Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first time Trevor had seen Dracula’s castle was after the long journey for his wedding.

It wasn’t the best introduction.

He’d stewed in misery and apprehension the entire way, lips cracked from stretched smiles and nervous biting. It was only natural he’d scoffed at its dramatic build when it first came into view. Only natural that he suspiciously traced the endless hallways to memory. 

It was a construction of complications. Something so different to the Belmont manor.

While his home, strong in its build and bright in colour, invited challenge, Dracula’s castle, dark and slinky, made an intruder think twice. 

His family had always been those intruders. Their plots and plans for the next attack or to unravel the castle’s secrets extended over generations. 

And now Trevor lived here. He had access to Dracula’s labs and library. He had lessons with his wife and was married to his son. 

Generations of Belmont's trying to break in, to even locate it in the first place, just for Trevor to have a key. 

There was an irony in that.

Regardless, Trevor didn’t scoff at the vastness of it anymore. At this current moment, it was all he could appreciate. 

Trevor rushed up an unfamiliar staircase, steps fast and desperate as he careened through the castle. He couldn’t go to his room, their labs, or the training hall. Nowhere where Adrian would think to find him. Because, Trevor knew, Adrian would come to find him. The thought had reached him as he stood at the door of the aviary. 

The great white falcon watched him curiously and squawked, feathers flapping behind him. 

When he spied an unfamiliar staircase past the hallway… well, he followed. 

Ancient magic was threaded into the castle, making it alive in its own way. It reshaped its corridors, creating false doors and rooms, any structure to confuse its enemies and bend to Dracula's whims.

His family had always seen it as another weapon in Dracula’s arsenal, another obstacle to destroy. Only now, Trevor clung to the desperate hope that, just this once, it was on his side, giving him direction regardless of what Dracula wanted. 

Regardless of where Adrian was looking for him. 

He flew around another corner, almost crashing into a wall at his speed. His hand scraped roughly as he steadied himself against it. 

Pausing at the forced stop, Trevor looked around him, eyes narrowed. 

Whatever wing he'd found himself in, it was darker than the rest. Literally. 

The hallway in front of him was so dim and narrow enough that Trevor was forced to move slowly through it. Another misstep and he’d fall flat on his face, wasting more time for himself and giving more time to Adrian to find him.  

He moved carefully, an arm raised in front of him for any obstructions. Suddenly, a click echoed around him. Trevor tensed, listening for any sound, for Adrian's voice and questions, but instead of seeing his eyes, it was golden light that spilt around him. 

Trevor blinked at the sudden glow, wildly looking around. The scrape of his shoes against the padded carpet and the scratch of his clothing against the wall were louder than it should’ve been. 

Even with the light, his surroundings seemed brighter than they should. 

His body was honed for an attack. Every sense of his working over its normal threshold. 

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t needed. 

Because there was nothing.

He was still alone. 

Trevor exhaled, heart hammering more than it had any right to. He wasn't even in a fucking fight and it was pounding. 

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Shaking himself, Trevor turned again, about to make up for his lost time when he caught sight of a door at the hallway's end. Round and carved from dark wood, it gleamed under the light.

It was the only thing in the hallway besides himself. 

Trevor inspected it for a moment before moving, hand settling on the cold doorknob.  

He hesitated.

This was an unexplored wing of the castle. One that he’d never seen before despite his wanderings. A small part of his mind and sense shouted at him, telling him that he wasn’t allowed here, that Dracula would know.

But a larger part thought, the castle is giving me what I want.

When Trevor finally pushed the door open, his jaw dropped at the space before him. 

It was one of the endless peaks of the castle that jutted out from the original scaffolding but it had no roof. 

Cold wind rushed around him immediately but Trevor couldn’t spare a second to worry about it. Could barely feel it when…

The night sky stretched endlessly above him. It was as dark as he'd ever seen it, like the deepest smear of paint over a canvas. And Trevor wasn't sure where exactly Dracula had taken them but the mountains that sprawled around the castle seemed endless as they ran along the path to the horizon.

But it wasn’t completely dark up here. No. 

Trevor stared at the stars. They filled the sky in every direction, bright constellations that he knew they could only see due to their location in the mountains.

They twinkled and shined, a labyrinth in the sky. 

When was the last time he had looked up at them like this? 

Trevor didn’t know how long he stood there, staring and inhaling the crisp smell of night before his mind returned to him and he stepped into the room and its cold, door thudding shut behind him. 

It couldn't be described as a room. Not really. A room had four walls and a roof. A room might have had engraved crown mouldings and furniture to make it warm.

This room was not a room. It had no roof and not even three walls. The only solid barrier was behind him while the rest was an exposed space. No roof, no protection, just open air and the expanse beyond it.

It was so strange. And so fitting for this fucking castle. 

Has it always been like this? Created for stargazing, maybe? Destroyed in Dracula’s rage? Or merely unfinished?

Whatever it was, it was his sanctuary tonight. When Trevor’s gaze caught on something bright, he moved towards the only thing that was inside the room besides himself.

A strange device was in the centre of the room, angling up to the sky. It was large and gold with a long, thick tube that made up its centre. 

Trevor stepped closer, eyeing it curiously. The tube's centre was sealed under glass, the contents inside a blur he couldn’t make out.

He hesitated, fingers loosening from their clenched grip as he reached for a small tube that jutted out from its centre. A faint crinkle sounded as his hand moved.

Trevor glanced down. 

In the slight looseness of his fist, he made out the colour of starched paper. It was as if seeing it made the world clear again because suddenly, Trevor could feel the roughness of it against his skin, the sharp poke of it threatening to make a mark on him regardless. 

Trevor hadn’t let himself look at the letter again, had barely let himself think about it when he ran through the castle. His grip on it was instinctual, the tightness of it blending in with the rest of his tense body. 

But Ann’s letter was still scrunched within his fist.

His heart began to beat unsteadily, an organ of guilt and vice, and in a childish fit, because Trevor didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want—  

Trevor flung the letter.

It flew from his hand and he watched it skid quickly across the floor, every piece of Belmont strength pushing it along. 

He could hear the faint scratch of it against the stone as it spun. It was louder than it should have been up here. 

He blinked and that was all it took.

It teetered on the room's edge.

“No—” 

Trevor lunged but it was too late. He could only watch as it fell over the edge. 

“Fuck!” 

He pressed his hands to his face, fingers knotting in his hair. Fuck. Fuck! 

Not only had he forgotten Zach’s birthday but now he’d lost Ann’s letter. Her messy ink strokes and rambling thoughts were gone. Swallowed by the snow.

