Dentes

"You could be my unintended. Choice to live my life extended. You could be the one I'll always love. You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions. You could be the one I'll always love.

I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before."

Unintended, by Muse

March 2, 1904

It was upon the closing of the nineteenth century that he began to forget the reason for which he’d been fighting. Every day that passed, whether sunny or clouded, every night, every war, everything replaced the memories of a long time ago. His own body, so new and so dead, began to take priority. Games, played with minds far more delicate than his, became his soul source of entertainment. His goals were lost, and for the first time he could remember in his life, he was happy.

Until he became miserable once more.

He’d been stuck in a road-side motel for the past week, choosing to barricade himself from the outside totally instead of staying by day and leaving by night. Complete seclusion drew far less attention than that given to a night owl. As promised, the sudden surge of heat and mugginess had finally given way to storm clouds, dark and gray. That was when he set off once more.

He’d taken a trolley to Cambridge, where he’d taken up residence for a month. The atmosphere had been enjoyable, but for the first time he’d found that the people there were too smart for their own good. Too many scholars, both young and old, asking him questions about his heritage which led to him giving answers he had no reasonable right to know. Suspicion grew, and after he began to feel at least one set of eyes on him at all times, he left, on foot, towards London.

He exchanged his savings for pounds just outside of Warminster, and pulled it all together into a small leather pouch in his bag to be put into an account once he reached the city. In his pack was also five day’s worth of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and a large envelope with assorted maps he’d collected from across Europe. Since he was traveling, he wasn’t under enough surveillance to bother with bringing food with him as cover-up.

The faint light you could see behind thick cloud cover had dipped below the horizon well over an hour ago when he first saw the city’s lights. He had just been weighing the benefits of doubling back to the last town he been in to stay at the inn for the night. His legs weren’t weary, but his mind was starting to get dizzy.

There were curses ahead of him. His ears picked up the sound of scuffling, and he frowned. He had no interest in muggers tonight, nor for their victims. He’d stopped at the top of an incline, and was considering taking a wide-circle around from where he stood when he noticed that, in the considerably small distance, there was just one person, crouching down to the ground. Papers scattered widely around the ground, an upturned briefcase. He scoffed. Not a band of misfits, just a klutz who after all his years of life hadn’t perfected the art of walking. He continued walking.

He estimated himself within hearing distance of the human by the time he straightened up, briefcase in hand. He followed at a respectable distance, guessing that this man also was heading to the city. It couldn’t hurt to find the easiest way in. Then he wondered if this could be considered stalking, and tried to remember if humans generally let the unaware know of their presence. He was pretty sure they did, but was too tired to keep up a proper human charade.

He looked shorter by about a head, but was walking considerably faster. He felt vaguely concerned that he’d fall again. He knew from experience just how fragile human bodies could be. One wrong fall could lead to a crutch in twenty years.

The human was quite far ahead of him when he fell for the second time, and he was starting to wonder if he was intoxicated. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spotted a drunken idiot wondering about the streets. But the boy seemed to be quite sober judging by his generally steady gate, the curses flowing coherently from his mouth a testament to that. He drew closer, wondering if it was too inhuman to not offer help now that he’d witnessed a second fall. Moments later, he wondered if he’d jinxed himself with the drunk comment.

There was dirt path, reinforced with cobblestone borders, feet from the blond man. The horse-drawn cart, carrying a large assortment of wooden crates, should have been safe out of his way as he re-gathered his papers. The only problem was that he was not on the path, and very much heading straight towards the human he’d deemed frail not a minute ago.

When bored, he would pick up the occasional book. Not a scholarly one, but one he knew humans enjoyed reading for recreation. This was just like in those books. Except the klutz was clearly not a girl, he was not in love, time wasn’t slowing to a halt, and he had no clear reason in his mind for doing what he just did, but he did it anyway. Reasons came later. It would have looked suspicious to the driver had he not helped. This man was his ticket into finding easy access into the city. All excellent reasons. Unfortunately for him, he was too old to be able to fool himself into thinking those reasons came before he threw himself at the human like a insane moron, shoving him off the road. The cart might not even have hit him. He might have rolled out of the way. But the chance--just the chance--

And when the man groaned, it was like hearing a baby cry for the first time. Like you knew it would be alive, but waiting to hear the first noise… that was what relieved the worry, the nervousness. He was sincerely glad it was a groan, not a cry.

