Indispensable

[Ashi]

Stars shone bright in the black sky, dotted sparsely around the bright white moon throwing beams of silver light down onto the darkened city. Cool winds wafted through the city, the errant gusts heavy with the crisp scent of rain. Street lamps stood tall in the darkness, casting eerie shadows and dingy fluorescent light on the pavement. Neon signs glowed on billboards and above businesses, advertising the latest and greatest in fashion and technology and medicines. The colors caught the windows of the glass high rises, lighting them up like Christmas trees. The streets were mostly empty, as was common at almost nine o'clock. The city was fast asleep; well, at least the human part was. The work day ended as the sun dropped behind the cityscape. Many headed home to quiet lives with husbands or wives and children to have dinner and enjoy family time before turning in for the night. It was at this hour that the night life rose, as they were often called. The night life was the vampires.


It had been this way for two centuries: After dark, a whole other world came alive. Humans and vampires did their best to remain separate in this way, as dictated by the laws set all those years ago. There was a time when the two coexisted as they do now, though no laws existed especially for the purpose of protecting this coexistence. The human population was fewer then, and with events taking place around the world it dwindled. It decreased steadily as feedings rose; and every year the number of casualties increased. That was not to say that humans were the only ones suffering. Vampires suffered for this recklessness too. Humans hunted and slayed them; many were tried for crimes they didn't commit. It was at this low ebb that the leaders, human and vampire alike, came together to create the laws that would keep them both safe. That was all history now, but the laws had become embedded in the lives of many over the years and developed into habit. That is, for most.


There were many humans that didn't have family to return home to, those who lived a different life after work hours were over and went out to enjoy some fun. Of course, they did so only at their own risk. These were what the law considered high-risk humans, humans like Wes; however, he wasn't out partying on this night. Weston Blake was a young man who knew his way around the city. He knew the rules about curfew but often pushed this boundary in pursuit of work as well as fun. Weston was a photographer and had been out late in attempt to get photos for the upcoming paper. He walked aimlessly along, paying no mind to his surroundings. He had been this way many times and had long since seen enough of it. Gravel crunched under his black boots, his brown eyes narrowed in aggravation.


"Damn it all." Wes cursed under his breath, glaring at the time on his phone. He was certain he remembered being told that the drug deal was supposed to go down over an hour ago. "That bastard must've lied to get the scoop for himself. Go figure." The young man groused. There was another photographer who worked with the local paper who often competed with Wes for the best stories and the best spots on the paper, namely the front page. In the past couple of months, the majority of the best scoops went to him. Wes's photos ended up on the middle pages that people usually skipped over while reading or they didn't make it in at all. Wes had argued hard with him over getting this one; and it seemed that he had been tricked.


With a heavy sigh, Wes pushed a hand through his brown hair, brown eyes scanning the immediate area. It was well after curfew and the night life was waking up. The few faces that were already out and about were giving him strange looks, even pausing to watch him pass. While he could book it back to his apartment, it was probably a better option to find a place to hunker down. The thing was Wes wasn't sure where that might be. There wasn't a hotel nearby and all of the human-friendly locations were closed. Wes picked up the pace, alternating between fast-walking and jogging along the storefront, looking for a place that was open. There was a place with the lights on amongst all the dark windows and he stopped to try the door; it was open.

 

[neptune]

Years ago, during a time when he was new, after he had first been turned, the thought of having a place in society was far and away—little more than a silly daydream. Leo was old enough to remember when the vampire's natural enemy was man himself, when a human with a stake and a grudge was just as terrifying as getting caught outside at sunrise. He had watched the times change before his eyes, though, saw the shift from fear and hatred to annoyed acknowledgement, onto tepid acceptance and finally into a mostly peaceful coexistence. There were rules that kept vampires and humans safe, and unlike the ignorant, erroneous segregation of the past, being separately confined to day and night truly was for the best.

It was just a bit after sunset when Leo wandered up from the basement where he slept. While some vampires had done away with the old trope of sleeping in coffins and dwelling in dark depths, Leo found comfort in the practice. The antique store's basement was cool and damp, a reprieve from the season's heat that always seemed to become trapped within the city, stored in the concrete of the tall buildings and nestled into the sidewalks. Leo went about his business, flicking on the neon sign that said the store was open, unlocking the door and then wandering deeper into the building to look for something to eat. Much like the attitudes of humans towards vampires, the way they ate had changed as well. Leo couldn't remember the last time he'd bitten someone; it was much easier to reap the benefits of donation and move on.