His breathing stuttered, blood rushed in his ears and there was nothing left—

He stayed crouched for a while, the wind rushing at his sleeves and fluttering the edges of his shirt. His fingers dug into his scalp.

Trevor pressed harder.

When he finally thought to let go, when the pain did nothing for him, his eyes stung and Trevor caught sight of a broken piece of stone. It sat on the other side of the room and looked as though it had once been part of an archway.

And it shouldn’t have stood out. Not in this broken and half-done room. 

But.

It seemed forgotten. Abandoned. And Trevor knew, he knew, that he wasn’t lost, that he would see them again but what if— what if— 

How could he have forgotten Zach’s birthday?

“How did I forget?” He mumbled, wandering closer to the broken arch. There was nothing around them, nothing but mountains and the cold. Snow and bitter wind. Trevor felt the biting chill but he didn’t completely register it, didn’t turn around to grab a cloak.

Looking out to the distance, he realised there was nothing. Nothing to keep him inside, nothing to drag him out. Nothing to make him remember Zach’s birthday. Nothing to make him stop feeling that ache in his chest.

His body felt stiff and when his knees buckled, Trevor went with the sensation, sinking down until he lay flat on his back, staring up at the stars. He dimly registered the cold press of the stone along his body. 

He inhaled. Held it. Exhaled. 

And again. 

And again. 

But the rhythm did nothing. The heaviness lingered. 

So Trevor focused on the constellations, following their ancient paths. He traced the shape of Orion’s bow but that only made him remember his family again. 

What were they doing now, he wondered. Was his mother, who first taught him the constellations, looking up at them now? Was this their only connection? By stars? By their light? 

But the stars never changed. These constellations were recorded hundreds of years ago and they’d be here for more. It was a nice thought, to be looking at the same lights that his ancestors did and other Belmont descendants would.

It was comforting to think that maybe, there was someone else who looked up at these same stars, trying to work through their pain. Trevor hoped they did. 

Stars weren't meant to be suffocated in a pocket of grief. 

The moon was full, its white light making everything around him gleam. It was a perfect, starry night. One that artists painted and presented to their audience. One that kings and queens would look to, trying to find their future, their destiny. 

But unexpectedly, the sight made Trevor suddenly think of werewolves. Affected by the full moon and transformed into a beast. They lost their minds, driven by bloodlust and dark magic. Trevor thought it didn’t seem fair. Why did they have to transform? Why couldn’t they see this perfect, starry night?

Trevor looked away from the moon.

His father used to say, ‘ Dark nights bring dark thoughts. And monsters.’ 

He was right, Trevor thought. Always was.

And as Trevor lay there, losing himself in the night sky, he remembered the Ancient Greek mythology and swallowed as he spied Orion again.  

Not the only hunter in the sky.  

He hoped his mother was looking. He hoped everyone was.

—

A step sounded behind him. Trevor didn’t turn to look. He already knew who it was. 

Looks like the castle didn’t hide him completely. 

When he opened his eyes, Adrian was standing at his head, hair falling as he looked down at him. There was something blinding in the sight, in the stars twinkling over him and the moon’s light. 

“Trevor?”

Trevor closed his eyes. 

There was a step at his head, then at his right. He stilled when he felt Adrian’s body lie beside his. Trevor waited, for the questions, for the outrage. 

But Adrian said nothing. 

And something in him broke. 

“Why are you here?”  He asked for the sake of asking.

“I was trying to find you.” 

His eyes were still shut. “And how did you find me?”

“I heard you.”

Oh?  “Oh?”

A pause. “Your heartbeat. I followed it.”

Trevor scoffed but it was a shaky thing. Was Adrian hearing it even now? Of course he was. Trevor could feel its fast, skipping beat himself. “Well, I’ll be.” He drawled, the thought making him pause. “Were you hunting me?”

Adrian huffed softly. Trevor could feel the faint breath of it hit his skin. His head turned towards it, just the slightest bit before he caught himself.

“That’s one way to put it.”

It was. Could he be Adrian’s prey when he was a hunter himself? Who would catch who?

Still. Adrian’s wolf form was something else. Trevor remembered the way he silently stalked the deer, his bloody coat and muzzle after he latched onto its neck. 

Streaks of sunlight had peaked through the forest's leaves, catching on his sharp, red teeth.  

He exhaled. Admitted, “I like it when you hunt.” 

“I know,” he replied after a pause. 

Trevor finally opened his eyes, turning his head to see Adrian watching him. “Creep.” He said again. Adrian smiled, the sharp peaks of his fangs barely visible. But Trevor didn’t linger on it. Somehow, his attention was instead fixed on the crinkle of his eyes. 

He swallowed. 

When Trevor forced himself to look back at the stars, Adrian watched him a moment longer before he did too. Trevor caught the movement from the corner of his eye.

“Do you like the stars?” Adrian asked softly. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. “My mother taught me. At first, it was just the ones I’d need to hunt but then I think she saw my interest. So she taught me more about their namesakes and history. Sometimes we spoke about planets.”

“Oh? Which ones?” 

“Any,” he shrugged. The five planets that history had spotted, their Roman names, were always an excitement to Trevor. “I had an intense phase of Greek mythology. I thought, ‘If there were monsters in the Underworld, couldn’t there be monsters in the sky?’”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t the Gods take care of them, then? It is their domain.”

“She said that too. But I always thought otherwise. We’re Belmonts. It’s what we were made for, our territory or not. So I asked her if there were any monsters up there that we could fight.” Trevor didn't think he could blame being young for his headstrong thoughts. It was... wanting to be more.  

Adrian huffed. “What did she say?”

“That if there were, they’d be watching us. And they wouldn’t want to come down after seeing my family at work. They’d stay there, afraid.” He sighed as he remembered it. He had believed her. But then the Church had come after them. They were mere mortals who'd known his family's capabilities but they still betrayed them. Why would monsters ever be afraid? "But they probably wouldn't,” he finished.

Adrian shifted beside him. “But you’d still fight them."

"Oh?"

"Yes, oh. They could come down but your family would be here. You’d beat them.”

"We would. Belmont's never run from a fight." His throat tightened.

No, never from a fight. Just dinner tables and concerned in-laws.

"...But monsters are nothing. When my family was attacked, those were just men. The Guard, they were strong obviously, but the rest were nothing . Just Churchmen. But they still managed to..." He paused, anger and grief and—

He noticed Adrian turn to him from the corner of his eyes. His voice was hard with anger. "That wasn't an attack. It was an ambush." 

Faintly, Trevor could hear a man’s screams and the smell of burning flesh. The long scar on his back suddenly ached.