That’s when the reasons started formulated, but still, that they’d come after, that he’d bothered interfering, no matter how small, why start now, why start now?

“Fool,” he muttered to himself, and repeated it in his head for reinforcement. Fool. That’s what he was. Then blue eyes opened, making up for the black sky, and he murmured it under his breath again. Fool.

“Ugh.” He had a light voice, and when he spoke, it was free of the smoker’s rasp so many young men had these days, that he detested so much. “Damn.” A dirty mouth, but a clear-speaking one. “Not again.”

“Again?” he echoed, and wondered if he should have spoken. The young man started, scrabbling away from under him. He went back on his knees, blinking, suddenly realizing he’d been trapping him to the ground. Was this deserving of an apology? Or was saving his life enough?

“Sorry,” the man said, rubbing hair from out of his face. It was streaked with dirt, making him wonder what color it really was. “Can’t ever watch where I’m going.” His accent was similar to that of the locals he’d met on his way here. So this man was a Londoner?

“This happens often?” he asked, refusing any human being could be so clumsy. Or maybe he had poor vision in the dark?

“Yeah. The ports men can’t control themselves on weekend nights.” Not what he’d been talking about. “Plus I can’t see a think in the dark.” This comment was accompanied by a laugh as he bent down to gather the rest of his fallen papers.

The man looked up when he stood, and he thought that he should have at least stayed to help with the papers. It would have been the right thing to go. The human thing. But he was tired, very tired, and wanted to find the loft complex written on a sheet of paper in his back pocket. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the only worry on his mind to be whether it would be sunny or raining tomorrow.

“I am in a bit of a rush,” he said. He tried to force as much apology into his voice as he could, and was displeased to hear that it wasn’t much.

“Oh,” the human said, standing quickly to his feet. “Sorry,” he repeated. “Heading into the city?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the way there?”

“Yes,” he said tightly, suddenly wishing himself ridden of this man’s company. He was distracting him. Even worse, distracting him from the sleep he so desperately craved.

The man felt it his duty to explain anyway. “Just follow this road,” he said, “and when you come to the next fork, go right. There should still be a trolley service going.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “If you will excuse me…”

“Oh!“ the man started as if electrocuted. “Almost forgot. Name’s Naruto,” the blond man said, sticking out a hand, frowning and slowly lowering it when his rescuer didn’t take it. That was his right hand. Sasukeh couldn’t--

“Sasukeh,” he said in return, nodding stiffly before turning to leave, hopefully to never see the human again.

March 3, 1904

Until Sasuke stumbled out from the complex’s side door, nearly running head-first into a passerby. When he spotted a pair of blue eyes, unforgettable with their strange color, and tousled blond hair--blond now--he nearly groaned.

Naruto looked up at him, blinked, and grinned. “Sasuke!” He said it oddly, the vampire thought. Like there was a ‘kay’ instead of a ‘keh’. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You complete and utter fool. And Sasukeh couldn’t tell who he was insulting now.

--

“I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

Sasukeh nearly choked into his tea. And he wasn’t even drinking it. “I beg your pardon?”

Naruto grinned brazenly, taking a large gulp from his own cup. Without so much as an apology, he explained, “Your face is different. Your eyes are…” Naruto tried a gesture with his hand, but Sasukeh was lost as to what it could have meant. “And thin. Your face is thin. Where are you from, the East?”

Sasukeh frowned. He knew that many people in this area had never seen a Japanese man in reality, seeing only those ridiculous buck-toothed narrow-eyed copies in the daily. But still, no one had ever called him out on it.

“I apologize,” Naruto said suddenly, a light blush dusting over his nose. “It’s none of my business. I was curious.”

Sasukeh lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “I don’t mind.”

