Chapter three. Things heat up.

Chapter Three - Caeli Enarrant Gloriam Dei

The room was silent when he opened his eyes. He sat up quickly, frowning as he realised that the room was empty as well as silent.

Where is he? It is already night...

He slipped out of bed, smoothing down his fine suit and cloak - a little worn from wear, but still shining with its extravagance. It was time to leave this little haven then.

He heard voices as he approached the chapel proper, and for a while thought to return hastily. But one of them was the priest's - though seeming gentler and lighter than usual...and the other was high and young.

A child.

He peeked curiously out from behind the altar, glancing at the statue and cross radiating consecration in pure annoyance for a brief moment.

It was a child. A little girl.

She looked remarkably small next to the exceptionally tall priest, an effigy of innocence as she simply set in one of the pews, wide eyes following the priest's every move as he dusted the unused stands.

He took a moment to look towards the high windows. Ah. He'd woken early this night. It was but dusk, the last rays of the sun painted the sky with a faint rosy glow, a sight he'd not seen for fifty or so years now.

It was beautiful. He'd forgotten how beautiful it was.

How much like blood.

He shook his head. The familiar bloodlust was back, in its familiar position, tearing, needing.

But bearable.

Hanagata was speaking now, never looking up from his dusting, movements smooth and graceful despite his awkward height.

"I don't think all vampires are bad. Some vampires are probably just...misguided. Perhaps they don't really want to kill."

"But mama and da say so. They say that the vamp're will eat us if he catches us."

"Most of them certainly will! Which reminds me, it's near dark. Does your mama know you're here?"

"No, but she wouldn't let me come if she knew. Mama and da don't want me to talk to you, Broth'r Touru."

"They're probably right too," his voice tinted a shade darker now, "I'm a bad influence, aren't I?"

"But I don't think so! You're the nicest boy I know, Broth'r Touru! I wanna marry you when I grow up!"

The priest laughed at that, surprised, frank, amused laughter. He nearly laughed himself, except that he was not supposed to be there.

"Silly girl, you can't marry me."

"Why not? ...Is it because you like boys, Broth'r Touru? Da said you like boys, not girls. Is it?"

He hitched in a useless breath at that childish, thoughtless accusation. Hanagata was silent.

Was it...is it true?

"You silly thing," the priest finally spoke, the wistful smile on his lips, a soft edge in his quiet voice, "I can't marry you because I'm a priest."

"Oh...right...priests can't marry, can they, Broth'r Touru? Mama said that before."

"That's right, dear." He turned abruptly, whisking the duster out of sight. "It's dark now, you'd best run along home, before you drive your mother mad with worry."

"'Kay, Broth'r Touru. I'll come see you again when I can!"

She scrambled off the pew effortlessly, running down the aisle and easily slipping out the heavy oak doors - as if she'd done it many times before. With a merry wave, she was gone, skipping into the night.

"So...do you like boys?" He laughed now, revealing his presence as he slid out from behind the wood and stone.

"That, now, would hardly be of your business, Fujima-san." The priest turned with a ready smile.

"It could be."

"No, thank you. I, for one, fully intend to report at the Pearly Gates with my priesthood and my chastity intact."

He shrugged.

"Seeing as I'm already doomed for hell, I might as well enjoy the ride."

The priest fell silent at that, turning sharply away.

"I hope you're not doomed for hell."

The duster out again, flicking over non-existent layers of dust. He stared at the priest. Long, hard. Softened.

"I'm a vampire. I don't even have a soul."

"Don't you."

"I don't."

"Everything that loves has a soul."

"I told you. I don't love."

"Don't you."

Laid down the duster, turned to look at him with shaded dark eyes.

"I don't." The words dropped. Almost regretful.

"Perhaps you'll learn someday. Perhaps when I remember." The priest bent over to retrieve the duster. "Then perhaps you'll have a soul. Then perhaps...perhaps we could meet sometimes, after we die. The two of us." He hesitated, smiled shyly. "Perhaps...we could both go to heaven. I would like that."

He drank in the words, the soft wistful hope, almost believed it, for more than a moment. Found that same hope stroking tender tendrils around his still heart.

But the need at the edges of his peripheral mind reminded him, as always, of other things.

"Don't be silly," he used the other's words, but harsher, sharper, "I know my fate. I will hunt tonight. I will not return."

"The mob is still out there." A faint desperation lined the words, though the priest had looked down from the beginning of his spiteful line, staring at the duster clenched helplessly in his hands.

"I care nothing for the mob!"

A heavy silence. He glared at the priest, a burning not-quite-hatred building in his brain, rising in his throat, daring - just daring him - to say something - anything! - that would justify his leaping the few feet to rip his pretty throat out and discover just how sweet that blood was.

No words came forth. A gentle wetness fell, staining the floorboards.

He struggled with the tumult of conflict that suddenly roiled within him. Struggled, tried, and eventually settled for a gruff :

"I hate it when men cry."

That jolted the priest, if nothing else. With a quick, tidy swipe, he was looking up with overly bright, but hard, eyes.

"You're free to leave now."

They faced each other like that for a suspended moment, a breaking-turning-point.

Then he crossed the distance, roughly pulled the other man into an awkward embrace, painfully conscious of the height difference between them that made his hold difficult. The tears had started again, now near-silent sobs that tried so hard to subside but failed.

"Why do you cry?" He whispered with a tenderness he forgot he ever possessed.

A brief moment of ragged hitching. Then the priest had shifted free of his embrace, his fear and grief and desperation clutching at him from shimmering dark eyes.

"Hell...is a terrible place...you'll burn there...I have no wish to see you burn, Fujima-san!"

And the sobs returned, and he was at a loss, murmuring soft consolations into a mass of silky dark locks as he carefully led him into the room he knew so well, settling the other gently on the bed.

"Tell me. Where do you sleep...when I am here?"

Vague, absent gestures at the cold stone floor.

"Not tonight. Tonight we sleep together. Here."

What seemed at first to be protest dissolved into a weak nod. He smiled briefly, a fierce, protective grin as he smoothly shed the other's robes and his own cloak to press more of bare skin against skin. Offering solace in his touch, though a cold caress, the whisper of his fingers across flesh.

Hours later, thoughtfully, he pressed a chaste kiss into the dark head laid solemnly upon his still chest. He wondered. Tried to ignore, to shut out, the gnawing bloodlust in his brain. He wondered.

...The blood of this one would be sweet.

"...I have no wish to see you burn."

He wondered.

to be continued...

Coming up next : Chapter 4 - Ad Perpetuam Rei Memoriam
A shocking incident occurs, one thing leads to another...and...a fall from grace...is imminent.

This chapter, by the end, really wrote itself. [And no! They did not have sex! >.< Mae~.... Not yet, at any rate.] The later parts of this, from 'heaven' onwards, were not planned at all. :\

Translations/Explanations :

Caeli Enarrant Gloriam Dei - The Heavens Bespeak the Glory of God