[Original Fiction] Merry Christmas, tygati
tygati asked for Saphrael and Christopher and kisses. This does not contain kisses, because the characters are apparently too shy. Sad, but true.
--
London swirled around him, relentless and noisy. Christmas decorations sparkled in the fading sunlight, tinsel and glittery angels and stars. He closed his eyes so that he could listen, so that he could commit this moment in its entirety to memory.
It had been too long, Christopher thought. But he was only one man, and he could not be everywhere. There was so much to the world, and every day the humans expanded further, moved into yet another unknown crevice of the world. He could hardly be expected to know it all.
London had changed, but he was used to that.
A person looking from above would have seen people moving around him, like there was a man-sized ballast in their way. None of them noticed him, because he didn't want them to.
He studied the faces around him, a mixture of tourists and locals, young and old and in between, students and workers and whatever else you could imagine. He frowned as a face he saw a familiar face among them. Not just familiar in that he'd seen him before, because Christopher saw many faces and he remembered them all; even more than familiar enough to know his name, because names were handed out so easily these days and he never forgot one. No, he knew this person.
Christopher fell into step beside him. "Hello, Saphrael." It was rather like stepping out of a movie and into real life: suddenly he was real, people were pushing at him and he had to hurry to not be swept away.
Saphrael looked at him in surprise, then smiled with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "Christopher. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," he said, and Christopher laughed because it had been years, decades perhaps, but Saphrael understood about time.
They claimed that vampires never aged, but that was a lie. He had seen the lines in Saphrael's face shift over the years, and although he did not age in the same way humans did, the Saphrael that stood before him now looked far older than the Saphrael he had first met.
At the moment, the vampire's hair was at an intermediate length, falling into his eyes occasionally, only to be pushed back with an impatient hand. His eyes were the same, patient green, matching the cat-like slit of the pupils that marked him as Kindred, the born vampires. He dressed like a student, and Christopher wondered if he was studying at the moment.
They took shelter from the crowds in an alcove at the window of a shop. He wanted to suggest they have a coffee and catch up, like they were just old friends meeting in the street. "What brings you to London?" he asked, instead.
"The same as everybody else," said Saphrael. "Christmas shopping." He held up a large bag full of boxes and indistinguishable shapes.
Christopher smiled. "Do you have plans for Christmas?" he asked, curiously, because he knew Saphrael was old enough to remember a time before Christmas. Still, it was hard to ignore, when so much of the world seemed to revolve around it. Later in the week Christopher would slip into the stores and watch what people bought for each other.
Saphrael shook his head. "There are things I could do, if I wanted," he offered. "But I haven't committed to anything." Saphrael held up the bag again. "Marie tells me off if I forget Christmas, though, so I thought I would post some things over."
Christopher nodded.
"And yourself?" asked Saphrael. "Where will you be, come December twenty-fifth?"
He was a little surprised that Saphrael had asked, but then, vampires had lives. They slipped themselves into human society, pretending to be a part of it. They had friends and sometimes family, loved ones. Now that the world knew what they were, there was even no longer that veil of secrecy keeping them apart.
"I don't exist," said Christopher, leaning back against the glass of the window. "So I don't have plans for Christmas."
Saphrael glanced at him, a question in his eyes, but then his gaze skittered away, back towards the crowds on the street.
And that was the way it always was. He never had to explain himself, because nobody ever asked. He didn't have to hide anything, because nobody was ever curious about him. People saw him and smiled, like they recognised him, they talked to him and answered his questions, but they never offered questions of his own. He walked among them, but never a part of them. He remembered everything he had ever discovered about humans, but he wasn't a part of their lives.
For the first time, he wanted to talk about it. "I don't... I'm not a part of society," he said, quietly. "I don't get to know people, I don't make friends. I'm just... here. I remember people, but they don't remember me."
"I remember you," said Saphrael.
He felt pleasure tighten in his gut. "Vampires are different, I suppose," he said, enjoying that long-forgotten wash of happiness.
Saphrael laughed. "Perhaps it's just because I've known you for so long," he said, smiling.
They met, occasionally, maybe once or twice a century. They talked of memories and forgotten languages and Christopher loved him for it, because it was hard to be the only one who remembered.
Saphrael's memory was littered with holes, confused in places and lacking in organisation, but he was there. He understood, even if he didn't always remember.
While vampires could live forever, in Christopher's experience, they simply did not. Accident, suicide, murder, all could and did steal life away, and there were never many to begin with.