The shop—which he hadn't bothered to ever name—was almost as dark inside as it was outside. The walls were covered in a heavy, ornate wallpaper, though there were so many hanging trinkets that it was almost impossible to discern the embossed pattern. If the walls weren't overwhelming enough, there were plenty of tables stacked with wares, chairs stuffed into corners with everything from birdcages to scarves on top. Leo was a terrible business owner, and had a horrible time letting anything go. On the off chance that he did sell anything, it was only after hours of talking and making sure that whomever bought one of his treasures wasn't going to mistreat it sometime down the road.

Most people surely would have gone broke, but Leo had lived long enough and amassed enough wealth to live comfortably, even if he never sold another thing. The store was his own personal museum, and Leo was more than happy to go around dusting his favorite pieces. He paused, of course, when he heard the sound of the door opening, and obnoxious chime of the bell above it just seconds later.

An older man, who must have been turned later in life, was examining a bronze figurine by the door. "Put that down," Leo said, already able to see that the small statue didn't suit the man at all. "It's not for you, put it down." He waved his hand, rude and uncaring as the man stormed out of the store and back into the night.

It wasn't long after that that the door opened again. Leo breathed a sigh, assuming the man had come back to give him a piece of his mind. "I told you before, that's not for you," he called out from the back, washing his hands after finishing the dusting. Though, a steady thump from the front room made him pause. Like all vampires, Leo could hear better than humans and he had to guess that there was one in his store. Curious, the vampire dropped the hand towel over the sink and brushed his dark hair from his face before revealing himself.

"It's past nine," he said, stating the obvious at the young human. Most didn't allow themselves out past curfew, and even the high-risk humans did their best to stay out of sight. "Can I help you with something?" Leo asked, stepping closer to the young man.

 

[Ashi]

"What the--?" Wes wondered at his surroundings with wide eyes as he stepped carefully forward from the door. There had been no thought on his part as to what kind of place he was entering, only that he needed to get indoors. Briefly he glanced over his shoulder; there was no name or logo on the glass door or any business hours listed. The only indication that the place was a shop of any kind was the lit 'Open' sign hanging in one window. Wes hadn't noticed either if there was a sign above the business with any form of identification on it; however, judging from the haphazard any number of random things scattered about, he guessed it was some sort of pawn or hobby shop. Perhaps a hoarder used this place as a means of storage for all the things he or she collected?


The walls were almost completely covered by stacks and piles of objects ranging from books to nick-knacks to articles of furniture. There were photos and paintings in ornate frames on the walls where the stacks didn't reach; they almost completely covered the decorative wallpaper. There was statuary in porcelain and bronze and other mediums that Wes couldn't identify, there were vases and urns and pieces of china with delicate hand-painted designs, and all of the furniture appeared to be of the finest craftsmanship. Wes started to reach for the camera that hung from the strap around his neck but paused at the sound of a voice. The voice came from farther within the establishment and the words it spoke were confusing to the young photographer. What wasn't for whom? The idea that the owner of that voice, likely the owner of the shop, was addressing the rather upset older man Wes passed on the sidewalk never occurred to him. His thumb and index fingers just touched the lens cap when the person emerged.


"Oh!" Wes gave a start when the man spoke, having not even heard him coming. He blinked a few times, his lips twitching into a sheepish grin. "Ah, ha ha. Yeah, I – uh, it is, isn't it?" He struggled to find words, suddenly aware of whom he found himself in the presence of. Perhaps it was the look on the man's face or the tone of his voice when mentioning the time, but it was clear that he was not human. His eyes probed the vampire, who was a little taller than he. His hair and eyes were dark, which lent him a mysterious air.


"Oh, nothing – I mean, I'm sorry to bother you. I kinda' just ducked in through the first open door I came across. Like you said, it's after nine." Wes took a sneaky half-step back, slowly sliding one foot backwards and settling his weight on it. He was prepared to dash back out the door, as unpleasant as the thought of going back outside was. Indeed, most high-risk humans were wise to stay out of the open if they insisted on staying out late; although, it wasn't uncommon for them to find someplace indoors to hide out until sunrise. There wasn't any real guarantee of safety this way, but it seemed to work in most cases. While staying here, even if permitted, wasn't exactly the best idea, it was better than nothing.


