Chapter Text
Adrian was, technically speaking, asleep.
His mind was resting. His body followed it. But he’s not unconscious, not on the precipice of it.
The benefits of a Dhampir physiology.
Or disadvantages depending on one’s perspective along with Adrian’s mood for the day.
Regardless, it’s this not-quite-there unconsciousness that allowed him to hear the faint rustling beyond his door from beyond the haze of his mind. And the subsequent knock.
He’s already on his feet to answer it, bare feet padding along the wooden floor. He doesn’t use his senses to smell, to hear, to know who's standing on the other side of the door.
He could wonder but he already has a suspicion. His words from the dim hallway enter his mind and jog his memory. It made his throat dry and his hands clench.
There’s the thought of it. The hope of it.
They’re both too great.
But still, he moved forward. The door was just within his arm span.
Because Adrian had asked for this. He’d said the words.
The cold doorknob twisted under his grasp and the low light of the hallways filled his eyes.
Trevor looked, for a better word, terrible.
His eyes were dark and heavy, hair messed beyond recognition and Adrian could almost taste the sweat that lay over him, coating him like a second layer.
Adrian's gaze flicked down at his bare chest for a moment before he spoke.
“Are you—“
“Is that a dress?”
Adrian blinked. Trevor’s eyes were squinted, assessing his clothing.
But when Trevor had opened his mouth to speak there was another smell that he could just catch. Bitter and sharp. Though fading.
It’s a scent he associates with sickness. One that filled the air of his and his mother's clinics. It jolted his instincts, every nerve alive and every spot of his vision running over Trevor for injury and symptoms.
Even though he knew. He knew Trevor wasn’t sick. Not like that. But Adrian had to look anyway.
He supposed it’s that familiar inclination of his occupation. But he still looked.
Trevor is fine. Physically.
He spoke again, jolting him out of his assessment. “Why are you wearing a dress?”
He raised a brow, responding drily. “It is not a dress. It’s a nightgown.”
“Same thing.”
It is not. Adrian’s nightgown is built of white silk and falls below the knee. It’s light, airy and, in his opinion, very much comfortable. It wears like a whisper upon his skin.
Though, he will admit it’s a finer thing in design. The neckline dips, embroidered in deep blue thread that holds a simple stitching pattern. His cuffs are wider than most nightgowns since he enjoys the loose feeling for his comfort. They end in a lace that has continuous peaks in design. The hem itself is the same but has that same blue thread running near the edges.
Therefore, it’s not a dress but a not plain nightgown.
He would explain it to Trevor but he wouldn’t have the taste to see the difference. Regardless, Trevor didn’t come here to converse on his clothing. Even though he is staring at it with a rather great intensity.
Really, it can’t be this mystical. What do Belmonts wear to bed then?
But Adrian didn’t say any of that, only moving back and opening his door further.
He remembered his words to Trevor the night of their wedding. The way he had defended his room, his sanctuary, against the new intruder.
“Would you like to come in?”
Trevor blinked. Obviously didn’t expect it. Adrian supposed that was his fault. He’d always been so protective over the space and though he had asked Trevor to come to him if it got too quiet again, he’d certainly never stated where they would be instead.
Trevor’s mouth opened and closed. “Yes.”
Adrian stepped further in, a beckoning hand towards him and Trevor moved, eyes glued to his as if seeking reassurance that yes, he could truly come in.
Adrian didn’t speak right away. He held Trevor’s gaze as he stepped aside, giving him space to enter, then quietly closed the door. Leaning back against it, he watched as Trevor’s eyes roamed the room, taking everything in.
Trevor first took a cursory glance but after a quick look at him and Adrian’s responding smile, moved over to the closest wall.
It was the one that held the portrait of his family. His father, standing proud, his mother, a light, and him, a small, giggling toddler that refused to stay still.
Trevor stared at it for a long moment. The profile of his face that could be seen from this angle betrayed nothing.
Adrian desperately wanted to know what he thought.
And he doesn’t need to ask. Because Trevor is already turning towards him, a small smirk on his lips.
“You’re pulling Lisa’s hair.”
Adrian smiled. “My mother says I refused to settle down unless I did. I… have a vague memory of it, I think.”
Trevor shrugged. “Can't blame you. I used to pull people’s ears as a kid. Don’t know why, I just did it. Carrying me was used as a punishment.”
