It had started to rain by the time they finished their drinks and their conversations. Henry was warming to Edward's desires for life: I don't see the purpose of going on living. Henry had belly ached to Edward, and in reply Edward told him how much he needed him. He admitted to being sleepy for his entire life—

"There was a cloud over my vision that made me forget about you, but one day I saw you in a dream, and I had to find you." Edward's voice was deep and thoughtful. "I didn't realize everything that I had dreamt was real." His voice trailed off in wonder as he looked into Henry's grey eyes.

Outside, they stood under the overhang of the bar, watching as the rain started to slow. Edward turned his head, so his nose was resting on Henry's shoulder, and without any thought, he reached to caress his spotless skin.

Upon feeling his touch, Henry jolted and pulled away. "Sorry," Henry looked to Edward's surprised look of embarrassment. "It's just that, Veronica would use her blood to fix my scars." He adjusted his jacket. "I wanted her to stop thinking that I had to be perfect all the time. I'm most human when I have scars—I feel like."

He sighed, regaining the strength to go on with Edward's questionable and serious gaze on him. "Humans can't be perfect because that's impossible, but yet that's what makes them so beautiful."

He looked to Edward who had an innocent look of amazement. "I want my soul to feel beautiful without the need to maintain perfection."

"I totally agree." He said quietly. "I think you're perfect the way you are—sorry—I mean," He shook his head and laughed, "You're easy to like with your flaws and the aspects that make you who you are."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Edward put his hands into his pockets and looked out into the road. "Who's Veronica to you anyways?"

"You don't remember Veronica?"

Edward interjected, "No, I do, but she was always with you, and you two lived together, and I'm not sure if I should be worried, or."

"Worried? Worried about what?" Henry mocked.

Edward bounced his head in suggestion. "You two lived together and have been together for a while. Besides, all Veronica ever told me was that she was a servant to you."

"Familiar," Henry corrected.

"Yes, whatever, but if she's still around then I'm worried that what happened in 1790 will happen again. I—I loved the idea of her immortality, not her, I think."

Before Edward could dig himself into a hole he could not get out of, Henry pulled him into to rain, and together they walked back home to his apartment. Besides, he knew humans fell for an immortal's charm—especially someone as flawless as the Virgin Mary.

"This is me." Henry let go of Edward's arm.

"Can I come up?" Edward asked.

Henry smiled at Edward's eagerness. "Goodnight, Mr. Jones."

Edward crossed his arms in frustration and sauntered off down the street. Instead of going up, Henry peered around the doorway to watch Edward's figure slowly shrink as he walked off.

He followed him in the night to his apartment. From afar, Henry saw Edward enter the tall building and took note which light came on. There, and not a few minutes later did it turn off. Looking around, Henry made sure no one was looking as he skipped across the street in one fell swoop, and in one bound he climbed the side of the building to the ledge where he could peak into Edward's bedroom.

He was too still to be alive, Henry thought. He listened to Edward's breathing as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. He rested still which was when Henry thought he'd died. Then, he inhaled again, and exhaled.

Having his nerves shot from wondering if Edward had passed, Henry slouched against the windowsill and lit a cigarette. He stared at the full moon that he basked in: There was no more pain, he marveled, and there was no more fear of burning and therefore ruining his skin. No fear from a lack of perfection.

A crack and shift of the windowsill emanated into the dark stillness of the night and frightened Henry.

Edward's head popped out of the window, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was watching over you while you slept." Henry leaned against the wall all cool and unbothered.

Edward scoffed and climbed back into his bedroom. His bed was pushed against the wall where he laid. Curious, Henry turned and looked into his room. He flicked his cigarette and stared at his shadow casting across Edward's body. Slowly, Edward sat up and leaned to the window into Henry's chest. He grabbed a hold of Henry by his shirt and pulled him into his room, laying his back on the bed. Henry sat up and pushed Edward into the wall where he wrapped his arms around him and shoved his face into the nape of Edward's neck. A gasp escaped Edward's mouth as he tangled his fingers into his hair.