"Well, maybe there is something… I know it's a stretch, but could I stick around for a while? I won't be any trouble. I could even work." There was a depth of pleading in Wes's eyes, but his diffident smile didn't falter.

 

[neptune]

Despite living in a rather diverse area, Leo didn't know many humans and he certainly couldn't have called one of them a friend. It had been so long since he was a living creature and now it was difficult to remember how it felt at all. He studied the other man with a curious glance, well aware of the way he stepped back toward the door he'd just come in from. If he wanted to dash back out into the night to be fed upon, Leo wasn't going to stop him, but a secret, lonely part of him hoped for the company. It would be better, he thought, to have human around to talk to, rather than the stray cats that crept around the alley out back.

"You're not bothering me," Leo assured, shaking his head. He took a step closer, still intrigued by the man in front of him. Where had he come from? What was he doing out past curfew? He didn't seem like the typical high-risk humans—they preferred the club scene, hiding in plain sight and defiantly tempting those around them. A show off himself, Leo never had been fond of other peacocks.

When the unnamed human offered to work for the night, Leo couldn't help but laugh. He didn't sell much of anything, and even when a sale could have been made, he ran off customers because they were too much of one thing and not enough of the other. "Can you dust?" he asked, knowing well and good that he wasn't going to be ringing anything up that night, "there are so many cobwebs up there." Leo pointed toward the top of a rather large armoire, one that was stuffed with old fur coats and probably a few pairs of boots as well. The truth was, Leo had too many possessions, and not enough desire to clean.

Grabbing the rag that he had previously been using on the more fawned over items, Leo held it out to the other man. "What is your name, by the way?" he asked, figuring he should know if he was going to be spending the night in the store. "You can call me Leo."

 

[Ashi]

In spite of the man's assurance that Wes wasn't bothering him, a little apprehension remained. It had little to do with whether or not the human was being a nuisance, but more that he shouldn't even be there at all. It was as though he had entered some forbidden, dangerous territory regardless of warning signs. This man was a vampire after all; by law Wes had for all intents and purposes walked into the lion's den. Wes was only dimly aware of this now, his intrigue taking over for his common sense. He was wading too deeply in the man's dark eyes to pay that thought much attention even as the man stepped closer.


"Of course," Wes answered with a sort of half smile. The tension between them was broken, the uneasiness ebbing away, and he could finally relax a bit. He removed his camera from around his neck, set it down on the nearest table, and approached the armoire with piqued interest. The wood was beautifully stained with intricate designs carved on the doors; he wondered briefly what kind of wood it was made from. Out of curiosity he opened it and was greeted by several coats, a pair of boots, and the rich smell of cedar. It was a bit musky with having been closed up for a lengthy period of time. Aside from being dusty, it appeared to be in great condition.


"Thanks," Wes closed the doors and took the rag. He started with the front, dusting in the nooks and crannies and shining the knobs that served as door handles. This was more or less what he'd had in mind when he mentioned work in the first place; he had no experience working behind a store counter. Standing behind a counter and guarding a cash register never appealed to Wes anyway. He needed work that would either require a lot of focus or keep him busy lest he get bored. Photography was a pleasant mix of both.


"Sorry. 'Guess I should've introduced myself first. The name's Wes." He offered a hand with a "nice to meet you." It hadn't crossed his mind once that, if he was going to stay there a while, he ought to introduce himself. Wes would sometimes forget his social graces outside of a professional setting. He threw the rag over his shoulder once he finished then reached for his camera to snap a picture of the armoire.


"So, is this shop yours or do you just work here?"

 

[neptune]

Although Leo hadn't given Wes permission, he proceeded to open the old armoire anyway. Normally, he would have scolded anyone who dared to touch his precious treasures with their unclean hands, but exceptions could always be made. Mostly, Leo was just curious about the other man, almost in awe of a human who wasn't afraid of nor obsessed with his kind; a true rarity. "It's nice to meet you as well," Leo nodded after shaking hands. The difference in temperature was stark, but it didn't seem to bother Wes in the slightest. Again, it was far from the typical reaction of most humans he'd encountered over the years.