They sat outside of a local café. Just a few blocks away from his complex, Naruto told him. After being cornered on the street, Sasukeh found himself being cajoled into lunch with the younger man (“I never had a chance to thank you, you ran off so fast,”). A very one-sided lunch. Naruto was chewing his way through some sort of sandwich he obviously ordered quite often (the waitress brought it out without asking before bothering to take their drink orders) while Sasukeh pretended to enjoy the Earl Grey. He had a thousand excuses in mind to turn down the offer, but curiosity compelled him to stay. He couldn’t remember the last real conversation he’d had with a human in quite some time.

“So what brings you about London?” Naruto asked.

“Investment.” This was a pre-rehearsed response. His physical limitations kept him from obtaining steady employment, but after no many years and few investments, Sasukeh was able to come up with a sum of money more than enough to sustain a normal human for a lifetime.

“Invest in what?” Naruto asked.

Sasukeh was unsmiling as he said, “Hotels.”

“There are quite a few springing up,” Naruto agreed. “Department stores, too. They’re disgusting. My lady friends are quite pleased, though.”

Sasukeh hummed, eyeing Naruto’s half-full cup. Planning in his head how long it would take for him to be able to make a polite. Albeit final, dismissal of his company.

Seeming to read Sasukeh’s mind, Naruto drained the last drop of tea, leaving only the dregs behind before standing. “Ready?”

Sasuke nodded stiffly, standing up a bit too quickly. Naruto didn’t seem to notice. He left money on the table for his sandwich in their tea, waving Sasukeh off when he saw his hand traveling to his pocket. “My welcoming gift,” Naruto insisted.

It was a clever ploy, Sasukeh would realize later, once he thought about it a bit. Now that the young man had paid, it would be considered unnaturally rude to make an abrupt departure. Wordlessly, grudgingly, he followed Naruto down the street, like in the direction of his flat.

“Do you have family in the area?” Naruto asked, waving absent-mindedly at a man who nodded at him from the barber shop. “I’ve not seen anyone in the city who looks like you. Except maybe in the circus.” He grinned, his teeth glinting white. It was the first time Sasukeh had seen his teeth. His canines were particularly pointy, and this amused him.

“No,” he replied. “Do you live here with your family?”

The smile faded from Naruto’s face, and the blond averted his eyes. “No,” he said in a voice too airy. “They died a few years ago. Small pox.”

Sasukeh winced. The news of that had reached even him, as far as he’d been at the time. “I regret for your loss.”

It was Naruto’s turn to give a one-armed shrug. “Don’t fret over it,” he brushed off. “I’d already been kicked from the house by then. Next I heard of them was from the insurance collector.”

Sasukeh’s frown deepened. Money. It was a growing trend in more cultivated societies to accept it as number one priority. Personally, Sasukeh preferred barter trade. Not that he ever needed anything.

Sasukeh wanted to ask how much the collector had come after him for. This seemed to be a fairly industrial city, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. But it was none of his business and, really, he should set about finding the flat owner he’d been corresponding with over the past month about living arrangements. But Naruto was answering his unasked question.

“They actually could get not a pound from my wallet,” Naruto said, face lightening. “Turns out I got quite the inheritance.” Naruto met his eyes again, and Sasukeh felt relieved instead of unnerved, like he usually did when humans met his stare. He was well aware of how different his eyes were. But Naruto took it into stride, just as he had with his foreign appearance. “My father was the pastor of a Church in Soho.”

“Soho,” Sasukeh repeated, trying to remember if he’d been there before.

Naruto hummed. “Ever been there?”

“No,” Sasukeh said.

“Well, where have you been?” Naruto asked. The much younger man looked incredibly curious. Sasukeh easily recognized that gaze he was fixing upon him. It was that of a trapped man. Someone born with the heart to travel and a million other things keeping him down.

Sasukeh was about to answer when a single, slick rain drop slid from the arch of his cheekbone to the point of his chin. Glancing upwards, he saw that the sky had finally began to crack open. The street’s occupants scurried about faster, eager to find shelter before the impending storm drowned them out.

