Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Moments like this, where Chase was alone, where Chase voluntarily put himself alone, only to be surrounded by his own thoughts, was enough for him to crumble.

He hadn’t met Deacon or Grandpa Ralph’s eyes as he insisted he didn’t need to go one town over to a day-long bake sale, despite the fact that Danielle and her grandma would be there. 

Instead, he did what he did best: fake sick, despite the fact he was aching to see Dani, his best friend, who he hadn’t hung out with for weeks.

Coughing replayed in his mind from yesterday, but not his own: he was plagued with muffled coughs on the other side of the phone, gripping his phone so hard his hand ached at the silence on the other side. 

Aunt Beth had assured him that it was nothing, that she would be fine, that he didn’t need to worry about it, something he’d been told since the time she’d gotten sick up to now.

He’d screamed back at her. "Yeah, if it's nothing, why don't you just tell me anything?!" 

They had argued back and forth, until Grandpa Ralph had heard Chase yelling, immediately taking Chase’s phone from him.  

He hadn’t even looked at him, just taken it with a close lipped frown and a flash of sympathy Chase had noticed.

It had been hard to keep a straight face, to keep believing, all the shit that the adults around him told him to do when things were so utterly wrong. He wasn’t as stupid as they thought he was. 

His mom was getting worse, no one was telling him how she was doing, he still hadn’t collected enough narratonin, and hadn’t had a single hint as to where the rest of the keys were. 

Deacon (and now Prunella) had helped him collect more narratonin, but they weren’t here with him when he was off on his own to make a dumb decision of jumping into the first piece of grand literature he could find. Something that he believed would probably get him more narratonin than usual. Something that better get him more narratonin than usual. He was running out of time, and he was even lower on answers. 

The answers to all his questions were hidden behind a boy who was better known as Buddy, as unmoving as a brick wall. The more he hid, the more Chase wanted to know. 

Surprisingly, he had gotten Buddy to open up to him a lot more than he realized. It made him happy to know Buddy had started to trust him.

That was all changed when he had discovered Prunella. Chase hadn’t faced him for a whole week since the end of that story, apology letters piling up in his trash can as he had screamed into his pillow at how hard writing was. He gave up facing Buddy and apologizing, because there was nothing coming back from how Chase had to abruptly leave the book. There was no coming back from how he’d been avoiding story-going for the past week, despite being so desperate to apologize. 

At least he had an excuse now: his own conflicting feelings. Chase was tired of not doing enough for his mom, giving up after one story and not even apologizing to Buddy. He didn't want Buddy to be mad at him, he didn’t want his mom to- No Chase, don't think about that. “Silver?” 

She perked up as Chase came up the trapdoor, sitting on the attic floor, his legs crossed in front of the small table that held the cardboard house Chase had made for the keys.

“Chase?” 

Silver was slightly hopeful at Chase finally approaching her first. She'd watched how Chase avoided every single mention of Buddy now, and they hadn’t gone into a book for a week, which was a change from how often they used to go into stories. Something had happened in the last story, and she knew it was eating at Chase.

Deacon and her had talked about Chase a bit. He'll come to you when he's ready, Sil, he had said, shaking his head a little sadly.

She stopped watering the small potted plant outside the cardboard house Chase had made for them, waiting for what he'd say next.

“Sil. I- I think I should go back into stories again. Can we go to this one? I dunno, but apparently it’s kinda complicated but I think that’s the good part! I can get more narratonin this way.” 

Sympathetically, she sighed. “Chase…Do you really want to do a story like this alone? I have never been in this book before, but I do not assume it will be-” 

“Silver, I’ll be fine! Just- please? I need to talk to Buddy, and I need to get narratonin…I need to- f- for mom.” 

Her eyes softened. She knew that bringing up her key holder’s problems wouldn’t go well, seeing the state he was in. She’d much rather listen to him. Next to her, Bronze and Goldie were asleep: they’d usually wake up an hour later, around noon. 

They would've been able to sway Chase otherwise, but right now, she knew Chase wouldn't listen.

“Okay, Chase. I understand.” 

He grinned, the creases under his eyes showing off dark circles. “Thanks Sil. You’re the best.” 

She nodded before assuming key form. With a deep inhale that came out shakily, he entered the book.

This book felt very similar to the last one: everything was so…dark. 

The curtains, the sitting room he was in. He had to be in a castle, the ceilings were a good 30 feet up, and the walls were painted black. There was a staircase leading down to what he assumed was a cellar, and the ceiling led up to a hollow dome. He stared idly out the small window: it was early in the evening, and he was surrounded by what seemed like a forest. 

A voice called out to him, startling him out of his observations. “Laura! Where did you run off to? Madame Perrodon has been calling you for a long time to help prepare the tea for our guest!” 

He was met with the face of a man with a salt-and-pepper beard, wide, concerned eyes, and graying blonde hair. 

If his dad ever got old, he’d look exactly like this. His breath painfully caught in his throat. 

“I- I- um. Sorry. I forgot my um- My pendant! Right o, father-o!” He picked off a pendant lying on the ground, letting out a nervous giggle. The words tumbled out of his mouth: he hadn’t even read this book, so he had no idea if the guy in front of him was even the heroine’s father.  

Luckily, he had guessed right, as he pulled a smile at Chase’s words before speaking. “It is alright, daughter dear. I was expecting General Spieldesdorf to be here this morning. I am surprised he is not.” 

Chase only nodded along, a little perplexed. Man, he really should’ve found a summary of this book before going in it. There was a knock at their door, and Laura’s (he assumed his  name was in this story) father got up to open it. 

As much as he hoped it would be Buddy, it had to be that General they were speaking of when he had entered the story.

Instead, it seemed to be a post messenger, pulling a letter out of a satchel before tipping his hat and leaving, the fading sound of horses galloping away the only thing to be heard. That was strange.

Dad Bearded Dude had a frown on his face, holding up the letter, reading the first line, eyebrow crinkling in shock. “D- Father. Who is it from?” 

“Laura, come with me to the sitting room. We will open it together.” Bearded Dude looked up again to see a staunch-faced woman staring back at them in surprise. “Madame Perrodon. It seems that…our guest will not be here today.” 

“Oh, dear! I was expecting his arrival…Shall we drink the tea anyhow?” 

He nodded.

Chase noted how she seemed to be a part of the family, but still in a found-family way, like she was some maid or servant who had contributed a great deal to their family. Her smile was warm as she settled on Chase.

Despite this book being dark, the people seemed inviting enough. He hadn’t even drank in his own outfit yet, but his fingers brushed over a choking neckline of the white button down that he didn’t notice was slightly uncomfortable, though regal, a waistcoat on top, all tucked into pants and tall boots. 

He breathed out a laugh at his outfit. “What is there to laugh at, Laura?” Madame P-and-some-other-letters’-voice was curious.

 “N- nothing. Sorry. Just thinking.” 

Dad Bearded Dude (god Chase HAD to stop calling him that) read the letter aloud. 

═══════

Due to the circumstances of my situation, it is with great sorrow that I have decided not to visit you, my dear friend, Sir Denarius.

My niece has been unjustly taken from me by a fiend whose name I am not to disclose. It is too dangerous for me to speak of the circumstances. 

It is time for me to grieve the severity of this situation, the taking of the young woman who was akin to my daughter. 

I was a fool to let a stranger into my home, harming my Bertha. From now, it seems I will be more careful, even if it is not enough to bring my dear Bertha back to me. 

Of course, I assure you to do the same.

I will not come to visit for countless weeks, and I hope that you understand the severity of my situation.

Sincerely, General Spieldesdorf. 

═══════

The air was heavy with the weight of the statement the General had given them. His own niece was taken from the poor man. 

Chase had experienced grief before, he knew it in the guitar he ran his fingers over, the countless dreams he had of his father growing old, witnessing his graduation...

He let out a strangled sob. Madame P-and-some-other-letters immediately rushed to his side. “Dear Laura! I know you and Bertha were very good friends, this will be very difficult for us all. Come, we shall go upstairs to rest. Come come!” She pulled Chase by the arm, a little roughly, but more-so fussingly. 

Another maid had rushed to Chase’s side, coming from seemingly nowhere. “Oi, Mademoiselle! I have dear Laura in good hands, I can assure you, she is okay with me.” 

There was a babble of conversation amongst the two maids in rapid French. They were fussing over Chase. Finally, the other maid shook her head with a sigh. Caught up in the conversation, he wiped a tear off his cheek, a little roughly until it left a mark. “Fine. Take her up to the bedchamber, I understand it is her comfort that you will give best.” They were talking as if Chase wasn’t right in front of them, and it had him rolling his eyes, thinking that the book characters acted exactly like how he and other keyholders did in stories. Mademoiselle-someone turned to look at Chase. “Isn’t the moon quite strange tonight, dear Laura?” 

Immediately, Chase was reminded of the damn vampire story they had gone into a week earlier. The moon had been huge, more up in their business than usual. He choked back a laugh at his own joke, and watched how both of the maids turned to look at him. “Y- yeah.” 

“Oh, pish-posh. Mademoiselle, don’t be silly!” 

Chase let out a watery chuckle. Wait, if the moon was all up in their face…

Was this a vampire story? 

Wait. 

Did that mean the last story was a vampire story? Buddy didn’t really look like a vampire in the last story, but…Maybe he was. 

There was no use in worrying about Buddy being a vampire when he could barely muster how he’d even apologize. Maybe Buddy would accept his apology and they’d- 

Chase shook his thoughts out of his head with a hand to the air, setting it back down when he watched Madame P-something raise an eyebrow, shaking her head and murmuring silly girl. The characters in this story seemed less immune to the original story-censoring Chase had taken advantage of in other stories. Noted. 

Or maybe it was just Madame P who was. 

Madame P tugged Chase upstairs. “I can go to sleep on my own. I’ll be fine, I don’t need help…” 

She finally released Chase. He didn’t mind how kind they were being, but this was getting tiring. And since it was basically night by now, he could lay down.

He sighed as he walked upstairs, immediately regretting his decision to tell her to go away, as this story took place in a castle. The hallway was huge, multiple rooms on either side. He nearly considered asking his maids for help, but realized that he was supposed to know where his own room was.

With a sigh, he started jiggling every doorknob, hoping that at least one would open up to a room. Finally, he opened a door to a room that definitely looked like Laura's bedroom. 

The walls were painted white, which was a change from the rest of the castle. Her room was huge, various Renaissance-esque paintings on the walls and golden accents around the pillars that held up the room from every corner. There was a four poster bed, a large dressing cabinet, and a cupboard filled with various dresses. She even had her own windowsill, like the type Chase had in his own room. It made the perfect brooding spot for Chase to sit and stare, which he felt like doing right now. 

The cushion near the large windowsill was plush, and the window opened out to the same forest that seemed to surround them for miles. It was a pretty forest, thick lush green the only thing to be seen for miles, a thin path the only thing etched throughout, leading to the castle they were in and beyond. Right now, though, as the sun completely set, the trees looked darker. It was like Sugar Springs if it was gothic. 

And where was Buddy? He’d be here by now, even if he came later. 

Maybe he was in a different part of the story, or maybe he’d stop coming into stories altogether, after what had- But no, Buddy wasn't a quitter.

Out of the corner of Chase’s eye, a carriage had appeared from behind the tree blocking his view, coming nearer and nearer to the castle. He watched as the carriage was near what seemed to be the castle’s moat and toppled into the field of grass below, right in front of steel-black gates. 

A few crows were cawing in the distance, and Chase jumped up and started running down the stairs.

“Father! I think there’s someone by the gate- Madame P?” 

“Yes, yes, we know! Your father and I watched as they crashed right next to the gate, just as we almost shut the drawbridge! He just went to check who it was. Stay inside- Laura!” 

Chase hadn’t even listened to her last words, heart beating in his ears as he ran outside, not even bothering to take an extra coat as he stepped outside, shuddering in the cold breeze. He ran past the drawbridge, opening the gate, eyes meeting the carriage, tipped sideways and the horses sprawled on the floor.

“Laura! You should be inside-” Bearded Dude’s eyes flashed at Chase.

A woman tumbled out of the carriage, wide eyed and shaky as she spoke in a thick Italian accent. “Oh, oh, I am ever so sorry! We must have taken the wrong route, and now our carriage is toppled! My poor sick daughter is inside, and we did not mean for this to happen!” 

The carriage driver got off the floor, beckoning a hand to the woman’s daughter, who came outside. 

Chase’s heart was still pounding in his chest. Please let this be Buddy. 

The first thing that Chase noticed was that the figure, who had just stepped out of the carriage, was shrouded by a thick velvet veil, its body shrouded by the cloak it was attached to. He wanted to call out Buddy’s name, ask if it was him.

But he couldn’t do that, not right now.

Would Buddy even answer to Chase's voice, seeing how much he hated him now? 

“My dear Madame. No apologies. Many travelers get lost along this forest. Come, Laura, help me straighten up the carriage.” The driver stood off to the side, unblinking and stony faced as he took in the scene. There was something uncanny to him that had Chase looking away, unblinking, dilated pupils and a blank expression.

While straightening out the carriage, Chase threw glances at the veiled figure every few seconds, unable to make out who was under that stupid veil and cloak. Eventually, Chase and Bearded Dude had helped both of the horses off the floor, which were now whinnying. “I know, sweetie.” Chase stroked one of the horse’s nose a few times, grinning when the horse leaned against his touch.

If only Deacon could see him now. He'd be green with envy.

He moved back to watch the figure, to gauge its reaction, to look beyond the thick veil and cloak…

The figure's eyes moved to Chase's direction as he tended to the horse, though looked away as soon as Chase looked up. Did Buddy…not come into this story? Chase swallowed hard, staring off into the distance with a locked jaw. The lady spoke again. “My daughter…she is very sick. I wish to find a place for her to stay, that is why we had gone through Kaiserwald, hoping to commute to Graz…Alas, our journey has been horrible, and my daughter, sicker.” 

“Father, please. We should help them out, y’know?” 

The words escaped Chase’s mouth, a new determination set forth to help these characters. It was the same thing that had gotten him through life, and now, entering stories. Maybe he had accidentally deviated from the story, he had no idea what he was doing. Maybe the figure behind the veil really was Buddy, lingering and unsmiling, unspeaking. He was playing his part, it had to be Buddy, if it wasn’t, then he would never forgive not hurting a boy with piercing blue eyes, a rare softness that only Chase had gotten to see...

Her eyes were wide as she nodded hopefully. "Oh, is my poor daughter allowed to stay? If it is no trouble, after all."

“Laura, but- Miss, how long do you suppose your daughter will stay?” 

"3 months, I'd persume." 

They continued to discuss the details of her daughter’s stay, words that Chase wasn't listening to.

He had decided then, maybe he didn’t like dark stories like these. There weren’t even any promised vampires! Yeah, Chase had gone into a vampire book and absolutely hated it, but he had tried to convince himself this one would be different. 

“Well. That settles it. Again, thank you, kind gentleman, for taking in my daughter. It truly meets the world. I promise I will be back in 3 months. In the meantime, I’ve given her enough medicine in the bag, there is no need for extra care. Wait, I must address my daughter before my departure.” 

The woman spoke to the shrouded figure in hushed tones, and the hood bobbed with a nod. Bearded Dude paused to let them talk, and when she had finally waved goodbye, Bearded Dude gave the veiled figure a slight beckon with a gentle hand.

“Wait, she’s staying with us?” 

Bearded Dude smiled softly and nodded. “I think you could use a companion.” 

“Thanks dude!” 

“Of course. Come along, dear.” It was dark outside, a stray lantern the only source of light. No matter how many times Chase moved his head to catch a single sight of the veiled face, he was unsuccessful. 

Sure enough, Madame P was waiting for them at the entrance to the castle, pulling the lever shut. Chase and the veiled figure watched with amazement as the drawbridge collapsed down. Cool. Surprisingly, that was the first drawbridge he had seen since he’d started going into stories actually in action. 

She was a little taken aback at the veiled figure who was following them inside the castle, but Bearded Dude placed a reassuring hand on the veiled figure’s back, silently nodding to Madame P to take her inside. 

“Come along, dear. We’ll get you situated. Laura, you stay here and don’t disturb our guest,” Madame P remarked as soon as she saw Chase trying to follow behind them. 

He let out a groan, instead going up to Laura’s room and shutting the door behind him.

Guess he would just die of curiosity, because no one in this book wanted to even tell him anything either, just like in real life. 

His eyes moved around to corners of the room he hadn’t exactly taken note of, including a bookshelf.

Getting up, he decided to explore it a little more. Most of this stuff was in…German. There were, of course, a few books in English, but the majority seemed to be in German. Great. 

One of the books that wasn’t in German, though, was a-

Diary? 

Chase looked around the room, almost checking if a random book character wouldn’t pop up behind him right now and scream at him for reading the diary. Which they wouldn't, considering he was Laura.

Oh yeah.

A part of him felt a little guilty for reading it, but seeing how he knew nothing about Laura nor this book, he deserved some background knowledge that was so conveniently placed in front of him.

He opened the first page, and began to read. 

There was some stuff in here about her childhood, including the fact that her mother passed away. Of course, something that all heroines seemed to have to go through. This book was no different, and he would never catch a break.

This book had to be targetting him in all the worst ways possible. But he'd stick through it despite that.

But that wasn’t the only thing to catch his eye: it was an excerpt of the third entry dated October 2nd, 1856. 

When I was 6 years old, I had a terrifying dream.

I must’ve been drifting off to sleep as I hummed one of my favorite operas, when the door creaked open and the lone candle in the nursery flickered, much to my indifference.

The air had most definitely changed, no longer humid and sweet, but cold and unforgiving despite the summer breeze that had been trailing through my open window.

I snapped out of the day-dream, and shuddered in the change of air. Though I was an imaginative child, not once had I been spooked by tales of ghost stories like most children my age. In most scenarios, I would hardly be moved by the change in the candle flickering, nor the creak of the floorboards. 

But this time, I was frozen with fear at a figure, realizing it was not just a dream: a pale, small, face, one who could not be much older than me, looking at me with such contempt as she came up to the side of my bed. I stopped, amazed at this wonder, my fear strangely fading. Slender fingers drew me to her chest, smiling softly as she embraced me. There was nothing I could do but whimper and succumb to the touch. 

A piercing pain had erupted in my left breast. 

Immediately, I screamed for help, not able to distinguish between dreams and reality.

Chase slammed the diary shut, not even willing himself to read further, especially when it was dark outside, the large candle in his room flickering, the sounds of the branches as they hit the window, swaying in the breeze…

His chest didn’t hurt at all, he thought as he touched the spot. Neither did he have previous memories of the character in this book, not of anything other than this diary, which only made him feel a little sick.

The book was gingerly placed back to where it was, and Chase went to sleep on the bed, though it was too soft in all the wrong places and the weight of what he had read too stifling.

Thank god storybook time moved faster, he was barely able to sleep, and before he knew it, it was morning.

He wasn’t quite tired either, alert after what he had read. This book was more foreboding than it put on. 

Chase still had new plans, maybe ones he’d regret: he had to visit the girl in the room, know if she was Buddy or if Buddy wasn’t here or…

He opened door after door in the hallway, cursing every time the door was locked or some other miscellaneous room. 

At the last door, he groaned. “Jeez, how many doors does this damn castle- need-” It turned out to be the guest bedroom, the figure still veiled. “I went all this way to find the guest bedroom, just for it to be right across from me?! I’m never going into these books ever again!!" He slammed open the door, revealing the same veiled figure. "And jeez, dude, how long are you going to hide your face for?? Are you ugly, or-”

The figure took off its hood, scowling. “Do you ever shut up?” 

Chase’s mouth dropped open, and he was frozen in place by blue eyes, unblinking and cold, like some sort of supernova. 

Of course he didn't leave. He told you himself, he wasn't a quitter.

“Buddy…”

Chapter Text

Buddy nodded, barely regarding Chase. He was sitting in the bed, propped up by a good 4 pillows, the work of by no one else but Madame P herself.

“Little idiot.” His voice was cold, tilting his head to the side a little to watch the heroine’s face. Of course, he didn’t even utter his name.

He knew he was trying to apologize to Buddy, but he was kind of…pretty.

“Buddy. You- you look good.” He couldn’t help himself, and it was a fact: sharp eyes, a bewildered and stark expression on his face, getting almost angrier with that very statement…Chase cautiously walked up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What do you want?” Buddy was not in the mood to fall for flattery, though his heart thumped in his chest a little at Chase's words.

“What?” He was a little taken aback.

He shook his head, already tired of this conversation and Chase, throwing off his cloak and setting it on the bed and leaning forward to where Chase was sitting.

“I’m asking you, what do you want from me? You didn’t come this way for nothing.”

Chase raised an eyebrow as he thought of a response. Buddy stood up, towering over Chase, which had him stumbling over his weak words even more. It was intimidating when Buddy stood like this. “I- What? I don’t want anything from you…I- I just wanted to apolo-” 

He breathed out a sarcastic, icy laugh, interrupting his words, and suddenly Chase was reminded of how things used to be between them, cold and tense. Buddy nodded towards Chase, looking down at him as he waited for Chase to speak again.

“I- I’m sorry. I really should’ve told you about Prunella. Y’know, she isn’t really my cat. W-well. You know that now. Haha. Sorry, that wasn’t funny, I- All I’m trying to say, it wasn’t exactly my choice to hide it, but maybe I should’ve thought about it more, before- Deacon told me that it wouldn’t be smart to tell you, just in case Ex Libris would find out. Also, he’s not here today, he was busy, and I needed to come in a story and apologize to you fi-” 

He choked out a laugh as he stepped back. “Fuck. Laying the blame on Freckles? Really grand of you. And how would you know that would happen? Do you think I would’ve told them? About that little girl? Do you really think I’d stoop that low?” 

“Buddy, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean to assume anything! They might have forced it out of you. I just didn’t want you not to trust me, and I’m sorry I made it seem that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just trying to tell you-” 

“Yeah. As if I’m not responsible enough to hide something like that? You’re not doing a great job at apologizing. What are you- and trust? That’s rich coming from you.” Buddy’s voice was cold, colder than it had been in weeks, something that Chase had undone so carefully, with trust, and now it was gone, with that same trust.

After all, what did Buddy know? He wasn’t trying to manipulate him.

And fuck Mr. Jerkface for calling him out like that. He knew he sucked at apologies!

Chase tried so hard for everything, because that was what the heroine did. The second that Buddy messed up, it was okay, because he was the villain, but because he was the heroine, now he was the bad one. 

There was an angry huff of air from Chase’s end as his voice got louder. “Well you didn’t see me not offering you forgiveness even after you breached my trust in the beach story. I chose to- Y-You know what? Fuck you. ” 

“Those are big words for you. You clearly didn’t trust me enough to tell me about your…cat. Just because you forgave me right away doesn’t mean I have to-” 

He was squeezing his palms. Buddy was right, but he shouldn’t have been. Chase walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him before Buddy could finish his sentence.