Standing by, Leo watched as Wes dusted the last of the cobwebs off of the armoire and then picked up his camera once again. The flash was sudden, slightly irritating to his sensitive eyes, but Leo didn't complain. Instead, he rubbed at them with the sides of his hands until those flashes of white dots left his vision.

"No, no, this is all mine," Leo answered, gesturing around the shop with his free hand. "I've been alive for a very long time and I've always been a collector." He chuckled to himself, thinking of how little he'd let go over the last few decades. "I don't sell much," he added, feeling the need to confess to Wes. "Actually, a man came in earlier and tried to buy one of my bronze statues." Pointing over to the table by the door, Leo ended up waving his hand, ever so dismissive. "I didn't think he would treat them right."

It would have taken too much time to explain to Wes that he hadn't always been judgmental, but after hundreds of years of life, it was easy to read the ugly parts of people. That was one aspect of himself that Leo didn't like to talk about—anything but his flaws. With company in the shop, however, the subject was easy to step around and avoid. It had been so long since he'd had a good conversation and Wes seemed willing…and interesting.

"Why aren't you at home?" Leo finally asked, one eyebrow raised as he lead the other man over to another section of the store. There was an entire room full of bird cages, and their thin wires were a chore to keep free of dust. "The curfew is there to protect you; you don't seem like the high-risk type." Not that there weren't plenty of vampires who might want to feast on Wes, of course, and had Leo been any less civilized—or more hungry—he may have wanted a bite as well. The old methods just felt tedious when dinner now came in a bag.

 

[Ashi]

The striking coolness of Leo's touch sent a shiver tingling up Wes's back. It reminded him of what Leo was, not that he had forgotten. Rather, for a second, he became hyper-aware of it and that awareness gave him a chill in the same way static electricity made the hairs on one's arm stand on end. He knew it was there and he could choose to ignore it, but he couldn't pretend it didn't exist. Despite that, Wes wasn't bothered. The edge of fear and tension that had been there when he first walked through the door had subsided, replaced by a precarious sense of security that steadily grew less precarious with each passing moment. If indeed it was a false sense of security, Wes was none the wiser.


"Nice." Wes said as one who would do his duty by a conversation, nodding with approval. Clearly, Leo must have done well for himself to be able to collect so much and to get by without selling very many things. He was temporarily distracted by one minute detail, one that was likely trivial for Leo – that he said he'd lived a very long time. It didn't appear that he had very many years on Wes; then, Wes had no idea of the rules surrounding the mysterious race that was vampires. Perhaps they aged well, or not at all. Briefly, the thought crossed the brunet's mind to ask Leo exactly how long that was; then, his mother once told him it was rude to ask another's age and he decidedly brushed the thought aside.

"That explains a lot." Wes joked, grinning. It did explain what Wes heard when he'd entered the shop as well as Leo's mention of not selling much. There was a part of him that understood, beneath the part of him that could scarcely resist the urge to be a smart ass when such a prime opportunity presented itself. Many of the women on his mother's side of the family were like that, unwilling to part with something without the assurance that it would be in good hands. In fact, Wes was pretty much the same way when it came to his camera. He rarely ever let anyone hold it without his close supervision.

"I was working." Wes smiled and followed Leo into another area full of bird cages. His dark brows arched up in surprise. "That's, uh, quite the collection you got." He muttered under his breath, approaching the nearest birdcage and lightly blowing on a sizeable tuft of dust clinging to the top of the wire dome. He paused and turned to look at Leo, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Well, I'm not really into the party scene, but I wouldn't say I'm not 'high-risk.'" Wes grinned with an air of mischief.

"It's my work, really. I'm a photographer with the Daily Times. I compete against other photographers for the best spots on the paper, taking whatever assignment they give me. Some of them are pretty sketchy; like tonight I was trying to get a photo of a drug deal that I was told was going down just after curfew. I think my, uh, coworker set me up. Anyway, it's risky work." He started dusting the cage he stood in front of as he spoke. After a moment, he paused again and smirked.

"What type do I seem like?"

 

[neptune]

Again, Leo nodded proudly when Wes mentioned his collection. His sensitive ears were able to pick up even the faintest of comments, and although he knew that his collection was a bit much, he was still more than happy to show it off. There were often times when Leo thought that his pieces should be in museum somewhere, or that he could start his own art gallery and never have to sell much of anything. The thought was always fleeting, however, never something that he acted on—but he was never without time. The luxury for Leo was that tomorrow always came. He never had to worry about missed opportunities or wasted energy. There was a forever for him, something that humans only dreamed of and after living for so long, he pitied them; a few decades on Earth was never enough.