“I should be on my way,” Sasukeh said, glad for the excuse to leave. Not because Naruto’s presence was over-bearing. It was because with that single question--where have you been?--he wanted to find Naruto the nearest seat, sit him down and talk his ear off. I’ve been everywhere. Across Europe, across Asia, through the America’s, to Hell and back only I’ve never left, why would you want to hear about that--

“Do you fancy a visit to my loft?” Naruto offered. “I can make us some tea, and you can tell me of your travels.”

I’m not interested in your tea, I’m interested in your--

Sasukeh stopped his thoughts there. He had to go. Never before had he looked at a person and thought of their blood. He thought of them as sentient beings who were always getting lost at the most convenient of times, straying across his bath just as his belly began to ache with hunger. Lesser creatures. Pathetic creatures.

He was getting hungry. It was so dark. So why not--

“I don’t believe so,” Sasukeh managed, and he could tell from the slightly dejected look in Naruto’s eyes that his face had turned as cold as his voice. “I should be returning to my own home.”

“But it’s about to rain,” Naruto said needlessly. Pat pat patter. “Have a stay. You could--”

“It was nice to properly meet your acquaintance,” Sasukeh said quickly. He stuck his hand out, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Out of reflex, he used his uninjured hand. Naruto frowned, but went to shake it anyway. Undoubtedly he’d never shook with his left before.

“Perhaps I’ll see you around?” Naruto asked. There was so much hope in his voice it made Sasukeh wonder if that much wonder-lust in a body could be considered remotely legal.

Sasukeh nodded once, tipped his hat slightly at the front, and spun, walking away. He could feel Naruto’s eyes on him, heavy and hard, like diamond. Stiffening his shoulders, Sasukeh walked down a few streets, hand already reaching into his bag for the map of West End.

March 4, 1904

As expected, after several long days of travel Sasukeh’s travel-worn body fell into a fitful sleep. He fell asleep facing the one tiny window in his wall and he woke up in the exact same position.

He sat up straight on the bed, running a hand through his hair. He fiddled with the idea of using the public bath house located down the street, but decided that that venture was best left for night.

Looking out the tiny window, wishing for a larger one, Sasukeh thought to that day’s agenda. While his ‘investment’ answer had been a mere excuse at the time, it might be something worth looking into. It would give him an excuse to linger a bit longer--

Linger? Disgusted with himself, Sasukeh stood from his bed. Pathetic. One person shows interest and I make plans for a long-term stay. Pathetic.

He hadn’t bothered to unpack, and he pulled the only clean clothes he had left in his sack out and onto his body. He’d have to visit the dry cleaners. And a department store, for some new clothes.

There are so many being built. Surely they’re looking for co-founders…

He’s just a child, Sasukeh thought. A pathetic child with the worst case of wander-lust I’ve ever lain eyes on, but a child none-the-less.

But a nagging part of his brain, threatening to take over the other part when given half a chance, was telling him how useless it was to travel the world and then have no one to share it with. And here he’d been presented the perfect audience. A normal human with normal experiences. Someone to compare his own life to. Someone to make him feel--

What am I doing?

What’s the purpose?

Why not just di--

--worthwhile.

Familiar thoughts, desperate thoughts, and before he knew it he was depressed. This didn’t usually come until several months after he settled, when he’d learned all their was to know about the new culture he was in. That was the point which he usually packed up and left, taking everything valuable with him, throwing everything useless out.

And I say Naruto was wander-lust.

Sasukeh was outside half an hour later, looking up and down the street. It was busy, the open market not two blocks from his living quarters. He was about to head towards it, the idea of foreign goods tempting him from his pit of depression, a tug at his elbow stopped him.

Turning around, he was unsurprised to see Naruto there. He couldn’t stop the words that came from his mouth even if he tried. “Are you stalking me?”

To this accusation Naruto only laughed. “If by stalking you mean waiting for you to leave your loft,” his eyes glinted mischievously, “then yes.”

But when Naruto tugged at his wrist, showing no surprise at the undoubtedly cold temperature of his skin, into the nearest cafe and began to wheedle answers from him about Scotland, about France, about Germany, Sasukeh found that he didn’t really care.

July 29, 1904

“So would you say that they’re ahead of us?”