He cleared his throat. "Even so. Monsters aren't the main enemy right now." He huffed at his words. "Imagine telling the first Belmont hunters that. Imagine Leon Belmont hearing his descendant married Dracula's son." With his own ring on Trevor's finger. Trevor flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of it. 

"I'd like to think he'd like the change to peace," Adrian said mildly. 

“Things were getting boring, were they?” He replied drily, gaze catching. The stars were glittering wildly. “Do you know much about planets?”

“I studied them with my father. Like you, I always admired them.”  

Once, the image of Dracula pointing out stars and constellations seemed impossible. But he knew now that Dracula would try to catch a star, try to create one himself, to give his family if they wished for it. “Ever since the Church’s attack, I’ve been going over everything I was taught. And the planets… are they really driven by divine forces?”

“No,” Adrian said, his voice low. “They’re not.”

He exhaled harshly. “Will you tell me about them?”

Adrian didn’t hesitate. 

“Of course,” he breathed. He paused for a moment and Trevor knew he was thinking where to begin. He remembered Adrian’s attempts at structure when he aimed to teach him a science concept. But that never lasted, he mused, because they always ended up on a topic aeons away from where they started, bickering and wondering and laughing. 

“The Ancient Greeks called the planets wanderers.” His hand reached up towards the sky, long pale fingers tracing the constellations. Trevor stared. “They knew they were different from regular stars because they moved in irregular patterns. But these worlds, they’re just like ours.”

Trevor shifted onto his side, stone floor an uncomfortable surface that grazed his side. His arm curled under his head for little comfort. He watched Adrian, who didn’t react to his movement, still looking at the sky. The starlight shone in Adrian’s hair, on his pale skin, as if he were made of starlight himself.

Look at him, the world seemed to say. Look at what we allowed to form. 

He exhaled harshly. “Worlds? Ours? People live there?”

Adrian turned his head, catching his gaze with a flash of hid white grin. He shook his head slightly. “No. It’s not habitable. There’s no water, no life. They’re otherworldly. Perhaps that’s why the Ancient Romans named them after their Gods.”

Trevor snorted. “They copied their Gods from the Greeks.” 

Adrian smiled. “We can look at them. The planets,” he clarified. “Using the telescope.”

He blinked at the word. “The what?”

Adrian rolled onto his side, pressing into Trevor’s arm as he pointed. Trevor froze, subtly shifting to move away and pretending he was getting a better look behind him. He paused when he saw what Adrian was pointing to. 

The giant, golden metal device.  “That?” 

“It’s used for stargazing.”

Was it? He shouldn’t be surprised with what else the castle had stored, not with— Trevor scowled. “Let me guess, Another one of Dracula’s inventions?”

His eyes crinkled. "I’ll show you how it works. I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

Trevor stared. 

He had no idea how it worked, no idea how Dracula thought of it. He had no idea what Adrian would show him or how it would be any different to his naked eye.

He knew nothing about it.

But—

‘I have a feeling you’ll like it.’

He would. He really would. 

Trevor was trapped by every invention in the castle, every piece of magic, biology, and science he’d been shown. 

To see the stars…

But Trevor hesitated. 

He’d left the dining hall for solitude and a part of him wanted to stay down here, on the cold stone floor with only the stars and distant planets as his company. 

He traced a crack in the stones with his eyes, not really thinking but just— 

It was quiet. Now that they weren’t speaking. 

He hadn’t realised how quiet it was up here until Adrian joined him. He filled the space here, just as he had in Trevor’s room when he couldn’t bear it. 

Belmonts never run from a fight. 

But Trevor did run. He ran and ran until he came upon this wallless room and now…

Maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t around Zach. What could he ever hope to learn from him?

And as much as it was his own thought, Trevor still flinched hard from it.

“Trevor?”

When he looked over at him, Adrian said nothing, gaze locked onto his with concern.

It reminded him of their time in the forest, to the jest about eyes being windows to the soul. Now, with Adrian’s gaze fixed on him, it didn’t feel like a jest at all.

Trevor resisted the urge to close his eyes again. 

“Trevor?” Adrian spoke softly. “What is it?”

Trevor turned and pressed his head to the floor, feeling its hardness against his forehead. He scoffed. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” 

“Adrian,”  he warned. Though the sharpness of his name was taken away since he was speaking into the ground. Turning his head to the side, he could only look up at Adrian’s legs and sighed to his knee. "Thank you. For explaining. But I think I’m gonna stay down here. And I… think you should leave.”

For a moment, Adrian said nothing. Trevor waited, breath shallow. He wasn't sure if his exhale was from annoyance or something else when Adrian said,  “No.”

Trevor turned his body further. He found Adrian’s face. He was frowning. “ Adrian—”

“No. I have watched you all day.” His brows furrowed. “All day and all night.” 

Adrian, staying with him in the library. Holding him close after his nightmare. Waking up to Trevor’s bumbling and avoidance as they made their way down to the kitchen.

Always watching. Always helping. 

“Something is bothering you. Something that my mother knows about and will not share. Something in the letter.” His eyes burned. “Is your family alright?”

Trevor’s laugh was a strangled thing. He sat up, clutching roughly at his hair. At his angle, he could see the stars twinkling. They were probably laughing at the show.

“Trevor—“

“They’re all alright. They’re safe. No one is harmed. And I should be glad, I should be—“ he gasped, hands tightening in his hair, a sharp pain shooting through his scalp. He froze when long, cool fingers wrapped around his own.

Adrian untangled his fingers gently and unhurriedly. He didn't look at Trevor as he did it but Trevor could spy his concern along the furrow of his brows. 

When Adrian brought his arm down and held their hands between them, fingers slightly interlaced, Trevor shook.

“I forgot his birthday. Zach’s,” he admitted softly. “I always remember, I always celebrate but I didn’t know. I wasn’t there. He’s learning magic and I didn’t know because I wasn’t there. I’m never there.” Trevor was horrified to hear his voice break, was horrified at Adrian’s wide eyes and more than that, the looks in his eyes—

He ripped his hands away, haphazardly standing up and nearly stumbling from the speed of it. The pain in Adrian’s expression seared through him. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Just leave.”

For a moment, Adrian said nothing, moonlight threaded through his hair. But then he rose too. “I won’t.”

“Adrian, please.” 

“No.” Trevor was frozen as he staggered to him. So many expressions flittered over him, so many that Trevor couldn’t keep up. When he finally settled on one, it was pained. Adrian’s eyes shone. "I'm sorry. I’m sorry that I have allowed you to stay here. That I don’t push for you to meet your family after the attack. I should have.” His hands clenched into fists. “I should have used the mirror to take you there myself.”

