[Yami no Matsuei] "You think you're mad, too unstable" (PG)
Author's Note: Written for "fic_promptly" 's any, any, "I'm going crazy, aren't I?" Set pre-series, mild college-aged!Muraki/OMC pre-slash. Title ganked from Pet Shop Boys' "West End Girls", which somewhat influenced the story.
Decker expected the young man would likely be late: Saturday was a half-day of classes, but knowing Muraki, he would be lingering over some lab work or whatever it was that the medical students did. He sat back in his chair as he sat at a sidewalk table, watching the crowds of shoppers and tourists filtering past the West End cafe.
At length, he spotted the young man, whom a crowd could hardly mask: his silvery hair and tall slender figure made him stand out, though given the mud brown trenchcoat he'd worn -- which the young men seemed to be wearing this season, copying some pop singer in a music video -- he seemed to be trying to blend in and failing. No one could expect to blend into a crowd if they had his pale complexion and those hungry eyes.
He hastened to the table with those short quick steps of his, the hem of his wide-skirted coat weaving about his ankles and the cuffs of his black trousers. So much black, as if he were trying to look like a raven.
"I'm sorry if I'm late, I missed a stop on the Underground," Muraki said.
"There's no hurry: I amused myself by watching the crowd," Decker replied, gesturing to the empty chair. Muraki sat down, perching on the edge of the seat, his lean shoulders hunching a bit inside his coat.
"You're probably wondering why I asked you to lunch," Decker said. "And what it has to do with the session on vampires."
Muraki smirked a bit, as the waitress came and filled a cup of tea for him. "I had to wonder if this was some cause for you to be alone with an exquisite foreigner. There is some talk about the company that you keep with some youngsters, something about a chance to experience the tale of Ganymede in a more hands on way."
"Somewhat exaggerated, though I've had some dalliances with the sterner sex," Decker admitted. "But I wasn't thinking so much of the erotic aspect of vampirism as I was thinking of the nutritive."
Muraki blinked over the rim of his teacup. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, there are real vampires who have no real need for blood but who do seek from the souls of others, sometimes after or while they have lain with someone."
Muraki edged back on his chair, his teacup sinking into the saucer with a nervous clatter. "Are you being serious?" he asked. But despite his shock, the young man's eyes did not register any surprise.
"You've experienced it, haven't you?"
"I always thought that it had to do with something perfectly natural," Muraki said. He paused, then said, "I'm going crazy, aren't I?"
"No, if anything, you're growing more sane through self-knowledge," Decker said. "I've met only one other young person who had this gift, but I will admit, that encounter was problematic."
"Define problematic."
"My mentor at the time wanted me to shun and ward off a young woman with the propensity toward feeding on spirit energy: he warned me that she was dangerous," he said. "I told him that I saw her as no more dangerous than any other fellow human. And I said that if there was no place for her, that there was no place in the ecology for predatory animals and disease germs."
Muraki snerked. "You do realize that I'm specializing as a surgeon."
"I do, but you probably realize that death, however it is caused, is a part of life."
Muraki fingered the handle of his teacup. "Yes, there is that: in my country, even death is viewed as anything but the end of one's existence.
"But what do you propose to do?"
"I won't propose anything that you do not want. I can help you to awaken that darker side of you and help it to help you grow stronger, or I can help you to hold it back. Your life will be shorter and less healthy if you do, but it is your choice."
"I think I'll take my chances with embracing what I am," Muraki said.
Decker paused, considering what he was about to propose. "If you choose it, I don't mind serving as a donor, if there's no one else to provide what you need."
Muraki jolted to his feet, hard enough to knock over his chair and set the table rattling. He stared at Decker, his face wary, but his pale eyes hungry. "I'm going to need time to consider that offer."
"There's no hurry: ask when you need it," Decker said.
* * * * *
That need came some weeks later, when someone tapped on the door of Decker's East End flat, and he opened the door to find Muraki there, rain spattering on his shoulders.