Sasukeh frowned slightly in thought, burying his hands in his pockets. Naruto was content to pop another chestnut in his mouth from the paper bag in his hand, which he’d cajoled Sasuke into buying for him (“Come on, I left my wallet at home! Have some pity!”). Brightly colored tents had sprung up across the grounds like weeds after a spring shower. Various bands spotted the area, their combined music making a pleasant backdrop to the chatter of the crowds. Naruto had been pleased to tell Sasukeh about the circus, for once having the chance to know something the foreigner did not. It amused Sasuke that Naruto still got the disappointed look on his face when he knew something about the city that the blond did not.

The traveling circus had set up over night, and Naruto had managed to convince Sasukeh into going with him. It was loud, it was bright, and it was crowded. All qualities Naruto adored, and qualities Sasukeh detested. He didn’t like seeing so many faces. Several of them he recognized as belonging to past victims, and there was something about knowing that part of each of them was in him that sent shivers wasting up his spine, his face scrunching up in distaste. He thought he knew why. The idea of them being awake, squirming under his as he bit was akin to a human taking a bite from an animal that was still alive. It wasn’t the comfort of the pray Sasukeh was concerned with. It was just… the movement. It wasn’t natural for food to move.

“I wouldn’t say that they are ahead,” Sasukeh finally said, shaking his attention from a pretty red head who he‘d feasted upon not twenty-four hours ago. He was sure that if he‘d pushed up her sleeve, he‘d still see the bites. “It seems to me that they are devolving. Taking the power away from the larger corporations and giving to the government more control. The railroads are more government regulated then they are privately regulated.”

“Why do that?” Naruto had never been interested in the politics of England whenever Sasukeh brought them up. Instead, he was more interested in those of foreign nations. The States in particular intrigued him, especially voting.

“Roosevelt--he took office a few years ago--fears that they are cheating the public by heightening prices, effectively crushing smaller corporations. His idea is that taking more power from their hands and into those of the public strengthens reconstruction as a whole.”

Naruto picked up from Sasukeh’s tone that he didn’t agree at all. “I think it’s a good idea,” he said, ignoring Sasukeh’s snort. “I don’t see how so few people with deep wallets should have control over so many.”

“You forget that they are the founders of industrialization,” Sasukeh told him. “They are largely responsible for the railroads, the urbanization of new cities, the--”

“Whoa!”

Sasukeh frowned at being cut off, but his attention, too, as quickly drawn to where Naruto’s was. There was a man there, swallowing down a pole. Sasukeh could see the bulge nudging at the skin of his neck. What truly made it special, however, was that it was on fire. And when the fire-eater pulled the pole back out, the tip still ablaze, the crowd, including Naruto, erupted into amused applause.

“Hell,” Naruto breathed, shaking his head lightly, still clapping. “That’s--hey, he looks like you!”

And he did. Oddly enough, Sasukeh had hoped Naruto wouldn’t notice that minor detail. He could automatically tell that the fire-eater was Chinese, not Japanese. His face was slightly plumber, eyes narrower then Sasukeh’s. But besides that, the distinct features if their heritages was the same.

An odd prickling sensation began in Sasukeh’s stomach, upsetting his nerves, making him frown. For the past several months Naruto had badgered Sasukeh for every minute detail he could give of the places he’d traveled to, omitting the ones he’d seen fifty years ago. No one who looked his age could have traveled a fraction of the places the vampire had been to. But Naruto never showed suspicion, only vivid interest. More than once Sasukeh had the meandering thought that Naruto was forcing himself to be ignorant, but he trampled it down as quickly as possible. Two could play the ignorance game.

But a circus performer… surely he’d been to places, had experiences, that Sasukeh himself didn’t. And if the eyes of these mindless Londoners surrounding them were so lit up, Sasukeh was hesitant to look down into his companions.

“He does,” Sasukeh finally managed, biting down sharply on the jealousy that fought to choke off his words.

“They’re all foreigners, I think. Like you.” Naruto had yet to pick up what kind of affect his teasing was having. They’d strayed into the main arena, split up from their into five much smaller tests. Sasukeh stole quick glances under the flaps. Bright red hair. Pitch black. Olive-colored skin. It was a traveling circus, after all.