His voice, though humouring and dry, was coated in exhaustion and Adrian again focused on his dark eyes. The scent of drying sweat festered in his mouth, curling around his fangs.
Trevor was already looking at something else. Studying the stacked books, open charts and drawings Adrian had pinned to his wall.
His gaze travelled to the end of the room and Adrian knew he was looking at his childhood toys, still kept and cleaned in his bedroom.
A keepsake he could never get rid of.
Trevor was inspecting them curiously and with his back turned, Adrian took the time to inspect him in turn.
He was only wearing a pair of sleep pants, though they were loose and hanging. But Adrian’s attention was captured by his back, strong and firm. And the scars that littered it.
He traced them with his eyes, wondering the stories behind each one. There was a bite at his side that made his instincts hiss and offence rise. But the feeling was quickly overtaken by the long burn that stretched from shoulder to hip.
He wondered.
Trevor turned back, mouth moving.
Adrian blinked. He hadn’t caught any of it. “Yes.” He said simply. Trevor nodded and Adrian wasn’t sure he'd said the right thing.
But it’s enough.
Trevor was about to make his way to another corner, another wall, another thing to see when Adrian finally put his foot down.
“Trevor?”
“Hmm?”
“Sit down.”
Trevor looked over at him, a hint of surprise in his expression that shouldn't have been there. Did he think Adrian would simply let him wander around until he passed out?
It was times like these that he wondered at Trevor’s mind.
He gestured to his bed. “Take a seat.”
Trevor stared and Adrian stared back. Let him know he was serious.
If it were any other situation, he knew Trevor would scoff and continue looking around as if it was his right. He’d snark and say something about how he’d rather do anything else but maybe, towards the end of his visit, he’d take a seat if only to just see what his mattress was like and complain about his own. Though Adrian knew there was nothing wrong with it.
But it’s a tell to what’s happened to Trevor tonight. To the darkness around his eyes. He does none of that. Only looked back to his bed and slowly, as if approaching a predator, took a seat on the edge.
Like a bird poised to flight.
He sighed. “You gave me a shitty mattress.”
Adrian’s lip twitched. There it was.
Adrian paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on Trevor before crossing the room to his bed. He hesitated briefly, then sat on what was traditionally his side, directly across from Trevor.
Trevor remained perched tensely on the edge of the mattress, his posture rigid. Adrian shifted, leaning back against the headboard with practised ease, his expression calm as he waited.
Trevor watched him and Adrian shrugged, patting the spot next to him and raising a brow when Trevor didn’t move.
He looked at Trevor exaggeratedly. Measured the words to say, “nervous?”
Trevor scoffed and finally moved from the edge, leaning his body against the headboard in the same manner as Adrian.
He smiled, triumphant, and Trevor rolled his eyes but there was a smile pulling at his lips. But soon, the curve of his mouth died down and Trevor looked away, fingers picking at the sheets and gaze wondering, never stopping, as if he wanted to continuously distract himself.
But Trevor had come to him.
Adrian spoke softly. “What happened?”
A pause. “Another shitty dream.”
He’s still fidgeting, still not looking in one place and Adrian leaned over to his side table, grabbed a toy he hadn’t yet solved. Though not for a lack of trying. He just hadn't paid attention to it.
He passed it to Trevor. “You try to match the colours on all the sides.” The cube is covered in bright colours, each side mismatched and a mess. Trevor huffed, leaned back on his pillows, and began to fiddle with it.
His next words are measured and slow. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
Trevor didn’t reply. Not immediately. And Adrian didn’t mind. He just waited.
When he did speak, his voice was rough. “I hate fire.”
Adrian paused, the implication rushing over him. Trevor’s palms, cradling the small cube, covered in burns. His own mother’s scarring, how she told them she’d had to help Trevor with wounds he got when pulling her off the pyre.
“Trevor—”
He spoke over Adrian, “It’s annoying. And it shouldn’t be.” His hands aren’t working the cube anymore. He’s just staring at it. “It helps us fucking survive, but it’s used for the opposite. They tried to kill your mother with it. And my father—”
Trevor’s hands were clenched tight over the cube, knuckles white with strain. Adrian reached over and carefully, gently, put a hand over his.
“I couldn’t save him. I was right there but I couldn’t do it.” His voice broke.
Oh, Trevor.
“That’s what I dream about,” he admitted. “It’s not— it never used to be this bad.”