"Working?" Leo asked, intrigued. The last time that he had worked as a human, it had involved a farm, a lot of dirt and a shovel. He had to assume, just by how far society had come, that Wes had a much better job. He was keenly interested in the man, going as far to lean against the table and watch as he cleaned the dust from the delicate wires of the bird cages. Fascination was as natural to vampires as breathing was to humans, and it was so rare for Leo to spend time with anyone other than the alley cats.

Naturally, Wes elaborated on his work and the need for the camera was soon explained. It was all rather interesting to Leo, even though he didn't read the local paper. He had never felt the need to brush up on current events, figuring that he would live through them anyway and if they were any concern to him, they would find a way to make themselves relevant within his own personal space. Still, he liked photographs—not just because he could no longer be in them. Leo appreciated beauty wherever it came, and talent, no matter what kind, was always gorgeous.

Smiling, Leo straightened up. "Risky work," he repeated, chuckling to himself. "You must enjoy it then, the risk, if you let your friend send you on a wild goose chase." He pondered the question that was hanging in the air for a moment, moving around from the table and toward one of the cages that Wes had finished with. He ran a long finger over the small door, over the lock before looking back to the man. "You seem nice," he admitted, "you have one of those faces."

Years ago, his mother used to tell him that; people talked to him because he looked comfortable, he had a face for conversation. Although Leo had never felt that he truly embodied her assessment, feeling that he was much too rough, eccentric and mean, Wes had a warmth to him. "I think it's sweet that you're a bit foolish." In the wrong hands, that could spell disaster, but Leo was not the kind of vampire that feasted on the living.

 

[Ashi]

"I guess you could say that." Wes couldn't fight the grin that spread across his face when Leo mentioned that Wes must like the risk. There was a certain appeal to taking such a risk. It was likely the adrenaline rush that came with walking amongst beings that might want to eat him and getting out unscathed; however, it was debatable. There was also a certain amount of fear involved, which was equally as plausible as the adrenaline rush. Some people liked to be scared; that's why horror movies existed. Wes wouldn't describe himself as an adrenaline junky or a fearsome thrill-seeker, though.

"I definitely wouldn't call my coworker a friend. He's a real douche bag to be honest. Er, pardon my French." The brunet shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, but his grin didn't falter. "Come to think of it, I don't know why I listened to him at all. 'Guess I thought that, maybe, he could be an upstanding guy." Wes thought of all the times that he argued with his coworker, all the times he made it a point to show Wes up and take the best stories. It made Wes want to punch the guy and he wasn't one to act that rashly. "Then again, I've always liked taking photos. There's little I wouldn't do for a great shot." He folded the rag over to a cleaner side.

He followed Leo's movement with his eyes, not looking up from the birdcage he was bent over, dusting. They focused on his pale fingers, tracing their path along the wire of the birdcage. Leo's fingers were long, elegant; he could have been a hand model, Wes thought. He wanted to take a picture of them, but that wasn't possible. He'd heard that vampires didn't show up in photographs or on film. Supposedly they didn't have reflections either. He wanted to ask about that; however, he shied away though he wasn't sure why. Wes considered the man's answer a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he grinned again.

"That sounds like something my ma would say." He said with a laugh. Wes couldn't even recall the number of times his mother told him that he "had a nice face;" he'd lost count a long time ago. Actually, he heard that a lot from older women, not just his mother. He hated how ladies always grabbed his face when he was little. "You're not going to pinch my cheeks, are you?" Wes joked. Like Leo, he'd never really thought that he had anything special or particular about his face and he never took the assessments of his mother or other people seriously. Then again, maybe they did have some merit. That might well have been the reason that Wes made friends so easily.

"Well, you would be the first. Seems I'm the only one with the same enthusiasm for photography." Wes shrugged his shoulders, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "You have a collection of pictures in all of these other collections?"

 

[neptune]

As far as humans went, Wes was turning out to be one of the more interesting ones. Over the course of his long life, Leo had known many men who sought to do him harm, who wished to use him for one thing or another—they were the exception. The truth was, with the laws of modern society and although the line between humans and vampire was still very boldly defined, most humans were boring. They were soft and feeble, afraid of their own shadow and eager to get off of the streets at night. The high-risk ones were just a different kind of boring as far as Leo was concerned; they did thinks for the sake of shock, to bunk the rules and declare themselves different, but there was nothing new or exciting about thrill-seeking. Having a conversation, however, talking despite the stigma of darkness, that was different.

