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It was late when Hans heard the floor boards of his room creak beneath the gentle pattering of rain. His eyes did not snap open in alarm and instead they fluttered open lazily. The room was dark; the light of the full moon outside obscured by clouds that only allowed a little light to filter in. A low, quiet rumble echoed somewhere in the distance. A storm was coming. Still, even in the black of night, he could make out a shape sitting on the edge of the bed on the far side of the room.
"Henry…?" He mumbled, his words thick with sleep as he pushed himself up on one arm and rubbed his eyes with the other hand. "Where the hell have you been? Musa said the confinement at Sedletz was over. You should have been back days ago."
He was answered with silence. There was no groan of the mattress opposite of him to indicate movement that he could not see. With a frown, Hans swung his legs over the edge of his own small bed and only when his bare feet hit the floor did Henry finally speak.
"Sorry, sir. I… Got held up."
Hans paused. Henry hadn't called him "sir" in private in weeks. And his voice sounded off. It wasn't croaky or weak, like he'd expect if Henry was sick. No, it was almost… higher. Sharper. Clearer. Not by much, but enough for it to make a crease appear between Hans's brows.
"Are you alright?" He asked as he rose to his feet. "Did you get sick too? Dammit, Henry, you shouldn't have—"
"Don't," Henry said, his words snapping quickly past his teeth and stopping Hans before he could even reach the table between their two beds.
"For the love of God… You'd best pray you don’t get the rest of us ill!" Hans sighed irritably. He placed his hands on his hips and glanced at Henry, their closed door, then Henry again. "Should I fetch Godwin? Or maybe Musa?"
"No. I didn't… I'm not sick," Henry tried to explain.
"Then why —"
"You should sit down. No, not there, on the bed," Henry said when Hans began to sit at the table.
"Why can't I—"
"Hans. Please."
Hans mouth set into a tight, thin line, but he stood and moved back to sit on his bed by the door as Henry requested.
"Something happened. When I was at the monastery…" Henry began. "The crypt beneath, it… it held something."
"Oh God," Hans groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Was the plague rumour true?"
"… No. But, there was something else. Something… unnatural."
Hans blinked and Henry was on his feet. The movement was so quick he blinked again in confusion. Henry was still in shadow, so perhaps it hadn't happened as quickly as he thought. He watched as Henry took a stiff step forward, then another, his movements slower now, almost cautious. Before he reached the table and the little light that the moon offered, he stopped. The rain was coming down a little harder than it had before and Hans could hear another low rumble, deeper and closer than the last, after a faint flicker of lightning.
"I've only come to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" Hans asked. "What the fuck do you mean 'goodbye'?"
"I'm not the same man I was when I left."
Hans's expression melted from questioning and vexed into something more akin to despair as he bowed his head. Fuck. The thought of Henry coming to regret what happened in Suchdol had lingered in the back of his mind for the last couple of weeks. He knew there had to be reason Henry's initial reaction to his kiss was to push him away. And that look he had given him… Fuck. He'd pushed things too far. Henry locking the door and coming back… It had not been done for the same reasons. He didn't want to think that it would be true, but…
"Hal, I… If this is about the… encouragement I offered before, in Suchdol, I —"
"It's not that," Henry said, his words quick again and softer than before. "I've changed. But I still care about you."
Hans reluctantly raised his head to look at the dark outline of Henry. He could tell from the way he stood that his posture was straight and rigid, yet he could not tell if his words were the truth. Then, a flash of bright light entered the room as Henry took a step forward, followed by a loud crack of thunder. It was the first glimpse of him that Hans had gotten and it made his heart thud hard once against his ribs.
His friend had changed, just as he said, but somehow he still looked the same. His hair was still dark but fuller. His jawline looked sharper, more defined. Henry had always been an attractive man but now the only word that came to Hans's mind was "beautiful". He was reminded of the faces carved in wood and stone of angels and saints he'd seen in church —ethereal and unearthly. However, above all, it was his eyes that captured his own.