"There's a Starbucks around the corner," said Christopher, knowing it was the truth even as he knew that you wouldn't need a perfect memory to predict a Starbucks around the corner in this part of London.
The Starbucks was crowded, and they eventually found their way to an independent cafe a few streets away.
There were several empty tables, but they slipped into one of the booths at the back. Saphrael ordered plain, black Earl Grey tea, while Christopher ordered a flat white coffee.
He studied the other occupants of the cafe as he drank. There were old women chattering happily away about grandchildren and nieces and nephews; old school friends catching up on years gone by; a pair of teenaged girls giggling and snickering their way through tall ice cream sundaes; a couple obviously in the early stages of a relationship, who could barely stand to stop touching each other for more than a moment.
"Saphrael," he asked, slowly, wondering if he was crossing the line, "have you ever been in love?"
Saphrael was surprised. "Not like that," he said, nodding at the couple at the table beside them.
Christopher laughed. "No," he said. "I should hope not."
Saphrael looked thoughtful. "And really... I'm not sure." he said, shaking his head. "I was alone, for a long period at the beginning. And then, eventually, I was too old." He shrugged. "To be honest, I tend to see people as younger siblings. It's hard, to find somebody who understands." There was a touch of bitterness in the last, a hint of recent pain.
'I understand', he wanted to say; wanted to share that little twinge of joy that had come when Saphrael told him he remembered Christopher. But he wondered if he really did. "I know it's not the same," he offered. "But I know a little of what it's like."
Saphrael looked away. "It must seem funny to you, hearing me complain about being too old," he said.
He'd never told Saphrael how old he was, but somehow Saphrael knew all the same. Christopher shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I... You're the only one I know who even comes close," he said.
Silence fell, and Christopher busied himself with his drink for a moment, feeling rather embarrassed.
"I'm hardly one to say you shouldn't be alone at Christmas," said Saphrael, after a long period had passed. "But if you want to... We could spend it together."
Christopher considered for a moment. "Not Christmas," he said, finally. "But the longest night of the year. The solstice."
Saphrael smiled. "My parents used to celebrate it," he said, wistfully. "Although the villagers feared it. I suppose since my people are technically nocturnal, it would make sense for us to honour it."
"The solstice, then," said Christopher.
Saphrael smiled. "I'll look forward to it."
--
London swirled around him, relentless and noisy. Christmas decorations sparkled in the fading sunlight, tinsel and glittery angels and stars. He closed his eyes so that he could listen, so that he could commit this moment in its entirety to memory.
It had been too long, Christopher thought. But he was only one man, and he could not be everywhere. There was so much to the world, and every day the humans expanded further, moved into yet another unknown crevice of the world. He could hardly be expected to know it all.
London had changed, but he was used to that.
A person looking from above would have seen people moving around him, like there was a man-sized ballast in their way. None of them noticed him, because he didn't want them to.
He studied the faces around him, a mixture of tourists and locals, young and old and in between, students and workers and whatever else you could imagine. He frowned as a face he saw a familiar face among them. Not just familiar in that he'd seen him before, because Christopher saw many faces and he remembered them all; even more than familiar enough to know his name, because names were handed out so easily these days and he never forgot one. No, he knew this person.
Christopher fell into step beside him. "Hello, Saphrael." It was rather like stepping out of a movie and into real life: suddenly he was real, people were pushing at him and he had to hurry to not be swept away.
Saphrael looked at him in surprise, then smiled with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "Christopher. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," he said, and Christopher laughed because it had been years, decades perhaps, but Saphrael understood about time.
They claimed that vampires never aged, but that was a lie. He had seen the lines in Saphrael's face shift over the years, and although he did not age in the same way humans did, the Saphrael that stood before him now looked far older than the Saphrael he had first met.
At the moment, the vampire's hair was at an intermediate length, falling into his eyes occasionally, only to be pushed back with an impatient hand. His eyes were the same, patient green, matching the cat-like slit of the pupils that marked him as Kindred, the born vampires. He dressed like a student, and Christopher wondered if he was studying at the moment.
They took shelter from the crowds in an alcove at the window of a shop. He wanted to suggest they have a coffee and catch up, like they were just old friends meeting in the street. "What brings you to London?" he asked, instead.
"The same as everybody else," said Saphrael. "Christmas shopping." He held up a large bag full of boxes and indistinguishable shapes.
