The ancient vampire has never been accustomed to the feeling of panic. Hasn’t ever felt that burn in the base of his throat, the lump that rises, the feeling that everything is starting to close in around him. He’s never felt the walls shrink in, never felt the static rise to a loud thrum in his skull, never felt like every breath is bringing him closer and closer to the edge. He feels it now. The panic that sits like poison in his belly. The fear that tiptoes over his skin like a scared child tiptoeing down the hallway. The regret that darkens his eyes and thickens his throat.
Should Luka die, body limp in his arms, what would there be let for Ilya in this world? Already he’d given so much to the younger. He’d given him time, and then protection, and now love. But what good is his love when he’s the one who hurt him? What good is his protection if he can’t protect him from himself? What good is he… to a beautiful human male who has so much life left to live?
The first rasp of Luka’s voice, like the finest orchestral symphony against his ears, makes Ilya start, and his arms fold a little more securely around the younger. When Luka’s fingers curl into his shirt, the vampire stands, lifting the boy with him to set him down on a softer surface. Moments later he’s sitting with Luka between his legs, arms still tight around the boy.
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," he whispers, his eyes closing as he gently brushes his fingers up and down Luka’s arms. "I almost lost you, Luka. I could feel you slipping away."
The immortal’s voice is raspy, rough, but his attention remains focused on the boy, on the fact that with every passing moment, Luka is looking stronger and stronger as the color returns to his cheeks and the scars finally fade away.
"I love you."
There’s light and there is warmth and breathing seems to get easier for each seconds that pass. And Luka slowly settles with the knowledge that yes, he’s going to survive this. He’ll live and he’s going to be spared from rest another time. But for once, he’s actually happy about it — happy because he doesn’t have to leave the one he loves behind with agony he hand’t even considered. It makes him happy enough to haze his eyes with moist he can’t bother to blink away.
He’s just… relieved. To be where he is at that moment, to be enveloped by Ilya’s arms. To be close to the one he thought he had lost. He doesn’t care for the anger, the rising bouts of frustration over his disappearance because it has no place in a situation like this, not after what he has seen only moments ago, not after almost passing away himself. His mind is spinning, head throbbing with ache and he doesn’t want to move anymore. Because it stings, burns. But he still follows Ilya’s motions, pliant like he usually is nowadays.
No protests are given when he’s lifted, nor when he’s set down. He just curls closer to the vampire’s body, as if he’s trying to hide within the comfort of a familiar embrace. His face presses against Ilya’s shoulder and for a moment, Luka shudders. Because even though his body is growing warmer by the second, he still feels cold. ” Don’t apologize. “ He mumbles silently, eyes still not opened as he breathes slowly. ” I knew what I was getting myself into. “
He shifts just in the slightest, makes himself more comfortable. ” I’m sorry for almost dying on you. “ He then mumbles a moment later, grip on the male’s shirt tightening a bit as he pulls back, to finally let hues of hazel open. They’re reddened, on the verge of puffy and he probably looks worse than he did when he got there, but he doesn’t care. Can’t care, because he’s forgotten all about it the moment he lays his gaze to rest by familiar features.
” I love you too. “
Another sweet mumble, as hands move upwards to trail along a pale column, as fingers rise to gently caress smooth cheeks. It’s hard to believe, that he’s recovered this well. That’ he’s facing the Ilya engraved in his memory and not the horrendous sight of a dying vampire he didn’t want to admit to knowing. To loving. It’s mesmerizing and beautiful and he can feel his heart acting up again.
As bliss settles slowly, into everything that he is.