Archive of Our Own ^beta

Vincent was slowly pooling a sample of Jerome's blood into a fingerprint sticker from a session earlier in the day. The house had been dark for sometime now. It could be around 12am or 1am, Vincent didn't know. All he cared about was finishing these fingerprints. He had about 4 more prints left and he could go home.

He had barely seen Jerome throughout the day, most of the time Jerome had stayed in his room after the sessions. Vincent wondered if Jerome really cared about donating all this. What was his side? Did he feel guilty for Vincent? Maybe it was a sense of seeing how far Vincent would go and then give up. It certainly seemed like Jerome had given up. Vincent really needed to talk to Jerome. Most days it was “Do it.” were the only words from Jerome before a session and “How many left?”, around the middle of a session. After that Jerome would grab his preferred bottle of brandy and go into his first floor bedroom.

Most days Vincent felt like a parasite, or in a weird symbiotic relationship to Jerome like a remora fish and their shark in the sea. Vincent tried not to think about Jerome as he finished the remaining fingerprints. Vincent cleaned up the counter and put everything in a neat order. That's what Jerome seemed to like at least. Vincent looked back at the door with a darkened brown wood border with a curve, the rest of the door being black.

Vincent walked up to the door and reached to knock before he heard some soft snoring coming from the other side. Jerome must be asleep, Vincent's theory came true as he slowly opened the door to see Jerome still in his wheelchair with a bottle of brandy already fully spilt on to the black carpet flooring. Vincent carefully walked over to Jerome, taking the bottle out of his hand and placing it to the left of him. Vincent then processed to slowly pick Jerome up. Once Vincent is holding Jerome bridal style, Jerome seems to stir as he murmurs, “Vincent, please…”. Jerome softly brushed Vincent's right pec.

Vincent stopped in his tracks. Did Jerome really just say his name? Maybe it was just something in Vincent's head. It was late now around 2am. Ignoring the growing questions in Vincent's head. He continued to carry Jerome into his living room. Vincent placed him onto the black leather couch. He found a blanket cast aside on a chair. Vincent floated the blanket on top and then tucked Jerome in the blankets. Trying his best not to touch him. Vincent didn't wanna be weird. Vincent didn't wanna be a bother anymore.

As Vincent got up he looked at the softly sleeping Jerome and smiled as he went back into Jerome's room and cleaned up the mess that was at least a couple hours old.

Vincent slowly woke up on the other side of the long black couch to see Jerome moving around. Jerome looked over and scoffed then turned back to his work on breakfast. Vincent leaned up and rubbed the back of his neck then saying, “I'm sorry, for sleeping at your house that is.”. Jerome didn't even turn around. Whatever Vincent thought, whatever they were, it was probably nothing important to Jerome. Maybe they weren't even friends. Maybe this, and maybe that.

Jerome looked over his shoulder as he heard the door click. Vincent was gone for work.

Sometime later, around 8pm, Vincent returned to the house. It seemed that Jerome had probably not done much with his day. Most likely scrolling through the mail or he was perusing one of his mind-numbingly boring novels. At times Vincent felt pity for his distant friend if you could use that word for our weird situation. One time in a drunken stupor Jerome had admitted how he had gotten in the wheelchair. Mostly that he had tried committing suicide when he was at the peak of his swimming career. Did Jerome enjoy the casket he sat in everyday? Maybe, it was the freedom he has gained by going against the norm? Vincent snapped out of his thought fogged mind as he noticed Jerome looking at him in a puzzled way, “What are you doing standing there Vincent?”. Vincent looked at Jerome, “I, I was um, I was just looking at your interesting design of the house. Been a long time since I’ve truly looked at it.”. Jerome shrugged as he rolled back to the kitchen table then saying, “For God Sakes, just call it our house. You’ve been here long enough.”. Vincent smiled as he continued into the living room to sit down. Jerome says without looking, “How’s brandy and eggs for tonight Jerome?”. “That will be just fine, Jerome.” Vincent says as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

~~

It had been a couple days since we last talked. All of it has been the same. Same route. Same brief looks, but they seem to get longer. Vincent has seemed to notice how Jerome will look at Vincent while he undresses to go scratch at his skin. It’s got to the point that most of the time we do actually talk. It’s painfully quiet. I wanna tell him everything. Living together makes our lives seem to rise and fall. Even if he might not care about me. I still long for him. Jerome has started to consume my thoughts. Jerome while at work. Jerome while I grab something to eat. His brunette hair, those eyes. Oh god those eyes. Simultaneously sweet but also this look that makes you feel like you're approaching an animal that could rip you apart at any moment. Any moment, he could just up and tell me to buzz off. Jerome has truly become an enigma to Vincent.

Around lunch time, Vincent comes inside the main living room. Jerome is smoking a long cigarette as he looks over to me. Vincent gets eye contact with Jerome as Vincent places his suitcase down. “I think I will take a shower.” Vincent says as he proceeds to start walking through the room. Right before Vincent opens the bathroom door, Jerome turns around. “Could you please just, just sit here with me for a bit?” Vincent was surprised by this. The fact that Jerome even wanted him to sit down was a surprise. Let alone have some sort of friendly conversation. Vincent sits down at the table, Vincent notices a glass waiting for him with some whiskey filling half the glass. Jerome nods towards Vincent to please drink.

As Vincent finishes his sip he says, “So, what did you wanna talk about ?” After sometime Jerome fidgets in his wheelchair then goes to say, “You just don't understand me Vincent!” Vincent rushes up to Jerome and then says, “No, it's you who must know nothing Eugene. I have had to become you for months, years! Every hair, fingerprint, hell even the damn dandruff from your scalp! I have loved you for some few months but don't tell me the looks we give each other are without conviction Jerome” Vincent then falls to his knees, “don't do this to me.” Tears start to drip onto Jerome’s pants. Vincent simply can’t bear it anymore. The looks, the night where he wonders if maybe. Just maybe Jerome would ask to join his bed.

The silence became a ringing in Vincent’s ears as his head rested against Jerome’s leg. The ringing stopped, as Vincent felt Jerome’s coarse hand went through Vincent’s hair. “My sweet Vincent”, Jerome says softly, “Please look at me.” Vincent weakly lifts up his head. “Come closer Vincent.” Vincent moves upward to the point he is almost nose to nose with Jerome. As Jerome is about to say something Vincent cuts him off, “I’m sorry, I know it's stupid, I know. I can leave you can-”. Jerome kisses Vincent with great passion. Bodies mix together as Jerome’s hand slides down Vincent’s back. Moans slide between mouths as each other’s face gives warmth by the heat of their passion.

Vincent holds Jerome's head as he leans out of the kiss. While panting Vincent goes to say, “W- why me? You could've picked anyone?” Jerome looks into Vincent's eyes for a long moment and then chuckles, “Vincent, you bastard it's always been you. Since we first met with the dealer to set up this deal. It's always has been you.” Jerome takes a deep breath and he slams into Vincent's mouth with a kiss.

After sometime Vincent asked if he could pick Jerome up and lead to his bedroom. Jerome in a kiss drunken haze agrees. Vincent lightly picks up Jerome and opens Jerome's bedroom with his left leg. Vincent tosses Jerome onto the middle of the brown bed. As Vincent straddles Jerome and slams into another kiss. Tongues meet as the slide and crash along the other. Vincent leans backwards as he helps Jerome take his soft white shirt off. Then Vincent starts rubbing Jerome's chest. Feeling every scar, bruise, and memories of long ago. But that doesn't matter now, there is only Vincent and Jerome.