He vowed himself to keep a straight face. He wouldn’t cry over Mr. Jerkface. Not him- not - He walked to his room and slammed the door behind him in spite once more, letting the sound echo through the empty hallway. He didn’t want to hear the rest of what Buddy had to say, and he knew it would be petty bullshit, whatever he was best at. 

Unknowingly, he was still gripping his palms, now red from the force of his grip as he lay down on the bed, not caring to take his shoes off. He undid a few buttons off the top of his shirt, still flushed with anger, his coat long discarded as well and on the floor. 

He was such a mess. As he shut his eyes against everything, the door creaked open, revealing Buddy once again as Chase looked up. Chase only scowled. “Go away!” He was annoyingly pretty today, blue irises sparkling, face pale as the moon. And his outfit. Chase had only now drank it in, a ruffled maroon blouse with a corset, and soft, wide legged black pants. He’d never seen Buddy wear red before, and it made his mouth a little dry. Chase only now realized that Buddy did have fangs, poking out as he opened his mouth to speak. Oh. So he was right about this being a vampire story.

He shut the door behind them, raising an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that’s not how this book works.” 

Jolting back at the sound of Buddy’s voice, Chase frowned. “What are you even talking about? Jerk. It’s just another random vampire book.” 

Buddy exhaled an annoyed sigh. “Do you always go into books like this unknowingly? First you betray me, next you choose a book like this for us to be in without even reading it. At least it’s real gothic literature, but seeing how you don’t read, I don’t presume you’ll be able to complete it.” 

Chase got up, the sheets already ruined from how much he had been tossing and turning angrily, hair ruffled and shirt a little unbuttoned as he moved until he was right in front of Buddy. “Insulting my smarts? That’s low. I thought you stopped doing that forever ago.” 

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Buddy looked down to regard Chase’s face: a disgruntled mess. Even whatever amount of dressing-up Silver did to Chase couldn’t disguise it. Despite that, his brown eyes were still warm as they watched Buddy. Well, that wasn’t really his fault, but his point was that Chase could look warm even on days where he wasn’t his best.

He was the sun, enveloping Buddy in before eclipsing around his heart. His shirt was unbuttoned a little, and his eyes moved down as he stared at his collarbones showing, angular and sharp compared to the softness that was Chase. The sun. 

But that's just how heroines were. It wasn't shocking in any way, his beauty. Chase was not only beautiful, he was a temptress, tempting Buddy with lies of trust, whatever trust meant to him. He did not want Chase. He wanted him gone. He was too persistent, too loud, too angry, too much at once, just like all heroines.

“Why are you here? To torment me, not even listen to my apologies-”

“You came into this story for a reason as well. Did you not?” 

“No shit, narratonin and a dream.” And to give you an apology that you didn’t even accept.

He truly was an idiot. “Yes. And to do so you must follow the story. We’re the main characters of this book. You don’t even…know what this story is about.” 

“Yeah, because I’m soooo dumb.” 

“Can you just stop being insufferable for a single minute? This book is simply based on our interactions. We are supposed to be l-like-” lovers. “companions. In this book.” 

Chase giggled despite himself. He still definitely hated Buddy, still. “Something tells me that ‘companions’ doesn’t mean what it should...” 

Buddy narrowed his eyes before looking away. “Chase…” 

“O-oh. Well, I don’t want to do stupid lovey stuff with you! Gross. I’d rather date a tree.” 

Buddy almost wanted to retort back sarcastically, well, in this book I kind of am the tree, but he thought better of himself, pursing his lips. He didn’t feel like joking with this…heroine who he was supposed to be back to square one with. 

Bitter enemies was what they would always remain.

“I’m not very thrilled that you chose a book that forces us in close proximity either, but we can’t all have what we want.” Nor am I happy with the other aspects of this story. 

“You petty asshole. Just sit there and don’t look at me. Forever. Whenever this book decides to progress. Just leave me alone.” 

Buddy ignored him, stepping closer. “Did you not hear me? This book forces us in close proximity. The only way the story will progress is if we are in close proximity.” 

“I mean, you obviously don’t want to be near me, even if I’m supposed to be the hot vampire’s girlfriend in this story. I'm guessing this book is supposed to be yuri. Ancient yuri. Especially because we're both girls. That's gay. We're-” The words tumbled out of his mouth, biting and failing to be flirty. He cringed at the last part of his sentence and immediately covered his mouth.

Buddy snorted at the last part before moving to cup his cheek, moving Chase's hands off his face, but it was with no form of love whatsoever. It was only a seducing mechanism, a cold motion, something that Carmilla seemed to have a lot of as well as Buddy. Villainesses were all the same. “You think I’m hot?” 

There was a long pause, warmth erupting across Chase’s cheeks, freezing him in place. It was like Buddy knew Chase liked vampires, but he couldn’t have known. And that wasn’t even the point, they were supposed to be mad at each other, but god, Chase be damned if he liked staring into supernovas, the explosion of blue eyes, flecks of gold in Buddy's irises-

Madame P burst in, and Buddy’s hand fell from his cheek at the same time that Chase stepped back, face still hot. “Oh, Carmilla, there you are! We shall be running some tests on you. The doctor is already here. Come, come!” 

Well versed in the events in this book, Buddy shook his head. “No. My mother insisted that bedrest will suffice, and I think so too. No need, Madame.” 

Regardless, Madame P had pulled Buddy away before Chase knew it. 

“Laura! Don’t you stay behind. Come with us.” 

“But he- she doesn’t even need a doctor, like she said! And I need to stay behind-!”

“Laura. Come this instant! Don’t you dare treat our guest like-” 

“Ugh, okay, jeez lady!” 

He trailed behind the both of them to Buddy’s room across the hallway, pressing his palms to his face in a desperate attempt to get rid of the warmth lingering on his skin.

The doctor was already there, holding a doctor’s bag and a hat lopsided on his head. 

“Hello, Carmilla. We have heard of your unfortunate condition. Do tell, how are the pains?” 

Buddy rolled his eyes. “What pains are we talking about? I’m literally fine!” 

“That is good to hear. But still, we shall check your heart rate!” He took his stethoscope off his shoulders, pressing it to Buddy’s chest and listening.

The doctor sounded just like Goldie if he was an old man, and Chase had to hold back laughs. He didn’t want to laugh at something so easily. After all, he was mad at Buddy, and he wouldn't give him the satisifaction of knowing that his jokes were actually funny.

Buddy looked back at Chase and grimaced at the persistent doctor. Chase looked away before he could start laughing. There was nothing funny about this moment, and he didn’t even care about Buddy. But it was still funny to think of Goldie, and to watch an annoyed Buddy be fussed over, crossing his arms and huffing at the wardrobe. He was so dramatic.

Obviously, he noticed Chase holding in his laughter a few feet away, making unsmiling eye contact for a few seconds. Chase could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile escaping. Blue eyes flickered back to the man in front of him before he spoke again. “Can I go now? Please?” 

“Well, yes. But please, stay out of the wrong air, because that is what seems to be making you so ill! Remember, when the odors are unbalanced in the air, it causes all sorts of hormonal changes, especially in young ladies like yourself. I can assure-”

Chase watched how Buddy rolled his eyes before they settled back onto the same wardrobe he had been looking at earlier. The way he concentrated like this, his fangs poking out ever so slightly, it was hard not to stare. Drowning out the rest of the doctor’s words, he continued staring as Buddy attempted to bite at his lip, wincing at the sharpness of the fangs and instead opting to pick at the tender skin of his lips, bored out of his mind.

The slope of his neck was like the curve of a crescent moon, and he was slender and pale in the dark shadows, that of which bathed him until he looked like a real vampire, with the way he shone.

He hated Buddy. He really did. He was so stupidly infuriatingly beautiful and it was unfair that Chase had the privilege to look at him. He wished he could do more, hold him like he had in the last story, actually touch him like this story required, but he couldn’t, he had to sit and stare. 

The moonlight was so bright, yet the moon was so far away. How was that even possible? It wasn’t fair.

He just wanted Buddy to know he was truly sorry, which he was.

Buddy’s eyes landed back onto soft brown eyes flecked with gold, pupils dilated as they lingered. He watched as Chase blinked, taking note of blue eyes meeting his own, and looked away. 

The doctor stood up to leave, but Chase decided to stay, even though it was hard to not sweat with how much he'd been flushing. After all, he knew that he needed to continue the story, ignoring the elephant in the room. 

Buddy got up, and Chase’s heart was pounding in his chest. There was a flutter of hope as he got up. Instead, he went right to…bed? He almost opened his mouth, but a few moments after he had gone to bed, there were soft exhales of breath to be heard in the quiet room. 

Chase got up, hesitantly, conflicted on whether or not to leave the room. When Buddy was quiet, things felt different, like he was intruding.

Instead, he decided to go up to the side of Buddy’s bed and watch him sleep. Not in a creepy way, obviously. That wasn’t his intent. 

But it was strange how Buddy had fallen asleep already. Wasn’t the story about how much time the villainess and the heroine spent together, like some sorta enemies to lovers gig?  

It wasn’t in Buddy to not stick to roles! He was acting weirder than usual, and that wasn’t just because of the dumb argument they’d had.

Then why was Buddy asleep? He’d obviously missed something about this book…

Chase tilted his head to survey Buddy’s expression. Man, he was knocked out cold. Buddy wouldn’t mind if he…No, but he knew he would if he was awake. 

His hair was falling over his face. Slowly, ever so slowly, Chase’s hand reached up to move a strand of hair that was falling over his eye.

His eyes…they were obviously closed, but when they were open, they were cold now, like ice, an expression that he’d once seen melted until it was the water in the sea. If Buddy opened his eyes, they’d be sparkling in the dull light. He’d give anything to watch Buddy’s eyes cling to him like he was the sun reflected off unsettled waters, like they were briefly, last story.

His hand moved over soft hair, reveling in black velvet that fully encapsulated his senses. For a moment, he felt strangely calm.

A beat later, Chase had moved his hand away, flush fully spreading over his face. Once again, because this castle was so large, he slammed the door behind him for an extra dramatic effect.

And not for any other reason, of course.

═══════

There was a moment’s pause in the empty room as Buddy waited, reveling in the silence as the door shut behind a loud brat.

Whatever had just happened was not something for him to dwell on. It didn’t mean anything, and he didn’t care if he was awake as Chase stared down at him like some creepy doll. He could care less about that…brat.

That asshole, here to break his heart and then go and do that? 

Shut up, Nox.

He wasn’t here to think about Chase. Like usual, he was on a mission. 

This book was different from the children’s stories, with chaotic situations that only an idiot like the blond would’ve gotten them both into, and situations they could have easily gotten out of. This story was quite…different, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

He’d read this book before, and it had never ended well. His story, the one of a villain, was never to end well, but this one was exceptionally worse.

Swallowing down a few unspoken words and thoughts, he got out of bed, straightening out the creases in his dress shirt before shuffling through the wardrobe and throwing on a coat that was so conveniently placed there, among many others. 

The window was now open to chilly air, and he shuddered even through the warmth of his coat. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

For this story, for a chance of completion and living up to himself. 

He tumbled into the trees, a few scratches and cuts pressed to his hands even after clinging onto whatever he could reach in the thick forest. 

Guilt rippled from his chest with every breath he took, in and out as he barely landed feet-first on the floor. But this wasn’t guilt. It was mindless indifference.

He didn’t live for others, nor himself. He lived for the stories that trapped him in places like these, because the villainness never got a happy ending.

═══════

Chase was starting to get more and more lonely with every aspect of this story. It had been a few hours of sitting in his room, drawing and reading some of the less scary entries in Laura's diary, which were the ones about her childhood. That had only taken Chase 5 minutes, and now there was nothing else for him to read. Of course, he didn’t even bring his phone in the one boring story that actually needed entertainment! (He knew he'd have no wifi. But he still had some games!) 

He didn’t even have Dorkin to keep him company, Buddy was asleep and mad at him…he had to do something else to pass some time.

Madame P was humming as she strutted the corridor near the bottom of the stairs, looking up. “Laura? Why haven’t you acquainted with our guest?” 

He hates me. “She is asleep at the moment. Carmilla, right?” 

“Aye, so you’ve been introduced to each other. Good, good. She must be resting. Beautiful, isn’t she? Even in sickness, there is a beauty in her sickly skin. She has a charming face, no?” 

“Y- yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, picking at a hangnail.

“You’ve always seemed quite bored at this castle. I thought you could use a companion instead of hanging out with your silly old maid.” 

Chase shook his head. “You’re not silly! I know you've done a lot for La- I- I mean, me! I like hanging out with you.” 

She only smiled wistfully. “You’re right, lass. I appreciate it. But back to the talk of your guest.” 

“Can we not talk about her?” There was a flush to Chase’s cheeks.

“Ah. I see how it is.” 

He chuckled uncomfortably. “Wh- what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“She is very charming with her beauty. It reels in not only men, but also women. I understand, some people are like that, especially people like Carmilla. Once you become friends, I presume she will not be so intimidating.” 

He only nodded. “Yeah. Say, do you have a guitar in here? I'm bored.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “A what?” 

“Instruments? Anything? I need something to do while Carmilla…rests.” 

“Ah! Yes, that reminds me, we haven't done your piano lessons this week, it is time! I hope you've been practicing!” 

Chase almost audibly groaned. He hated the piano. 

He followed her to the separate drawing room that contained (yes, this castle had many, as this one was completely different from the one he had entered this story from. )

The room was immediately full of angry lecturing on Madame P’s end after a few seconds of practice, and annoyed groans from Chase. “ I’m trying!!!!” He had yelled at least 10 times by now.

She snorted. “The girl hasn’t practiced for a week and her skills have diminished so much? Bah!” She murmured a string of french curses, all of which he knew the meaning of simply because he and Simon had gone on a google search spree in middle school one time, trying to find as many swears as they could in other languages, using them against this one kid who used to torment Chase.

In his defense, they were in middle school. They were allowed to do corny things like that, get a good laugh out of it.

Anyways. This wasn’t the time for him to miss his friends or family…

Chase knew his piano skills sucked, but it wasn’t getting filtered out of stories like it usually did, and that was even more annoying with his overbearing teacher. 

He played a few more awkward notes, hands stumbling. He’d given up playing the piano a long time ago. It was mainly because he had a really bad teacher to the point where he decided to quit the hobby altogether. After all, he had the guitar, why would he need a piano?

Even though Madame P was a great mother figure in this story, she was a horrible teacher. She huffed out one more time. “Mon dieu! Laura, what is getting into you?” 

He slammed his face against the piano tiles a little angrily, squishing his face against it, only for more unsatisfactory noises to escape the piano. 

“I'm so done! Forever! Can I just go rest??” 

“Of course, Laura. You seem very off. This is not your usual piano skill! Do go check on our guest.” 

His ego was a little hurt without the usual storybook censoring protecting him. After all, this book wasn’t quite the ordinary one, as he’d already come to learn. The heroine wasn't as glorified, which was also pretty weird.

As much as he wanted to avoid Buddy, there was no point in going back up in his own room.

Cautiously, he creaked open the door of Buddy’s room. Sure enough, Buddy was lying in his bed again, eyes open. 

“Jeez. You’re just going to lie here all day?” Nothing. His mouth was in a close lipped frown, and he looked tired. 

“Stop with the small talk.” 

Chase snorted. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me, Buddy boy. I’m still going to talk to you. We’re supposed to hang in this story, and ever since then you’ve been avoiding me. You don’t deviate from stories, do you?” As he spoke, he moved a little closer to his bed, sitting on the edge, a foot away from him.

Buddy sighed. “Oh, Chase. If you read this story, you wouldn’t want to be near me at all.”

“What makes you think that?” 

Suddenly, Buddy leaned forward, ever so slightly, eyes darting to his lips and looking back up. “We do…many things. Things that you and I would never do. Because we’re mortal enemies. I hate you.” 

“I- I know that. You tell me that all the time, it’s in your pranks, your insensitive jokes…I hate you too.” He was trying not to take note of how prettily Buddy’s eyes moved across Chase's entire face, but it was hard. God, he hated Buddy. So much. 

Subconsciously, they were both leaning towards each others’ faces. “Yeah? You hate me right?”

“I- Buddy…I- I- um, don't, I mean I do, I mean- Wait, what’s that on your face?” 

“Hu-huh?” 

He flinched as Chase’s finger moved across his cheek ever so slightly, heart pounding in his chest. “Is that a…cut?” 

“Can we get on with the story?” 

“You didn’t have that on your face earlier. Are you okay? It looks kind of bad-” 

Buddy abruptly moved his finger from his cheek. “Since when have you cared? I don’t need your pity-” 

Chase wanted to shake this idiot awake. For someone that was always calling him an idiot, Buddy was the real one. Of course Chase actually cared. But Buddy wasn’t ever going to believe that, and he was tired of constantly reminding him. He didn’t care how mean he sounded, he was tired of playing this game with Buddy. “I’ve always cared.” 

Silence. There was a perceptive look on Buddy's face. “The next scene is downstairs, in the sitting room. Madame called us for tea time, I presume.” 

As usual, he dodged his question. Chase wouldn’t know anything, not yet. Turning on his heel, he walked away, away from Buddy. 

Buddy walked a little further forward to catch up to Chase, trying to survey his expression. The look on Chase’s face was unreasonable, and he couldn’t decipher its truth. Did he really mean something? 

They both sat at the table, away from each other. Madame P smiled as she served tea to everyone, her anger at the botched piano lessons now gone. Laura’s father smiled at Chase. “We have the best pastries for everyone today. They were freshly baked from the village. I paid a handsome sum for them, but I persume they will be worth it."

He hated this story, but he had food to look forward to, at least. He knew it would taste just as good as the real thing, after all, smelling just as good. He reached for a strawberry pastry, one of the many displayed on the small table. Chase took a bite. 

“Thish pastry! Amashingg!” If he couldn’t drown his feelings by yelling out to the world, he could stick to warm and perfect pastry. Storybook pastry only, obviously. Bearded Dude only laughed. 

There was something weirdly cathartic in this, despite his father’s clone right next to him making his chest hurt a little. It was like family reunions. But with some awkwardness.

Nox rolled his eyes at Chase, who was gobbling down mouthfuls of pastry, instead daintily reaching for the chocolate sponge cake and taking a piece, not eating anything else. He had to admit, the fruit in between was a nice addition, as he could not remember what fruit tasted like, since-

“Ah, attention, all. I wanted to address some uncomfortable news that Madame P was able to deliver to me with such alarming speed. Almost an hour ago, she received news about a mysterious attack that had taken the life of a young woman in the village, almost 10 meiles away!” 

Chase abruptly stopped stuffing pastry in his mouth, eyes widening as he reached for a napkin and wiping his mouth. 

“Wh- what? That is horrible! I feel so sorry for her family!” 

Buddy pursed his lips, nodding along, eyes determined not to look away from his chocolate spongecake.

“For this reason, girls, I advise you to not go outside after the sun sets. Even if we are far, there is no telling of what dangers are going around.” 

Chase’s stomach lurched a little bit. Wasn’t this book relatively safe? There was nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever! 

He tried to make eye contact with Buddy, but he looked just as terrified, biting his lip and pushing the cake aside. “Oh, I am very tired. I must retire to my bedchamber.” 

Buddy slammed the door behind them.

A part of him pulled him towards Buddy, telling him to follow after the boy. He was pale, but maybe that was his usual look. Then again, that didn’t explain why he had left that abruptly. 

It wasn’t his business. Buddy didn’t even like him. 

“Oh, Sir Denarius! I know you had good intentions, to warn the ladies, but look how you’ve spooked them!” 

Chase could only nod. He wasn’t spooked, not as much as Buddy was, just very confused. “I- I’m going upstairs too.”

He had to do some thinking.

Chapter Text

Chase walked upstairs, at a tiptoe so that Buddy wouldn’t hear him coming up the stairs. 

At the door right in front of Buddy’s room, he stopped at the last step, and there was a loud creak as he stepped on the wooden flooring, and he mentally cursed, hesitating on whether or not to open the door.

Embarrassingly enough, Buddy came out himself and opened the door, which made Chase jump, his fist that was in the air dropping immediately.

He walked inside, most of Buddy’s room a lot more disorganized than last time, papers strewn around, sheets messy. His gaze met Buddy’s, face disheveled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m flattered you cared.” 

Chase rolled his eyes. Of course he cared, except Buddy was too dense to understand- ughh, whatever. “Why did you run off like that? Was that whole scene supposed to happen?”

He breathed out a laugh. “Of course it was. This book isn’t as happy as you’d think, you know-” 

“Okay, so what is it?” 

“Wh-what?” 

“You’re so hell bent on me leaving this story, but you’re not even telling me anything.” 

A spark of anger was cruising through Buddy’s system. He hated Chase so much. “I never said I wanted you to leave! I just- Y- you don’t understand anything-” 

“See? This is the type of stuff you always tell me. I’m tired of it.” 

Buddy got out of bed, moving until he had Chase pinned against the wall. Chase’s breath caught in his throat, a little terrified as Buddy spoke again. “If you want to get on with this story, you wouldn’t be so insistent. I don’t want to talk to you about anything, and I don’t have to.” He moved closer and closer with every word, until Chase could recall the faint scars on Buddy’s face, now clearer than ever. Chase swallowed and nodded, moving away from Buddy. He knew better than to ask him.

“Th- that's not my point-” 

“The next scene is downstairs.” 

He just nodded, following behind Buddy, who was already heading out, putting on his cloak, swishing around his shoulders as he walked downstairs. 

It seemed like this book was out to make them travel everywhere. That, or maybe it was because Buddy wouldn’t stop hiding out in his room while Chase did miscellaneous plot things. He was tired with the constant back and forth, but he knew that he’d find a way to talk to Buddy somehow, even if it meant shutting his mouth and following the story… for now.

A million times he’d asked himself why Buddy was acting so strange, but maybe it was something else, his blue eyes duller than usual, cuts over his face.

Chase was a little confused when Buddy led them all the way downstairs, until they were at the main door, slipping past the gates and the drawbridge. Blindly following behind Buddy, a little worried that if he didn’t he’d lose Buddy’s path altogether, he hadn’t thought of wearing a cloak nor jacket of any sort, shuddering in the cold air, a permanent autumn chill that haunted the story of Carmilla.

He opened the gates until they were sitting out in the grass area, on the marble steps that led up to the drawbridge. Chase shuddered in the cold breeze. “R-remind me why we’re h-here again?” 

“The next scene. We are supposed to watch a funeral.” 

His stomach lurched a little bit as-- almost on queue-- there was a funeral march progressing through one of the small paths, gloomy and dull, a low hum sung along.

Buddy watched Chase’s face: a myriad of emotions, flickering between intense confusion and silent understanding. A soft hum passed between the two boys as Chase’s voice soft as he sang along to the march. 

Buddy knew what he was supposed to do next, and he opened his mouth to retort, but…

Maybe deviating from the story a little bit wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

This story was more and more foreboding as it progressed, Chase thought, his brown eyes that were usually brimming with life now dimmed. He shivered a little in the cold air, and Buddy took notice.