"It was either this or the young men of the rough trade hang about here," Muraki said, as Decker stepped aside to let the youngster cross his threshold...
Decker expected the young man would likely be late: Saturday was a half-day of classes, but knowing Muraki, he would be lingering over some lab work or whatever it was that the medical students did. He sat back in his chair as he sat at a sidewalk table, watching the crowds of shoppers and tourists filtering past the West End cafe.
At length, he spotted the young man, whom a crowd could hardly mask: his silvery hair and tall slender figure made him stand out, though given the mud brown trenchcoat he'd worn -- which the young men seemed to be wearing this season, copying some pop singer in a music video -- he seemed to be trying to blend in and failing. No one could expect to blend into a crowd if they had his pale complexion and those hungry eyes.
He hastened to the table with those short quick steps of his, the hem of his wide-skirted coat weaving about his ankles and the cuffs of his black trousers. So much black, as if he were trying to look like a raven.
"I'm sorry if I'm late, I missed a stop on the Underground," Muraki said.
"There's no hurry: I amused myself by watching the crowd," Decker replied, gesturing to the empty chair. Muraki sat down, perching on the edge of the seat, his lean shoulders hunching a bit inside his coat.
"You're probably wondering why I asked you to lunch," Decker said. "And what it has to do with the session on vampires."
Muraki smirked a bit, as the waitress came and filled a cup of tea for him. "I had to wonder if this was some cause for you to be alone with an exquisite foreigner. There is some talk about the company that you keep with some youngsters, something about a chance to experience the tale of Ganymede in a more hands on way."
"Somewhat exaggerated, though I've had some dalliances with the sterner sex," Decker admitted. "But I wasn't thinking so much of the erotic aspect of vampirism as I was thinking of the nutritive."
Muraki blinked over the rim of his teacup. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, there are real vampires who have no real need for blood but who do seek from the souls of others, sometimes after or while they have lain with someone."
Muraki edged back on his chair, his teacup sinking into the saucer with a nervous clatter. "Are you being serious?" he asked. But despite his shock, the young man's eyes did not register any surprise.
"You've experienced it, haven't you?"
"I always thought that it had to do with something perfectly natural," Muraki said. He paused, then said, "I'm going crazy, aren't I?"
"No, if anything, you're growing more sane through self-knowledge," Decker said. "I've met only one other young person who had this gift, but I will admit, that encounter was problematic."
"Define problematic."
"My mentor at the time wanted me to shun and ward off a young woman with the propensity toward feeding on spirit energy: he warned me that she was dangerous," he said. "I told him that I saw her as no more dangerous than any other fellow human. And I said that if there was no place for her, that there was no place in the ecology for predatory animals and disease germs."
Muraki snerked. "You do realize that I'm specializing as a surgeon."
"I do, but you probably realize that death, however it is caused, is a part of life."
Muraki fingered the handle of his teacup. "Yes, there is that: in my country, even death is viewed as anything but the end of one's existence.
"But what do you propose to do?"
"I won't propose anything that you do not want. I can help you to awaken that darker side of you and help it to help you grow stronger, or I can help you to hold it back. Your life will be shorter and less healthy if you do, but it is your choice."
"I think I'll take my chances with embracing what I am," Muraki said.
Decker paused, considering what he was about to propose. "If you choose it, I don't mind serving as a donor, if there's no one else to provide what you need."
Muraki jolted to his feet, hard enough to knock over his chair and set the table rattling. He stared at Decker, his face wary, but his pale eyes hungry. "I'm going to need time to consider that offer."
"There's no hurry: ask when you need it," Decker said.
* * * * *
That need came some weeks later, when someone tapped on the door of Decker's East End flat, and he opened the door to find Muraki there, rain spattering on his shoulders.
"It was either this or the young men of the rough trade hang about here," Muraki said, as Decker stepped aside to let the youngster cross his threshold...