Christopher smiled. "Do you have plans for Christmas?" he asked, curiously, because he knew Saphrael was old enough to remember a time before Christmas. Still, it was hard to ignore, when so much of the world seemed to revolve around it. Later in the week Christopher would slip into the stores and watch what people bought for each other.
Saphrael shook his head. "There are things I could do, if I wanted," he offered. "But I haven't committed to anything." Saphrael held up the bag again. "Marie tells me off if I forget Christmas, though, so I thought I would post some things over."
Christopher nodded.
"And yourself?" asked Saphrael. "Where will you be, come December twenty-fifth?"
He was a little surprised that Saphrael had asked, but then, vampires had lives. They slipped themselves into human society, pretending to be a part of it. They had friends and sometimes family, loved ones. Now that the world knew what they were, there was even no longer that veil of secrecy keeping them apart.
"I don't exist," said Christopher, leaning back against the glass of the window. "So I don't have plans for Christmas."
Saphrael glanced at him, a question in his eyes, but then his gaze skittered away, back towards the crowds on the street.
And that was the way it always was. He never had to explain himself, because nobody ever asked. He didn't have to hide anything, because nobody was ever curious about him. People saw him and smiled, like they recognised him, they talked to him and answered his questions, but they never offered questions of his own. He walked among them, but never a part of them. He remembered everything he had ever discovered about humans, but he wasn't a part of their lives.
For the first time, he wanted to talk about it. "I don't... I'm not a part of society," he said, quietly. "I don't get to know people, I don't make friends. I'm just... here. I remember people, but they don't remember me."
"I remember you," said Saphrael.
He felt pleasure tighten in his gut. "Vampires are different, I suppose," he said, enjoying that long-forgotten wash of happiness.
Saphrael laughed. "Perhaps it's just because I've known you for so long," he said, smiling.
They met, occasionally, maybe once or twice a century. They talked of memories and forgotten languages and Christopher loved him for it, because it was hard to be the only one who remembered.
Saphrael's memory was littered with holes, confused in places and lacking in organisation, but he was there. He understood, even if he didn't always remember.
While vampires could live forever, in Christopher's experience, they simply did not. Accident, suicide, murder, all could and did steal life away, and there were never many to begin with.
"There's a Starbucks around the corner," said Christopher, knowing it was the truth even as he knew that you wouldn't need a perfect memory to predict a Starbucks around the corner in this part of London.
The Starbucks was crowded, and they eventually found their way to an independent cafe a few streets away.
There were several empty tables, but they slipped into one of the booths at the back. Saphrael ordered plain, black Earl Grey tea, while Christopher ordered a flat white coffee.
He studied the other occupants of the cafe as he drank. There were old women chattering happily away about grandchildren and nieces and nephews; old school friends catching up on years gone by; a pair of teenaged girls giggling and snickering their way through tall ice cream sundaes; a couple obviously in the early stages of a relationship, who could barely stand to stop touching each other for more than a moment.
"Saphrael," he asked, slowly, wondering if he was crossing the line, "have you ever been in love?"
Saphrael was surprised. "Not like that," he said, nodding at the couple at the table beside them.
Christopher laughed. "No," he said. "I should hope not."
Saphrael looked thoughtful. "And really... I'm not sure." he said, shaking his head. "I was alone, for a long period at the beginning. And then, eventually, I was too old." He shrugged. "To be honest, I tend to see people as younger siblings. It's hard, to find somebody who understands." There was a touch of bitterness in the last, a hint of recent pain.
'I understand', he wanted to say; wanted to share that little twinge of joy that had come when Saphrael told him he remembered Christopher. But he wondered if he really did. "I know it's not the same," he offered. "But I know a little of what it's like."
Saphrael looked away. "It must seem funny to you, hearing me complain about being too old," he said.
He'd never told Saphrael how old he was, but somehow Saphrael knew all the same. Christopher shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I... You're the only one I know who even comes close," he said.
Silence fell, and Christopher busied himself with his drink for a moment, feeling rather embarrassed.
"I'm hardly one to say you shouldn't be alone at Christmas," said Saphrael, after a long period had passed. "But if you want to... We could spend it together."
Christopher considered for a moment. "Not Christmas," he said, finally. "But the longest night of the year. The solstice."
Saphrael smiled. "My parents used to celebrate it," he said, wistfully. "Although the villagers feared it. I suppose since my people are technically nocturnal, it would make sense for us to honour it."
"The solstice, then," said Christopher.
Saphrael smiled. "I'll look forward to it."