He seemed so…sad. And cold, not even wearing a coat in this weather! Of course, Buddy still hated him. A lot, totally. Even then, he couldn’t resist shrugging his cloak off his shoulders and putting it around Chase. 

Chase was wide-eyed as he felt a warmth encapsulate his shoulders, despite the foreboding and gloomy atmosphere. It wasn’t just the cold air, the setting sun, the dark forest, and the emptiness of the strangers progressing as the funeral march continued, but the emotions this book wanted him to feel…

Buddy didn’t look at Chase as he adjusted the coat a little bit, patting him on the shoulder to ensure it wouldn’t fall off. It wasn’t a friendly gesture, it was out of pure gallantry. Though, that wasn’t the right word- His cheeks warmed a little bit as he looked away, due to the cold.

Chase almost opened his mouth to thank him, but he settled on a hand squeeze instead, letting go a few moments later. He knew if he spoke, he’d ruin the moment. And Buddy wasn’t much of a talker, at least right now. 

A few moments of them sitting together passed, Chase watching the funeral march progress. It had to be of that same peasant girl that had died, as they’d read in the newspaper earlier. It was quite a blow, and Chase had known grief well. This book was full of death and foreboding mystery, and he could relate to many aspects of this.

After the last of the funeral march left, the music fading, Buddy started to walk away, up the steps as Chase followed. 

As they walked away, an old lady was following behind, Buddy noticed. Chase nearly jumped out of his skin when she uttered a “hello, girls!” His mouth hung open in place a little dumbly.

Buddy whispered, “This was part of the story,” as if he could read Chase’s thoughts. 

He moved back to greet the old woman. Only now Chase noticed that she had moved her cloak aside, revealing many miscellaneous things. “I have heard about the great sorrow that has been plaguing our humble forests. Would you lovely ladies love to buy spells of protection?” 

A little uncomfortable, Buddy shook his head, as if he was ready to leave right away. Chase, however, nodded. “Sure, lady.” 

Buddy sighed, plastering a fake smile on his face. At least Chase accidentally didn't deviate from the story. “Come into our castle, dear peddler.”

She followed behind them, walking a little slowly, Chase keeping up with her pace. Usually, he couldn’t stand slow walkers, but this lady was too nice to resist. Buddy strayed behind the two, of course, too grumpy and too awkward to make any small talk like Chase was doing.

People seemed to radiate to Chase, Buddy had noticed. He always had the funniest conversation topics, the most energy as he conversed with made up book characters. He treated everyone like family. It was like his face matched his looks, a sunny grin, blond hair that he knew was soft under his fingertips…

As they finally walked across the drawbridge, the gates opening in front of them, Chase ran inside, Buddy following. He paused. “Wait, peddler lady, do you want to wait inside?”

“No, no, dear Laura, it is more than okay. I will wait here. Thank you for such kindness! Tell Sir Denarius that I said hello!” She grinned, and Chase nodded at her. 

“We’ll be back! I’m asking Father for some cash! I- I mean- money! I mean curre- oh whatever. Book characters can’t even hear what I’m- Actually - I mean, we’ll be back, nice merchant lady!” She smiled behind them, sitting down on the stray bench near the entrance of the castle, sighing with relief and massaging her crooked back.

“Why would you call him father? I presumed you’d call him some chummy nickname, or even like, Ama or something.” 

He was referencing one story they’d gone into where Chase kept calling the heroine’s aunt tita instead of Aunt Becky, and when Buddy had asked him what was up with that, he’d accidentally let it slip that he was half Filipino. (Buddy didn’t really mention the fact that he’d read a bunch of language dictionaries during the time he was in Ex-Libris, because boy, were his captors adamant he still study. Anyway, he knew about 5 languages other than English, including Tagalog, Italian, French, German, and Spanish, so he already knew what it meant, but he still asked. Just to make sure. Also, he wasn’t trying to brag just now. Honest .) 

Deacon had glared at him, whisper-yelling loud enough for Buddy to hear, “Why would you let that slip???” and Chase had squeaked a little unceremoniously after he had said that, muttering, “Yeah Chase!” as if he wasn’t talking to himself.

The ironic part was, Buddy wasn’t even trying to get any information out of Chase, and he couldn’t even use Chase’s ethnicity against him. That wasn’t what Deacon thought though. It just proved Buddy’s point: Freckles didn’t trust him, so therefore, neither did Chase.

Anyway, Chase was being weirdly formal. He also froze up at Buddy’s question. “How did you know- wait, how did you remember that I spoke- Wh- nevermind.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He smirked at Chase’s reaction, it was kind of funny teasing him like this.

“I- I meant to call him Father.” 

A chuckle escaped his mouth. “You said that.” 

“Bearded Dude. That’s what I’ve been calling him in my head. When I remember, that is.” He let out a dry laugh, clearing his throat before running to the sitting room, where, sure enough, Laura’s father was seated like he assumed he would be.

Buddy waited outside, Chase’s lack of humor at the moment out of character. 

“Dad- uh, Bearded Dude! I need some currency or anything, because the peddler lady’s outside.” 

He immediately got up. “Ah yes!” He pulled out the cabinet of a drawer in the sitting room, digging around for a few schillings. 

“Thanks!” Buddy walked back with Chase, who was practically radiating once again, happy with the simplest things. “What?”

“You’re so…never mind.” He was going to say heroinic, but that was the point of his whole role. But it was true, he really was selfless sometimes.

Towards book characters, that was.

Chase walked over to the peddler as the loud iron doors shut behind the castle, exposing them to the cold air.

“Sorry! We’re back. What do you have to sell to us?”

She pulled her coat aside, revealing many items hidden within the pockets. “I have many trinkets, including this protection spell against evil. It seems that you could use such things, especially after that peasant attack. I know this castle is well-guarded and safe, but I insist! If it is not a help, it can be a good luck charm!” 

Chase nodded excitedly. “Ooh, yes. That’s so lit. Cool. We’ll take two.” The peddler lady took the coins and shoved them into one of her outer pockets before handing the charms to Chase and Buddy. Buddy decided to close his mouth, even as he knew what was coming next.

“Are you girls sure there is nothing else that interests you here?” Buddy shook his head, motioning for Chase to leave. 

But of course, he didn’t get the hint, instead raising an eyebrow and shrugging as Chase spoke again. “Well, we didn’t fully look around just yet. Sure! What else ya got, peddler lady?” 

She smiled at Buddy. “I was just thinking- Well. Your dear friend here has really long teeth. We sell tooth files for these abnormalities. Not to be rude, but it would make you look like a proper lady- Oh dear, I did not mean offense-” Buddy glared at her.

He knew Chase had probably caught on that he was a vampire by now, that he was- but he didn’t fully know the implications of his vampire teeth that were anything but an accessory, nor the- But he had to follow his lines.

“How dare you be so rude to me?! I, a proper lady? Bah! Let’s go Laura.” He walked off, slamming the door shut behind them, Chase’s mouth wide open. 

“Wh- what was that!” 

“I’m following my lines.” He muttered vaguely, head pounding as he moved to the little corner with the window, motioning Chase to come with him.

Chase looked down to Buddy’s mouth. He knew his teeth were long and sharp like a vampire’s, but why was he acting so weird about a statement that trivial? Buddy noticed him staring, which prompted him to look away immediately. “I’m going to- sleep. Don't watch me like some creep.” 

"Ew. Watch you? No thanks." His cheeks heated as he shut the door despite himself.

═══════

About two hours later, as they were called for tea time, Chase noticed that Bearded Dude looked gloomier than usual, setting the newspaper down with a frown. “Bearded Dude? Are you good?” 

He sighed and shook his head. “I am fine. The newspaper reported two more peasant deaths, of young women once again.” 

By now, Chase was not surprised nor worried, though he felt just as horrible. “Maybe…there’s a sickness going around. That is horrible.” 

“It could be anything, Laura. People have every right to be afraid.” Buddy interjected, picking at a pastry on his plate, setting it down before moving to take a sip of tea, thoroughly interested in the tea cup patterns. He seemed to be even paler, and a little more diva-like as well.

“Not to fret, girls. We will be safe, under the protection of this castle and of the Lord.” 

A snicker escaped Buddy. It was crazy how much he related to Carmilla sometimes, her lines his own approach to life. Sir Denarius frowned.

“Laura, can you come here?” Chase sprung up from his seat, moving to Bearded Dude. Buddy didn’t really remember this scene too well. 

“Yeah?” There was a pause as Chase listened to Laura’s Father, nodding as he moved back to Buddy again, Laura’s father leaving and the table being cleared.

“What did he tell you?” 

“I thought you read this book, smarty-pants.” Buddy rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine! He basically asked if you were a diva because you were sick, or if you were being a diva because you weren’t religious, which he said was weird, because he assumed everyone was religious. N-not that I have anything against it, because I’m not religious either! Anyway, he’s calling the doctor for an appointment again. I promise I won’t watch a bunch of random 1800s medicinal buzzwords get thrown at you.” Right, this scene. 

This book knew just how to hit Buddy in all the right places, he thought as he exhaled a dry laugh. “Wh- what? What is his problem?” 

Memories flew past him: Nox didn’t remember much of his family, but he remembered the feelings. He had always prayed to god, more than he ever had to.

When he first entered Ex-Libris, religion was the only thing that he had kept as a sanctuary. 

There were nights where he would stay up, praying to God that he would get out of this strange place that he had no memory of entering. It was strange, and ridiculous even, that he had prayed to a higher being, now that he thought of it. 

The more Nox read, the more he had gone through, he had wondered: if God let him suffer, was he even real? God would keep Nox’s prayers in his back pocket, never once turning to uncover them, to listen, to account for his suffering.

There had never been a specific moment where Nox had stopped following religion and instead became a devout reader of books, but the shift had been drastic, enough for him to hate God for making him the way he was: naive, delusional…It was how Ex-Libris had forced him to change, how he decided he was: a devotee of storybooks and fantasy, a cold blooded creature. 

“Hey, don’t blame Bearded Dude! I mean, I’m not really on-board with the whole doctor thing either.” Buddy huffed. 

“I’m getting ready for my appointment.” 

There was a yell from Madame P, who had come out of the kitchen. “Laura, if you do not stay with our guest during her appointment-!" 

He sighed. “Wasn’t planning on it.” He shrugged apologetically at Buddy as they both walked upstairs for the appointment, side by side, the same time the knock on the front door was just as prompt.

═══════

It was the same doctor, the old, balding man with his uncanny Goldie-esque personality and a positive attitude grinning. “Hello, dear Carmilla! It seems we speak once again! Sir Denarius, you called me after noticing her strange behavior?” 

Madame Perredon and Sir Denarius both nodded. “Me and Denarius have been noticing the attitude, the apparent lack of energy. After all, it is not in a sweet girl like Carmilla to be so strange!” 

Chase’s observations really were right: this book had little to no storybook censoring, their original emotions tied into the way this book was set up. It was kinda weird and inconvenient.

Well, okay, he wasn’t sure about why Buddy wasn’t censored at all, because the whole point of this story was that Buddy was a vampire who falls in love with Laura…Right? 

Yeah, that had to be it. It probably just amplified his personality even more. And Laura wasn’t quite the average heroine archetype either, unceremoniously doing things, stumbling around, having nightmares, thirsting after girls- man, Laura was just like him! But with men. 

No wonder she was even worse now that she was played by a passionate basically-18 year old named Chase Hollow.

Chase was staring off into space as the appointment went on. Luckily, it didn’t last too long, Buddy assuring the doctor that he was fine. “Dear doctor, I am not afraid of death, my illness will bade me my time when it is decided. Surely, the nature of my illness does not matter, as long as I live well and I live heartily. But, if it is that I am not living life well and I die anyways, what is living for me?” 

His eyes flickered back to Buddy, who was on a usual spiel. This time though, he couldn’t help but listen to the boldness of his words, a certain sincerity to his words, despite his eyes not matching the statement of his words.  

Buddy made eye contact with Chase suddenly, like he had immediately noticed Chase staring, and it was like they were the only two people in this room. 

Sir Denarius smiled. “Dear Carmilla, have you been quoting Shakespeare?” He shook his head, not moving to look at him.

“No, dear Sir. It is of my knowledge and experience. He is a great inspiration nevertheless.” His eyes didn’t move off of Chase. 

“Yeah. Wow, Carmilla. Th-that was great.” Buddy nodded briefly, falling back down against the pillows and relaxing.

After a moment’s silence, Madame P and Sir Denarius got up. “Well, come dear Doctor. You have been an incredible help. We will escort you out.”

The doctor bowed to both Carmilla and Laura, ever the gentleman. Now, the two boys were left alone.

He’d been awed with Buddy before, and he couldn’t exactly deny it…Buddy was kinda incredible, and the feeling of surprise didn’t exactly wear off.

“Buddy…was that part of the story?” He turned to look at Chase, raising an eyebrow. “Y-your speech? Because that was- wow. I dunno. Cool.” 

“T-thanks. After all, Carmilla is known for saying wise things. That is what she does, throughout, especially for Laura.” 

“Yeah, but that sounded so…truthful.” 

“Are you implying-” 

Chase surged forward, moving a hand to his mouth, shushing him before he could say something dumb and flirty. Buddy was, in fact, about to say something dumb to change the subject. “I’m implying that you’re cool. Rad. Smart, and that you also have a long deep dark history in this book that everyone refuses to tell me about, especially you.” 

Buddy got up right away. “I’m implying that you and I are not just friends in this book, and throughout, Carmilla flirts with her tongue.” There it was. But wait, what-

Chase let out a snort, and Buddy flushed. “N-not like that. Obviously. I mean like, her words are very…charming, to Laura it seems, throughout the book.” 

His brain was short circuiting a little at whatever nonsense Buddy was saying. He leaned forward a little bit, ever so teasing as he moved to grab Chase’s arm.

Why couldn’t Chase move back, slap his touch away?! It was like he wanted to be doing this with Buddy. It was because he decided he wouldn’t deviate from the story, that was it. That had to be it. He did not want this!

“Little idiot…doesn’t change anything between us. I still dislike you, a lot.” He swallowed, like he was trying to convince himself, not Chase, moving his other arm to Chase’s waist.

Chase nodded, unable to retort or say something dumb back to break the moment, because he knew he would immediately mess this up, his very real feelings getting in the way of all rational thought, which Chase had none of at this very moment, because there was nothing to stop him.

His eyes were soft and blue, eyebrows softening with the rest of his gaze, though he looked quite distant. Chase knew he did not want to do this.

The bang of the door forced them apart, Buddy moving apart promptly and clearing his throat loudly, a few seconds too late.

“M-Madame Perrodon! I- I can expla- Wuh- Freckles?!” 

There were tears in his eyes as Chase ran to Deacon, encapsulating him in a tight grip.

Chapter Text

Chase's head was reeling at how fast the atmosphere had changed: from awkward, and yearning, to tense and upsetting.

A sob wracked through the air as Deacon hugged him. In response, he only held onto Deacon tighter and muffling him against his shoulder. “Hey…Deacon? Do you wanna go talk?” Buddy couldn’t help but stare. 

Nox knew Chase’s hugs, and they were warm. It was like being trapped, but in a way that he could tolerate, like being lost in freeing hope rather than confining pessimism…He always knew what to say in what situation, and right now wasn’t any different.

Chase's face was turned towards Buddy as he hugged Deacon, and his expression was distant, not looking towards anything in particular. 

Chase knew that he was good at comforting people. He had been the one to keep a façade of happiness while the rest of the world crumbled around him. He was there for everyone, a shoulder to cry on for those who needed it. But when Deacon was crying on his shoulder, over something he knew was half his fault? 

He didn’t exactly know what to say or do when his cousin was distraught like this, because of him. 

Wordlessly, Chase broke their hug, deciding to drag him to his own bedroom and shutting the door behind them, not even bading Buddy goodbye. His brain was reeling from whatever had happened between him and Buddy a few seconds ago, but now he was even more confused at Deacon.

Deacon rubbed at his eyes a little more aggressively, trying to suppress his tears. Chase tilted his head in confusion again. “Deacon? If you want to talk to me-” 

“You always do this! Why did you just leave, without a note or anything?! I thought yo- I thought you ran away!” He stiffened a little, trying to choose the right time to retort back, to comfort Deacon and let him know, ‘I’m not the same 12 year old who ran away from home once. Once!’ but there was nothing that he could say. Deacon continued angrily, “-out of all stories, you decide to go into freaking Carmilla? Are you serious?!” 

Chase tried to open his mouth, but no sound came out. What’s wrong with Carmilla?  Except, that was a dumb question. The more he’d stayed in this story, the more he noticed that things were strange, Buddy was off…yet, despite everything, he wanted to stay in this story, learn its secrets, and hopefully, he’d spend more time with Buddy…

That was a selfish thought though, wasn’t it? These stories weren't meant to be used as fun. 

“Deacon- I’m sorry-” He looked out the window, and sure enough, the sun was setting, time passing at an alarmingly quicker rate than most stories. That and the fact that this book seemed to have wanted them to be in some time loop. He didn't exactly know what to say, his gaze fixated on a tree that was swaying in the wind, branches lightly hitting the window in repetitve thumps that Chase could so audibly hear.

“Whatever, I get it, Aunt Myra’s body is betraying her, she’s sick, but Chase…why don’t you just tell me anything? Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?”

He huffed, though no response came out, because he was right. “Deacon, I’m sorry, I won’t- won’t leave without telling you again.” 

Deacon shook his head, rubbing his tears off on his sleeve. The thick fabric didn’t do much to wipe off tears. 

“Chase, that’s not just what I’m mad about- d-do you even know what happens in Carmilla?” He shook his head, because obviously, he did not. He wanted a quick book to jump into, to get narratonin, because he was desperate. He wasn't the type to plan for things. 

“Deacon, a-are you okay? I’m serious, I’m sor-” 

“Chase, stop deflecting, it’s whatever. If you’re going to listen to my story-recaps, please just listen this one time…okay?” 

There was no arguing with Deacon when he was like this, like when he was tired of being talked over, tired of not being taken seriously- he’d heard it enough from Deacon, in the way that he talked, the way he acted around Aunt Beth and Uncle Dale, when he had a tight-lipped frown that threatened to spill out in angry words.

It made Chase pity him quite a bit, though he knew there was nothing for him to say or do. 

“I promise I’ll listen. Now, what were you going to say?” 

Deacon took a deep, shaky breath before talking. “I read this book for my AP Lit Outside Reading project. It was…really good. That’s besides the point! You probably already know, but you’re Laura, and you decide to let Carmilla enter the castle. Look, my point is…Carmilla is evil. And I don’t mean in a way that all villanesses are petty, but like, seriously, evil. I’m just worried for you! She’s a vampire, and I guess you already knew that, but I need to warn you-” 

The door creaked open, revealing Buddy, hip cocked against the door and leaning against the doorframe. Chase willed his heart not to pound. 

“There is a scene downstairs. I’m waiting for whenever you're done talking.” He lingered on Freckles' face, which was tear-free, before his piercing blue eyes met Chase’s soft brown ones, and it was like he was frozen in place. Chase swore he was just about to say something back, but he forgot what he was going to say when Buddy was scrutinizing him, not with distaste, but with-

Deacon coughed. “Um, we were on our way. Also guys, can you stop checking each other out? It’s kind of weird when I’m standing right here. You’ll have plenty of free time to do that in this book.”  

Chase’s cheeks flamed as he broke eye contact with Buddy, groaning. “Shut up Dorkin! We’ll go to the stupid scene, jeez!” He ran past both of them, running down the stairs as Buddy followed behind. There was a crash as Chase slipped off one step, groaning as he got up. “I’m okay!” 

With a sigh, Deacon followed behind both of them, bemused. Knowing the events of the story, he didn’t even want to know what it was that was driving both of them insane. Then again, Buddy was still cold as ever, he could only presume not much had happened between them to progress the plot forward.

There was whistling that interrupted Deacon’s thoughts, too low pitched to be from either Buddy or Chase. As he walked downstairs, the sound only amplified, the face of a man turned facing away from him, frantically setting things around the larger lobby that Deacon had came into the story from. Though, when Deacon had entered the story, he was the only person present. He hadn’t noticed this man before, and was rather confused, though he could only assume it would be Laura’s father, who Madame Perrodon had many interactions with. 

The man turned around, revealing sparkling blue eyes and a mop of graying blond hair. “Ah, Madame Perrodon! I was awaiting your arrival from upstairs. Surely you called Carmilla and my daughter downstairs to meet the painting seller I arranged to come this evening?” 

Deacon would be lying if he wasn’t frozen in place with this man. There was a thumping of footsteps behind him, hushed whispers that interrupted his thoughts. “-told you the story took place in the lobby, not the blasted drawing room! Why you decided to go there is beyond me! We almost missed this scene!” 

“Well- I wanted food, okay? And we didn’t miss the scene, see, Dorkin’ is talking to Bearded Dude just fine. You don't need to be such a donut hole about it!"  

He was barely paying attention to the bickering behind him, instead regaining his composure a few seconds later, willing himself to keep a straight face at this man who looked so much like- “He- Yeah, Uncl- uh, Sir. Sorry about that. They are here.” Deacon gestured to Chase and Buddy, awkwardly hovering in place.

Deacon’s eyes darted from the man to Chase a few times, mouth gaping. Buddy did the same, and it dawned on him. This was the first time Chase had held such a distinct similarity to a book character, and his jaw dropped as well. He saw the same nose, same cute smile, sandy blond hair…There was a distant look in Deacon’s eyes as he regarded Laura’s father, an awkward silence between all three of the keyholders.

How hadn’t he noticed it before?

The doorbell chose to ring at that specific moment, interrupting the tension. Deacon scrambled to open the door, a few grunts on the other end. A man wheeling in two large carts was struggling to bring in the cart through the door. Sir Denarius got up to help, asking Madame Perrodon to do the same.

“Ah, Mr. Fischer! You did not need to bring this many paintings!” he chortled, “though I expect dear Laura here to enjoy them quite so much, isn’t that right? Especially because they are dated back to the Renaissance!” 

Chase nodded along, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Buddy’s eyes spark in interest at the words ‘the Renaissance’. The last cart was wheeled in, and then Mr Fischer called, “Oi, Alina, you can come out of the carriage now. I presume they have been unloaded.” 

Deacon had wheeled in the last cart, groaning in pain as it slammed on the marble flooring with finality.

He hadn’t taken much notice of Alina coming out of the carriage from behind them both. Her voice was soft as she spoke, a servant helping to take her out of the carriage. “Father, you understand that I could have helped as well? I told you, my leg injury is far better now!” She walked past Deacon, observing the carts as she counted the paintings. Under her breath, she murmured, “perfect! We have all of them.” 