Listening closely as Wes colorfully talked about his co-worker, Leo couldn't help but laugh. With such a short lifespan, it didn't seem fair for the other man to have to put up with such nonsense. "I could find him and eat him if you want," he grinned, though he didn't go out of his way to let on that he was joking. The act of making someone uncomfortable for a few moments was sometimes more telling than hours of conversation. Would Wes tell him off? Would he feign naivety? Would it even matter?

That was the fun part.

With the mention of mothers, however, his joke was left forgotten. "I could," Leo answered, playing coy. He had already gotten a feel of how warm the other man was, and the thought of touching his cheek was riveting. The most annoying thing about being a vampire, Leo quietly thought, was the obsession over the most mundane things. It was fixation that had lead him into the antique business, decades of collecting specific items and then moving onto the next. He regarded one of the bird cages, with its thin wires and a layer of dust. He still remembered the bright yellow canary that spurred that era of obsession; birds were too much to care for, but their homes were just as ornate. Leo's smile faded, and his hands remained by his sides, instead of reaching for Wes, "but I won't. I'm not your mother."

Photography was something that Leo was interested in. He didn't show up in pictures anymore, but he had a collection of cameras that were rarely for sale, some that still worked, and he used them to take pictures of the alley cats. "I do," he nodded at Wes's question, "portraits and photo albums. It's amazing what people will sell sometimes."

Figuring that the birdcages could be dusted another time, Leo once again motioned for Wes to follow him. "I've been collecting pictures since the first camera was on the market," he mentioned, "it's the one collection that I always come back to, even if it takes me a few decades."

In a small alcove toward the back of the store sat an old, ornate couch. The upholstery was purple silk, a rarity for its time. It was a piece that Leo refused to let many people sit on, but he gestured toward it anyway, allowing Wes to do what he pleased. One of the walls was full up with shelving and photo albums. "Pick a year," he smiled, "I have everything."

 

[Ashi]

Though it went unaddressed, Leo's joke was not entirely forgotten. It registered for Wes as a surprise, as he hadn't expected Leo to say something so seemingly outlandish. He hadn't seemed the type up until that point; however, Wes had forgotten if for the past few minutes that he had only just met the mysterious collector and couldn't really peg him as one type or another. Alas, the humor was not lost on the human, and the joke roused a wry sort of grin. Wes thought that, if his coworker continued to wear on his nerves, he might actually take Leo up on that offer. He didn't voice this thought, rather dropping it entirely.

"Gee, thanks." Wes joked. His interest piqued at Leo's confirmation. Those words, "I do," made his heart beat very much faster. There was little that Wes was so passionate about as he was photography. It wasn't just the photos themselves that he liked, but everything that went into the medium. He loved inspecting the different types of cameras, the feeling of holding them in his hands, their distinctive clicks as photos were captured. Learning how to develop photos on film for the first time was one of Wes's favorite childhood memories. The history too was interesting and it was amazing to see just how far photography had come over the decades. Wes followed Leo out of the room, stuffing the rag into one of the back pockets of his jeans. He could always come back to the birdcages later; right now, old photos were far more interesting.

"Since 1888..." He breathed, his eyes boggling at the information. He was so taken aback that he almost missed the couch when Leo gestured for him to sit. It wasn't until he felt it under him that he even truly noticed it. It was an interesting color. Wes might have asked what era it was from if he had had the presence of mind. "Then let's start at the beginning." Wes nearly trembled with excitement. He had seen some pretty old photographs in libraries and museums, but they each only told one part of the depicted stories. There was so much that got left out. Wes had a feeling that Leo's collection would be different.

Wes's eyes lit up as they fell on the first page of the album. "They just don't have photos like these at museums." He said and shook his head in amazement.

 

[neptune]

Starting at the beginning was an incredible suggestion, one that was bound to take more time than what they had, but it delighted Leo beyond anything else. "As you wish," he agreed and reached for one of the photo albums on the top shelf. It was an old book, though still sturdy, leather-bound with slightly frayed edges and a color that had gone dark with time. Inside, however, the pictures were nicely preserved, and Leo presented them delicately, like the treasures they were. Normally he wouldn't have allowed anyone to touch such an incredible relic, but the look on Wes' face said that he appreciated the things others did not, that he would take care not to turn the pages too aggressively.

