. Better than good. This was all he’d ever wanted; he was immortal, he had superpowers, and he was with Armand.
So why did things keep feeling so bad? Why did they keep fighting? Wasn’t that all supposed to be over, now that he had what he wanted, now that that hurdle was cleared.
He swiped angrily at the tears then startled when he caught sight of the blood staining his fingers. He’d forgotten about that part.
He lifted his hand up to his face and tilted it to inspect the color.
Unbidden, Lady Macbeth popped into his head. Out, out, damn spot.
“Daniel.” Armand appeared in front of him and took his hand, disappearing the drops of blood between their palms like he hadn’t even noticed. “I’m hungry too; we’ll both feed.”
Daniel swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to the side, averting his gaze.
“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”
Feeding was an uneventful experience, in the end. It seemed Armand was as uninterested as he was in reigniting any conflict after the dust up on the beach, and they both went their separate ways once back at the villa.
Daniel had dressed for sleep – some vampires didn’t bother, but he still saw the merit in pajamas – and had just lifted the lid off his coffin when Armand entered his crypt.
“You said we never share a coffin as though that was a grievance you still carry. Is that so?”
Without the windup of their earlier fight, Daniel felt shy. It seemed silly to mention now.
“I mean, yeah. I thought we would, is all.” He looked down at his coffin, fiddling with a button sewn into the lining of the lid. “I mean, you remember how many times I’d try to get you to stay through the day, back before. Figured you would now that there’s no reason not to. That’s all.”
“You’ve experienced the death sleep, Daniel, you know it’s unlike what mortals experience. We are dead until sunset – it’s pointless to share a coffin; you can’t enjoy it.”
“I know.”
“The sun calls to you well before it calls me.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and climbed into his coffin.
“Yep. Pointless. I get it. It’s fine.”
He laid down and reached up for the coffin lid, prepared to pull it shut and end this conversation.
In an instant, Armand was standing next to the coffin, gazing down at him.
“But you would like to, regardless.”
“Yeah, but it’s fine. You’re right. Just being stupid.”
Armand continued to stand there, staring down at him, an inscrutable expression fixed across his face. Daniel, flat on his back, enclosed in the four walls of the coffin Armand himself had selected for him, fought the urge to look away first.
Then without a word, Armand stepped into the coffin.
“Oh, uh, Armand…”
“If you want to share a coffin, you have to make room.”
Daniel scooted back as best he could, and Armand lowered himself gracefully to lie besides him. They were touching by sheer lack of space, and Daniel tried to press himself back into the coffin’s padded lining.
“C’mon man, it’s fine. You just said you don’t want to,” he said. Armand’s face was so close that, had he still been mortal, he’d have crossed his eyes to see him. He let his eyes fall shut anyway.
“I said no such thing.”
Daniel was struggling to maintain this fight, the sun must surely be lightening the sky by now.
“I get it Armand, it’s fine.”
He felt nimble fingers card through his hair.
“Do you know how many times we’ve lain just like this, and you’ve drifted off to sleep?” Armand asked, voice hushed.
“How many?”
Daniel’s voice came out a slow mumble, and he sunk into oblivion before he could hear the answer. He had the vaguest impression of being cradled by something more than unconsciousness, but he was out before he could process it. In life, he’d been a terrible sleeper. Yet another gift this second life had given him, that he never had to struggle to rest anymore.
Daniel awoke in starts and fits, floating in a hazy sense of contentment before he realized where he was. Squished in a dark box with Armand’s weight draped across him.
“You stayed.”
Armand’s cheek was pressed against his chest where once his heart might have beat. He didn’t look up when he replied, “I did.”
“Even though it’s pointless.”
“Even so.”