Deacon startled at her voice, immediately replaced by a dreamy expression as they made eye contact. “Oh, he-hey, wow, I mean, what- I mean, th-the paintings are cool right? I mean, why- I mean-” 

“Hello, Madame Perrodon. You seem very tired today, are you okay? Anyhow, I must get the paintings open, I would appreciate the help. Take this blade, but do be careful when opening them, and I will make sure to do the same to this cart. Nothing you haven't done before.” 

“Ahaha, ye-yeah-” 

Chase rolled his eyes and turned to face Buddy again. This was painful to watch. 

Buddy who was usually attentive in these scenes, usually throwing around snarky remarks or just watching, was now transfixed towards the paintings, staring at the first one that was unwrapped by Alina. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

He kept his expression neutral as he nodded, a whole flurry of facts hidden under his bitten tongue. “I- I suppose so. They date back to the Renaissance. I presume they were packaged this way to ensure they would not fall apart. You see those brush strokes and how much dust it gathered?” 

Chase nodded along, grinning. “Yep. Tell me about it.” 

Gingerly, he moved to brush away some dust, gazing at the tag at the bottom of the frame. “Wow. It dates back to 1543. The late Renaissance.” he studied the subject of the painting a little before speaking again. Chase would be lying if he wasn’t encouraging him to talk even more. He had never heard Buddy this excited before, even if he was trying (and failing) to hide it, his excitement contagious.

“Interesting. Does th-that mean anything in particular?” 

“Yeah, a little. Notice how dramatic the scene looks? That was due to an art style that dominated the late Renaissance known as mannerism, with dramatic figures and attention to extreme detail. It seems the artist used the same thing, see how sophisticated the main figure looks?” 

Chase studied the collapsing of a robed figure while various sprites stood in the background. Buddy opened his mouth to speak again, but then clasped his hand over his mouth, his cheeks darkening. “Oh, I am talking too much-” 

Chase shook his head, moving Buddy’s hand off his mouth, squeezing it in his own palm. “Hey, no you’re not. It’s cute, seeing how much you like this stuff.” The words tumbled out of Chase’s mouth, and now it was his turn to flush. “N-not like, cute, but I mean like a normal th-thing, like, it’s cool, how much you know about uh- fuck, what do you call it, that art style-” he groaned angrily, hands pressed to his face.

“Mannerism, you mean?” He tilted his head again, trying to stifle a smile. Of course, that only had Chase even more flustered.

“Ye-yeah, that! Mannerism is such a silly word, what can I say, always leaving my brain, but uh, y-yeah!” He giggled, pressing his palms into the couch and trying not to die a little inside.

“Um, if you guys are done flirting, Laura’s supposed to choose a painting for this particular scene and buy it-” Deacon raised an eyebrow, turning to look back at Alina regardless.

“Oh shove it, Dorkin', I was just waiting for you to stop making moves on Alina. Aren’t you like, 50 in this book? Jeez, you pedo!” 

He huffed as he looked through the paintings, ignoring Deacon’s sputtering behind him. “There’s nothing too crazy in here though, why does this even-” 

Deacon elbowed him, moving to whisper, “Just look for one that looks like a vampire countess. After that, ask to put it in your room. You’ll find a portrait soon eno-” 

Chase reached for another portrait, fuzzled at how many portraits he’d look through, only to find none that looked like a vampire countess. A few moments of shuffling later, he gasped, nearly dropping the frame as he noticed- Buddy??? On a portrait? 

Shakily, he held it up. The portrait was beautiful, and it wasn’t even labeled with a name- Wait, it was! “Countess Mircalla- Whu, but this looks just like Bu-” He held it up, tapping Laura’s father on the shoulder, “uhh, Bearded Dude? Does this look like Carmilla on your end, because it just looks like Bud-” 

Luckily he hadn’t heard the last part of Chase’s sentence, but he exclaimed nevertheless, “Why heavens! This looks just like Carmilla!” 

"Yeah, that’s what I just said, Bearded Dude."

Buddy stared back at the painting, wide-eyed. It was like this story had adapted to keep up with Buddy, in a some-what creepy way. While the storybook characters saw Mircalla, the keyholders saw Buddy…Though, he was flattered and a little awe-struck to see a painting that looked just like him.

He studied the painting a little more. “W-wow. Crazy how small of a world it is. In fact, Bearded Dude, we need to buy this painting and put it in my room. It’s beautiful.” Chase willed himself not to look at Buddy, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t beautiful, capturing every essence of him perfectly.

There was an air of sophistication to the painting, as Buddy himself had mentioned was the same air that late-Renaissance paintings had. His blue eyes seemed to be sparkling just as unnervingly, wearing a distant, awkward, smile that seemed to follow him. 

Buddy lightly tapped on his shoulder, mind reeling. Beautiful. Beautifulbeautifulbeautiful- “Uh, if y-you’re okay with it…we’re supposed to spend time together after this scene. Just letting you know.” There seemed to be a weird shift to his attitude, despite him still ignoring Deacon since he had arrived. 

Chase nodded, and Bearded Dude’s chatter with Mr. Fischer seemed to die down. “That settles it! We will look at a few more paintings before buying the portrait, Laura. Madame Perrdon, be sure to keep Miss Alina company.” 

Deacon grinned a little stupidly, but obviously Chase wouldn’t let him have this moment. “Deacon? The old lesbian maid? We’re going on a walk, like the story wanted.” 

“Shut up, cous- uhhh, I mean. Asshole- I mean, dear Laura. Go.” Chase only laughed as he walked behind Buddy. 

As they descended into the garden past the various steps, they weren’t quite looking at each other. Chase didn’t quite know what to do, so he chose a quiet spot, back flat against the floor as he stared up.

“Whu- why are you on the grass-” Chase made a loud shushing sound, before motioning for him to do the same.

“Stargazing,” was the only word he uttered softly, looking back up.

For a few moments, it was silent. “I’ve never seen the stars outside of stories. But I’d like to think this one is the most beautiful view of them.” 

Buddy smiled a little sadly, and Chase couldn’t help but stare remorsefully. He’d always be one to say such things, and then wistfully stare off into the scene, drinking it in, absorbing it, living vicariously through the experiences of the characters before him. It was beautiful, how much beauty Buddy found in the only place he was allowed to leave, in stories. At least from what Chase could infer about his mysterious opposite.

Tentatively, Chase made a motion to reach for Buddy’s hand, but hesitated last minute as he watched Buddy roll onto the side, looking away. 

“Hey, Buddy?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are- are you still mad at me?” 

There was a pause between them. “I don’t know how to answer that.” And that was the truth. He really didn’t know how he could answer that.

Humans were meant to be enemies, and Chase was no different. He had been so kind to him, but he had also broken his trust. How was he sure this wasn’t another trap? 

Even Freckles wasn’t as pure as Chase was. Was Chase really just…different from other humans in a selfless, crazily sweet way? 

He turned to face Chase once more, who was now looking up at the stars. It seemed like Chase was beyond questioning what Buddy meant by that. “The stars are nice, aren’t they? My dad and I…used to go stargazing all the time.” There was a distant look in his eyes. 

“That’s nice.” Chase only nodded vaguely, biting his lip like he wanted to say more, but not knowing what would happen to him if he did. 

“See Gemini right there?” 

Buddy nodded. “I didn’t know you were into constellations, because I know a lot about that too, even if I have never seen the night sky. Ex Libris had a lot of books for me to read.” 

Chase grinned. “Th-that’s good. I just…wanted to talk about constellations. Talking about whatever is better than talking about stuff.” 

“Hm? What do you mean?” 

“I dunno. Dad used to tell me that since we were both Geminis, we were basically twins. It was funny, I guess. We were both…passionate about many things. Singing, creating, jumping across different things and what not…even though my relatives always used to beg him to settle down, I miss it. I miss it a lot, just…being free. Young, I guess.” 

Tears were pouring down Chase’s face, silent. He turned away from Buddy now, back cold to the world, the warmth of the sun long gone. He slowly turned Chase until he was facing him, their faces a few feet apart.

Buddy tentatively reached a hand up to cup Chase’s face, not knowing what else to do. He brushed a few stray tears off his cheek before speaking. “Hey, I’m…here.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be over this-” his words died in his mouth, weak, as Buddy moved to hug him. There was a catastrophic pause, a shift, as Chase buried himself further into Buddy’s neck, shifting their weight so that he was squeezing Buddy against the grass. 

A watery chuckle escaped Chase as they rolled around in the grass, though they stayed firmly grounded against the floor for a few minutes, embracing.

It was like he was an astronaut off into space, floating, dissolving into blank space. This book was like the asteroid that hit him and forced him out of his comfort, forced to confront these memories. Buddy was like the glue cementing him to the floor, his breathing subsiding as he wordlessly hugged him back. He was back on Earth now.

It seemed that their breathing was subsiding, fading into the sereneness of the grass. 

═══════

The chirping of birds alerted Nox out of his sleep. He was breathing a little heavily, crushed under Chase, who was hugging the ever- wait, what? 

The sun was rising above them, though it had seemed they’d only been asleep for barely even a few hours! He’d missed his scene, his chance to gather narratonin, all because this asshole was crushing him against the grass. He reached up to regard Chase’s face, still streaked with dry tears, trying to push his arm off. 

At that, he felt Chase’s arm go around his waist tighter. He could barely breathe under his weight, and at how flushed he must’ve been right now. He couldn’t deny that Chase was cute, and a cute asshole hugging at him would be sure to make his heart pound and for him to sweat a little bit, even in the chilly air. 

How had they fallen asleep in the grass, out of all places?! How had Nox fallen asleep out of all things? He practically set the story back an entire scene, and it was all Chase’s- 

“Mm- Buddy…” It took a while for Chase to wake up, shaking the blurriness out of his eyes as he got off a human-shaped lump, which was- oh. oh. And also...the same guy he had been dreaming about as he woke up. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall- Oh my go- I am so sorry, Buddy-” 

“I-it’s okay.” It really wasn’t, but he wouldn’t say that. Maybe being behind for a scene was worth Chase cuddling him like his life depended on it in his sleep, elliciting a swooping sensation from his stomach, making his heart pound and his words jumbled up. Nox finally mustered, “do you…feel better?” 

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m cool. Totally rad. So rad.” As Chase got up, he nearly tumbled onto the floor from the sudden exhaustion that had overcame him. Buddy only clung onto his hand, trying not to give himself away with the culpable expression he had on his face. 

Chase was still clinging onto his hand as he opened the front gates, revealing a very confused Madame Perrodon, or better known as Deacon. Freckles. 

Immediately, Buddy let go of his hand, but still watched in concern as Chase struggled for support, collapsing against the couch. Guilt gnawed at him, he wasn’t used to showing affection. He hadn’t even…he hadn’t even done anything to Chase, not yet, was it his pure presence that was making Chase like how Carmilla weakened Laura- 

His head hurt just thinking about it.

Deacon’s mouth quirked in amusement. “I lied to Unc- uh, Sir Denarius, that you were both asleep in your respective rooms. The scene wasn’t…that long, was it now?” 

“We fell asleep outside.” 

“Uh huh, I’ll say- Chase? Are you okay?” 

“‘M good. Storybook food will help me get better, promise. It was way too cold to be sleeping outside.” 

It was this moment where Freckles held eye contact with Nox, scrutinizing him a little. He raised an eyebrow and frowned, tilting his head. 

Once Deacon got the opportunity to talk to Chase, he would, now a little more than concerned about whatever was going on. Buddy wouldn’t actually-

Sir Denarius was in a good mood as he came downstairs, whistling. “Madame Perrodon! It is breakfast time!” Deacon jumped at his booming voice, though nodded as he ran to the kitchens to fetch the fake-storybook food for breakfast.

A cart of food wheeled into the drawing room later, breakfast was set up. Buddy of course set his mind on drinking hot chocolate, trying his best to wait patiently for it to cool down before he drank it. He was insistent on drinking it the proper way, holding the saucer in one hand as he drank it, sip by sip. 

Chase ate a pastry a little aggressively, trying to bury his thoughts and his sudden onset weakness that seemed to be eating at him after whatever had happened with Buddy. He must’ve been lovesick, that was it. Wait, lovesick? 

No way. No, no, no-

“Carmilla, have you heard the whereabouts of your mother? She said she would send by mail a fortnight after your stay.” Of course, Bearded Dude always chose the right time to intervene in these stories and in the keyholders thoughts.

Buddy shrugged. “I am not sure. Maybe you misheard, I assumed she would send a notice half-way into my stay. Though, if you are so insistent I leave, I apologize.” 

“Oh, of course not! I mean this out of mere concern.” 

“Ah. In that case, thank you for being so caring.” They sat, eating for a few more minutes, except for Buddy, who chose to just drink hot chocolate until breakfast was over.

Sir Denarius spoke to Deacon about putting the dishes away, and he nodded, helping him do so. Buddy motioned for Chase to come with him upstairs. 

As soon as the door was shut behind them in Laura’s room, Chase pouted. “What was that about? Bearded Dude wasn’t trying to be mean-” 

“I dunno.” He sat on the very edge of Chase’s bed, like he was scared to get close all of a sudden.

“You don’t make much sense, you know that right? I mean, Deacon tried to tell me about this book, but you kept interrupting us-”

“I didn’t interrupt, I had to see simply what he had to say about me. I know he despises me, that he would paint me in a worse light.” 

“Buddy, it’s not- he has trust issues, I’ll just say that. But give him a break! I know you don’t forgive either of us, but I-” trust you. “I’ll go along with this story. I dunno, I’ll wait for you until you forgive me, or trust me, whichever comes first. It’s fine.” 

“Focus on the story. We haven’t gotten anywhere yet."

“Okay, but how?” 

“Fine, I guess I have no choice but to tell you at least this much: A long time ago, Carmilla went to a ball.” 

“Wow, real important.” 

“Will you just listen? I’m not done yet!” He didn’t understand how this was the same boy he was cuddling in his sleep earlier. How was he so wishy-washy, so cold yet so warm at the same time?

“Okay, jeez.” 

When Chase closed his mouth, biting at his lip, he continued, “She was wounded. A lot of things happened at this ball, and she met a new companion there. It was a strange time, and she was sure to have made many sacrifices. I’m leaving now, that's all you need to know.” 

“Whu- Buddy! You can’t just say that and-” sure enough, he could, Buddy slamming the door behind him.

He wanted to scream in frustration, but he decided to calm down, instead opting to bury his head in his pillow again and leave it like that. 

Buddy didn’t make any sense, and neither did Deacon, and neither did anyone.

Speaking of, he had nothing better to do than to look for Deacon, hopefully get a proper explanation to whatever he had been saying earlier, about this story-

No, maybe he could wait a little longer...

Chapter Text

Chase had to stop falling asleep in a book as strange as this one.

It seemed like forever when he woke up again, the candle in his room long extinguished. The wind was more vigorous now, slamming against the window pane. It must’ve been very early in the morning, maybe around 5 AM.

His morning clothes were rumpled and glued to his body, him forgetting to change into something more comfortable. He’d looked through Laura’s wardrobe to know that she’d have comfortable clothes stocked for herself. 

Anyway, he was awoken to an early morning storm, the wind banging against the window sill, branches scraping the window with an obnoxious screech. 

His eyes blinked awake to pure darkness. He debated on getting up to light the candle that had already gone out. There was a twisting in his chest, the sinking feeling bringing him back to nights as dark as this after his mother was put on bed rest. Though, it wasn’t a sad twisting of his chest, it was more peculiar than anything.

He groaned, his muscles sore and aching, and his head pounding as if he’d been hungover. Which, for the record, he definitely wasn’t. He didn’t drink. 

It was hard to tell if he was even awake. Chase felt like he’d been hit in the head with a large boulder, muscles weak as he shifted around on the plush mattress. 

A voice was murmuring at him, incomprehensible. Maybe this was a nightmare, a night terror, though he’d had none of those, but there was a first time for everything. 

His heart was beating uncomfortably loud for a room so silent. The storm outside seemed to have calmed, leaving him in a pitch dark room, his eyes open and self exposed to impending doom. The random murmuring was now even louder in the silent air. 

Maybe he was imagining things, but he swore he heard heavy breathing next to him, growling that seemed to be rabid, intensifying…

Chase sucked in a gasp at the shadow standing at the foot of his bed. He didn’t exactly know who— no, what it was, but he still felt the air knocked out of his lungs, leaving him utterly paralyzed.

The figure leaned down before hesitating very slightly at Chase’s reaction. Chase had frozen up completely, unable to move or breathe. The shadowed figure’s face was obstructed in the moonlight, but he still felt the very moment where sharp teeth tug against his neck in a pinch—

The figure’s breathing got heavier, and only now Chase chose to belt out a strangled scream, his silent shock leaving him, now replaced with loud fear. No one seemed to hear him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as if that would make any of this any better. A moment later, the heavy breathing subsided. 

Chase blinked as a wave of cold air hit him before he heard the window slam shut. Relief crashed into him and enveloped him completely.

For a few moments, he squeezed his eyes shut, barely breathing.

His breathing gradually slowed with deep breaths he took. The pounding of his heart was slowing as he shuddered and sighed, opening his eyes to…nothing. There were no sounds, no weird figures...nothing. 

To the plain air, he laughed, a little giddy all of a sudden. Maybe he was hallucinating, or maybe this was all a prank, and it was all in his head. It had to be that. The more he denied it, the more he would be okay. 

He ran his fingers over his neck, and sure enough, there were no marks left behind.

Wait. Maybe this was a prank for real.

He grinned a little. Maybe he was warming up to Buddy now, and that asshole was playing tricks on him. It was a foolish, egotistical thought, but he would rather believe anything than…

But it wasn’t his fault! He was disoriented and he would rather eat socks than believe that something was seriously up with this book. Confusion seemed to muddle his senses.

Chase got up, head spinning a little bit. That dizzying sensation hadn’t left. Damn it. He moved to the window carefully, as much as a guy without light in his room could muster, hoping it would be enough to not crash into everything.

He did a few foxtrot walks as he went, hoping smooth motions would help him— he yelped as a small table next to him fell over with a clunk. 

Oops.

Laura did have too many things in her room. This was obviously her fault.

Looking out the window where the soft bout of wind had come from, he furrowed his eyebrows. With rain dripping from the trees, branches now immobile, it should have been easier to see the storm’s aftermath, Buddy, anyone… 

But why would Buddy go to lengths to haunt him in a story? Unless this was part of the plot, and Carmilla was just supposed to traumatize Laura for fun, to carry on their love story or…something, uh. Romantic...like that?

From the back of his head, he could almost hear Deacon chastising him. What had he said? Something about him being careful. 

If this was a horror book, he would be the protagonist who practically ran to investigate the scene, all while discovering shit along the way, unfortunately. So, he was doomed, as Deacon would’ve said. Whatever.

A few moments of Chase looking out past thick branches passed. His brow furrowed with annoyance. Buddy must’ve been really good at hiding. His head hurt. A lot. 

With Deacon’s words out of his mind, he decided he’d go look for Buddy, even with his head pounding. A small smirk unfolded from his lips at the thought of scaring Buddy back. Buddy would probably be asleep, his face lit up like pale moonstone, ever so beautiful and haunting in the light. His pretty blue eyes would be shut asleep, his soft black hair like a crow’s feathers in between his hands, blinking awake and jumping as Chase scared him—

Though he was disoriented, the only thing that his brain was full of was Buddy. Stupid Buddy. He couldn’t think logically, his headache and the not-dream dream scaring him.

Wait, what was Chase thinking about his enemy like that for? What was he doing? Yes, scaring Buddy back, flirting with him like how Laura might’ve. Flirting. 

That didn’t help clear his brain of Buddy any more.

Imagine Chase’s surprise when the door was open. He went to look inside, now more than confused. For one, Buddy was missing. That just confirmed that this was Buddy’s idea of some weird, somewhat terrifying prank. Oh Buddy. What the hell is your problem?!

Along the walls, there were a few more candle holders, all lit. Buddy had to be awake.

There was a beat where he stood around the room, searching. For what, he didn’t know. Buddy was nowhere to be seen— 

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a panting Buddy, exhausted as he leaned against the door frame, as if he had been running a million miles a minute. His cheeks were flushed, and his raven-feathered hair was wet. “Chase! What-” Buddy mentally cursed at himself. He was supposed to lock the door.

To his surprise, Chase let out a giggle, weirdly unphased. “Ha. Ha. Real funny, playing a prank on me like that.” Guilt clawed at him, unable to respond to the spontaneity of Chase’s statement. “Uhh, hello? Wasn’t that a…prank?” Something in Chase’s eyes faltered, faded. 

A dry laugh escaped him, trying to recover from whatever Chase was talking about.

It seemed that Freckles hadn’t told him too much of the story, nor had Nox given him the time to do so. He didn’t want Chase to lose his trust in him, even after Chase had hurt him the same way, stupidly enough. Hypocrite.

But if Chase thought this was a prank, maybe that worked too. “So what if it was, brat?” 

“This story is seriously weird.” 

“Can you shut up? I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of Buddy’s mouth, exasperated and clumsy.

Chase tilted his head up to meet his eyes, corners of his mouth upturned in a confused smile. “Sorry for what? Stop apologizing for stupid shit Buds- uhhh. I- I mean—” 

Nox decided to ignore the usage of that nickname, though it made his stomach swoop a little more than it did the first few times Chase had used Buddy with such affection. He’d named him, after all.

“I— I was supposed to prank you, but not that hard. Sorry-” 

“It’s fine man. All good. I wasn’t spooked at all, promise.” He grinned a little, despite it being a lie. “I mean, after all. This book was based on our interactions, r-right?” 

For a moment, Buddy looked down at Chase, really looked at him. He was the embodiment of the heroine archetype. He was sweet with his words, though a little loud at the same time, the type of contradiction that drew everyone to him. Chase was smarter than he put on, a little too intuitive than he put on. Maybe deep down, Chase knew something was wrong, but he was too terrified to admit it at all. It seemed that way, because Chase was scrutinizing him carefully a few moments ago. 

Though he also assumed Chase was still disoriented after the weakness that onset Laura at this very moment in the story. The thought alone that he was behind it in some way made his heart ache. Chase would never forgive him. No. He probably would, because he was too sweet for this world. 

Maybe Chase was right as he said that it was hypocritical for Nox to not accept Chase’s apology right away. Then again, he was entitled to his own opinion of selfish humans like Chase, as Violet would’ve said. But did he really want to be listening to Violet? He wasn’t Violet. He was his own self.

He realized for a few moments that Chase was staring back up at him, confused as Nox continued searching his face. Nox hated to admit that he was sometimes taken aback at Chase’s face. His soft blond hair fell over his forehead, tousled from his sleep. Soft brown stared into watery blue, as if he was searching for Nox as well. “Are you…okay? You’ve been staring for a while now.” He didn’t intend on flustering Nox, but he might as well have with the way his cheeks gave away his abashed state.

“I— fine. I’m fine. You’re—” He couldn’t bear to look at Chase right now, self-consciously realizing how long he’d been staring for.

“I’m…?” He tilted his head up to watch Buddy go a darker shade of red. Chase's stupid eyes would destroy him.