The implication that it was this, this marriage, Trevor’s move to the castle, and his leaving of family, struck him in the chest.
It’s their fault.
Something must have shown on his face because Trevor snorted. “Don’t think you’re that important, Adrian.”
Adrian smiled but the thought festered in his mind. He pushed it aside. This was Trevor’s time, not his.
Shuffling over, he planted himself next to Trevor, their knees knocking together. Trevor raised his brows in question and Adrian placed his hands over Trevor’s again, moving their fingers to shift the cube.
Trevor let him. He was watching their hands, unblinking.
“I didn’t think I’d tell you all that,” Trevor admitted.
“I’m glad you did. I want to help you.”
“This isn’t something to help me with.” He scoffed. “I’m just being weak.”
Anger rose sharply and Adrian tightened his hold on the cube, on Trevor’s fingers.
“Don’t say that again. This isn’t weakness, it’s grief. There’s a difference.” He took a breath. “The Church uses fire as a way to rid itself of its enemies. When everything is burnt out, what’s left is only that which can try to regrow. In their eyes, it cleanses. But it doesn’t.”
“Considering what’s left is a burnt pile of shit, I guess it’s the opposite.”
He huffed. “Quite.” He met his gaze. “Trevor,” he whispered, “your grief doesn’t make you lesser. Look at you, you’re here. You’re trying. Regrowing.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” He bit out. “I was always so close to him. And after he died, it felt like…like I couldn’t do anything without him.” His eyes were wide. Scared. “Why.”
Adrian’s voice was soft. “That’s the grief.”
His face tensed, anger and helplessness struck in his eyes. “If this is grief, I don’t want it.”
“Trevor—”
He shook his head, dogged and angry. “No. I wanted him to be here forever.”
“I know.”
“It’s not fair. Why is it like this? It was supposed to be different. ”
He pulled the cube out of Trevor’s clenched hands. The hard corners had left an imprint on his skin from the force.
“There’s no shortcut. Nothing shelters grief better than memory.”
Trevor’s breathing hitched. His gaze flicked back to Adrian, and for a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something. Instead, his shoulders slumped, and he looked away.
Moments passed in silence.
“Trevor—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
But Adrian couldn't let it go. Here was Trevor, in his room, on his bed, finally speaking about his nightmares. Nightmares. A word Trevor never used. Something he avoided and instead covered in dry humour.
He swallowed. “Why?” He pushed.
Trevor shook his head and Adrian hesitated, his hand moving to Trevor’s shoulder and pressing lightly,
“Trevor—”
He spoke abruptly, loudly, “The memories are what’s making this worse. And that’s my fault. I’m not supposed to linger like this. My family are hunters. Belmonts. Death is expected. I should be able to let go by now.”
Trevor’s jaw was clenched and there was frustration in his eyes, in the set of his mouth.
It wasn’t just the grief, Adrian realised. It was what Trevor thought he was supposed to be. The image of it. Something he thought he was failing at.
Trevor. Trevor who put his family first, who entered this marriage for them, who pushed himself until collapse.
Adrian shifted, his tone softening as the realisation settled. “That may be but… you’re also a Tepes. And we don’t let go very easily.”
Well, his father certainly didn’t. Adrian himself had never had anything that he wanted to hold onto so much. His parents certainly, but nothing that was his own.
Trevor laughed suddenly.“Oh fuck, you’re right. That explains everything, doesn’t it? You lot have infected me.”
“Well, considering we’ve also taught you how to combat infections, you should be fine.”
This made Trevor laugh harder, head thrown back and the line of his throat exposed.
Trevor suddenly met his gaze, eyes bright and laughing. “You bastard. You can make jokes. Where the hell was this back in the forest?”
He frowned. “Those jokes were perfectly adequate.”
Trevor waved him off muttering about it was too good to be true. He smiled.
“But I do mean my previous words, Trevor. This grief… it’s an expression of your love. Don’t—don’t treat it like a weakness.”
“My dreams feel like it.” He said stubbornly.
And Adrian didn’t know how to fix that. He could tell Trevor to talk to him about it, to tell him more. But he was already struggling with tonight and this had taken him weeks to speak with.
“Very well,” he murmured. “If your dreams are a weakness that you cannot defend against, then I will defend you.”
Trevor’s eyes were wide. “What.”