He felt Henry's watery tongue lick his throbbing carotid before Henry, all together pushed him away and disappeared out the window. Edward scrambled from his bed to the windowsill, shoving his upper body to scan the dead streets of New York, but there was no one there and not even a trace that Henry was even there to begin with.

—————

All weekend, Edward sat in his apartment space wondering if what happened that Friday night was real or not. He came into work that Monday morning petrified of what Henry thought of him. He knew Henry wanted to bite him that night and would have let him if he continued. He was disappointed that he got worked up for nothing. No—he was pissed.

"HENRY!" Edward steamrolled down the hall from his office, passing everyone in the room with their wide-eyed gaze of terror.

Henry stood with his hands full of papers at the front of his office. He was pushed into the room by Edward's firm hand. Edward slammed the door behind him and let go of Henry as he escaped to his desk.

"You came to my apartment."

Henry sat on the edge of the table silent.

"Why did you come to my apartment?"

He shifted his weight, so he wasn't slouching. "I thought to watch over you while you slept."

"Why?" Edward pressed. He was out of breath, taking in big amounts of air steadily.

Gulping, Henry looked around the room, avoiding Edward's fierce eyes. "I thought to protect you, make sure you were safe while you slept."

There was a long paused as Edward gathered his breath and held it. . .Henry fussed with his papers.

"Kiss me."

Henry rubbed his ears. "What?"

"Kiss—me." Edward reached for him, pulling Henry by his tie to the corner behind the door and firmly pressed his lips to his.

Henry made a muffled sound in astonishment of what Edward was doing. As Edward kissed him, he held onto him and kissed him back harder. Edward yelped and pulled back. His lower lip busted and had blood dribbling down his chin. Henry moved to wipe it off with his thumb. With a loud shuffle from the door, Angela pushed through looking down at her clipboard.

"These just came in, Henry, oh." She looked up with today's newspaper in her hands. "Mr. Jones, I didn't realize you were in here."

Edward straightened his suit and pushed past her, "Don't worry, I was just on my way out."

He turned to Henry who scrunched his face, hiding his excitement. Flustered, Edward mumbled as he bent his head low walking out into the hallway. The moment he left, Henry pulled a sheet of paper from the stack on his desk and scrawled on it. He folded it and handed it to Angela.

"Give this to Edward when you have the chance."

Angela swapped the newspaper with the folded letter. Her face contorted with a mix of confusion and disgust. "Okay?" She said frustrated.

Mr. Jones was just in here. Her mind filled with her disparaging thoughts. What the hell is going on? She walked out, closing Henry's door and peaked under the flap. Angela gasped, and at first was angered, but then realized it wasn't addressed to her. Four haphazard letters scrawled in ink yelled at her reading:

S L U T

~~~~~~

It had taken a few hours for Angela to come back with a note in a plain office envelope to Henry. At the time, he was marveling over his editorial on ecstasy.

"For you," Angela lifted the envelope slightly above his desk before dropping it and letting it fall with a nice thump. She left before he could inquire. Putting down his newspaper, Henry pulled out the letter and proceeded to read it.

"Don't call me the slut when I know you want me to dig into your—"

He only got through the first few words before he flushed a bright pink and crumpled the paper in his fists. Holding his hand to his mouth, he dropped the paper onto his desk. Henry fidgeted with his legs, taking the back of his heel and itching his inner thigh. The crumpled paper, and its hot searing words, were dense enough to form a black hole. And it did! It sucked all of his attention to it, and he had to wonder, then, if anyone knew of its contents. Embarrassment crept up his neck, burying him in guilt.

He picked up the ball of paper and tossed it to his trash can by the open window. It was another hot and lustrous day, and a slight breeze was filtering through the small opening. The crumpled paper landed on the windowsill, overlooking New York.

Yet, Edward's words burned in the back of his head.

Chapter 14

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