“You’re pretty.” The words flew out of Nox’s mouth, unable to resist. “Ugly. Pretty ugly.” He tried to cover his face, but Chase reached up to move his hands and take them in his own.

“Sure I am.” He giggled, and it was infectious, so much so that Buddy had to stop a smile that threatened to escape him. “Th-thanks. To whichever one you meant.” 

Buddy was somewhat thankful for the dim light, illuminated by the candles, because his face must’ve been heated up a thousand degrees. This was not how the story was supposed to go, and yet…he would be lying if he wasn’t transfixed, and if a new scene like this would grant them a surplus of narratonin, he would take it.

The real question was if his heart could. Oh, Nox, you idiot —

All of a sudden, Chase’s energy seemed to hit him all of a sudden, and he raised an eyebrow again at Buddy’s face, blue eyes dilated in the dim light. “For the record. You’re not that ugly either. At least right now. You look better in the dark.” He reached a hand to cup Buddy’s cheek before speaking again. “No, that’s a lie. You’re pretty in the light too.”

His brain must’ve fully shut off at this point. He leaned in to Chase’s touch, which only made shivers erupt Chase’s spine. Without thinking, Chase removed his hand from Buddy’s face, instead moving to envelop him in an awkward hug, pressing his face to the spot where his shoulder and collarbone met.

None of them spoke, there really was no need to and there would be nothing to say anyways. Behind them, the sun seemed to be slowly illuminating over the trees, peeking through the window curtains. 

Tentatively, Buddy moved to cuddle him back, hands instinctively reaching for his hair and squeezing him to his shoulder.

It seemed like infinite amounts of time had passed as they held each other, soft.

Buddy was the first to break apart. In the light lazily drifting through the curtains, his face was fully illuminated, and he was flushed deep red, his porcelain skin failing to hide the damage of whatever had just happened.

What had just — Chase grinned at him, a little more confident now that he had noticeably flustered Buddy. “Aw. You’re all red. Cute.” 

Buddy regained his composure, clearing his throat loudly. Unable to resist despite cuddling this cute—no no no, cute?! He was not cute —this idiot — he was a little cruel, taking the opportunity to fluster Chase further. In his defense, they needed the narratonin from this moment, and Nox would take whatever chance he could get, hopefully changing the pace of this story as well. 

Oh, and Chase would not call him out like that.

He settled for a wall pin. “I could say the same for you.” Their positions were swapped, Chase staring back up at Buddy with wide eyes. Now he was the one flustered. 

“Ineedtogonowokaybye!” He slipped past Buddy, ducking under his pin and running off. How did he- it was like Chase slipped past him like some…ferret. Chase ran, but it was like he was weak regardless, nearly stumbling all the way to his room. 

He crashed into Deacon, who jumped at his cousin who was running around like he was jumping off the walls, though his face betrayed his internal turmoil. “Are you oka-” 

“Can everyone stop asking me that?! ” He flushed, looking away from Deacon and clearing his throat. Deacon raised an amused eyebrow, though frowned at Chase’s exhaustion. “I mean. What’s up cousin-o?” Chase panted, already out of breath, even though he couldn’t have been running for that long, their quarters not too far apart. And Deacon knew that. So then why was his cousin out of breath already?

Deacon frowned a little as he watched Chase. “Are you okay? I mean it. Chase, this book is—well, I think you’ve seen.” 

“Okay fine. I had a nightmare or something. It was…weird.” 

He gaped at Chase’s words. “Chase…what did you see?” 

“I- I dunno. I was like, half asleep when I saw this weird figure near my bed. It was like a night terror, or something—” 

Oh, so he’d gotten to this part of the story. Deacon took a few deep breaths before speaking, a little concerned. He shook his head. “Chase…that wasn’t a dream. It was—”

A knock sounded at the door. Bearded Dude poked his head inside his room. “Ah, Madame Perrodon! Thank you for awakening Laura. Come now, the other maid requests your assistance.” 

“I will be heading down shortly.” 

“Aye, but she requests now!” Deacon got up abruptly, sighing and rolling his eyes.

“Fine! I’m coming.” He got up off of the edge of Chase’s bed. “Just-do the rest of the story. I know I didn’t fully explain it to you. Just talk to Buddy. I dunno. Bye!”  

Chase was trying to follow Deacon’s words. He really was, but he felt drowsy and not quite ready to actually talk to Buddy right now. 

No, he was not going to fall asleep—

The door creaked open once again. Buddy. 

Chase was too focused on how tired he was to even be flustered, but it seemed that Buddy was now being more awkward than ever. “Hello little idiot.” 

He let out a plastered, tired smile. “Hey.” 

Buddy seemed to falter at Chase’s exhaustion. “What- are you okay?” 

“‘M tired. I think my lack of sleep is catching up with me. Probably.” Nox knew it was more than that, even if Chase didn’t know…yet. Freckles must have known what was up already. Though Chase sure didn’t. 

This story seemed keen on keeping Freckles and Chase apart. But Chase… this was his fault, and deep down he knew it. Picking at a fingernail, he stared into brown eyes, as if they would ground him to the floor. “Buddy? Are you…okay?” A voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I-I’m—I don’t—” Why couldn’t he talk? 

“Are you sure?” He moved closer to Buddy to feel his hands in his own, to ground Buddy, to stop a panic attack, to do something to stop Buddy from faltering like this. It wasn’t in Buddy to be acting up like this, nor was it in him to stutter. He had a role, he stuck to the script, he got things done.

So why was Buddy faltering? He swallowed in gulps of air as he tried to answer Chase, though nothing came out. Chase would be teasing Buddy for how he was stuttering in his presence, but this was different. It wasn’t out of embarrassment. His cheeks weren’t warm in embarrassment, it felt like…fear.

Chase felt sicker than he had in the elf-y book they had gone into. What was it called again? Elvish Dungeons? Elvendale? Elves of—No, it was— Why can’t he think? 

Buddy can only watch in horror as Chase’s eyes glaze over as he slumps forward. “Chase!” is the only word he can scream out as he falls.

────

Nox’s breathing is heavy as he holds Chase in his arms. He would’ve fallen backwards and hit his head if he hadn’t caught him. Though that wasn’t his main concern. 

Chase was still leaning on him as he fell, and he moved to pick Chase up in a princess carry. It made him a little more than concerned when Chase didn’t falter even a little bit, even when he picked him up.

God, Chase is heavy, he thinks, failing to carry Chase on his own. He shouts for anyone, someone…A mop of brown hair flashes by him, freezing in place. “FRECKLES!” He screams, a little perturbed now. Wordlessly, he runs towards Nox, who’s babbling. “He’s—He passed out, this wasn’t, why is everything going wrong, fuck.” His voice is a staccato, an angry, tired, whine as he speaks.

Deacon helps him carry Chase, until both of them finally reach the doorway. He’s never heard Buddy swear or be this…frantic before. It’s weird. But then that also poses the question… “Buddy…did you do that scene? With the not-dream already?” It’s the first time he’s directly addressing Buddy after the first vampire book they went into, after he found out about Prunella.

He can’t even look in Deacon’s direction. Because it explains everything. Why the story’s finally progressing like it should, why Laura’s started to get weaker…But the fainting? That wasn’t part of the story, and if anything happened to Chase, then it would be Nox’s fault, and he knew it. Deacon doesn’t press further.

The door swings open with a kick by Buddy’s foot. They both help place Chase in the bed, soft and unmade. He was never one for cleanliness, and it’s even more unmade as Deacon attempts to tuck him in. 

Deacon says attempt, because Buddy pushes his hand off, silently insisting that he do this himself. It must be the guilt getting to him. On the other side of the bed, Deacon decides to sit down and watch how Buddy fluffs the pillows up, propping Chase’s head up, brushing his hair off his face. His hand rests next to Chase’s shoulder. “Buddy. I’ll call Uncl- uh- Sir Denarius up here when Chase wakes up. He’ll be okay.” 

He’s never seen Buddy this unfiltered before. Deacon knew there was more to Buddy than a brooding mall goth who wore a resting bitch face in every story he entered. “Okay.” He’s staring at Chase, still frozen, as if he’s numb to the world and doesn’t want to listen to a single thing that Deacon has to say. 

“Are you mad at us?” Deacon blurts it out all of a sudden, a little embarrassed when he watches Buddy raise an eyebrow in his direction like he’s the weird one. “Hey! I mean it!” 

“Cha- this little idiot passed out and this is what you’re asking me?” He’s chewing his lip, glaring daggers through cat-eyed liner.

He’s never seen Buddy this upset before. Of course, he pauses right before he says Chase’s name, as if that would be too much of a kindness or something of the sort. Deacon knows Chase, and he’s sure he’ll be okay. This was part of the story, but even then…

“I don’t know. I guess…I wanted to talk to you. Especially after the last story.” 

“Right.” He huffs dryly, and in that moment Deacon knows that he’s such a child, because seriously? 

“I mean. If you talked to Chase about the last story in a mature manner, I’m pretty sure you can do the same with me. Unless you want to be petty about it.” Nox’s cheeks flame up.

“What? Wh-what are you talking about?” 

Deacon rolls his eyes. This book had to have altered his and Chase’s brain chemistry. He massages the bridge of his nose before speaking. This idiot really thought he meant… “I mean, do you want to communicate about this?”

Nox breathes out a sigh. Oh, that’s what he meant. Not the fact that Nox had an infatuation towards Chase that was credited with this stupid book altering their emotions. It was only in this book where he felt this way about Chase. “There’s nothing for me to say.” 

Deacon sighs. “Fine. I guess I’ll start. I’m sorry we hid the fact that we found another key, okay? A kid we know found it, and she’s…young. I didn’t want her to get hurt.” 

“See, there’s this again! I wouldn’t have told anyone about her! That’s a child, I’m still young too! I was young when—” he clamped a hand over his mouth. 

“I—I get that. More than anything, it was my mistake for not telling you. I was just worried that Ex-Libris would force it out of you…” Deacon shook his head a little guiltily. “B-but that’s not an excuse. I don’t like things being hidden from me either.” 

Buddy only nodded, tight lipped. “I told Cha- the brat I’d think about it.” 

Deacon nodded. There was something in Buddy’s eyes that betrayed his inner strife. He didn’t know what it was. It was like he had been betrayed, and no amount of apologies would save the way he’d already hurt…

In between them, Chase groaned awake. “Huh?” He’s blinking up at the ceiling, eyes widened when he realizes that both Deacon and Buddy are sitting next to him.  

Deacon stands up, looking visibly relieved. “Oh, thank god, you’re awake! Wait, I need to go tell Sir Denarius and the other maid about this. Buddy, watch over him, bye!” 

Nox stiffens as Chase moves around, his hand squeezing his shoulder. “Hey. A-Are you okay?” Chase doesn’t answer, eyes closed in thought. His voice cracks as he utters again, “Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep again, please—” He’d watched Chase faint one time, but this time it was so much more different, guilt ridden in his senses, and at the same time, something else growing in him, like a flickering flame…something that he wanted so desperately to hold onto like it was his last shard of humanity, but something he wanted to put out before it spread.

After all, Nox wasn’t one to wish for things and get them. This wasn’t good for him. Chase chuckles weakly. “Hey, I’m fine. Promise.” 

He swallows. “Chase…” the simple utterance of his name out of Buddy’s mouth, soft and pleading but also so broken, makes his heart slam in his throat. No, no, no, what is happening to me. Snap out of it Chasey. He hates you.

“Hm?” Chase would be damned if he’d decided to ignore whatever Buddy had to say to him. Even if he hated him, the expression on his face reveals calamity and…something else that he can’t place his finger on. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Before he can ask what he keeps apologizing for, he takes Chase’s hand into his own, squeezing it like a lifeline. 

They seem to be frozen as Chase squeezes back, reveling in the moment. How many times had they done this in this book alone? It seemed like too much for them to bear. Buddy watches as Chase’s expression relaxes, all tension gone. He leans down to whisper in his ear, “Hey. Don’t fall asleep.” 

“Hey. Stop being mysterious, mall goth.” That was new. Buddy chuckled, ears going a soft shade of red, fiddling with his collar. It seemed that Carmilla had an expansive wardrobe, but Buddy had styled his outfit a lot differently, wearing an embellished blouse, the collar unbuttoned, exposing his neck. He’d taken the same jewelry he’d come into the story with and…restyled it somehow. He looked good, changing his long necklace to be one of his many useless statement pieces adorning his waist. 

Sir Denarius and Deacon both burst in, followed by the other maid who Chase already forgot the name of. Buddy dropped Chase’s hand, slender fingers moving to rest at his waist as he stood up and watched the scene in front of him. “Laura! You fainted?!” 

“Well, yeah. Think I had a weird dream and I was super weak. I fainted right after, dude. It sucked.”

“I’m glad to see Madame Perrodon and Carmilla get you settled. Aye, bed rest will help you. And what are these weird dreams I’m hearing of? Perhaps we shall call in the doctor again. I will go to write to him now.” 

“If it helps, sure. Thanks Bearded Dude.” The door shut behind him as he left.

The other maid pushed past Deacon. “Aye, see! Madame Perrodon, you need to care for her better! Look how tired she is!”

Deacon rolled his eyes. It seemed that he’d become accustomed to her antics. “Madame. I’ve told you a billion times that this selfless idiot wouldn’t ask for help even if she was drowning.” He glared daggers at Chase’s direction, who only huffed.

“Tais-toi! Bah! You must care for her better, you must push past! ” Buddy watched the whole exchange, a snort escaping him. “And Carmilla, what is so funny?!” 

“Ce n’est rien. Excuse-moi, Mademoiselle.” The words roll off Buddy’s tongue like they were tailored to his voice, which rests at a permanent croon.

“Tu parles français?!” She’s livid as she hears the words roll off Buddy’s tongue in perfect French. Buddy only nods back, saying something else that Chase can’t quite understand. But… he speaks French??? And he sounds good speaking it?

“—ase. Chase!” Deacon’s waving a hand in front of his face. Chase was staring off into space for the past 10 seconds at the two who were talking in front of them.

“H-huh?” He snaps back to reality. 

Deacon’s voice drops to a whisper when he speaks. “Are you okay? You seem off. Are you still sick? Do you have headaches, anything?” He's listing symptoms all at once like a concerned parent.

“Dorkin’, chill. I’m fine.” He’s matching Deacon’s whisper, although he doesn’t get why they’re whispering in the first place.

Deacon shakes his head though, unbelieving. “I’m asking because…Laura gets sicker in this story. And I’m pretty sure it was Carmilla’s fault.”

Chase lets out an uncomfortable chuckle, though he’s gaping. “Wh-what?” There would be no other way to break the news to Chase about Carmilla’s role in the story. After all, they never had any time together in this story.

Even if it hurt Chase, it was for the best. Maybe. 

Buddy has stopped talking with the maid all of a sudden, staring in between Deacon and Chase, who are both wearing frowns on their faces, both for very different reasons. 

Mademoiselle smiles, a little clueless to the atmosphere of the room. “Cherí, Carmilla! Come with me now. You too, Madame Perrodon.” 

“Yes Madame.” Deacon shakes his head in Chase’s direction as he leaves. Buddy only stares back a little blankly, his easy and charming smile he had plastered on his face as he spoke to Mademoiselle now gone, replaced with a blank white canvas.  

The door shuts behind the 3, leaving Chase alone in his thoughts.

Nothing about what Deacon said made sense, though now he would be stuck thinking about it until he was faced with human company again.

Chapter Text

Was Buddy really…behind all of this? No, was Carmilla behind this?

That would explain all the things going on in the story. But…would Buddy really—

Then he thought about the Buddy he still knew, the one he wanted so badly to just forget. The one who would stick to his role, even if it meant cutting the soles of the stepsisters’ feet in that one Cinderella book. The one who wouldn’t dare to leave that vampire book even as he had a panic attack. But…Buddy wouldn’t—didn’t he care for Chase even a little bit?  

As if on queue, the door creaked open, revealing…Buddy. Sure enough, now Chase could finally take note of his turmoil. At least, that’s what it had to be.

His blue eyes were rimmed with dark circles, bags under his eyes that weren’t just due to his smudged eyeliner, Chase noticed. This was different. He was wearing a frown, not a cold one, but a frown nevertheless. Cautiously, he sat down next to Chase. “Are you…feeling any better?” 

There was that look in his eyes again. Guilt. It was guilt. Of course.

Chase wanted to ask Buddy so badly about what’s been going on. Why would Carmilla hurt Laura yet love her at the same time? 

It suddenly hit Chase that Carmilla was a vampire. Buddy’s fake fangs poking out of his mouth as he stared down at Chase only confirm that thought. Why did he just…drown that fact out of his mind?

Of course he didn't want to...but-

His heart pounds in his throat a little bit. It’s stupid, realizing that he’s a little…attracted to Buddy nevertheless. Not answering Buddy’s question, Chase asks, “Are you a vampire?” 

He slaps a hand to his mouth, face flushing. That did not come out as he expected it to. Buddy’s frown shifts to a confused smile, recalling what Freckles had told him in the last story. At the same time, he hesitates, because Chase’s eyes were intuitively staring at him as he entered the room, as if he had been deep in thought. Carefully, he responds with a question of his own. “Why are you asking?”  

“Uh.” Chase wasn’t…trying to go down that route, but now his brain is muddled with the way Buddy’s looking at him, cheeks flushed. 

“Wouldn’t you like to court one? Freckles tells me you have great interest in them.”  

“Court?! What are you, living in the 1800s? And Dorkin’ told you what? Oh, I’m going to kill him—” 

“Lucky I dressed up as one to fit your standards.” Through Chase’s embarrassment, blush burning his cheeks, he shook his head, snapping back to reality. It wasn't the time to fawn over Buddy.

“Wait, that wasn’t why I was asking…I was going to ask something else.” 

“Hit me.” Nox's heart is pounding with anticipation.

“Why am I…sick now?” He could start with that, hopefully not bad enough to make Buddy uncomfortable. But it does make Buddy uncomfortable.

Buddy gulps. Not the question he was expecting, but not one he’d be up to answering either. “I—” nothing seems to come out of his mouth when he tries to speak. “I…I don’t…it wasn’t my fault.” 

“What do you mean?” Chase's heart seems to shatter at once. He wasn’t even surprised. But then why—

Guilt seems to erupt in every part of his senses. “Chase…I- I did not have much of a say in your condition.” 

His heart seems to sink in his throat as Buddy says that. “Wh- because Deacon told me that…you’re the reason I’m sick in this book, and I-I don’t know what to believe.” 

Buddy looks at him again. “You wouldn’t leave this story if I told you to.”  

Chase shakes his head. “I want you to tell me what’s going on! Deacon hasn’t read this story in years, and he doesn’t remember much apparently, and I know that’s a lie, he’s not telling me things, because he thinks I’ll be hurt, like I’m some sensitive— I’m not stupid!” His voice raises the more he speaks, exhaustion lacing his senses as he speaks that has him wincing in anguish.

 Buddy places a careful hand over Chase’s forehead. “Go to sleep. It will be better this way.” 

“Just tell me what’s going on—” He slaps Buddy’s hand off his forehead instead of lingering in the attempt at warmth from a boy so cold.

“Chase, you know I—” care about you? Don’t want to hurt you? Have to do this? He doesn’t even know what to say. He doesn’t know which one it is, either. 

His exhaustion seems to leave his body as he sits up. “Just tell me!” 

“You won’t—It’s…I don’t want to hurt you.” He pauses again, and Chase is ready to explode. Everyone does this around him, walking on eggshells. The more he tries to ignore his annoyance, the more it comes to haunt him, especially in a story as cruel as this one. What was he thinking, going into a story like this without reading it? 

Would Buddy really hurt him? He knew the answer to that question. He would do anything to follow a story. The whole point of this story is that Carmilla hurts Laura, even if she loves her. Except Buddy doesn’t love you. 

A tight-lipped frown is on his usual golden face as he exhales. “Leave then.” 

“Chase—” He’s said his name more times in this conversation than usual, and maybe that should warm his heart, but Buddy’s only saying his name because he feels bad. He’s never cared about Buddy in the first place, he shouldn’t even care if Buddy likes- 

But he doesn’t tell him anything, doesn’t want to tell him anything. How is he even supposed to trust Buddy? Buddy was mad after the last book they went into, and now he’s acting like he’s fine, and he probably hurt Buddy and still doesn’t exactly know what to say to him… 

Everything between them was fake. It was never there, and ever since the argument it was fading even more. “Get out!” It isn’t the first time Chase has yelled at Buddy, but now, he wants to take it back, with the way that Buddy seems to freeze up. He was never really there in the first place, fading like the new moon, but…

Chase squeezes his eyes shut, and a few moments later, the door shuts behind him with a small thump. 

He wills himself not to cry, because he’s not going to, not over…It’s not over Buddy, but it’s— 

He doesn’t want to be lied to again, doesn’t want to think that Buddy’s insistence on following the stories was greater than his…care for him.

 It seems like eternity that he’s laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s called downstairs for dinner, Deacon knocking on his door. “Chase? Dinnertime.” 

“Mm.” he buries himself in the covers, so extremely bored but also so exhausted. Deacon sighs loudly and moves the covers aside, exposing a distraught Chase.

“I’m sorry about…Buddy. I didn’t mean to hurt—” 

He chokes out a pathetic laugh, moving to the mirror to adjust his clothes and brush his hair off his face. "It's not your fault. Whatever." 

“Chase…” There isn’t much Deacon can say. He wasn’t made to mend hurt. But why is he trying to mend something that he didn’t break? “This is just how stories are. They’re made to hurt you. And this one isn’t different. Let’s just— go home.” 

His expression when he turns to Deacon is pure ice. “I’m not leaving this story. You know that.” 

And he did. There’s no warmth in brown eyes, no energy whatsoever. It must be the illness but more than the illness, it’s heartbreak, Deacon thinks. Gray tries to meet brown, and they get nothing in response. 

Downstairs, a feast is laid out for them, Sir Denarius smiling and Deacon getting up to serve more bread to everyone as they eat. There’s no usual energy in the way Chase eats the bread rolls, nor the rest of the food. Elegantly, he butters a roll, all while his eyes are distant. Deacon is forced to look away as the other maid drags him along back to the kitchen to fix up the dessert. 

The scene at the table remains tense. Bearded Dude talks to Buddy a bit, ever so friendly. A few times, Chase answers to whatever Bearded Dude asks him. The entire time, his eyes remain outcast from where Buddy’s sitting…sort of.

It’s hard to not look when Buddy looks terribly pretty. He’s changed his outfit to a fluffy cape cascading down his back, falling perfectly over a shirt with a…you guessed it, a boob window because he really couldn’t get enough of those, could he? His pants are flared and laced at the bottom. His outfit seems to be accented with less purple than usual. It seems that Violet’s somehow given him extra outfits for this story. Come to think of it, Chase hasn’t really checked his closet to see if he had the same.