“I will watch over you. I will wake you. I will help you. If you think this is a weakness you cannot defend yourself against then I will be your shield.”
“You can’t mean that. How would you even be there every night—“ He cut himself off, chuckling incredulously. “Adrian, this won’t work.”
He shrugged. “It is a temporary solution. I believe in you.”
Trevor stared at him, mouth agape. “You’re serious.”
“I wouldn’t joke about this.”
Trevor’s mouth opened. Then closed. His mouth pressed into a line. “I’ve only just taken you up on your first proposition, and now you’ve laid a far more dangerous one at my feet.”
Adrian focused on one word. “Dangerous?”
Trevor sighed but it was small. It was tired. “I don’t know.”
“That’s alright.” He placed a hand on Trevor’s arm, felt the mortal warmth run below. “Just think about it. I don’t… I only mean to help you.”
“I know.” Trevor stared at him steadily. “I know you do.” And then he smiled and Adrian felt the tension that had steadily made its way through him, drain immediately.
He squeezed his arm and let go, skin quickly losing Trevor's warmth.
Trevor was silent and Adrian knew he had a lot to think through. Not just his proposition, but everything else. He passed him back the cube. “They say only strong minds can solve it.”
His father had made no comment when he’d handed it over to him. If Adrian deluded himself, he’d say he’d made it because he was bored.
Trevor raised a dark brow and picked it up from him. “I thought it was just a toy.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
He snorted, shaking his head as he settled back into the headboard, twisting its sides again.
Adrian lingered for a moment, then shuffled away to his own side.
His gaze lingered around the room, hearing the click of the cube and Trevor’s muttered curses. Slowly, he settled onto his pillows, feeling the edge of Trevor’s warmth brush his side.
Time passed. Adrian had no way to track it at this angle, his clock across from him needing him to turn his neck, and other than count the seconds that passed, he decided to let it drift away.
Trevor spoke up a few times anyway, voice becoming deeper and slower.
“Spar me with me tomorrow?”
“After breakfast.” He decided. Trevor needed to eat.
He huffed. “Fine.”
And so it would go on.
Their last piece of interaction came later when Trevor abandoned the cube. Well, he hadn’t abandoned it. He’d passed it to Adrian with a satisfied glint in his eye, all its sides one-coloured and solid.
He’d laid back in a similar fashion to Adrian, who’d refused to look over after Trevor had given him a teasing smile over the cube.
The light of the room was dim, a rustle of paper sounding through it. The open window carried cool air.
Adrian shifted on his back, inhaling it. Trevor’s scent was caught in it. It reminded him of his senses as a wolf, intense and honed, catching the slightest glimpse of prey travelling over the dancing wind.
And he had caught Trevor’s scent just like that earlier. He had been caught off guard, taking time to breathe it in, to make sure it was him. He remembered his amusement when he first spotted him throwing sticks at branches.
And then he’d finally revealed himself and Trevor was so close, his scent engulfing his senses. He wanted to sink into the mattress as he remembered the way he’d allowed Trevor to pet him, had reached for it himself.
“Adrian?”
“Hm?”
“My ring… did you pick it out?”
Adrian froze. He finally looked over at Trevor and saw him on his back, his arm lifted above his head and inspecting his hand.
‘No. He wanted to pick it out himself.”
His mouth was dry. “Yes.”
“Huh. It’s nice. Wasn’t sure if it was your style though, it’s—“
He blurted, “That’s because it used to belong to your family.”
Trevor looked over at him. “What.”
He took a breath. “My father has a room here, full of forgotten items that he’d collected over the years. I was a child when I discovered it. Your ring… it was there.”
Trevor was listening intently, his eyes locked onto his. Adrian held his gaze.
“I don’t know why I took it. There were other things there more interesting than a ring. But I did and I asked my father about it. He said that it belonged to your family. One of your ancestors who’d managed to find the castle. It was dropped here after a fight.
“I… when I heard about our marriage, I thought of the ring. I thought I should give it back. It’s yours. It belonged to you and your family… you should have it again.”
Trevor watched him with wide eyes. His mouth was parted yet he still didn’t say anything and Adrian panicked.
“My father, well he didn’t say who exactly it belonged to. I did try to find out but… maybe if your family has records of attacks on the castle, we could trace it back and—”
“You did this?”
Adrian swallowed. “Yes.”