His stomach churned. Adrian shouldn’t apologise. Not for this. It wasn’t him who was targeted. It wasn’t him who forgot Zach’s birthday. 

Trevor never blamed Adrian. Never. 

He still asked. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was afraid.” Adrian was so close to him that he felt him shake. “Because I held you in my arms, dying, and after— I couldn’t bear to let you go.” His eyes closed and when he opened them again, they were determined. “Let us go now. I will use the mirror. You can see your family and Zach and—“

He almost shouted, “No!” He shook his head, spinning on his feet and pacing. “We can’t do that. It breaks the pact.”

“Damn the pact. You deserve—“

Trevor felt something twist inside him. “What?” He shouted. “What is there? Don’t you see Adrian? We are the glue of this and—“

Adrian’s expression shifted, something similar to realisation and anger settling in its stead. “You don’t put yourself first,” he mumbled.

“What?”

He blinked and then louder said, “You don’t put yourself first. Not in the pact and not in this.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not. But why—“ he broke off, anger beginning to seep through. “Why won’t you see them? Why won’t you for once do something that you want—“ 

“ Because I never get what I want!” He shouted. Adrian straightened, breath heavy. “Everything is either gone or taken or I can’t have.” He shook his head, the fight suddenly drained out of him. “I’ll see Zach when I’m allowed to. Don’t— Don’t allow me to hope for it otherwise.”

Adrian watched him with wide eyes and sadness. His fingers twisted tightly around his ring, voice rough, “I would give you anything you wanted.” 

Trevor stared at the ring. Its hue changed each time Adrian moved it. 

What Trevor wanted…

Something tightened in his chest. “I know.” His lips quirked. “But you won’t leave?”

“Never.”

The moon shone brighter.

Adrian spoke up after a moment, voice soft. “Zach told me his favourite colour was green.”

He blinked, distracted from his heavy chest and Adrian’s ring. “What?” 

“When we first met he gave a very detailed explanation of the reason why having a favourite colour is crucial.”

“Oh.” He remembered the moment. “Right. He did.”

Adrian hesitated. “Perhaps we can draw him something with lots of green. For his birthday gift.” He tacked on at Trevor’s stare. “I’m sure he must get much more expensive things but seeing how you’re separated,” he said the word with a sombre tone, “this is something he can hold onto until you see him again.”

Because, as Adrian’s tone implied, Trevor would see him again. Him and his family. Sypha too. He’d see them all. But when he’d be allowed to see them would be when the pact was finished and void. When he and Adrian’s marriage would be dissolved. 

I can’t have him. Not when he’ll be taken away from me. Not when he hasn’t even said— 

Trevor turned to the broken wall, looking at the isolation ahead. He imagined the mountains covered in green. But there was something about the winter season. The fall of snow, the taste of snowflakes on his tongue. He was sure his own face was flushed from the cold. 

There was something peaceful about it. 

When it was winter at the manor, Trevor would huddle into his pillows and mattress, the fireplace casting a warm glow around his room. Sometimes he’d wake up to the press of little feet against his stomach and find Zach, escaped from his own room and it’s cold, and taking shelter with him. 

When his mother found them she’d smile softly and join them, telling them stories about her youth in a hushed tone as if it was just their secret. 

And when his father was alive— when he was alive he’d usher them all into an early training session. He’d use the cold to rush them through their forms, holding that Belmont perfection unless they wanted to stay out longer. He’d turn to Trevor, eyes dancing and warm, and hold out the Morningstar, citing he deserved to wield it. 

And Trevor would. 

He could almost feel the phantom touch of his father's palm on his head, his boisterous laugh when Trevor caught a leaf with his eyes closed. 

I miss him. So much. 

The wind howled and Trevor felt the breeze ruffle his hair, strands falling onto his forehead as it brought him back to himself. 

His voice was rough. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” And wanting to desperately change the subject said, “Let’s take a look at that telescope.” He sounded the word out, relieved when Adrian smiled until he noticed the way it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something stilted in it.

The thought sat heavy in his chest as they moved. 

“This uses mirrors just as the microscope uses its lens’,” Adrian explained as he pulled him behind it. “It focuses the light towards the eyepiece.” He gestured to the same jutting piece of metal Trevor had tried to inspect before. Adrian fiddled with something below it as he peeked into the eyepiece. He paused, mouth open.

Trevor waited for him to say more. To explain its engineering and theories as he did with other devices.

And then Trevor watched his mouth slowly shut.

Something clogged in his throat. 

Adrian looked back at Trevor, eyes tight. He still tried with that stilted smile. “Take a look.”

A thousand thoughts and words were on the tip of his tongue. But Trevor nodded instead. 

Coward.

He stepped forward when Adrian moved aside, hesitating only a moment before leaning in. His eye met the eyepiece, and the world shifted.

It wasn’t stars. 

A sphere filled the view. Stars were scattered in the dark space around it, but it was there. And taking scope into mind, it seemed to be enormous. 

Adrian’s words came rushing back.

It was—

“Fuck.” He breathed. 

Adrian leaned in beside him, adjusting the scope ever so slightly. The planet filled the view, a brilliant yellow-brown.

“That’s a planet?” He almost shouted. 

Adrian’s voice was warm. “It is. Saturn, in fact.”

“Saturn?” He pulled away, giving Adrian a wide-eyed stare. “ That’s Saturn? It—why does it have those rings?”

“The rings aren’t visible with the naked eye. But they do exist.”

Trevor turned back to the eyepiece, holding the telescope tightly. He couldn’t not look at it again. 

Trevor had faced monsters. He’d stared down myths and legends, fought them, knew they were real . By now, he should’ve been used to it. The unbelievable. 

But gazing up at Saturn, he realised he never was. 

“I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why they’re named after Gods.”

Otherworldly, Adrian had said. 

Adrian huffed, and Trevor could feel the press of his body against him. But Trevor, for once, didn’t lose his mind over it. Because his mind was still processing the impossibility of what he was seeing, the very real planet hanging there in the darkness.

He pulled away again, eyes wide, and gave Adrian a slow, stunned look. “Usually it’s just a bright spot. I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” his head tilted, watching his stunned expression with great focus. “Do you like it?”

“Do I— of course I fucking do! What the fuck, Adrian?”

Adrian grinned. There was nothing stilted about it. He seemed so pleased, eyes bright as they watched him intently. 

He showed me a planet. He listened to me and he showed me a fucking planet.

His hands shook and Trevor pressed them together. 

“This peak is one of the better places for astronomy,” Adrian explained, arms tucked behind his back. 

