Forbidden (BoyxBoy)

Chapter VII: Quince Trees

Alaric.

I didn't stay for lunch. Instead, the minute I left Jason at the stairs I felt myself starting to crumble. I hadn't expected Mr. Lancroft to show us a picture of Maria de' Medici, and seeing her had caught me off guard. That face was one that I had etched into my mind forever, alongside Emily Brontë, both friends I had lost long ago. 

And yet, somehow, focusing on Jason, thinking about his pine-and-sandalwood smell and his intently looking eyes, held me together in that moment. Now that I was alone, I felt the familiar ache of heartbreak and grief, and although I had spent all the tears I had for Maria long ago, I needed to go home. In that moment, my past had caught up with my present, and centuries had come crashing together. 

My apartment was a short walk from school, on a sidestreet of the main drag of town, and I made it there in good time.  

Fiddling around in my bag for my keys, I climbed the external stairs of the old building. I unlocked the door and breathed a deep sigh of relief when the front door clicked behind me. The familiar smell of home was enough to make my eyes prickle with tears. I rubbed at them quickly and dumped my bag on the bar stools lined up behind the kitchen counter.

The apartment was essentially a studio with separate bedrooms. The main room, which the front door opened up onto, contained a small, open-plan kitchen with darkly varnished butcher-block countertops, a living room area centred around the television of the left hand wall, and a small, rectangular wooden dining room table that seated six comfortably. Two moderately sized bedrooms were accessible through the two battered doors on the right hand wall of the apartment. The main room was an eclectic mix of deep blues, wood tones, and silver, the occasional pop of red coming from a persian rug or a vase of roses. 

Kathleen stuck her head out of the guest bedroom when she heard me. She nudged out of the room, her brow furrowed at me in concern. Her black eyes glistened as she looked me up and down. 

"Something happened." She stated matter-of-factly. In the blink of an eye she was in front of me. "Spill the beans." 

Trying to hide anything from Kathleen was futile, and usually ended up painful for the secret-keeper. I had learnt that lesson centuries ago. Sucking in a deep breath, I explained why I was home early. "Our history lesson today was about the de' Medicis. The teacher was meticulous in explaining the circumstances of Maria de' Medici's death." 

Kathleen blinked, her lips pressed into a knowing smile. "I remember Maria," She reminisced softly. Kathleen had lived much longer than I had, and I couldn't begin to imagine the amount of people she remembered. She wasn't the type to talk much about her past, but her glossy ebony eyes told me that the pain I was feeling right now was something she had experienced long ago.

"You two were close, back in Florence... you were like a brother to her, I remember." She added. Gatsby, my ginger tabby cat, had come sauntering out of Kathleen's room, and was now doing figure-eights around my ankles. 

"She was just a girl, poor thing." I breathed. "I should never have left Florence that summer." 

"It was a long time ago, Alaric. We can't change the past." She reassured me. I nodded in agreement, trying to shake the solemn feeling seeping into my veins. Kathleen moved slowly towards me, the control it took for her to walk at human speed evident in her precise posture.

"Perhaps you should go and visit her? That normally makes you feel better." Kathleen suggested, placing one of her cold hands to my cheek in a rare show of affection. I looked down at her petite frame, her face the same level as my sternum. 

Some vampires are reborn with special abilities. It is rare, but it does happen. Kathleen and I were two such vampires. Kathleen had very strong persuasion abilities, able to get any mortal she wanted to do anything. My gift was not as practical. I had the ability to travel back in time, to a particular moment or memory, and relive that day with those people. I couldn't change anything by going back, and when I returned to the present, life carried on as it had before I left. But sometimes seeing those people again, living those memories, was worth it. All I had to have was a trinket to anchor me to that person or place, and I could go back there.