Trevor looked back at the ring, held it closer to his face for inspection. Adrian knew what he’d be seeing. He’d stared at it for hours himself, passing it from hand to hand before the ceremony.
The gold engravings that coiled and held onto the ruby stone, and if one looked closely, the Belmont sigil etched onto the stone. It had faded and one had to squint to see it.
Trevor was squinting now and he could see the dawning realisation fall onto his face.
It made Adrian feel half ashamed. That Trevor hadn’t seen it. How many times had he looked at his own ring, moving his hand around over and over to see its changing hues?
‘He wanted to pick it out himself.’
He wondered now if it was something Trevor had found in their collections like he did. If maybe there was a connection to it from his family that they both had. A piece of each other lying hidden away for decades.
But that was impossible. No one would get close enough to his father to take it.
But he opened his mouth anyway, wanted to know if there was a story behind it regardless when Trevor spoke up.
“Thank you.” It was softly said.
“It’s no matter. I was just— thinking ahead.”
Trevor watched him for a moment, eyes inscrutable before he smiled crookedly. “Just take my thanks, Adrian.”
He released a breath. “You’re welcome.”
Trevor looked back at his ring, eyes glued to it as if now that he’d finally found out, he couldn't stop looking.
Adrian made himself again lay back, tracing the ceiling patterns and listening to Trevor’s breathing beside him.
He couldn’t say how much later it was that Trevor yawned, that previous tiredness that was thrown over him like a blanket now coming back in full force.
“I should go,” he began to lean up, a hand on the mattress to steady him when Adrian impulsively pushed him back down.
“Stay.”
“Adrian…”
“If you get up, you’re going to fall right over.”
“But this is your bed.”
“Yes. My bed. And I give you permission to sleep here.”
Trevor looked hesitant and Adrian nudged him. “I will sleep in my wolf form if it makes you more comfortable.”
“That’s not…” he didn’t finish looking at him, eyes flicking down Adrian’s body and seeming strained.
He was most likely conflicted, not wanting Adrian to be in full form the whole night. “I assure you, I have sometimes spent days as a wolf. It’s not uncomfortable at all.” Without waiting for Trevor to react, he transformed, a quick change in his body that was a steady hum.
When he opened his eyes, Trevor was looking at him, smiling and shaking his head.
“Alright,” he said softly, moving his body down the mattress to rest. Not wanting to disturb him, Adrian quickly curled up, his head resting on his front leg and facing Trevor.
His scent was so much more prominent in this form and Adrian breathed him in, earthy and spiced. The scent made his instincts haywire, a form of his animal biology that Adrian associated with his hunts. He shuffled closer to Trevor and after what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, opened his eyes.
Trevor was watching him softly, his eyes half closed and breathing slowly.
He was on the precipice of sleep. Unlike Adrian, he would fulfil it completely.
“You know,” he began, “I lied. Back with Adrian the sheep.”
Adrian let out a small snarl at the ridiculous name.
Trevor chuckled. It was more of a tired huff. “He does act like you when we first met, but your eyes… they’re not the same.” He yawned, lashes fluttering and staying closed.
His next words were a mumble. “Yours are more gold… more bright.” He could hear his heartbeat steadying, he was on the inch of sleep. “...’s nice.”
Adrian didn’t move, watching Trevor’s breathing slow and expression slack. His own heartbeat was an earthquake in comparison.
More bright. It’s nice? What did that mean?
Trevor really was an enigma at times.
Yet, his expression now was the opposite to what it usually was. Peaceful and open. Relaxed.
Adrian wished he could experience sleep as deeply as humans did. Wished he could fall so deep into his subconscious that it altered his mind and fed him false experiences.
He wanted it. To understand it. To understand Trevor.
But biology worked against him. Physically, he was the apex predator. He was shielded. Secure. The same could be said for his mind but…
Should he have reacted as he did after the hunt? Did he need to know Trevor’s view on a task that was necessary? One that was central to his person as part vampire?
He was an apex predator.
And yet, he didn’t want to lose his friendship with Trevor.
How strange it sounded.
Even stranger, to some, that Trevor had responded as Adrian had been afraid of. Understanding. Acceptance.
‘You’re mine.’
Mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
To see him as he was. Not the physical and mental equivalent that eyes allow one to see but Adrian’s condition.
Had it really been so long since their wedding? Since that initial feeling of caution and anger and fear that he felt towards him?
How time passed. And how it would continue to pass.
What would come next?