Trevor forced himself to focus, snorting lightly at his words. “I don’t think Dracula came here to look at stars.” But he paused. “So, hypothetically, if we told everyone the planets aren’t celestial bodies or wandering stars but actual,” he waved his hand, unable to put the enormousness of it into words, “what would happen?”

“Confusion.”

He huffed. “Yeah, but we’d help them out. Show them the telescope.”

Adrian looked at it. “We’d be considered heretics. And not just because of the invention. Consider it, Trevor. The Church finds out about these planets that are so similar to ours. But they won’t take our word that it's inhabitable. Not when it’s found out with strange science. In their eyes, there have to be people living on the planets. But wait,” he held a finger up, “there can’t be. Because if there were, how would the Church save them?

“And then, they’d spit at the notion of our planets orbiting the sun because that challenges their scripture, that our planet is the centre of the universe.” 

Trevor frowned. So it’s that again? A limitation of knowledge and practice because of beliefs that gave a select few their power?

“Do you think it’ll ever change?”

Adrian paused. “Yes,” he answered softly. “Time always brings new ideas. And one day there will be someone that the Church can’t ignore or knock down. They’ll certainly try of course, but once someone presents a ludicrous idea, it’s not long until someone else picks it up. And again, and again. Because for all the country likes to shun what’s different, for all it frightens them, there’s a few that it fascinates.” 

Trevor smiled. “Like you.”

Adrian's eyes flickered to his mouth. “And you. You’ve picked up on science quite quickly.”

He shrugged. “I think monsters will always be my focus.”

“Why can’t you have more than one?”

“That goes against the definition of the word.”

“We go against a lot of things.”

He was probably referring to their marriage. And that— that made sense. Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? But Trevor’s stomach still churned. 

He looked at the sky instead. It was interesting to see it with this different perspective. Round and round, orbiting the sun. Not the centre of the universe but still important. Full of life. 

The stars winked at him, Orion’s bow blinked and he had to ask. “What about the stars? What are they?”

Adrian looked up at the bright spots. “Spheres of gas.”

Trevor blinked. “Gas?” 

“Yes.” 

“... I don’t like that.”

Adrian cocked his head. “Why?”

Trevor stared at his scarred palms. “I don’t care about the divinity of it. I just… like the constellations. The way the Greeks described it.” 

God favoured heroes and beasts who received a place amongst the stars as a memorial of their deeds.

Trevor was a Belmont. He didn’t need recognition. And it wasn’t more so that part of the myth that held his attention.

“They said the spirits in the stars were living. That they strode across the skies.” He swallowed, avoiding Adrian’s gaze. “If that’s true, then he should be up there. My father. He was a hero. If he’s up there, then… he’s not gone. He’s not—“

Suddenly, Adrian’s arms were around him, holding him tightly. Trevor froze at the contact. 

A rush of warm air hit his neck as Adrian spoke rushingly. “Trevor.” His voice cracked over his name. “Whatever divinity is watching over us, whatever the world spits out or takes, if there were anyone to watch over, anyone who deserved it, it would be you.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. Trevor stared at him desperately. “You are…” His face scrunched up, searching Trevor’s face as if it were both the most complicated and obvious thing in the world.

And Trevor supposed it was. He was someone tonight that he hadn't been before. But Adrian had followed him to this distant room anyway, had laid next to him and tried to help him regardless. 

And Trevor had pushed him away, had flared up and had sour thoughts rummage through his mind, pickling it in anger and grief. But Adrian was still here. 

Why can’t I just…

Trevor stared at the blonde hair in front of him. 

The sudden memory of braiding it fell over his mind. He recalled Adrian’s smile. Watching him in the morning. Trevor’s fingers twitched. 

Everything had been so…

There was an ache in him large enough to swallow him whole, more dangerous and real than any monster he faced. 

And there was a vampire holding him now. A vampire who was his husband. A vampire who held the ache at bay. 

Trevor inched closer. Adrian’s hair brushed his arm and Trevor inhaled. Lemongrass and ginger. 

After everything that occurred tonight, Trevor's armour cracked. 

His body finally relaxed, leaning into Adrian’s embrace.

He heard Adrian's breath catch. He felt his arms tighten.

And for the first time tonight, Trevor felt right.

Trevor smiled and guessed, “Wonderful?”

Adrian’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he breathed. “And so much more. I don’t know many things about your father but I do know he would be proud of you. More than that. Everything you’ve done since the wedding, since before… Your family loves you.” His voice caught on the slight precipice of sound. He shuddered. “... Whatever divinity is watching over us,” he repeated, “it will never overlook you .” 

Something slipped out of his eye. Trevor felt it make its way down his cheek. His eyes shut when Adrian gently wiped it away. “I don’t know how he’d feel about me crying in your arms.” He tried to joke. But Adrian came closer and held a hand over his heart. 

His gaze was bright. “It’s not about being a fierce warrior. You’re already that. But you’re more. You’re a good man. You hold more courage in your hands than men do in their entire lives.”

Trevor’s heart was beating wildly. He knew Adrian felt it under his palm. But he said nothing. And there was something so reassuring in the gesture but also so lonely.

Because a desperate, needy part of him wanted Adrian to. Instead, Trevor leaned forward. He pressed his chest harder to Adrian’s hand. 

His heartbeat sped up. Trevor didn’t try slowing it down. Couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“So do you,” he murmured. “You’ve taught me so much. Science and art and…” Trevor swallowed. “I wish my family was here. I want to see them again for,” he huffed, “so many reasons. But I also… I wish they were here so they could meet you.” 

“They did meet me.” Adrian was shaking the smallest bit. Trevor pressed closer and shook his head.

“Not the real you. I want them to see what I see.”

Adrian’s eyes were a bright, searing gold. “And what do you see?”

The answer slipped past his lips. 

“Everything.” 

Adrian's mouth parted, an expression of wonder covering him. His hand was shaking, almost in the same pattern as his heartbeat. He exhaled. “When I was young, I accompanied my mother to a town. There was a story amongst the community that the stars were made from wishes.”

“But it’s only gas.” He remembered, frowning.

Adrian tilted his head and smiled. “Yes. But I wished on them anyway.”

“Of course you did,” he huffed. “Fine. What did you wish for?”

“That my mother would help everyone without drawing the Church’s attention. That my father would be kinder to humans.” He paused. “That I’d get a friend.”

“Well, the first two need to be worked on,” he said wryly and Adrian gave him a dry look. “But you got your friend. Friends.”

Adrian stared. “I’m glad I did.”

“Did you wish for anything else?”

He froze. “There was one thing. But it doesn’t matter. It won’t come to pass.”

His brows scrunched. “How do you know?”