“You could probably talk to one of them,” Sasukeh said, forcing nonchalance into his voice. It was getting close to one. Most of the children had gone home, leaving the older generations to wander about. Even they had thinned, and the tents would be closing for the night in about an hour. Plenty of time, Sasukeh thought bitterly, to talk.

“Probably,” Naruto noted, then yawn widely. “I think I’ll take a night cap, instead.”

Sasukeh blinked down at him in surprise. “I thought you liked hearing about different places,” he murmured. “I am sure they have been to more places than I.”

“Most likely,” Naruto agreed before grinning widely. “Jealous?”

Yes. “No.” Just not for the reasons you think.

“Well rest assured,” Naruto said. “I find your stories far more interesting.”

“Grand,” Sasukeh said dryly. “I felt sure I would be able to dump you off on one of them.”

Naruto snorted, shoving Sasukeh’s shoulder. “Prat.”

As they walked back the way they’d came back to the main tent through which they’d be able to get home, he wondered if it would be possible that it weren’t his stories that kept Naruto at his side.

October 28, 1904

“This is it,” Naruto quipped, kicking his shoes off by the door and moving in so that Sasukeh could do the same. “Make yourself at home.”

The first thing that struck Sasukeh about Naruto’s loft was the image of light. He couldn’t, of course, ever be in the room while the sun was up, but just the thought--

Naruto had told him several times before that he was an architect, but Sasukeh couldn’t quite believe it until now. Naruto was just too clumsy to imagine with a hammer. But this was a whole different type of architect than the one Sasukeh had been imagining. Several easels had been set up around the room, but instead of paintings there were canvas covered in black and blue pencil marks, all looking like different variations of the same building. There was a roughly put-together workbench in the middle of the floor covered in blue prints, rulers, a number punch, and pencils. A lot of pencils.

Naruto laughed at the open shock on his friend’s face. “I knew you didn’t believe me,” he said, moving past Sasuke to head into the kitchen. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?”

“I just ate.” The response was so automatic that Sasukeh automatically assumed it would raise no suspicion. He went to sit on one of the seats by the tiny round table in the corner with the stove and sink. He could see the bed, wide, placed in the opposite end of the room. His eyes lingered on it. He wondered if it would be soft, hard, how it was Naruto liked to sleep. How he looked when he wasn’t smiling, wasn’t frowning, just relaxed. Then he began to wonder what he looked like with his face flushed as--

Sasukeh swallowed, scowled, and it was this look that Naruto caught as he turned back around. He’d been unwrapping the parchment from the fish he’d purchased at the open air market. “Sasukeh?”

“Hm?” Sasukeh couldn’t quite look him in the eye, instead feigning interest in the rest of the flat. It wasn’t difficult. He’d like to get up and survey the drawings more closely, but felt it more considerate to wait and be given permission. Meanwhile, he tried to justify his own thoughts, borne from dreams he still couldn’t learn to control.

There is nothing wrong with it, Sasukeh thought. If I cannot bring myself to be interested in women, then…

“You’re sure you don’t want any of this?” Naruto asked. “It’s fresh.”

“Positive.”

“You probably eat at a diner every night, don’t you?” Naruto scoffed, turning his back on the man.

“Pretty much,” Sasukeh lied, leaning back into the polished wooden chair. He froze stiff at Naruto’s next words.

“Funny,” Naruto said idly as he unwrapped the parchment. “No one in any of the diners I go to have seen either hide nor hair of you. And I eat breakfast out every morning.”

Sasuke’s features tightened. For someone so idiotic, he could be perceptive at the least convenient of times. Instead of answering the obvious inquiry, he teased, “You talk of me often?”

While it didn’t get him the intended blush, it did but him the intended distraction. “The ladies can’t stop questioning me about you,” he admitted. He took a small container from the cupboard above the stove and poured whatever it was--brown and light, looking almost like coarse flour--over the fish. “Now that they’ve gotten used to your weird face,” he shot a smug look over his shoulder which Sasukeh returned with amusement, “they think you’re quite handsome.”