Buddy’s eyes fell on him. A little too late, Chase pried his eyes away, forcing his face to sit at a neutral, cold expression. Out of the corner of his eye, Buddy looked away, moving to smile at something Bearded Dude had said.

The rest of dinner is an awkward affair. They get up to put away their dirty dishes, when there’s a tap on his shoulder. Sure enough, it’s the same boy he’s been trying to force himself to stay away from. He tries to ignore him, but Buddy huffs, ever more so insistent as he taps him lightly once more.

Chase’s eyes are wide and annoyed more than anything, but he still seems to jump at the smallest of the touch. “What?” 

“We need to stick together to finish this story. That way, you won’t have to see me again.” 

Buddy’s looming over him as he speaks, more intimidating than ever with his extremely hot- hot? no he wasn’t hot. His cool outfit. “Okay.” Chase utters. 

“I’m sorry about that nightmare or…terror you had. That was my doing.” 

“I knew that much.” His voice is so devoid of warmth that Buddy nearly shivers. 

“Just keep your charm with you, the one that you forced me to buy, and you won’t have any more nightmares. I promise.” With that, he walked away.  

Deacon raised an eyebrow as he walked towards his cousin. “What was that about?” 

“Nothing. Just…do your maid-y stuff. Jeez.” He made a beeline for the drawing room, where he decided to grab the charm. He didn’t know if he should even be believing Buddy like this, but he didn’t want to feel something like that ever again, a clawing feeling that stole the warmth from his chest as he woke up, paralyzing him with fear…

Chase ran down to the cabinet of the drawing room, where he remembered leaving the charm. He’d put both his and Buddy’s charms there, though when he opened it, his charm was missing. Chase grabbed his own charm, running his fingers over it. The cross winked back at him, welded in copper and only falling against the dull light occasionally. He ran back upstairs, closing the drawing room door behind him. 

Walking back upstairs, he decided to check his closet for more comfortable clothes…to his surprise, there was a fully stocked closet, with some more masculine outfits, as if Silver had somehow managed to put them there. There were a pair of pajamas that he threw on. 

If he was going to be in this story for that long, at least he could choose comfort. Clutching the charm, he laid against the pillow.

His mind still wandered.

He knew now that Buddy was behind his nightmares and whatever else Laura went through, but he didn’t…want to be mad at him.

Not really. Though he had no idea as to what was really going on in this story. He felt sicker than he did when he went into that Elv-ish book dizzy and sweating from a fever, and he still didn’t really know why.

Buddy didn’t care how sick Chase was, as long as it meant he kept up with his role. Chase could take whatever anguish this story had to offer.

Stop thinking about this Chase. Think about…Alastair. At least he had that much. With ‘Starlit Serenades I Wrote to my Sweetheart I Met in Paris Pt. 1’ playing in his mind, he felt himself drifting to sleep, clutching the cross under his pillow. 

═══════

Nox stood up from his bed, a little disoriented as he woke up. He hadn’t slept the whole book-adjacent night. It had only been half an hour, literally speaking, but exhaustion crept through his senses. He hadn’t changed his outfit to lay down. Though he appreciated the detail put into the work, laying against it was so uncomfortable. 

He winced as he got up, thinking of seeing Chase and then remembering he didn’t want to even look in his direction. Ouch, Nox. 

Chase seemed to care about these stories a lot more than he’d initially thought. And he knew it. Chase had refused to leave the first few books, and now he was a leech on his side. This book forced them together, but Chase was mad at him now. 

Throughout the book, Laura was supposed to be disoriented as Carmilla fed off her exhaustion. Laura wasn’t supposed to know what Carmilla was really there for. But this was different, because Chase knew what was occurring in the book. 

How would they possibly finish this story if Chase was mad at him? Carmilla wasn’t meant to have a happy ending in the first place, she was supposed to— 

He swallows down his thoughts. Who was he kidding? He never had happy endings.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he meets crystal blue eyes framed through dark circles, a face that’s not quite human, but rather, made to look like a human’s, pale skin and a sunken face staring back at him.

He’s grown these past few years, he thinks. The tiredness that plays across his features seems to stay the same, though. And it’s even worse that he’s deviating from his role, something he usually doesn’t do. No, something that he never did before Chase entered stories. 

If following the story meant he would hurt Chase, he would rather just…not do it at all, if he was given the choice to do what he pleased. 

Pushing his black hair off his face, he decides to go downstairs, where Chase looks like he’s in a slightly better mood, although he doesn't greet Buddy, still in no mood to forgive him. Deacon walks up to Chase, and he hears him say, “Hey, dude. Are the nightmares dying down?” 

“Yeah. Guess the charm thing worked.” He moves to make eye contact with Buddy briefly, before flushing and looking away. 

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Dorkin’, god. My point is, I think I’m doing better, at least now. I need to keep that charm with me more.” Chase reached into his pocket to feel at the charm but…

“It’s not- where did it go?!” He shrieks. 

That little idiot is too loud. He doesn’t stay to hear the rest of Chase’s squabbling and Deacon’s annoyed groans, walking away. 

The day goes by a little more boring now that he can’t tease Chase or torment Freckles. He sits on his own, retreating to his room, lingering over parts of the study that he hadn’t quite fully observed. He’d left her stuff askew.

He’s always liked this book, no matter how melancholic it ended. Going into Carmilla was a different story. He hadn’t thought he’d be the one hurting…Chase. 

Nox was a thoughtful being, as Violet had said. Even before he was a key, she recalled the countless hours where she had watched this disgruntled human’s hands roam bookshelves, reading stories and paying attention to detail as he read them. 

He knew he was..thoughtful too. Too sensitive, Violet had said. He knew it. As he pondered, he looked out the window, expression far and distant. A pale, slender, hand reaches up to touch the cold window pane, as if to test if he were still to feel coldness. He could. At least here he was human enough.

It clawed at him to see what his villainous hands were capable of. Hurt. His hands were not made to be gentle. He broke things. He messed up, and that much would not be hidden behind blue, moonstoned-color eyes, nor would they be hidden behind human-like hair that revealed itself as fluffy black feathers, not stiff, cold metal.

Was he even allowed to love if all he did was break things? His hand against the window falters, and he shuts his eyes against his sinking heart.

Chase, I’m so sorry. 

Night starts to fall as he stares out into the distance. The sunset’s beautiful, and it takes him back to sunny, radiant smiles that he wanted so desperately to see again. 

This is the closest he’ll get to humanity, and he seems to savor every drop of sunlight fading past the thick trees outside the guest bedroom he’s currently in. Sitting up, he puts on yet another coat, shivering in the cold air. 

Chase, I’m so sorry. He flushes when he realizes he’s said that out loud, and then realizes no one was to hear Carmilla talk anyways.

She was invisible.

 ═══════

The days seem to pass a lot faster now. The nights are very brief to Chase, flashes of hallucinations, nightmares that don’t cede, even worse now that he’s lost the cross charm, clutching his pillow and throwing the covers over his eyes as if that was enough to defend against the nightmares.

He comes downstairs sometimes, and Sir Denarius greets him with his usual smile, though he’s often gone on business, leaving him in the awkward company of Buddy and Deacon, who is unblinking and unsmiling as he looks away from Chase and Deacon, who are talking in hushed tones in front of him.

Chase keeps waking up to an aching pain in his neck.

For the most part, Chase stays upstairs, utterly sick. Sometimes Deacon will bring him food or keep him company.

This was Buddy’s doing, and he knew it. Carmilla’s vampire-esque abilities were to haunt Laura. Even then, it was terrifying as Chase watched Buddy stand at the foot of his bed. Sometimes, he’d experience exhaustion and paranoia after he had woken up, possibly sleeping through the effects of Carmilla sapping Laura’s energy.

Maybe this was the point of the story. The utter devotion that Carmilla felt for Laura fueled her passion, her evil.

One day, after he had been particularly terrified from Buddy’s motions, breath hitched, Buddy came up to him when he was alone in his room. His eyes were distant as he stood near the foot of his bed. They didn’t speak of anything, but Chase could’ve sworn he heard an I’m sorry fall from Buddy’s mouth.

“Whatever,” Chase utters to air. He was hallucinating, probably. The next moment, he was gone. 

He had some conversations with Deacon, about something, anything, because he knew he was hurting. One day, they were talking, and when they stopped, they were left with awkward silence. Cautiously, Deacon started, “Chase, we should leave this—” 

“No.” He stared at Deacon, disgusted, shocked as to why he would even say such a thing. Deacon hadn’t spoken about it since then.

Even then, Laura’s sickness was now his own. He felt like he was burning up, but also freezing every time he emerged from the strange nightmares, like he was in a cold sweat. 

He didn’t know it was ever possible to feel sick and cold at the same time. But it really was, the more that he stayed behind for this story, the longer was the period of time where he remained sick. 

The one day Chase was fully conscious to remember everything was the day that the doctor came to visit. Seeing how slow mail was, it took a week for the doctor, the same old guy who kinda gave off Goldie vibes, to come back. 

Next to him, Deacon sat and watched. Sir Denarius was out for business that day.

“Your father said you have been on almost permanent bed rest? Great heavens, your condition is appalling!” 

“Yeah. I dunno what it is, but I’m exhausted.” 

“Dear, dear. The balance of odors seems to be the same though!” He pauses to take out his stethoscope and listen to Chase’s heartbeat. There’s a beat as he listens, and then he places the instrument down. “Well. I cannot detect any rapid changes.”

“Wh—” he closes his mouth abruptly. Maybe this much made sense. Carmilla made Laura…mentally sick, more than physically sick, even as these symptoms made his head hurt. Above anything, maybe it was heartbreak, a psychological disturbance so large that even doctors couldn’t cure it. 

One of Myra’s doctors had taken him aside after an excruciating round of chemotherapy. She had said something similar to Chase. ‘Chemotherapy may make your mother…weaker than usual, more confused and disoriented. I’m sorry, Chase. She needs time to recover before you can see her. She will be psychologically disturbed, and we have a therapist at hand, because of…’ 

He had drowned out the rest of her words. It was a few weeks before his graduation, and he spent the majority of those days worrying about his mother’s condition.

The weakness, the worser side effects…She couldn’t even be here for his graduation because of how sick she was. 

Was this how she had felt? This wasn’t even real and it was taking a toll on his health. As the doctor packed up his things and left, Deacon got up. 

“Chase…you’ve been weird these past few story days. How are you feeling?” He anxiously hovered over him, though tried to stay away in fear of annoying Chase.

This wasn’t Deacon’s fault, he thought. “Deacon, dude, I’m okay. Promise. Mom’s gone through worse, probably.” His laugh is weak and fails to be sarcastic. 

“Chase. No. Don’t say that—” 

“Deacon, c’mon. I promise I’ll be okay. Look! It doesn’t hurt to get up anymore!” He gets up with ease out of bed, jumping up and plastering a smile on his face. Deacon narrows his eyes, as if to say, that doesn't mean anything. 

“Well, that’s good to know. I gotta go.” His face is a little disbelieved at Chase’s faux-positivity.

═══════

It’s late afternoon when Chase falls asleep. He has an evening…mare, this one worse than the rest. In front of him rests a shirtless Buddy, and usually he wouldn’t have minded for him to come in his dreams like this, except he’s dripping in blood.

He can’t breathe, the air knocked out of his lungs as he gasps, shakily getting up and eyes open to an empty room. 

Right next to him, Deacon rests a grip against his forearm. “Chase, what happened? You were screaming, was it a-” 

There was a sudden bang as the door was opened, revealing the other maid whose name Chase didn’t know. 

Her face was pale. “It’s Carmilla. She’s gone!” Her voice is shrill, but above all, horrified. Chase looks out the window, and he’s a little more than shocked when it’s nighttime. What could he be possibly doing out at night? 

Deacon flinches a little, but he’s not that shocked, murmuring under his breath, “so we’re at this part of the story now.” 

Chase hisses, his breath ragged. “Deacon, what?! What the fuck is Buddy doing out at this hour—” 

“Chase, I promise, I remember this part of the story. Carmilla’s gone for the night, but she comes back—” his breathing is heavy as Deacon speaks. Knowing Buddy and their…rocky relationship, he doesn’t see why he would want to come back. What if this was his fault-

“Deacon, I don’t think— what if he doesn’t— you don’t get it, Carmilla and Laura stick together for most of this book, but he’s mad at me, and the forest is full of creepy things and thorny bushes, Deacon, what if he gets hurt and—” His mind cuts back to the cut on Buddy’s cheek…it’s a stupid cut, it shouldn’t even make Chase emotional, but it is, but it isn’t just about the cut, it’s—

There’s tears pooling in Chase’s eyes, shocking Deacon but more than anything, Chase himself. It also makes him think...Chase and Buddy really care for each other, more than normal, even as they both try to hide it, there's no hiding the mental torture that seems to run through each others' minds at the thought of the other being hurt...“Chase, breathe. Lay down. I promise he’ll be back. He wouldn’t deviate from this.” 

“Madame Perrodon! Help me look for her!” Her voice is shrill, and she shrieks in French as a door slams open to the guest bedroom. Deacon gets up to leave, but not before tucking Chase in and ruffling his hair. It’s a loving motion, one that should calm Chase, hair being ruffled by his older brother, but it doesn’t do anything at all.

Chase can’t go to sleep, even with weakness evading his senses. He shouldn’t be this worried for Buddy, but seeing how horribly this book is going, he has no choice but to worry. 

 ═══════

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep in this story. Then again, he’s starting to forget more and more of this story, a montage of depressing thoughts and sickness overriding his senses for the past few story days. It's morning now, and it seems to hit him abruptly, startling him.

Deacon walks into his room abruptly. “Are you feeling well enough to come downstairs for breakfast?” There’s hesitation that flickers across his features, but he nods anyway. “C’mon. Buddy should be showing up soon.” 

Though he doesn’t care for Buddy, seeing how he’s hiding things from him and is hurting him, a betrayal so deep that it cuts through his features and his health, he’s still worried. Not because he cares. He totally doesn’t. He just doesn't want Buddy to get hurt.

Deacon stands by Chase as they walk downstairs, walking right next to him in case he falls. Which has happened before. 

Chase manages to successfully get all the way downstairs, and Bearded Dude greets him. “Laura! I presumed you wanted to stay in your own company. I heard about Carmilla leaving. It is so utterly terrible. I hope they find the poor dear.” 

“Mm.” He’s no longer extremely interested in Bearded Dude. Unlike his own father when he was alive, he seems to be extremely absent. It makes him imagine how lonely Laura would’ve been if it weren’t for Carmilla’s company.

No wonder she was so desperate to have her as a friend, as Deacon told him. Poor Laura. Hell, poor him. He wasn’t even talking to Buddy now, even as they were supposed to be hanging out the more sicker Laura got. It was fucked up, the way Carmilla seemed to leech off Laura’s dying prescence. And now, what, Carmilla snuck out again? What could Buddy possibly need? 

═══════

There’s a bang as the front door opens, tense and announcing. Nox giggles awkwardly as he stands by the stoop of the front door, even if there was nothing for him to be really laughing at. 

Though, Laura’s second maid staring him down, eyes wide and insults so french as she scolds him are a little hilarious. It’s unlike him to be laughing, and he really hasn’t been laughing for the past few days, or even the past few hours, but he’s so exhausted that he just wants to laugh at something, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Pardon-moi? I walked in my sleep, Madame.” 

“Oh, did you even see how worried you had us all?! Viens avec moi!” She tugs Nox by the arm as she takes him up the stairs to the main dining room. 

His eyes move onto Chase, who’s brown eyes are absolutely wide. Deacon moves to whisper something in his ear. He nods and moves to stand in front of Buddy. 

He smirks at Chase, who’s tense and won’t meet his gaze. “Why are you here now?” he whispers. Nox feels his heart beat a little at how close he is to him. Nox does know what happens at this part, although he’d assume he wouldn’t want to—

Without a second to lose, he pulls him in an awkward hug, making him jolt. Chase is probably following the original scene…loosely, and with a lot less passion than the original scene, but oh, did that catch him off guard. 

It isn’t a tight hug, but even then, Nox pushes back, cupping his hair as he deepens the hug. Chase buries himself in the crook of his neck, failing to be stiff and bitter. For a moment, it seems that every form of argument between them fades. It feels like Nox was never out doing these stupid missions, never out here guilt-tripping himself over a role he was forced into…Nox, shut up, it’s for the narratonin, it’s not for you, not him—

Chase pulls back, but not before whispering, “Idiot,” and walking away. It makes Nox’s heart hurt, watching how quickly the sun seems to eclipse the moon. 

He walks up to Sir Denarius as well, speaking loud enough for Chase’s ears. “Sir, I am so sorry. I have a tendency to sleepwalk, I have no idea how I woke up on the porch.” 

He sighs, twisting his gray moustache before speaking. “It is quite alright. Just be careful from now on. Soon, we will have a servant watch over your room.” 

Deacon is drinking in the whole scene as he whispers, “See Chase? He’s fine.” 

“I wasn’t worried about him. It’s whatever. He’s evil and he doesn’t care, it’s fine. I’m going back upstairs.” As Chase walks, Deacon follows behind him, because of course he does. 

He can’t stand watching his cousin hurt like this while the rest of the story slowly trudges on. But he can’t make Chase talk to him either, so he decides it’s best if he stays put. 

As soon as he’s out of Deacon’s view, he brushes aside a stray tear that slips down his cheek. 

Chapter Text

Even in the stories where Buddy wasn’t required to be a bratty villanness were the same stories where his flair for dramatics increased.

You couldn’t blame him. 

In this scene, Carmilla probably threw a temper tantrum like this one. 

Buddy groans loudly, exclaiming, “Mademoiselle! There is no need for you to watch me sleep! It’s quite intruding!” 

“Non! Tu continues à te marcher! We cannot let that happen again!” She’s livid, furious and overprotective over Carmilla and their new bond. 

Bonded by le français and maternal instinct. 

“J'ai déjà dit que je ne le referais plus!” Buddy groans, already exhausted with this back and forth. He’s told her a million times it wouldn’t happen again, but she doesn’t seem to believe him one bit.

She shakes her head adamantly, mustering out a combination of franglais. “I am staying ici!” She slams the door behind her, the scraping of a chair stopping right in front of Carmilla’s bedroom door.

Buddy sighs loudly, falling against his bed and relaxing against the silky pillow.

As much as he wanted to sleep, there was something else he had to do first.

He winces as he jumps out the window once more. 

═══════

In Chase’s room, Deacon’s sitting at the window sill, snorting awake as the sun peeks through the curtains. 

He’d taken a nap, and suddenly it was already morning.

Chase groaned in his sleep, turning to squish his cheek against the pillow and grab it.

 Deacon laughed at how peaceful he could be in his sleep, all worries…hopefully gone from his cousin’s mind for the moment being. Unknowst to him, Chase was not a heavy sleeper. His dreams consisted of… Buddy.

Yes, Chase knew he was a vampire enchantress in this story, but he didn’t know how much that had really meant for the story.

It was something that Laura had been too naive to notice, her dreams of Carmilla taking over every rational thought. 

In between scenes, Deacon had talked to him more about why Laura didn’t notice Carmilla was a vampire for so long. He was trying to be more honest with Chase. He had said, “think of it like this. When you’re so enamored with someone, so…deeply interested, rational thought just leaves your head. I guess that’s what happened with Laura. She probably knew something was up, but deep down, she was in denial until the very end.” 

But he still thought about Laura’s diary entry.

The entire sequence of events that he had read made sense now.

It was like she had known Carmilla, even if it was in her dreams, before Carmilla had even come to the castle.

He wondered if he had ever met Buddy early-on without knowing it. 

Sometimes, Chase didn’t exactly dream, but he had visions of Buddy, of Carmilla, their faces blurred into one until they were the same person. Heartless, cruel, hurting people yet loving them at the same time, making decisions that they didn’t want to…

There was a helplessness that plagued both villainesses that made his heart squeeze. Laura loved Carmilla regardless. And Chase…tried to lo-like Buddy regardless of his mistakes, the things he was forced to do. He tried to see past the thorny exterior that haunted him. 

He wanted to see past the facade, if Buddy would let him. 

Visions flashed before him, including a vaguely intriguing one. 

Buddy’s face was pressed close to his as his hands encircled his wai—

Deacon nudged his cousin awake, pleasantly surprised to see that his energy was doing a lot better at this point. Probably because he was here, and Carmilla had paused her hauntings. 

Chase got up with a squeak, hitting his head against the headboard and cursing. “Glad to see you get up quicker than usual.”

“Uh-huh. Y-yeah.” 

Deacon sighs, wistfully looking outside. “It feels like we’ve been in this book a lot shorter than I’d expected. It’s been 2 weeks already, book-adjacent. Weird.” 

“Guess time passes when you have a random Buddy-illness.” Chase sighs.

His cousin lets out something of a sarcastic laugh as he moves to sit on the window sill in Laura’s room. A moment later, he jumps up. “Chase! I think someone’s here! Wait, Chase, you might get transported to a backstory scene! I won’t be there to help! Wait, how did I forget to tell you about—” 

Chase gets out of bed, mind reeling at his thoughts. “Hey, calm down!” He throws open the closet, searching for what to wear. He chooses an undercoat of some-sorts, pairing it with a white blouse and pants. God, he can’t go out looking like this! Buddy would be there, and even if he hated him, he needed to look good . 

Well, as good as you could look wearing 1800s-esque clothing.

He brushes his hair a little before splashing water on his face and running downstairs. Technically, it wasn’t gross that he didn’t shower, because 2 weeks had passed in this book even if in reality, only a few hours had passed. 

The moment he got downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Deacon called out, “Sir, it’s the General!” before running back upstairs to where the main lobby was. 

The general? Oh, right. That guy. What could he need now?

“Coming!” Sir Denarius’ voice interrupted his thoughts, a desperate shriek that had him barreling towards the door.

“General Spielsdorf! This was a surprise! Come, follow me!” He gives him a hearty pat on the back before following him to the drawing room as Chase watches.

“I thought I sent a letter?” 

“Aye, mail is slow around here. It is quite alright!” 

Chase assumes he might as well follow behind. But where is Buddy?

He pauses, hesitating on whether to follow behind or not before the French maid runs downstairs, screaming at Deacon to bring the cart of tea and biscuits over. “Only the finest tea for the Englishman! Dépêchez-vous! Laura, take the teapot, I cannot carry this much!” 

She’s frantic, so this must be important. He decides to follow behind, grabbing the teapot out of the maid’s hands before her grip falters. 

Sir Denarius and the General sat in awkward silence next to each other. Right. This was the man who had just lost his dear niece. 

The air was still tense with the same grief. His niece had died after all. Sir Denarius kept opening his mouth to say something, but faltered as well, sitting against the loveseat instead.

Chase cleared his throat loudly. “Tea, sir?” 

“That is quite alright. Thank you, Laura. Ever so polite. Just like my Bertha.” His eyes are teary and a tad...envious. At the same time, Deacon and the other maid enter the room at the same time, sitting in a corner as they listen.