“There are some things that will never occur.” Adrian smiled but Trevor spied it in his eyes. Sadness. Before he could question him on it, Adrian spoke again. “Regardless of it working or not, the act of it… it was peaceful. Hopeful.” Trevor saw the implication in his words. He scoffed but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread. 

“What would I even wish for?”

His head tilted. “What do you want?”

You. 

Trevor registered that his mouth was open, that he was going to say it and used every nerve in his body to jolt back and out of Adrian’s arms. 

Adrian’s expression was worse than any monster he’d faced. He swallowed. Made himself say, “It’s one of those things you said will never occur.”

This time it was Adrian who frowned. “How do you know?” He echoed.

“How did you know for yours?”

Adrian’s expression crumpled and he looked away, avoiding Trevor’s eyes. He paused, and Trevor thought he wasn’t going to respond, that he’d finally pushed Adrian to his limit when he finally did. “...It’s something that doesn’t just concern me. I knew, even if I wanted it—” and he turned away, face hidden, voice raw, “and I do want it. Desperately— I’d be the only one who does.”

Trevor froze. Because, in a way, he could describe his feelings towards Adrian the same way. 

Desperately.  

Adrian didn’t notice his reaction, head still turned. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, finally turning back. He was fiddling with his ring. “I shouldn’t burden you— this is only my reckless mind.”

The fuck?  “You’re not burdening me.” Adrian scoffed and he frowned. “Did I burden you tonight? Or any other night when you slept beside me?”

Adrian looked at him disbelievingly. “Of course not—”

Trevor stepped close to him. And the link between his brain and the rest of his body obviously wasn’t working because Trevor reached forward, brushing strands of hair back from Adrian’s face. Adrian's eyes closed at the brief touch, just for a moment. 

Trevor stared for a long moment before taking a step back. And then another. 

“Then stop it.” The words rushed out, true and warm,  “because I want to know your reckless mind.”

His eyes widened as if it was an absurd suggestion. And that was absurd in itself. “Why?”

“Why not?” 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and Adrian huffed disbelievingly. “What would you like to know then?”

In all honesty, Trevor didn't know where to start. Where could he with Adrian? Didn't Trevor already know so much?

For a moment, the thought was a bit terrifying. 

Then Trevor thought, why should it be? It's Adrian. Of course I know him. 

The wind blew and Trevor's shirt fluttered up. He caught the bottom half of it, shoving it back down. When he looked back up, Adrian was staring at his shirt. His expression was dark. 

Confused, Trevor looked down but there was nothing on the fabric. 

He pressed a hand against his shirt to maybe straighten it and froze at the feeling of raised skin beneath it. 

Oh. Right. His scars. 

Adrian must have seen them when the wind blew his shirt up.

Trevor pressed his fingers against the fabric, feeling the scarring. But it wasn't his scars that he lingered on. How could he when he had more to match? A hunter's mark was scattered all over his skin. 

But it also wasn’t any other memory of that day that drew his attention. Not Michael and his taunts. Not even Lisa’s screams or Adrian’s roar.  

It was the memory of waking up after.

Trevor hesitated, wetting his lips. “What was that book you were reading? After I was attacked,” he clarified at Adrian’s confused expression.

He shifted, looking away. “I read a great many books—”

“‘The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last,’” he repeated it smoothly. Adrian’s eyes widened. “Which one is that?”

“The Iliad.” He answered after a pause. Trevor recognised the name. Something in their library he never read because it wasn’t by his ancestors. About their monsters.

“And that’s about mortality?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

Trevor swallowed. “Why were you reading it?”

“Why does it matter?” He tried to say it flippantly but his voice shook. It was only a slight tremor but Trevor noticed.  “It’s only a book. It is only—”

“I’ve read poetry with you, Adrian. It’s never just a book.”

Adrian’s mouth parted and he stared at him with a startling softness. He bowed his head, hair hanging around him and creating a barrier. When Trevor was finally going to pull back, Adrian looked back up at him. 

“The Iliad is a story about war. There are lots of things it teaches but one,” his brows scrunched together, “is that life isn't fair. Especially not to mortals.” He met his eyes. “You were dying. And it was foolish of me, but before it, I never considered the possibility of your death. Not until then.” He paused. “Not until Iasi.” And Trevor suddenly remembered replacing his whip holder, giving a relaxed pose whilst Adrian stared at him sadly. 

‘We will never be here again.’ 

Trevor’s throat was impossibly dry. “I’m not going to die.”

“So you say.” He said tightly. 

“Adrian—”

“That is what I read.” Adrian avoided his eyes. “Please. I don’t wish to speak on this any further.”

But Trevor didn’t step back, didn’t apologise. Because Adrian had shown him a planet. He had read to him epic poetry and called him wonderful. Something hopeful was unfurling in his chest, something that the starlight shone upon. 

His cracked armour was shattering, breaking away into pieces that left something in him bare. 

All around him, he heard voices. 

Dracula’s judgement,

‘You’re a distraction.’ 

Michaels snarl,

‘He hasn’t even marked him.’ 

Lisa’s avoidance,

‘So there is something.’ 

‘There is.’ 

Adrian was staring at his chest now, a furrow between his brows. Trevor knew it was his because of his heartbeat. Faster than it’d ever been. 

He swallowed. “Do you really want to know what’s distracted me?”

Adrian’s wide eyes snapped to his. His expression tightened. “Yes — if you wish to tell me. I want… I don’t wish to overstep but I want to know. I want to help you…” he trailed off. And it was more than Trevor deserved since he’d just pulled an answer out of him about the Iliad.

Trevor shifted.  “I do want to tell you. And I know I’ve been difficult,” Adrian began to shake his head and Trevor scoffed, holding him still. “But I want to tell you. So,” he asked again, “do you want to know?”

“I do.” He breathed.

“Then I need to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth.”

Adrian straightened at his grave expression, at the probable desperation in his eyes. Trevor felt the world shift when he nodded. When he said, “I will.”

Trevor had no idea how to start it. “I know vampires are different. That you all undergo changes when you turn. I know that there are some things my family will never know because,” he hesitated, “we were never exposed to it.”

Adrian shifted. “That’s right.”

“But I think… Does a vampire mark their partner?”

Adrian’s eyes widened. His hands twitched at his sides. “Where did you hear that?”

“Michael. When we were attacked, he spoke about how you would come for Lisa but not me. Because you hadn’t marked me.” Adrian’s expression had gone from dark from hearing Michael’s name to surprised. 

“That’s not true.” He croaked. He met Trevor’s gaze. “I would always come for you.”

He exhaled. “I know. But what is it? A mark? I feel like there’s more to this than I know and I’m confused.” He admitted. He had been confused ever since that night. “I want to know.”

