Out and Abut in New Orleans, Sunday [5/20]
Those credit card companies really should do an add about visiting New Orleans' French Quarter and its market, out and in public with your lover, for the first time.
But, as far as Vlad was concerned, there was nothing about this trip that wasn't priceless ( Read more... )
But, as far as Vlad was concerned, there was nothing about this trip that wasn't priceless ( Read more... )
He'd told Nadia he would tell Vlad and he wasn't going to turn back on that. He knew the difference between love and infatuation, and he wasn't infatuated with Nadia.
Still, telling his lover was not something he looked forward to.
He had his suitcase on the bed, but he wasn't putting anything in it yet.
"Vlad...."
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"Yes, Angel?"
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He didn't want to do this part.
"We need to talk about something and I know you aren't going to like it."
To say the least.
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He furrowed his brow and held out his hand to Walter. He no thoughts to be on his guard just yet. This was Walter, after all.
"What is it, Angel?"
His voice was concerned as he wondered what could be bothering Walter after these two wonderful days.
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Only an absolute refusal to see himself as a coward propelled him onward.
"It's about Nadia...." He took a deep breath and steeled himself. "I know I told you about her and me, before, in Fandom."
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Vlad kept his eyes fixed on Walter's face. His palm was still warm where Walter had kissed it.
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"But it's been two years since I last saw her and I still love her."
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Well, Walter had certainly picked an apt time to reveal this -- in the wake of this blissful weekend. He'd managed to do what few ever had before. With a few notable exceptions.
"I have to say, Walter, I much prefered the first time you caught me completely by surprise."
Their first kiss. And, Walter knew that now because Vlad had let him in, and...
It was a good thing that that pocket watch was tucked safely in Vlad's suitcase. Had it not been, it would have been little more then crushed gears and metal at this point.
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The least he could do was look at him while he hurt him.
"I love you so much, Vlad. When everyone else says I shouldn't. Nothing is going to change that."
Well, perhaps everyone else except Pippi, because she was like that, but it hardly seemed like the time to be adding in extraneous exceptions to the overall message.
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He needed something to balance the choking feeling that had started in his back and chest and had worked its way outwards to his shoulders, trying to make them tense, make them hitch.
"You love me so much. And, I love you."
A laugh. Just as harsh, just as rasping as his voice. But, still good. Still balance.
"So much love, and yet it won't be enough. Which is what I think you're on the point of telling me. Isn't it Walter? Because in spite of everything, I would hate to think you'd tell me...this just so that I could know. We're a pair of sadists, you and I, but there are limits."
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It wasn't that Vlad wasn't enough, it was that he - Walter - wasn't enough.
"I don't have the right words. I love you. I love her. I tried turning her away and I can't do it any more than I could turn you away."
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I could hate you, Angel, but this was damned from the get go, wasn't it?
Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't get angry about it.
"If you aren't turning me away, Walter, what exactly is it that you're doing?"
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Not loving Vlad was not an option. He didn't even want to consider it. And even if he wanted to consider it with Nadia, the fact of the matter was that he was going to love her whether he liked it or not, she liked it or not, or Vlad liked it or not.
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Foolish hope. Foolish faith
His eyes had narrowed, and his pupils had taken on that slitted, reptilian look. It was possible that Walter had seen him this angry before. Though, it had never been directed at this Walter.
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"What do you think I'm telling you?" He asked it quietly.
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There had to be a reason that Walter was telling him this, apart from the fact of simply letting Vlad know. Some outcome, some next step. And, if there was, Vlad wanted to hear Walter say so himself, of his own volition.
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