“General. My dear friend, what brings you here?” That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, as his expression goes stoic all over again. “Sorry—” 

“Sir Denarius, do not apologize. I also wanted to talk to you about the Karnstein properties nearby.” 

“Are you waiting to gain the benefit of them? I heard they sell for thousands.” 

The General’s face morphs to disgust. “My niece has died, and all you want to talk about is property?” 

Chase watches how the General slumps into himself. Laura’s father was nothing like his own, no matter how similar they may look. His awe for Bearded Dude seems to fade all at once.

“I apologize. I promise that was not my intent. You are allowed to talk about your niece. Do tell us the story.” 

Chase cut in, trying his best not to let his annoyance with Bearded Dude show. “Hey, General, man, you don’t need to talk about the things that hurt you. Especially if you’re not over them. It’s hard sometimes, and you don’t owe us an explanation.” 

The words escaped his mouth at once. Deacon stares at him sympathetically, knowing this was from the heart.

 “Laura, ever so wise.” The General barks out a sad laugh, his eyes softening. “While you are right, I assure you, you must hear this story. I must talk about the evil that eliminated a girl that was like a daughter to me, the evil that Death himself would not fathom. The properties and the Karnstein family tie into this too, but they are not the first priority of my retelling.” 

There’s a heavy pause. “Dear General, do take some tea before continuing. It is quite alright to grieve and be angry.” 

“Of course.” Sir Denarius smiles.

All of a sudden, the scene freezes in front of him. He looks down at his hands, and screams as he feels himself moving of his own accord.

Chase isn’t in control of his body, and he doesn’t even know where he is—

He screams again, but nothing comes out as he hits the ground of a stone path. A stone path?!

Chase doesn't recognize this to be anywhere near the manor Laura resides in. 

He’s shifted settings within a story…This has never happened to him before. It was very much like the first time he had entered a story, falling face first into the scene and taking up the heroine role in Sleeping Beauty.

He takes a few shuddering breaths, trying to ground himself as he stares down at his arms and legs. Things feel so different, and of course they do because—

His outfit seems to be…different now, too. He gasps as he stares down at a flowing white and gold embroidered tailcoat, looking down to notice the breastplate of it adorned with swirls. Underneath, he’s wearing a simpler laced white button up, tucked into white pants. He’s wearing a tie too, frilly and accented with gold to match the rest of his outfit. 

Though he’s in utter awe of the detail he spawned into the flashback with, he’s very…confused at how formal his outfit is all of a sudden. 

He presses a hand to his face, and is positively shocked when he feels a mask adorning his face. Upon inspection, he takes it off, taking notice of white peacock feathers adorning it. His mouth drops open. They’re going to the ball.

They’re at the ball. It’s a masquerade ball.

He throws the mask off, turning around and then looking back forward to where there’s a fancy, columned building, the stone path ending in front of them and stopping. Now, they’re behind multiple people, waiting in line.

Right next to him, he meets the familiar face of the general. Here he looks different, dark circles and terror on his face less accentuated. “I’m sorry for dragging you here, Bertha. You know your cousins will be here as well.” 

“Okay…” He doesn’t know what else to say, but judging by the sympathetic smile on the General’s face, maybe he was meant to be upset over it?

Overhead, as if from nowhere, there’s a voice blaring over his head. “It started with a masquerade ball.” 

Of course it did, dude whose voice is blaring in my head. I’m not hearing things, right?

Buddy had said the same before.

Wait, would Buddy be here? And Deacon? It seemed that Chase had taken up the role of the new heroine, Bertha, from the flashback, the General clutching onto his hand with tender comfort.

His heart seemed to simultaneously sink. She was the one that dies.

The general’s voice blared once more, “My dear niece was quite nervous for this ball. We were one of the rare commoners here, invited by my dear brother and his wife, Sir Alfons Spielsdorf and Madame Beatrix Spielsdorf. 

Bertha had a nervous disposition as we entered the ballroom. Her charm, which seemed to rest in the townspeople we had been surrounded by, was long gone amongst a crowd such as regal.” 

Chase threw on his best pout, trying to keep up with the scene. “Uncle, I’m scared.” 

“It will be alright. Your dear aunt Beatrix will be here!  And you shall find many great men, charming as you are.” He huffed at the general. It seemed that the heroines in these stories only had to keep up with that aspect .

As they neared the ballroom, the crowd seemed to only grow. They were halted with a hand. The ticket inspector adjusted his hat, his mousy face adjusted in a permanent glare.

All of a sudden, he was surrounded by a bustling atmosphere, the General gracefully digging in his pocket for two tickets. “Here you are, good sir!” He grinned, ever so polite.

The inspector gave them a once-over, snorted, and then snatched the tickets, which made the General flinch and his smile falter. With a flick of his head, he beckoned them to go inside. Chase gritted his teeth. “Ignore him.” 

It seemed they were more out of place here than usual. Wherever they went, people seemed to stare at them like they were growing two heads. The General held a faltering grin, and searched the crowd desperately for someone…

He exhaled as he ran to another man who looked very similar to him, with the same green eyes and gray hair. “Brother!” 

Luckily, this guy was a lot nicer. A grin betrayed his features as he broke out into a wide smile and gave the General a hearty pack on the back. Chase awkwardly stood by, lost in the gaggle of conversation. 

His wife, who Chase could only assume was Madame Beatrix, stood off to the side, waved in his direction. “Ah, Bertha! How are you!” 

“I’m okay, Aunt Beatrix, thank you.” A waiter is carrying around a drink of some sort, and pauses in front of them both, Chase taking it, because all of a sudden he feels extremely out of place. He clutches it, though doesn’t drink it. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything to her niece. 

He stares off to a mirror nearby, and notices Bertha’s face just as nervous as his, eyebrows drawn together as she stares at her outfit with embarrassment and disgust. 

It wasn’t as fancy as Chase’s own, a worn corset tucked into a petticoat that was just barely showing, and above that a poofy, dark brown colored dress. She was also wearing a mask, but hers was plain and not adorned with the fancy feathers that Chase had. 

He remembered learning that peasants often wore darker colors like this, and it made him realize why Bertha was so nervous to come here.

She clears her throat. “Well, my daughters are off to the side. Your dear cousins, if you would love to…” She trails off as two twin girls make eye contact with Chase, disgust framing their features as they stare down at his outfit and giggle. 

Chase is really trying his best not to scowl. “Mhm. I’m going to…go.” 

He walks past the two sisters, moving to sit at a table on his own, staring at the passing crowd, some couples littering the dance floor as the dim light falls from overhead. 

He’s so lonely, he thinks, as he downs the drink he was holding this whole time, flinching when he realizes it tastes just like alcohol and winces at the taste.

But I want another. My brain feels light already.

Chase doesn’t need to think about his loneliness, or how stupid and out of place he felt, like those girls were judging him for being…poor or something.

And god, Chase knew how that felt. He never was one to yearn for wealth or any of that shit, but he hated the rare moments when he felt judgment get to him. 

This book hated him. It was out to get him, to target every emotion of his, just like it did with the sickness and now with the stupid asshole sisters. 

He snatches a drink off a tray that’s passing by, the waiter affronted at his sudden hand motion. Chase can’t think as he downs the drink, holding the thin pipe of the wine glass in between his thumb and pointer fingers as he slams it back onto the tray. He flinches at the sudden motion, and realizes how inconsiderate that was— “Sorr—” he’s already gone. 

A voice seems to ground him before he can take another drink.

"I felt horrible for leaving behind dear Bertha for so long. But I presumed it was about time she stepped foot out on her own. After all, her Uncle wouldn’t be here forever.” he chuckled sadly as he recalled the story, the sound reverberating through Chase’s head. "I was watching her from afar as another young lady approached her.” 

Chase squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face into the table, anticipation riddling his senses, and jolts when he feels a tap on his shoulder. “Hello, little idiot.” 

He knows that voice. But he can’t quite see past his face, shrouded with a black crow-feathered mask. 

He tries not to let his surprise show, still woozy as he turns around. He’s here. Buddy’s here. Not…whoever else was supposed to be — unless he was the one meant to talk to me —

“Wh- B- uh- Buddy. Hey.” Chase is gawking. He knows he is. But how can he when Buddy’s outfit was made to kill him because of how hot it was?! 

He’s wearing an asymmetrical button up that’s flared at the bottom just perfectly, and he’s wearing straight pants, both of which are black. There’s a purple cape or hood or something cascading down his back, the hood pulled back to reveal ruffled black hair set in a middle part and a smug grin. He’s adorned with several pieces of jewelry, silver necklaces and were those—earrings? Good lord, Violet. 

Buddy takes off his mask, trying to find a motion to do that wasn’t gawking at Chase just the same. He ruffles his hair a little bit and his smug grin is now a self-conscious smile.

That only seems to fluster Chase further, opening his mouth to say something coherent, but all that comes out are a string of letters, and he clamps a palm over his mouth to stop himself from saying something he’d regret. 

He really doesn’t care about Buddy. Like he said earlier.

Buddy held a grudge towards him about the whole Prunella thing, something that he’s probably still not over even if he was acting nice about it. Another thing he hated about Buddy: he never told him anything. Chase found out about Buddy being an evil bloodsucking vampire and making him sick—

God, I need another drink NOW. Shut up, stop thinking.

Chase looks at the floor, tall boots that probably add an inch or so to Buddy’s height. Maybe that’s why he felt so stupid and small next to Buddy. And also why this was so painfully awkward- STOP LOOKING AT THE FLOOR CHASE. LOOK UP. HIS EYES AREN’T THAT INTIMIDATING. YOU’VE SEEN HIM BEFORE, CALM DOWN.

“Are we here to perform the scene?” Buddy’s eyes move off Chase’s body, trying his best to hold a neutral expression.

This only confirmed that Chase really badly did like his outfits, and it seemed to give him confidence all at once. His brown eyes dart around self-consciously, meeting the refreshments table across the ballroom, and he yells out, “Food!” before walking away. 

“Bertha was charmed by such beautiful company, but eventually, they came to dance together the whole night, enough that she was hesitant to leave this young lady behind.

Buddy clears his throat loudly, and Chase can hear the smirk in his voice. It only confirms that Buddy can hear that overhead voice as well. “We must dance together whether you like it or not. We are meant to be painfully infatuated with each other to let this flashback complete. Though, I understand if you’re still angry…” His voice seems to falter at once, confidence leaving him. Chase continues obnoxiously chewing before swallowing and moving to take a glass of water.

“Oh my god, just shut up. Feelings are for losers.” Chase huffs, downing the glass of water before wiping his mouth and setting the glass aside as he drags Buddy to the dance floor.

Nox is really trying not to stare. But he’s so rumpled, and for once, it’s kind of…hot, the way he’s being kind of possessive but also just a little insane. 

Just like how Chase was.

The situation between the two is so painfully awkward, Nox trying hard not to explode at how weird Chase is being. Meanwhile, Chase isn’t faring any better, his brain clogged with empty matter. The pastry he just swallowed down seems to choke him, and he coughs, trying to save his breath and weakly digest it. 

“Wha- what do we do after this scene? Who the fuck are you in this- ughh—” he groans, and Nox moves a hesitant hand to Chase’s shoulder.

“Respectfully, what are you saying? You’re being queerer than usual.” 

“I know. I'm the gayest of them all. ha. Ha. Bad joke, ‘m not stupid, I know it means that I’m being weird, gee thanks, Buddy— I mean like, are you supposed to be dancing with me?” 

“You idiot. It’s a flashback scene. Here, my name is Millarca. And yes, we dance.” 

Chase gets up, meeting Buddy on the dance floor. He clings onto Buddy, head spinning. 

“Mmm—” He nearly slumps on Buddy’s shoulder, but seems to jolt all of a sudden as he tilts his beautiful face up. “Oh, waiter, give me onna those—” 

Nox shakes his head, surprised with Chase out of all people, reaching for a drink, and pushes Chase’s hand away.  “The lady is quite alright.” The waiter walks away.

He moves back to Chase, who’s glaring at him. Since when was his hair this rumpled, his speech this slurred, eyes this wide with confusion? 

“Wh—” it seems to hit him all at once as he moves him back to make eye contact with Chase. He’s positively drowning into blue pools of water, ready to float away as his eyes soften and dilate because of how pretty the boy in front of him was as he exhaled through his mouth. God that mouth. The pronounced cupid’s bow that curled into a confused frown…“Chase, are you drunk?!” He rasps out his name, annoyed now.

Up until now, it was so hard to tell, because Chase being this weird could’ve just been him just being…Chase. But it’s more than that, and he knows it.

Chase giggles stupidly as he moves his arms, throwing them around his shoulders, Nox trying to redirect him to sit down or just do something that wasn’t stumbling across his frame— He doesn’t answer his question instead, stumbling as he whispers, “Say my name like that again, I fucking dare you.” He flutters his lashes as he says those words, watching how Nox’s jaw drops.

He flushes, but he leans down to whisper, “Chase— you-you’re not being yourself.  L-let’s just…sit down, okay?” Despite himself, he says his name again, soft on his tongue, watching how Chase flushes even more, brown eyes drooping. God, he’s a mess. 

He’s tempted to carry Chase all the way to the table they were just sitting at, but he stops himself seeing the weird state Chase is in, opting to drag him to the table as he giggled and held on to Nox. 

Nox is livid. Chase has yet again messed up an entire scene that was meant for romantic connection or at least…progression of any sort. He’s stuck watching Chase be a rambling, drunk mess. 

“They met for only a mere few minutes. But within that time, the two seemed to be closer than ever, having danced together. I waited a bit before I walked up to them. Though, before I could advance forward, I was stopped!” 

Chase groans, barely registering the narration occurring both in his and Buddy’s heads. “Mmm—” Buddy got up to get water, hoping it would ease some of his symptoms. Chase’s hair is ruffled, but the rest of his outfit looks just as breathtaking. It’s a shame he couldn’t have admired it, ran his hands over him as he did a graceful waltz with this beautiful boy…

Who was he kidding. Chase hated him after seeing what Carmilla had done to a mere one person. He wouldn’t want to even touch him if he was sober— 

He had hurt two book characters, and one very real, very human boy. And he was to hurt the same boy again. Or maybe twice more.

He hated this. Nox really hated this. His eyes fall back onto the scene in front of him as he walks to the table and sets down the glass of water. 

It was Millarca’s Countess mother, Countess Karnstein. The very same one from the beginning scene . She approached General Spielsdorf right before he could greet the two disgruntled young men sitting at the table. 

There’s a garble of conversation between them, incoherent within this huge crowd and also due to the fact that Nox is so far away from the two. 

Suddenly, Countess Karnstein and General Spielsdorf walk towards both of them. Nox straightens up, trying not to draw attention to the boy that’s practically passed out behind them. 

“At this moment, the woman, who I later discovered was Countess Karnstein, directed me to her darkly-shrouded daughter, wearing a gown of Death. The Countess would not once take her mask off, insisted that she was an old friend of mine.” 

“Dear Countess, it seems that I still do not recognize you.” 

“That is but a shame.” She huffs, straightening up, her cape cascading down her back. The passerby of the ball stopped to stare at this figure.

“Taking off your mask would be doing both of us a favor. Maybe I will learn who you really are.” 

She doesn’t answer the question, but instead, more mysterious than ever, murmurs, “Dear friend. It seems that your daughter is quite of interest to my own.” 

“Niece, actually, dear Countess—” 

She huffs, straightening her dark cloak that falls over her shoulders. The part of the ballroom that they’re near is near the exit, and she looks out the window before speaking. “Yes, yes, whatever the case may be. It has been a long time since I have met her. I wanted to talk about…my daughter. I have to go on a business trip after this, and very woefully, I must leave her behind. I shall explain more about why, but it pains me to do so with her.” 

The general raised his eyebrows. “Oh dear. That is horrible.” 

“Your niece…you took her up out of neediness?” Chase is wide-eyed as he absorbed the conversation next to them through his drunken demeanor. 

“Well, her dear father, my brother, died…10 years ago. She was far too young to be taken to an orphanage, so I took her in. She is a very silent child, and for her to meet your daughter…she has gained the companion she has always lacked.” 

Nox hears Chase mumble, “fuck, this book is out to get me, huh?” before he pauses, another bang as he hits his head on the side of the table.

As much as he wants to listen to the conversation next to him, absorb every bit of humane sorrow, he decides to look away. 

He scoots his chair closer to Chase, only enough to tentatively let Chase rest his head on his shoulder. Though he was thinking of giving him water, he doubts Chase can even swallow down that much. 

Gold embroidery clashes with sleek silver and black, and it makes his heart curl and melt, even as he’s a mess when they’re embracing.

“Buddyyyy…I feel like shit.” 

He huffs. “That’s your fault for drinking so much. Is your head okay? Stop banging it on the table, you’re stressing me out.” 

“Only ha’ two drinks—an’ I’m fine!” 

“Well, okay, two drinks. You lightweight.” He shoves Chase’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge, pressing his cheek to his chest and slumping over. Chase nuzzles into his shoulder further.

“I’m gonna regret hugging you like this, aren’t I? But you’re so warmmmm—And I don’t want to be sad anymore. This helps. God, I love bein’—” 

Something in Buddy softens as Chase says that. “Hey, no, idiot. Just remember, if you drink again, I’ll find you in the real world and strangle you to death.” 

Chase lifts his head up, tilting in that way that makes Buddy want to explode as he musters, “As long as you’re the one stranglin’ me," gasping as he falls back against his shoulder. 

Buddy flushes a deep red. “Wh- I’m serious. Stop hurting yourself like this. It makes me sad. And you know I care about you, even if I hide things from you sometimes…” 

A myriad of thoughts seems to run past his brown eyes, and he gets upset once more. “Sure you do. I know ya think ‘m pathetic, and stupid, and—” 

“As Bertha and her newfound companion, Millarca, embraced and had talks of life and love, I talked to the mysterious Countess about her dear daughter. First she asked me of my niece’s story, and then, she gave me a story of her own.” 

Chase groans, and Buddy watches as he pulls back and sits against the chair, trying to fix his hair. “Sure to interrupt my talk, General whose voice is in my head. Wha’ now?”

He turns his head to listen to the General and Countess, who seem to be oblivious to the Drunk Chase and a Not-Knowing-What-To-Do-Buddy. 

The general had come to learn that Millarca was just as lonely as poor Bertha, and she was also just as frequently as sick, with her fainting spells making it difficult to come on her long journeys with the dear Countess. “See…my dear Millarca has also lacked a dear friend. It is horrible. Oh, but if only— No, no, that would be too…” 

The general was far too trusting for his own good. He could still not see this Countess’s face, but he had grown to trust her mysterious storytelling, and the way their children seemed to gravitate to each other. “No, do tell me, dear Countess.” He was more than enamored with his lonely niece and now, the story of this new young lady. Both lacked company and friendship, and hope seemed to spark his senses.

“Would it be too much to ask Millarca to stay with your dear Bertha for many months? She is far too lonely and her spells too frequent to come with us.” 

Nox knew this was coming, but he still smirks at the shock on the General’s face. “Whu—” 

All of a sudden, the orchestra becomes louder once more as the slow symphony changes to a dramatic Viennese waltz, now blaring into their ears. 

Over the noise, the General screams a little too loud to be heard, “COUNTESS, WE MUST TAKE OUR CHILDREN OUTSIDE TO DISCUSS THIS MATTER!” Chase nods at the eye contact the General makes with him, making a motion to stand up. Nox’s eyes brighten as he hears the waltz playing in his ears, the familiar melody of ‘21 Hungarian Dances’ blaring.

Nox gets up first, watching how Chase struggles. “Come on, you’re with me.” He drags Chase carefully, hoping he won’t argue or punch him in the face (yes, a drunk character in a book had done that to him before. It hurt.) 

Except…this was Chase. He was so stupidly sweet that there was nothing that he would do except cling to him. And it made Buddy…weirdly happy. 

Wait, did he— 

Nox had only recently realized how much he liked when Chase gave him attention. When he hugged him like this, saving him, but now, selfishly hanging on…

His heart uncomfortably beats in his chest as they walk outside and sit on a bench carved into marble, grounding both of them against it.

The general smiled at Nox. “It seems you two are rather infatuated with each other.” The Countess laughs and hums with agreement before moving to speak with the General once more.

“In the end, seeing how Millarca and Bertha clung to each other, I was inclined to agree. Though, the countess started to speak of a certain condition her daughter had. By this point, I was rather confused. I was to inquire more when we were interrupted by Death himself.” 

It seemed that they were now discussing Millarca’s ‘condition’. 

Buddy stood with Chase next to the steps, letting him rest on his shoulder as he watched from afar. Suddenly, he appeared. Deacon.

His makeup for this scene seemed to be paler than ever. He was dressed in a tuxedo that was not out of the ordinary, unsmiling and plain as he uttered loud enough for Nox to hear, “Will Madame the Countess allow me to interest her with a few words of my own?” He had bowed lowly, repeating the line with almost perfect accuracy.

She smiled. “Of course. Dear General, I shall return after I utter some words.” 

It impressed Nox to see how dedicated Deacon was to his role when he wasn’t with Chase. His eyes strayed to where both Chase and Buddy were sitting, eyes widening to a passed-out Chase, but he didn’t say anything.

At once, as the Countess’ voice lowers, he relaxes and whispers something back to her, standing a few feet apart from the confused General.

There’s a nod from Deacon, who walks away, shrouded in Shadow once more. 

He’s not to be seen again, no matter how hard Nox looks.

Right in front of them, the General and Madame Karnstein talk a little more, but by this point, Buddy drowns out the rest of their words. 

He moves back to stare at Chase, so peaceful when he’s asleep like this. 

A newfound fondness laces his senses. He’s so very gentle like this. Anger seems to slip past him all of a sudden. 

Even if sober Chase wouldn’t forgive him, he still wished he would. 

The conversation between the Countess and the General had paused, and he sighs in finality. “Alright, dear Countess. It seems our children are truly interested in each other. Bertha could use a companion, and you deserve to be safe on your journey, my dear friend.”

Nox heard, “—thank you. I will send a letter to your address a month before I shall collect Millarca. Thank you, my old friend. This deed of yours will truly resonate with me.” 

The next moment, at the front of the marble steps, a carriage stops.

It’s beautiful, built of dark oak and shrouded in silken-purple curtains. The carriage is carved with swirls and two lanterns hang from where the driver sits. 

“Ah, that is my ride, dear General. I will depart.” 

The General nods. “Of course. Goodbye.” 

He walks over to where Chase and Nox are. “Well, Millarca. I will call a carriage. Oh, has dear Bertha fallen asleep?” 

Buddy chuckles. “It seems so, General.” 

“Aye. I can carry her—” 

Nox shakes his head, wanting to cling to Chase more than ever. “I have it.” to prove his point, he lifts Chase up, though it doesn’t take him much effort.

There’s a plain white carriage that agrees to take them, the General talking to the driver before sitting inside with both Chase and Nox. 