Adrian was quiet, eyes searching the sky. Finally, he asked, “This is what’s been distracting you?” 

“Yes.”

Adrian nodded and still looking at the stars, spoke. “I told you once that vampires had a weakness that was instinctual. I asked you because I wanted to know how much your family had discovered. I was… relieved you didn’t know.”

“Did you think I’d use it against you all?”

“Yes and no.” Adrian watched the stars for a moment longer. “Trevor, when a vampire loves someone, regardless of species—” he broke off. “No,” he mumbled, “I’ll not start from there.” He began to pace. 

“This world was created with balance. The sun and the moon. Life and death. Predator and prey. It’s a perfect scale. And whether it might be from divinity, science or paganism, when the balance is broken, something always rises to restore it.”

Trevor shifted. 

“Vampires have been given enhanced speed and strength and immortality. But it’s dark magic. It’s not balanced. And so the scale rights itself, cursing us with no sunlight and a bloody diet.

“But the balance doesn’t stop there. When a vampire is turned, there are effects. Regardless of how much they may not want it, the fledgling becomes darker and sometimes malignant. Humanity is hard to retain especially when you’re newly turned. Again, the scales have tipped.” Adrian exhaled harshly. “And so nature exacted another balance. One that's changed the nature of humanity for as long as we’ve existed.”

He paused. Adrian’s eyes caught his for a single moment.

“Love.”

Trevor inhaled. His voice cracked when he repeated the word.

Adrian’s gaze was below his eyes, around his mouth when he looked away. “Yes, or something similar. Sometimes it doesn’t lead to romantic love, sometimes it does. But the emotion is there all the same.”

Trevor’s heart pounded. “How does it happen? How does the vampire choose?”

Adrian smiled bitterly. “They don’t. It’s not as simple as picking someone out. There needs to be a bond between the two and the way it occurs is different for everyone. Take my father,” Adrian explained. “He knew the moment my mother barged into the castle that she was different. He wanted her to stay and each day that passed, the feeling grew. It was immediate for him.” Adrian looked out to the snowy landscape. “For others, it can crawl over them slowly. It can take years. But it will always happen. Always with one.”

Trevor nodded slowly, understanding washing over him. “And that’s when they bite, mark, them?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He hesitated. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”

Suddenly, Adrian was in front of him, crowding him against the telescope. “Not bad?” He hissed. “A vampire’s instincts are violent. Possessive. And when we feel something so strong, it has to go somewhere.” His hand splayed over the space between Trevor’s neck and shoulder. He focused wildly at his cool touch, at the long splay of his fingers.

“It’s not just a mark. It’s a bond that changes us.”

Trevor’s breath hitched. “Changes how?”

Adrian met his eyes then, something raw in his expression. “We get… protective. Jealous. Obsessive, even. It’s not rational. It’s instinct. And once it happens, there’s no undoing it. A bond can never be broken.”

Trevor imagined it. No, he didn’t have to. He’d seen Dracula around Lisa. His endless protection and anger for her. He’d almost destroyed them all when the Church came for her. If Trevor hadn’t saved her, hadn’t hidden them both in the days that followed… 

It’s real. 

“Then where’s the balance? If you all just keep acting nutty?” Adrian’s fingers tightened on his skin. 

“Because it’s real. Because it’s love, the lightest emotion a vampire will feel after their transformation. That’s the balance.”

Trevor swallowed and hesitantly asked, “Then how does it work for you? You’re a Dhampir. You’re not turned. And… what balance do you need to be better when you already are?”

Adrian’s eyes were dark. “Maybe it’s not meant to make me better. Maybe the balance is to make me worse.” 

What?  Trevor straightened, staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

He let go abruptly and stepped back, running a hand over his face. “Regardless, that’s what it is. A mark comes later, a physical staking.”

The pieces finally clicked together. “That’s why Michael ripped my cloak in Iasi. He was looking for a mark.” For the possibility that Adrian marked him. That he loved him. Adrian’s face was dark. “But why—” he coughed, throat impossibly dry, “why is it considered a weakness?”

“Because a vampire could be the strongest monster in the land but would trade everything for their mate. Even their life.”

“Oh.”

Adrian nodded stiffly. Then he said, “You should go inside. You’re freezing.”

Trevor ignored him. He looked at Adrian’s tense figure, his shining hair and eyes. “Have you… ever felt it? The bond?”

His eyes widened. “Why would you ask that?”

Trevor felt frozen. “I don’t know.”

Fuck. Fuck. So Adrian would have a bond with someone. He would love them to the point of vampire madness if pushed to it. 

Adrian sighed, making his way to the balcony. “Go to bed, Trevor.” He didn’t look at him as he said it, didn’t speak with any clear emotion or tone. It was just— empty. 

Trevor stared hopelessly towards him. Everything came rushing back. The scratches on the floor. Adrian holding him after his nightmare. The first knock on his door and the following nights since. Warm sheets and soft, golden hair. The smell of garlic bread and the sound of Adrian the sheep’s bleats and Adrian's soft laughter. 

‘I want them to see what I see.’ 

‘And what do you see?’ 

Everything. 

Everything. 

Trevor wanted— He just—

He wanted Adrian. And he’d avoided him the whole day and—Trevor had come up here to hide but now, he’d never wanted to be seen more.

Adrian was moving away from him. He wasn’t looking back. And there was something with them tonight, something that told him that if Trevor left him or let him leave, they’d never be the same. 

He looked desperately up at the stars. 

Please, father. Give me the strength to say it.    

For a moment, everything was silent and still. 

And then a shooting star made its way across the sky. 

Trevor’s heart soared. Something began to build in his throat but Trevor pushed it down, wiping the wetness from his eyes with shaking hands.

He inhaled sharply. “Adrian.”

“I said go to bed—”

“Are you going to come with me?” He blurted. “Because I want you to.” 

Adrian faced him, his expression twisted. “There’s no need to worry. I will be there to wake you from any nightmares.” Because that was all Adrian thought he wanted him for. 

It was unacceptable. 

Trevor slowly walked towards him. Adrian followed his every step, eyes conflicted and shifting. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry. That I’ve been so different lately.” Adrian watched him warily.  “I think after the attack… so much fell in place for me. I never thought…” He exhaled.

Adrian stilled at the mention of the attack. “What are you talking about?”

“I almost died.” He said softly. Adrian flinched. “And it wasn’t my first brush with death and it won’t be my last. But this time was different.” He paused. “After I woke up, I wanted to see you so desperately. I don’t know if your mother told you but you were one of the first things I asked for.” 

