OTA

[kersen]

Kersen sometimes did this thing where when he was feeling his worst, he tried to look his best. Elaborate drag when he was the most down, for example. Like maybe he could force cheerfulness with sequins and lipstick.

This time, he couldn't seem to muster up the energy for drag, though. What "look" said 'I just found out a lover is a serial killer'? Particularly coupled with 'what does this say about my taste in men'? Finally, he'd just gone with the forced cheerfulness: dark purple leather pants and a shirt (gifted to him by an employee years ago) that read OF COURSE I'M PRO-GAY, DO YOU THINK I WORK THIS HARD TO BE AN AMATEUR GAY in bright rainbow colors.

... also he'd started smoking again. Which was a little ironic since he was pretty sure that any effect they had on him was purely psychosomatic.

However, at the moment he was having a smoke break outside his bar. It was fairly early yet, just past 9pm. The streets were still full, lively with people leaving restaurants and shops, heading into bars and theaters. He liked this time of night, where the world was still alive. Wished he could experience more of it.

Some asshole walking by threw a homophobic slur at him, and he was briefly, stupidly tempted to flash his fangs as a threat. Instead he said, "The most fabulous you'll ever see, honey," and flicked the cigarette to the ground. Luckily it was the cowardly sort of asshole, and he just stuck up his middle finger and kept walking.

Comments

[trustearned]

"Calling me Michael would be the best way for you to show me your affection," Michael assured him dryly. It was completely true.

[kersen]

"Michael," said Kersen, precisely the same way he would say 'honey.' He curled his fingers through Michael's.

[trustearned]

"You're in a mood," Michael remarked, still not reacting to Kersen's hand, letting him do as he pleased with his fingers.

[kersen]

Kersen's face fell a bit, and he pulled his hand away, drawing his fingers through his hair.

"Sorry."

[trustearned]

"It's nothing to apologise for," Michael answered, as evenly as he had said the previous sentence.

[kersen]

"Sometimes I forget that you don't really want - " Kersen's voice trailed off.

"I'm going to get a drink. Can I get you something?"

[trustearned]

Michael held his gaze, and asked, "Can we get it in your office?"

[kersen]

"Sure, yes," Kersen said, nodding, and should have realized that Michael would be more comfortable away from all these people. He stood, and led the way back to his office.

[trustearned]

Michael knocked back the rest of his whisky and abandoned the empty glass on the table as he followed Kersen into the back. He waited for Kersen to pour them both a glass, and took his own, then only asked, "What don't I really want?"

[kersen]

Kersen took a drink out of his own glass, and then shrugged and said quietly, "Affection?"

[trustearned]

Michael took a drink himself. Then he set the glass down, stepped inside Kersen's personal space, cupped his face with one hand, and kissed him as he had often kissed him - during sex, or after sex, for the most part. Right before sex. It was not the first time he kissed Kersen like this - with feeling - but it was the first time he was doing to make this point.

When the kiss broke, he corrected Kersen's statement to, "Public displays of."

[kersen]

Kersen was a little breathless at the end of the kiss... and he actually looked a bit sheepish.

"Right," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

[trustearned]

Michael held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, and stepped back to retrieve his drink.

[kersen]

Kersen took a breath, watching him.

"I know I've been... weird, lately," he finally said. "It's this thing with Hannibal. I just can't get it out of my head."

[trustearned]

"That's understandable," Michael replied, although he personally wasn't troubled. He knew that that was abnormal.

[kersen]

"And Bonnie... it's made me think about Garrett more." His maker. "It's been over a year since I've heard a peep from him. As far as I can tell, no dead bodies of men who look like me showing up anywhere. I feel like it's only a matter of time before he's back."

[trustearned]

"If you tell me more about him, I can put feelers out," Michael offered. He would hate to be surprised by this vampire.

[kersen]

"He's old..." Kersen said. "Really fucking old. Not as old as Eric, I don't think, but probably close. I don't think Garrett Calderwood was his name originally, it's probably something that he adopted along the way. Um." He hesitated. "I have a picture of him."

[trustearned]

Michael nodded. "Has he always used that name, that you know of?"

[kersen]

"It's what he has primarily used since I've known him, so hundreds of years - but he may have aliases at times."

He moved to the closet, where he had a number of odds and ends tucked away. He wasn't sure why he had this here rather than at his house. Perhaps so he wasn't tempted to actually hang it anywhere. He pulled out a bag that had a few rolled pieces of canvas in it. He peered into them, and then took the tie off of one and unrolled it.

It was a painting of a strikingly handsome man with dark blonde hair that fell to his shoulders, and crisp blue eyes. He was dressed in a brilliant blue suit, the clothing dating this to perhaps the late 1800s. He was smiling, but there was something almost ominous to it. A knowing smile. A threatening smile. As if he were imparting a message to whomever he was smiling at. It was, Kersen thought, how one might imagine the portrait of Dorian Gray.

[trustearned]

Michael simply pulled out his mobile, fiddled with the camera settings, then took a picture of the painting without comment. He also typed out the name Kersen had given him, then asked, "Any other name you remember?"

[kersen]

"No," said Kersen quietly, his eyes on the painting for a moment, and then he looked away as if it pained him.

[trustearned]

Michael put his phone away, and stepped over to lay a hand on Kersen's shoulder, without saying anything.

[kersen]

One of the things that was bothering Kersen was, honestly, what patterns revealed about his taste in men. But he couldn't say that to Michael, couldn't put him in the same category as killers like them... but on the other hand...

So instead what he said, his voice quiet, was, "I did a lot of very bad things for him."

[trustearned]

Michael had very little idea how to deal with a guilty conscience. So instead of saying anything, he slid his hand over to Kersen's nape, telling him without words that he was there for him.