Instead of the deep, dark blue that he'd become familiar with over the last few months, they were lighter. Brighter. If Hans didn't know better, he'd say there was a glow about them, like the fireflies that flickered outside the tavern. The skin around them seemed darker than usual too, more sunken, like they had been during their days under siege.
Hans began to stand again but Henry raised a hand. "Don't," he said, echoing his statement from earlier, and Hans paused.
"What happened?"
"I was attacked in the crypt by some… monster. And when I woke up in the infirmary, I…" he trailed off, his eyes flickering off to the side to look out the window. "I killed one of the monks."
"Jesus Christ," Hans breathed. "Why?"
"I was hungry. The hunger burned in my throat and clawed at my stomach, more than it ever did when we were starving in Suchdol. I could hear the blood pump through his veins, slow and steady with each beat of his heart. I could smell it's metallic sweetness. It called to me. As yours does now." Those unsettling, alluring eyes shifted back to Hans, who he felt his mouth go dry. "That's why I've come to say goodbye. I couldn't leave without a word. But I don't want to hurt you."
Hans pressed his lips together before slowly rising to his feet. This time Henry did not protest, he merely watched Hans cross the room with those eyes. When he was close enough that he could touch Henry, lighting flashed and he could see a deep red that was settled in the lines of Henry's lips and smeared near the corners of his mouth.
"I'm not afraid of you," Hans said quietly, reaching out to gently place his hand against Henry's cheek. It was smoother than he expected, no stubble or texture of any kind. It felt as if he were touching a marble effigy, like his palm was pressed to cool stone rather than warm flesh. "I'm more afraid of losing you. I don't want to say goodbye. I don't care what happened."
Henry inhaled sharply, his head turning in Hans's hand until his nose grazed against the inside of Hans's wrist. When he spoke, his lips brushed softly against the delicate skin there. It was then that Hans noticed Henry's teeth, his canines, seemed sharper than before. Like a wolf. It made a shiver crawl down his spine, more than Henry's words did, and not in fear. "I'm already gone. I'll lose control."
"You won't," Hans said, his hand grabbing Henry's chin and forcing his head up so their eyes could meet. "I still trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"I don't care."
"Hans —"
"Stop," Hans said sharply. "I'm tired of being told what to do. I don't have much freedom of choice, but I'm choosing you. I will always choose you."
Before Hans could say another word, Henry was no longer in front of him. Instead, strong arms were around him and his bare back was pressed against Henry's firm, solid chest. At first, he thought he could feel the cold, smooth steel of Henry's cuirass beneath his tunic, but it didn't take him long to realize that Henry had not been wearing any armor. Before he could say anything, Henry dragged his lips over the curve of Hans's shoulder and he closed his eyes, melting into his lover's touch.
"I thought I was stronger," Henry mumbled against his skin, more to himself than Hans, and his voice was strained. "I want to taste you."
"Are you ever not hungry?" Hans reached up behind him, threading his fingers through Henry's thick hair as he tilted his head back. His other hand took one of Henry's and began to guide it down over his stomach.
Hans felt Henry's lips curl and teeth grazed against his shoulder, causing Hans to gasps sharply and Henry chuckled darkly. "Not anymore. This hunger never wanes. But it's not this I want..." he said as his hand ghosted over the hose between Hans's legs.
Hans eyes opened and he tried to glance at Henry out of the corner of his eye, but all he could see was a mass of soft dark hair. He could hear Henry inhale, slow and deep, as his nose pressed against the curve of Hans's neck. His hand was splayed over Hans's stomach as it slowly traveled back up. His fingers brushing over a nipple as it passed before they wrapped around his throat. Had it been anyone else, Hans would have froze in fear at the mere thought of something around his neck but not with Henry.
"Then what…" Hans began, his voice no more than a whisper, as Henry guided his head to the side.
"Do you still trust me?" Henry's voice was a growl, a rumbling in his chest that Hans could feel against his back.
"Yes," he breathed, then when he felt Henry's tongue drag up the side of his neck, he gasped and curled his fingers tighter in Henry's hair. "Yes. Always."
"Then forgive me," he said, as if in confession, before his lips parted and his teeth sunk into the warm, soft flesh between Hans's neck and shoulder.