"No, they don't," Leo hummed, rather proud of himself for owning something so rare. "I used to loan some of my pieces to museums, but they've stopped calling these days." He highly suspected that it had everything to do with how picky he was, and not a lack of interest in the massive collection he had hoarded—like some sort of immortal, easily-impressed-by-shiny-things dragon.

What had started out as a slight inconvenience had turned into a wonderful evening. Leo was more than happy to share the albums with Wes, and they wasted more than three hours looking at them, turning pages and watching as the decades back to life. They were well into the nineteen-twenties when the sound of scratching and meowing caught his attention. Sensitive hearing was sometimes a pain, but it allowed him to realize when he had broken from his schedule. The alley cats were sure to be huffy for the next few days.

"Oh," Leo said, straightening up on the couch beside Wes. He had been leaned over, in the middle of a story about where the album in particular had come from, but their trip down memory lane needed pausing. "Are you hungry?" he asked, knowing that humans ate much more regularly than his kind. He didn't have much to offer Wes, but he kept a few perishables around for the cats. "Or thirsty?" That seemed more likely.

The scratching at the back door was becoming much more pronounced, but Leo was unsure of whether Wes could hear anything. "I only ask because I have to feed my cats," he added, standing from the couch and for what was likely the fifth time that night, implied that Wes should follow. "Well," he went on, "they aren't my cats, but they might as well be. They come around every night." He talked about the strays as if they bothered him, but he loved each feline tremendously and always noticed when one was missing from the group.

There was a small kitchen in the back of the shop, it had existed for the previous owner, a human who had felt the need to leave the neighborhood once the vampires moved in. It had been useless to Leo until Noir, a black cat, began to visit on a regular basis. He fiddled around in the small icebox for a moment, gathering a cooked chicken breast and some fresh salmon, along with some carrots as well. "There are three of them now," he informed Wes, chopping up the meat and slicing the carrots into cat-sized pieces, "I used to have four, but I think Felice passed on," though he liked to think that she had been taken in by some nice family. "I don't hoard animals the way I hoard everything else." It felt important to clarify that fact, for whatever reason; Leo wanted Wes to like him, maybe even come back to the shop.

 

[Ashi]

"Really? Wow.." Wes breathed, almost unable to believe what he was hearing. That Leo's photos had been in museums was amazing. It was a long-term goal of Wes's to have his own photographs featured in an exhibit in a museum somewhere, whether an art museum or otherwise. This only added to the admiration he was building for the man. Leo had an eye for beauty that Wes hadn't experienced in many other people, an eye for interesting things. While Leo collected these beautiful and interesting things, Wes took pictures of them; but that was enough similarity to say that they had something in common, or so he thought.

Wes didn't think to ask why Leo's photo collection was no longer interesting to museums as he was far more interested in the stories the man had to tell about the photo albums. As was only proper and respectful, Wes was careful with each one, turning each page as if it was the delicate wings of a butterfly. He made sure not to touch the photos, so he didn't leave smudges or fingerprints that might obscure their contents. Wes was deep in the nineteen-twenties when Leo broke from his storytelling with a sudden, "Oh." The young man peeled his gaze from the photos to look at Leo, curiosity furrowing his brows.

"Oh, um.. I guess I could go for a glass of water." In the unknown but clearly long time spent poring over the albums, Wes hadn't thought once of how long ago he'd last had anything to eat or drink. His stomach took this opportunity to lurch a bit uncomfortably. He would have to eat soon, but more than anything, he found he was quite thirsty. This would also stave off hunger a little longer. He followed Leo to a small kitchen, something he never expected to see in a store, and gratefully accepted a cup of water with a "thanks." It was gone in a few long gulps.

"Cats are very photogenic." Wes offered with a boyish grin. He thought of how his mother fed the strays that used to come through their yard when he was younger and how Leo seemed a lot like that. "Well, even if you did hoard them.. so long as they're well taken care of, why does it matter?" He shrugged. "My ma was the same way with stray neighborhood cats. She'd feed 'em, even named 'em. My pops didn't like it much, but she always said that even strays needed someone to love them now and again." Wes said and blushed a little at the cheesiness.