“Do they,” Sasukeh replied absent-mindedly. “Pity.”

“How so?” Naruto asked. He was done coating the fish in whatever that stuff was, and was now laying it in a flat skillet.

“None have truly caught my eye,” Sasukeh replied, watching as Naruto struck a match and leaned down to set the burner. It wasn’t just Naruto who’d noticed the public’s change of opinion of him over the past few months. Now that the oddity of him had worn off, attraction had set in. His lack of history added a mysterious sort of allure into the mix, and resulted in more callers than Sasukeh was comfortable with.

He frowned. Naruto wasn’t saying anything more, so that left his mind to steeple in its own thoughts. His experience with the lesser sex was horribly limited. He was sure that if the urge ever arose, he’d have no problem finding someone to warm his bed. It was only a matter of finding a convenient meal beforehand, and he’d be set for the night. But whenever Sasukeh thought of it, his mind was consumed with blood. With feeding. He’d gone only so far with women before the feel of their pliant flesh reminded him of how good it felt under his skin. The heat of their bodies like warm blood flowing down his throat. Losing himself to lust after feeding was fine, but Sasuke considered himself better than that. Higher than that. Degrading himself to submitting to monstrous desires. It simmered down to the fact that he’d be playing with his food, and that was more than enough of a turn off.

It was also one of the reasons why Sasukeh refused to feed from Naruto.

In reality, the docile human was the perfect candidate. He had a fresh, clean scent. His skin was healthy and clear, eyes bright, teeth solid and white in his mouth, hair shiny and kempt, average height with a good, lean build. All signs of excellent health, and a treat compared to most he’d been feeding off of in this city.

Sasukeh couldn’t quite put his finger on the true reason he kept from feeding from this man, so he compensated with a few good reasons of his own. Just as he knew himself to be higher than these humans, Naruto was higher than them as well. He was curious and not shy to admit it. He asked questions no one would dare ask. He didn’t question why he’d never seen Sasukeh in the sunlight. He didn’t care why Sasukeh never spared a single woman a second glance. Sure he would jest about it (”Most are starting to think you’re sick in the head!”), but would never truly delve into further questions.

Sasukeh was lonely. It took him quite a while to accept this, but after a few decades he swallowed his pride and was able to admit it. Sure his companion would join him on the occasional journey, but he never stuck with Sasukeh for more than five years at a time. That man had his own agenda, one that Sasukeh wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know of.

Naruto was good company. He’d go as far as to say he enjoyed being in the young boy’s presence, much more than he rightfully should. And if he was good company to a vampire, to someone with centuries of experience, who’d seen nearly everything there was to see, put him on a much higher level than the walking blood banks crawling across the streets.

“What a shame.” Naruto’s comment brought him back to the conversation. Naruto still wasn’t facing him, eyes focused on cooking his dinner. Sasukeh could smell it, but was greatly displeased that it didn’t appeal to him at all. He would have very much liked to try it. “I have a young lady friend who’s been wanting to meet your acquaintance.”

“Oh?” Sasukeh said. It surprised him that Naruto was bothering to mention it.

“Yes. Sakura.” Naruto flipped the sizzling piece of fish over. “Her father’s a banker,” he said, and Sasukeh wondered vaguely if this was supposed to impress him. “Her mother’s Irish. You might have a few things to talk about.” His voice took on a more wistful tone as he said, “She has red hair. Like an apple. And the greenest eyes…”

Sasukeh frowned, trying to picture her in his head, and then picturing her next to Naruto. The physical features were too bright--yellow and red, blue and green--to be considered cohesive. “If she is so beautiful,” Sasukeh teased, “perhaps I would like to meet her.”

Naruto froze. Even from his position, Sasukeh could see how tense the muscles became in his back and arms. Rushing a bit with his words in order to remedy the situation, Sasukeh said, “But I really am too busy to bother with such things.”

Naruto hummed. “Too bad.” And resumed movement.

Sasukeh waited a few long moments, studying Naruto’s posture. He stood up straight when he was nervous. Normally coming to only his shoulders, Naruto must’ve stood nearly to his chin now. “You fancy her.” Sasukeh meant it to be a question, but it came out as more of a statement.