Adrian’s mouth parted, brows lifted in wonder. “She didn’t,” he said softly. 

“I figured. And I think I know why,” Trevor took a deep breath, preparing himself. And Adrian. “Adrian, I saw the scratches on the floor. In front of the lab,” he clarified but there was no need. Adrian’s eyes were wide with panic. Trevor saw him shift, begin to move, and he took that final step forward to his side, reaching forward and clutching his wrist. 

Adrian avoided his gaze, shifting on the spot and trying to pull his wrist back. Trevor held it tighter. 

“Trevor.” 

“Please, just let me say a few words. They’re not my strong suit but I— I mean them.” Adrian’s eyes widened at the recollection. “That’s all I need.” He begged, waiting in the cold silence. 

When Trevor felt Adrian’s arm relax in his grip and caught his small nod, his chest lightened. “Thanks.” He paused, weighing his words. “I know you waited outside during my surgery. That you didn’t leave my side after, not until Dracula made you.”

“You must have thought me a fool.” He muttered.

“I thought you were sad. And so was I.”

“You? Why?”

“Because I wasn’t there to help you.”

He laughed harshly. “I think almost dying is a good excuse.”

“It’s not that. When I woke up, I was so fucking relieved you were safe. But more than that, I wanted to know if you were okay .” His other hand drifted, settling over Adrian’s chest. Trevor felt his faint heartbeat. It was as fast as it had been when he’d first woken up after the attack. Faster, even. “And then, I found out you weren’t.” He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Why would you apologise?” Adrian’s hands were clenched into fists and held between them. Trevor wanted to pry them open just as had Adrian previously loosened his own fingers from his hair. But that would mean letting go of him. And Trevor couldn’t do that. 

“I was confused. And stupidly, a bit afraid. I should’ve known then. I’m never like that unless...” 

“What?” 

Trevor smiled softly. Finally admitted,  “I’m never one to panic unless I’m drowning in feeling, Adrian.”

Adrian moved and Trevor was already tightening his grip but there was no need. Because Adrian wasn’t pulling back. He clutched at Trevor’s shirt, eyes wide. Trevor could see something in the brightness of his eyes, almost hopeful. But he still said nothing. 

It’s Adrian, he thought. Perfect, self-sacrificing Adrian who wishes on stars but doesn’t believe he can have them.  

“I found out about the marking bite. Not everything… but enough. Lisa knew.” Adrian dropped his shirt, face alight in horror. 

“You—”

“Only knew the basics.” He stepped closer to him and felt Adrian’s hand clutch at his own arms in response. “And now you’re telling me vampires have a mate who’s their sole weakness and balance but before that I—”

“What?” He asked desperately. “What did you feel?”

“Anger.” He smirked at Adrian’s surprised expression. “Lisa had told me about your marriage proposals just before. I was in a whirlpool of feeling.” He snorted. But he sobered up quickly. “I was distracted after. Because you didn’t tell me. And I kept wondering, ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’” He met his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He didn’t wait for him to respond. “And then, I suppose I fell apart. Because I looked at you and I realised, I—”

Adrian’s heartbeat was the snap of a hummingbird's wings. Trevor was sure his was the same. But the pattern of it was comforting. It was real.

Trevor stepped back, smiling when Adrian stepped after him, furrow between his brows. But Trevor didn’t want to hold onto his wrist for this. He didn’t want to crowd him when they were watched over by the stars and moonlight. 

Trevor reached out. 

Adrian met him halfway.

Their fingers intertwined so easily. 

“Trevor.”  

Trevor smiled at their hands. This was so right . How could he ever have been so blind?

Never again.

“I told you I never get what I want. That there's a wish that will never occur. I’ve been so distracted by your father’s stupid comments and I couldn’t stop thinking about mating bites.”

The grip around his fingers tightened.

“I never get what I want.” He repeated. “But I want you. I want to wish on stars for you. I don’t want you to find a mate.” Adrian’s eyes were wide. “You’re already mine. I’m your husband. You don’t need— ” 

A cool hand gripped the back of his neck and pulled him close. “Beloved, ” Adrian breathed, eyes bright, bright, bright and every planet in the sky was insignificant when their lips connected in a gentle kiss. 

He was sure that the world was titled around them, that the stars brightened to the radiancy of the sun and the moon bled. Because how else could he be completely and utterly undone by something so soft?

Trevor let out a weak groan at the touch, his other hand rising to cup Adrian’s cheek. Adrian’s lips were soft and parted when Trevor slid his hand back, clutching at the nape of his hair.

It’s real. It’s real. It’s real. 

Pressing soft kisses to his mouth, Trevor murmured his name between them. He felt the warm exhale of Adrian’s mouth against his, the upturn of his lips as Trevor pressed down harder. 

It’s real. It’s real. It’s real. 

Adrian’s fingers tightened between his. “Trevor,” he breathed. Their bodies were pressed against each other. Trevor felt the hummingbird's pattern against his skin and grinned. 

When Adrian pulled back, panting heavily, neither of them said anything. Trevor could only look at him, at the moonlight threaded in his hair. 

He’d thank any force in the world for creating him. 

“I’m taking this to mean you like me too?” He had to clear his throat. 

Adrian watched him intently. His eyes were almost glowing. “I don’t think ‘like’ is the appropriate word, beloved.”

His heart stuttered. Trevor brought their joined hands up and pressed a kiss against Adrian’s fingers. Adrian exhaled. 

“My wish on the stars,” Adrian whispered, entire body trembling. “You came true.”

Trevor paused, mind racing. He had hoped but... Trevor smiled. His body buzzed with everything right. 

“So did mine.”  Trevor looked up at the stars and saw Adrian staring at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded. 

Trevor snorted at his expression, holding him flush against him until Adrian stopped shaking. He inhaled, catching the faint scent of lemongrass and ginger against Adrian’s hair.

—

“Trevor,” Adrian spoke up after a few minutes. 

He hummed.

“How do astronomers organise a party?”

He frowned at the question. “I don’t know. With paper?”

Adrian smiled. “They planet.” 

Trevor blinked. 

His head cocked. “Do you understand? They plan it. Planet. Because the words—“

“I get it.” He peered at Adrian’s satisfied expression and sighed, unable to stop smiling. “That one wasn’t too bad.”

Adrian grinned.

“Don’t start getting a big head.”

“Me? Never.”

Trevor chuckled and pulled at Adrian’s hand. “Come here, husband.”

Adrian’s breath hitched. Trevor was pulled into a desperate kiss a second later. 

And around them, the stars shone, the moon gleamed and Orion’s bow blinked.

The hunter’s constellation was brighter than any other star in the sky.