"Supposedly animals, especially cats and dogs, are good at judging character. Perhaps it's a good thing that they come around?"

 

[neptune]

For once, Leo was happy to be of service. Had any other human stumbled into his shop after curfew and started touching things, Leo would have thrown them back out into the street, but Wes was different. There was something incredibly genuine about him, something warm and inviting and Leo hadn't seen or experienced that first had in decades. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was getting ahead of himself, that most humans wanted little to do with vampires, but he hoped that Wes would come back to the shop another day. In the meantime, all he could do was be a gracious host.

"Your mother sounds like a nice woman," Leo commented, smiling to himself as he noticed the flush of Wes's cheeks. The thump of his pulse was slightly louder, and a less civilized creature may have taken advantage of the other man's vulnerable state, but Leo knew better. He didn't like being thought of as monster, and his meals had been coming in bags for the last few decades—he hardly remembered what it was like to sink his teeth into a warm neck. Subconsciously, he ran his tongue over his lips, slightly hungry himself.

With the fresh food chopped and sorted, Leo started to gather everything into three different bowls. The cats were good about sharing, but he thought it was important that they each have their own dish. "I like to think so," he said, happy that Wes didn't think he was odd for catering to stray cats. "They're good company. I don't get many visitors." It wasn't something that he was complaining about, though. There were times when Leo got lonely, but upon seeking out company, was always reminded of what a chore other people could be. Even among vampires, he just wasn't overly interested in their lives unless it somehow involved his own.

Moving around the small kitchen, Leo also filled a dish with water and set it with the others. "You can photograph them, if you like," he offered and nodded toward two of the dishes, his hands already full. The cats were still meowing outside, likely loud enough for even a human to hear. "They're friendly once you feed them."

The narrow alley was swamped in darkness, but Leo's sensitive eyes could see just fine. In an act of unprecedented courtesy, he flipped the light switch on for Wes so that he didn't stumble around. The lamp was attached to the side of the building, and the light that it did give off was dim, but it did the job just fine. Three cats looked on with interest, and Leo greeted them brightly before setting down the dishes in his hand.

Taking a seat on the porch step, Leo watched as they started to eat. "The black one," he said, pointing to the smallest cat with a rather sleek coat, "is Noir. Beside him," a chunky tabby, "that's Piper, and the last one," a rather timid Siamese, "is Jack." In Leo's opinion, they weren't complete without Felice, but he tried not to dwell on it too much. "A bit of an odd bunch, I guess," he said, leaning with his elbows on his knees.

 

[Ashi]

While most other humans might have been worried in a similar situation, Wes had almost become complacent. It seemed more and more difficult to believe that this man was inhuman. He was nothing like how vampires were often described and portrayed; and seeing this obvious discrepancy made him embarrassed to admit that he ever gave any merit to those rumors. Leo's presence wasn't threatening and Wes felt safe enough to relax and let loose.

"Isn't that kind of lonely?" Wes wanted to ask and opened his mouth to do so, but closed it again quickly. Somehow it felt like a very ungrateful and prying question to ask; and given that Leo had so graciously let him stay, he didn't want to come off that way. Instead, he opted to smile and nod in understanding. "Sounds kind of refreshing, actually. I think I'd rather have a cat than a roommate." He put in offhandedly, picking up the other two dishes and following Leo to the door.

Ah, his roommate! The realization hit Wes like a cold gust of wind. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that his phone hadn't been blowing up with calls and text messages asking where he was. Annoyance showed briefly on his face, replaced by a boyish grin as the door opened and the light flicked on. The way Leo greeted them was cute and humored him a little. He followed suit, placing the bowls in front of them and taking a seat on the step.

Wes extended a hand to the cats. Only one showed any interest at all and smelled him; however, the chicken proved to be far more interesting. He turned his camera on and snapped a picture, the clicking of the shutter prompting them to look up and flick their ears.

"Cats and people are a lot alike that way." Wes observed aloud. "Always individual and distinct from one another, but they come together in unique groups." He said, glancing at Leo. In his mind, he drew the parallel between his statement and the fact that the two of them were sitting side by side on the stoop; however, he was only vaguely aware of this. He grinned again and shrugged his shoulders. "Pardon my rambling, philosophical mambo-jumbo."