Naruto tensed up again, but he was much quicker to recover this time. He turned around to finally face his guest before asking, “That obvious, eh?”

Sasukeh nodded and kept his silence, an obvious invitation for Naruto to continue. He did so with apparent reluctance.

“I’d never really be able to take such a woman’s hand,” Naruto explained. “My work is fickle at best, and in such a city, there are far wealthier candidates than--”

“Money,” Sasukeh spat. “Is that all you hum--” He cut himself off. Naruto was staring at him with wide eyes, never having heard Sasukeh raise his voice before. The vampire muttered a soft apology, inwardly berating himself for his slip of tongue. He hung around Naruto far too often. The boy’s abrasive tendencies were beginning to wear off on him. About to excuse himself for the afternoon, Naruto waved at him in an easy dismissal.

“It was my fault for complaining.” Naruto took back to cooking. A minute later, Naruto slid the fish onto a plate and asked, “You’re sure you don’t want any of this.”

When Sasukeh shook his head, Naruto took his plate and cutlery to the scrubbed wooden table, sitting down with it. “My cooking isn’t all that bad,” he scoffed.

The vampire smirked. “I wouldn’t touch your cooking with a ten foot pole.” Too hungry to argue, Naruto dug in, effectively ignoring him.

No problem remedying that.

“You know, I don’t think I’d want to meet this lady friend of yours, even if I had the time for such things.” When Naruto looked up, shocked, Sasukeh continued in a smug voice, “If you fancy her, clearly there’s something wrong with the poor girl.”

“You son of a --”

February 12, 1905

It was upon the opening of the twentieth century that Sasukeh began to lose hope of the reason he‘d been living. Every day that passed, whether sunny or clouded, every night, every dinner he turned down, every laugh, everything replaced the memories of a long time ago. His new life, so new and so much more grounded, however much unfulfilled, began to take priority. Long conversations, late night visits, half-concealed forms of flirting, became his soul source of entertainment. His goals were given up, and for the first time Sasuke could remember in his life, he was truly happy.

There was laughter. Of course there was. Naruto was a klutz. Such a klutz.

Fool. Fool. You God-damned fool.

Naruto had fallen in the market whilst shopping with Sasukeh that evening. The tomatoes squished beneath his feet. He skidded. Sasuke caught him in his arms, stumbling backward as a sudden weigh slammed into his chest, a painless bump to the forehead. However painless it was for him, it hurt Naruto, he jerked his forehead back, twisted as they fell.

Warm.

So warm.

Fool.

Naruto kissed him, unintentional. The worst kiss, the most satisfying thing, why, why, why.

The ladies on the street giggled. The men tried not to. Naruto blushed stammering out a million apologies and half-veiled insults simultaneously. He shoved off of him, and Sasukeh wanted to turn him over, press him into the ground, and swear, promise, promise, not again, I won‘t do it again, I‘m not selfless enough to let go again. And Sasukeh--

What am I doing?

What’s the purpose?

Why not just die?

What is it that’s so important I need to live?

He remembered.

And for the sake of the man scrambling away from him, Sasukeh sincerely wished he hadn’t.

--

Author’s Notes: Obviously, I changed it so that vampire-Sasuke now has an ‘h’ at the end of his name. I was getting myself confused as to who I was writing about when I had them both in the same paragraph, and even more confused when I’m reading all of your reviews because I have no idea who it is you’re talking about. If you don’t like it, please tell me. If enough people resent it I’ll go back and put it back to the original spelling.

I did some light research on early twentieth century London for this chapter. Emphasis on the word ‘light’. It’s a fan fiction, not a research paper, so I feel justified in making more than a few mistakes. The biggest problem is the way that they speak. It’s much too modern. I’m unashamed to say I had a Harry Potter book open next to me for reference. Is this the way London was set up back then, geographically speaking? I think so. Did you make most of this up? Yes. Are you that lazy? Yes.

Next chapter in a week or two. Hope you liked it, despite the mistakes.

-Kodak