Nox carefully adjusts Chase so that he’s still slumped against his shoulder, watching how he sleeps. 

“Bertha and Millarca were both exhausted, it seemed. We called a carriage to leave for my humble abode. But inviting Evil into my house was the worst decision I had ever made.” 

Nox heard that blare in his head.

He bites the inside of his cheek as he carries Chase in his arms, thoroughly wishing he didn’t have to be Evil all the time. 

Chapter Text

The plain white carriage Buddy, Chase, and the General have been riding in rumbles to a stop, jolting Chase awake as he falls against soft fabric.

Through his post-drunken haze, he still has a massive headache. It’s been a good three hours, and he can barely stay upright against the slope of Buddy’s shoulder.

“Chase, we’re here,” Buddy murmurs in the small space they’ve made against each other.

Things have seemed to change between them, the awkwardness of argument and hatred lost between them… for now.

The way that Chase clung to his shoulder makes Buddy’s heart soar, a small smile escaping him before he can stop himself.

Violet help me.

The General sat in the front-most compartment to guide the carriage driver as to where their house would be. He hears the General murmur to the carriage driver; a few coins clink into his hands before he knocks on the carriage door.

“Here we are! Come on, Millarca.” 

Buddy opts, once again, to carry Chase out of the carriage. He’s light compared to him, and he moves Chase so that his arms are wrapped around his neck. “Hold on,” he murmurs. He doesn’t respond.

The scene they are met with is a house much smaller than Laura’s and Sir Denarius’. In front of them is a quaint two story house, sized for the average Victorian. 

“Come on. For today, you shall sleep in Bertha’s room until I can set up a guest stay for you. Will your mother…be bringing your items to our—” he pauses when he realizes the front porch is littered with 2 suitcases. He jolts a little, fear spreading across his face, but relaxes after realizing he had told the Countess their location during their conversation. “Well, good to know.” 

The General takes the suitcases as the two walk upstairs. Nox grins softly, though in the same motion, coughs and sighs weakly.

“Are you sure it is not any trouble to carry her back? Those coughs of yours seem quite troubling, and your mother told me that—” 

Deviate, Nox, deviate. “No, no,” his grip on Chase seems to tighten. “I can take hi- her upstairs. And I promise. With proper bedrest, I will heal. I hope my mother has told you the details of my temporary cough.” 

“That she has, yes. Our bed shall be big enough to accompany you both. Once again, apologies, our house isn’t very wealthy…” 

“It does not matter to me. The care you have shown me has been impeccable, dear General.” 

“In the beginning, Millarca was a very sweet and charming girl. She kept my dear Bertha company and was very polite. It was this innocent demeanor of hers that seemed to grasp me and further convince me to make her my guest.” 

Chase stirs, but doesn’t wake at the narration.

Mostly, he stayed limp in Nox’s arms as they finally reached the only bedroom that looked fit for a young woman in this house. The first thing Nox notices is the quaint bed, adorned with curtains that look hand-stitched, but there’s a certain charm to the rest of the room, grey-ish blue wallpaper encapsulating them.

The General places the luggage down by the foot of the bed. “Get yourself settled.” Nox nods as he moves to place some of the luggage down as well.

“Thank you, dear General.” 

“It is my pleasure.” The door shuts behind him.

Carefully, he places Chase down on the bed. Nox’s slender fingers brush against his chest as he tucks him in, and he retracts back immediately. He’s scared to touch him too much, worried that he’ll linger if he lets himself indulge. 

Swallowing down his thoughts, Nox moves to lay down next to him after changing into a set of pajamas he found while digging through the suitcase. He makes sure to lay on the complete opposite of the bed. Even if Nox desperately craved his company, he didn’t want to make Chase uncomfortable. 

Chase groggily opens his eyes, wide-eyed at the sight of Buddy on the other side of the bed, wearing pajamas. It’s nearly 5am, according to the grandfather clock that seems to be bathed in the moonlight. Buddy seems to notice Chase staring at him, so he says, “Go to sleep, little idiot.” 

Chase let out an exhausted groan. He looked a little less disoriented than earlier, but he was still just as exhausted, eyes wide as he is conscious of his surroundings. “Fuck, did I drink?” The familiar feeling of the alcohol makes his head burn.

Buddy nods, moving his voice to a whisper. “Yep.” Chase bites his lip. He looks dejected. 

“Are there clothes in the closet? I think I’ll die if I sleep in this. Hrrk.” He makes a noise of discomfort to prove his point, tugging at his collar and embroidered gold breastplate that Buddy wishes he could’ve touched during the ball scene.

“There should be. Wait, I’ll get them for you.” 

“You don’t have to— th-thanks.” Buddy throws the clothes at him before he gets up to walk around. In the darkness, he notices a partition in Bertha’s room to change behind.

He tried his best not to bump against the small chair littered with some dresses, Bertha’s room messy, just like his own. Even though he was no longer drunk, his mobility was limited, and he stumbled and hit his ankle against the chair before he revealed himself, wincing as he came out of the partition. He’s dubious about Buddy seeing him in Victorian pajamas out of all things. 

Buddy stares at Chase, adorned in the long nightshirt that nearly falls to the floor, hair unkempt and somehow he’s beautiful. He snickers anyways. Chase huffs as he lies down on the other side of the bed, ears burning and burying himself in the covers. “Shut up.” 

Buddy uncovers his face and stares at Chase. “I didn’t say anything.” There’s a beat before Chase speaks to fill the silence between them. 

“I promised I wouldn’t do that again. Drink, I-I mean. Promised Simon…and…” His voice comes out in a sad, distant, sigh, quieter than he’s ever heard it. Buddy has to scoot closer to hear him.

A lone question escapes him. “Who’s…Simon?” 

He rolls his eyes at Buddy’s jealousy. “My childhood friend, nothing more, doofus. An’ I also promised Dani and Ross, I was going to add. They’re my other two best friends. I drank when…” He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing. 

“My dad died 2 years ago. And I was stupid and sad, and there was this party. At first it felt…good. I made out with some random sweaty dude on my wrestling team, and it was…nice? Okay, that’s a lie. It was so bad, Buddy. I was crazy when I was drunk, at least at first.”

If Sir Denarius looked just like— God, no wonder Chase was so distraught when he first came into this story, the scene where he had cried over stargazing replaying in his mind. A twinge of jealousy can’t help but shoot up Buddy’s spine at the last thing that Chase said.

Deep down, Chase knew he probably shouldn’t be telling this much information to his enemy who was after the keys, but he also couldn’t care less. When he was hungover like this, he was also less guarded.

But he didn’t want to be guarded either, not if he wanted Buddy to trust him again.

“I guess I got…mopey later, when I was hungover. If Dani didn’t stop me, I would’ve texted my mom about how much I missed him and how I was sorry for being such a bad son. I almost did before Dani whacked the phone out of my hand and asked, ‘What the fuck are you doing? ” He doesn’t look away from Buddy this time, though chuckles. “I’m more or less over it now, but god, I get so stupid when I’m drunk. Or when I’m hungover. Like right now. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.” He breaks their eye contact. 

Nox pauses a little before taking Chase in his arms yet again, the gap between them long closed. “Don’t be. I’m sorry you feel…inclined to push the sadness away. But I will say, in the end, it often doesn’t…help to hide things. I’m sorry about your father.” 

Chase nods, melting into his arms. The moment’s so tender that he can’t even get himself to cry, the amount of tears cried over his dad dry. “Thanks for listening, Buds. Guess I’ve learned to live with it. And…I trust y— u-um.” His words die in his throat.

Buds? “Do you…really mean that?” His heart is beating loudly in his chest. He doesn’t want to think about the following days, the same scene replayed in his head, him hurting Chase, Chase being dejected and angry and hurt, his light dimmed…

Though, he can’t think of much when Chase is glowing in the sunrise. 

Chase moves to lean a little closer. His breath smells like the faintest bit of red wine, and it makes Buddy’s eyes widen as he breathes against his cheek, “Of course I mean it. You’re going through things that I could never understand. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” He continues. “Even though you don’t tell me things, I like to think it’s because you can’t.” 

It’s more than that, but in a way, Chase has encapsulated his…situation perfectly, based on what he knows. Chase is so very perceptive sometimes, and it makes his breath catch with the intimacy of their shared feelings.

But he could never feel this way about Chase, not ever. He wasn’t to trust humans, nor was he to fall for one. 

But he already had, hadn’t he?

For a few minutes, they stay still, cuddling and inhaling the moment. Buddy finally speaks, breaking the silence.

“That’s…true. Chase…I forgive you. And you’re right.” 

He navigates around his words, unsure on what sounds right and what doesn’t. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

There’s still a looming elephant in the room, one that Nox wasn’t going to address. He doesn’t know what to say, nor how to start.

Nox is trapped. He is not allowed to love, or be tender, or share himself with the very same species that hurt him. 

But Chase is…different. He is not like other humans, none like he’s ever met before or any that he’s ever remembered. God, it’s hard not to bask in the warmth that he was offered. “One day, you’ll…know everything about me.” Why are his fabricated eyes, glittering rhinestones, now real blue eyes full of tears? 

Chase moves to cup his face, surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion. “Hey…don’t cry.” He lets out a strangled noise, like a sob, as he buries his face against Chase. 

“I’m sorry. I have to keep hurting people, and I don’t want to.” All of a sudden, dread seems to overcome him at the implication of Buddy’s words. 

If he was Bertha, he was meant to die here. In his drunken state, he seemed to have forgotten it. Now that he’s sobering up, the faint reminiscents of alcohol in his system, he knows that this will go the same way as it did with Laura. He’ll get sick once more, feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, and Buddy will go with it because he feels it is the only thing he can do.

Or…would he? 

Buddy continues with a sob. He’s never cried this much outwardly in stories. “—and I’m tired and— I don’t want to hurt you all over again…” He’s a blubbering mess.

He didn’t want to be the villain. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to hurt me for the flashback to progress. The General’s narration is the only thing moving us forward, remember?” 

He buries his face against Buddy’s neck, listening to the gasping breaths he tries to take. “I forgive you. I wasn’t…mad that you were doing things. I was just…angry and tired that you weren’t telling me anything. I’m not mad at you anymore. I never blamed you, so stop blaming yourself.” 

“But I’m—” I’m evil. I’m terrible. 

“Do you forgive me?” 

“I do, I really do, but I don’t want to be evi—” 

“Shh. You’re not evil. C’mon, breathe with me.” A finger pressed against his lip seems to ground him in place.

Through his finger, he mutters, “I can’t—” 

“Yes you can. Forget it all, for now. We’ll figure things out. We always do.” He lets Buddy throw his arms around him and hold him as he shudders. 

A few moments later, his cries halt, though his blue eyes are still streaked with tears. Chase gets up to look at him, savoring how they seem to sparkle against the rising sun. He moves to brush some tears aside, even as more escape. How long have they stayed here for? 

His tears are silent now, though he’s not breathing heavily anymore. Buddy stares up at Chase like he’s an angel, and it makes him flustered to be scrutinized like this. His cheeks warm and he tries to part from Buddy. 

Buddy only pulls him back to place until he’s pressed against his chest, murmuring a content “thank you,” that vibrates against him. 

Chase lets out an awkward chuckle, cheeks warm. “We- um- do you mind being this…close?” 

“Shh.” he buries his face against his hair once more, Chase’s giggles echoing against his chest. “Your hair is so soft. ‘S like silk.” A hand moves to curl into soft locks, breathing in coconut.

“Buddyyyy…” You can’t keep doing this to me.

“Chaseeee.” His hand falls from Chase’s hair the moment he Chase moves back to stare at him and pout, and suddenly he’s much more aware of the limited space between them and the way Buddy’s beautiful eyes shine. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s leaning into Buddy’s touch but more than that, he’s leaning towards his mouth. His legs tentatively wrap around his waist as he leans forward, blond hair falling in the limited space between them.

His heart slams in his throat as Buddy watches Chase lean in. Before he can stop himself, he very visibly panics as he pulls away from the enchanting glow of brown eyes that seem to freeze him in place every time he sees them. “Uh…” 

“Can I…?” His eyes flicker down to Buddy’s lips. 

Is Nox allowed to want things like this, forget about the rest of the book and whatever they went through? 

Is he allowed to want things when all he does is mess them up?

Chase is no longer drunk, but he’s hungover, his head hurting, but the only thing he can care about is the boy underneath him. He knows he wants this badly, even if Buddy wouldn’t…reciprocate it.

Buddy’s cheeks are red, his expression more than uncertain. “This won’t…the book—” 

Chase frowns, and his heart sinks in his chest at the same time. Suddenly, he’s cold. 

If Buddy was going to reject him, he’d at least want it to be like this. A soft sorry, a sinking in his chest as he sits up to get off the boy he’s practically straddling. 

“Okay, I get it if you don’t wa—” he never completes the rest of his sentence as Buddy closes the gap between them. 

Buddy decides he’s tired of worrying about the future when he has it right in front of him. 

For a moment, it’s only an awkward press of lips against lips, Chase’s eyes wide with shock for a few moments until they flutter shut. His arms that grip the bed on either side of Buddy seem to weaken as he melts into the kiss. Salty tears drip onto Chase’s skin. 

Chase tastes like red wine, and it makes him flinch as he pulls back, as if he would go drunk on the taste of his lips. Chase stares back at glittering blue, more full of light then he’s ever seen before. There’s still tears pooling in his eyes, and Chase moves to brush them aside.

“I’m sorry—” 

“Hey, don’t apologize. You’re a much better kisser than the dude I made out wi—” Buddy pulls back to glare at Chase’s smug expression, tears drying on his face as he hisses.

“Asshole.” And he’s kissing Chase once more, rolling them over until he’s on top of Chase and pressing desperate pecks to his mouth. Chase is smiling through the kiss, and Buddy is laughing through it, squeaks and snorts escaping him. “You’re—” Another kiss. “—killing the—” Buddy’s fingers tangle in his hair as he breathes into him. “— mood .” They’re barely even kissing, their teeth smashing together as they peck and peck and peck.

Chase’s hands roam his shoulders, cupping his face and trying to hold back his grin as Buddy nips at his mouth, and he gasps with every bold move of his mouth, his fangs making the motion sting. The sun’s nearly fully risen behind them, bathing them in soft light and new beginnings. 

Buddy can’t help himself as he rapidly unbuttons a few buttons on his collar before he moves his mouth to Chase’s neck, soft skin captured into his mouth. 

His full body shivers under the touch. Buddy kisses and licks and whispers, “I knew it.” He can feel him breathing onto his skin. And Chase…likes it. 

“Kne-Knew what? Buddy—!”

“That you’d like it if I bit you like this.” He pulls back to watch how Chase’s face flushes red as Buddy’s other hand ruffles his hair. “See, you do like it. Adorable. You’re so adorable.” He’s cooing at him like an idiot.

Chase’s hair is splayed across the pillow, an utter mess. He’s in a daze, no longer drunk but head pounding at the sheer intensity of the moment. His eyes are utterly soft as he stares. Chase’s lips are swollen, soft pink now burning red where Buddy bit him. “You stupid vampire.” Chase is gasping against his mouth, voice raspy as he speaks. 

“You like me anyways.” He watches him with heavy lidded eyes as he fiddles with each button, starting to snap each close and hide any damage he would’ve accidentally done to his perfectly smooth skin.

Buddy must look equally as stupid against him. He wants to lean into Chase once more, close the gap between them again until he could no longer hear his heart pounding in his ears, nor the little voice in his head telling him he couldn’t love like this, but there’s a knock on the door. He slumps against Chase, burying himself in the covers as the door squeaks open. The General’s voice is cheery. “Breakfast!” He doesn’t seem to notice the two cuddling, nor did he think anything different of it.

How long had they— 

And of course, because this book hates them, they’re forced to seperate. 

Chase is only able to muster a meek, “We’re coming.” which makes Buddy snort, his voice still rough.

They’re stumbling against each other as they reach into the closet in front of the bed. They grab their clothes and Buddy moves to the other side of the room to change. Chase looks at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion before he seems to realize that he should be looking away. Red flutters over his face.

“I- I didn’t think you were changing.” 

Buddy huffs, throwing off his shirt, which makes Chase squeak as he unexpectedly changes at the very same moment. He catches a whiff of Chase staring at him and smirks. “Enjoy the show.” 

Without thinking, he runs into the bathroom, heart beating in his throat as he takes his clothes, opting to change there. He’s going to die. He splashes his face with water, trying to wake himself up. I just kissed Buddy. I kissed him. 

The idea alone makes Chase squeal out loud, and Buddy knocks. Oh wait, he’s still in this room. Buddy grins. Full on grins. He’s been doing a lot more of that lately, and it shakes Chase to his core. He’s grinning at me. “Come on.” 

“From that day on, I watched Bertha and Millarca form an intense bond unlike anything I had ever seen before. These two emerged as best friends.” 

Buddy jumps. “I forget he’s still…in our heads.” 

Chase nods, tender as he clasps his hand and scoffs. “ Sure, because I make out with my best friends all the time.” Buddy chuckles. “See Buds? The story is progressing at this part with just the narration. You don’t have to hurt me.” 

He’s right. The flashback seemed to have progressed even if Chase had deviated and fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

But after the flashback…the story wouldn’t progress with a simple narrator blaring in their heads.

His heart sinks. Chase looks at Buddy as they walk downstairs to the table, suddenly hyper-aware of the way Buddy frowns and his shoulders slump.  

The General is whistling, in a very good mood today. “Ah, Bertha, Millarca! How are you feeling?” 

“Good.” 

“I apologize dear Bertha, I must leave right now. You have Millarca to keep you company now, no?” Chase nods. 

He’s already used to this conversation with Deacon when he was a little kid. His parents would often leave the whole day for work, and he had a detached relationship with them. That was also why Deacon would come to Chase’s house to play more than usual. But then again, this was exactly how Bearded Dude seemed to treat Laura…

He smiles. “Don’t mess up the house while I’m off! Bye!” He slams the door behind them, taking his briefcase with him. 

The house is utterly empty now. Buddy raises an eyebrow at Chase. Across the table, he plays with his food before eating some, though not as much as Chase does, scarfing down bread . Buddy snickers loudly and Chase glares at him. “Gluten.” he huffs. “Plus, my head hurts.” 

“I hope you recover.” His tone is mocking. 

“Gee thanks.” Chase snorts. 

This temporary happiness they had built for each other through a shared bond wouldn’t last. His heart sinks. “Chase…after this flashback, in the real world, this story won’t end very happily.” 

Chase chokes down a sarcastic laugh. “Wh—” 

“I…didn’t want to tell you like this. Chase, I’m so sorry.” 

“Buddy. This won’t…we’ll figure something out. Who…dies? Do I die?” 

He was already assuming the worst. “Carmilla…is meant to die for the evil she does, both to Bertha and Laura.” 

He shakes his head. “Buddy, I’m not letting you die. Please, I don’t care if I have to—” He clamps a hand over his mouth, even as tears spill out. Chase’s face is flushed red, but it’s different, this time stark and upset.

Buddy doesn’t know what to say. I won’t die? I’ll leave before the story kills me? 

Maybe just this once he could… “Hey, Chase, it’s okay. I’ll leave before…the scene.” If all goes well.

Since he was a key, he couldn’t technically die, only his body within the book. Either way, he wouldn’t want to subject Chase to that . There were some things Chase would just…not know about Nox. To Chase, he was simply Buddy. 

Chase pulls back to stare at Buddy, eyes shining with tears. “You promise?” 

“Yes, I promise.” To prove his point, he presses a kiss to his cheek, unable to help himself. The door opens suddenly, and they spring apart.

Behind them, the General stands in the doorway, smiling. “Look at you two, closer than ever. Thank you for keeping my dear Bertha company.” 

Buddy snorts. “Of course.” 

“Over the next few days, Bertha seemed to get sick. I did not understand what divine intervention this was, but it seemed that she had a strange sickness that I could not uncover.” 

“I had no idea what could be gripping my dear niece with such misery. She struggled with nightmares, convulsions…it was terrifying to see the strange, dark force that had encapsulated her heart. She retold me dreams, horrifying dreams, of Millarca…strangling her, a sharp burning pain against her breast, like she had been pierced.” 

═══════

Back at Sir Denarius’ grand castle, the retelling of the story from the General’s perspective seemed to grasp a blonde, blue eyed heroine. 

Over the past few weeks, she had felt the toll of sickness on her body. Now, she appeared in front of the General as a respectable young woman, yet her bodice was ruffled, hair furiously unkempt because of the days she had fallen asleep without caring to brush out her wonderful curls. 

Laura stared at the General in shock, her doe eyes faltering as she listened to more and more of the General’s story. For so long, she had experienced these symptoms and many more, her heart long weary for any form of comfort, any sort of answer.

These were the exact symptoms she had experienced. She had seen Carmilla in her dreams, piercing her lungs with pain, horrifying nightmares like she had long fallen into a trance, or maybe she was dead, and she did not know of this yet. 

The General got up, sighing gravely. The look on Laura’s and Sir Denarius’ face said it all. She spoke, meekly, sighing loudly. She could not believe herself. How could she have fallen for such seductive persuasions? “Dear…General. It seems these are the very same symptoms that have made me fall ill.” 

He stares at her, his eyebrows not quirking into surprise, his face solemn. “I know. This is why, Sir Denarius, I request we go on a carriage ride at this very moment. You will learn about how the Karnstein properties tie into this.” 

Her Father hesitantly nods. “Come along, Laura.” 

She can only sigh and oblige as they walk downstairs.

Next to her, Madame Perrodon gingerly helps her onto the carriage. 

Madame Perrodon—who is really a brown haired, lanky young man— stares in shock at the retelling, his mind still whirring. 

Deacon had been thrust into a flashback, only to be pushed out of it quickly after. It was unknown to him as to what Chase could possibly be going through in the flashback.

A small part of him hopes that Buddy would take mercy, deviating from the story, only to make sure that Chase didn’t suffer.

Buddy would do that much, right? He had seen how…he suffered at the thought of hurting Chase.

The carriage ride seemed to go on for merely a few minutes, deep into the dark forest. Laura was on the other side from him, eyes distant and demeanor weak. Deacon pitied her deeply.

From outside the carriage, Sir Denarius calls out, “Dear General, are you sure we are meant to go this deep into the forest?” 

“I know where we are going.” The carriage seems to rumble to a stop a few moments later, the horses whining as they are halted.

“Here we are.” The carriage opens, the General extending a careful hand to both Laura and Deacon as they step down. They’re opened to a clearing, of what seems a manor ruin. “And this was once the residence of the Karnsteins! It is said that even after death to their race, they plague humans.”

Sir Denarius frowns. “I think we had a portrait of a Countess named Mircalla…the Countess Karnstein, it was labeled. So this must mean…it is the very same Karnstein manor…Oh, and the chapel as well!” He shook his head in disbelief as they walk towards the chapel, gothic arches curling like dark vines over their heads.

“The Karnsteins, it seems, have died out forever long ago, but their evil haunts humanity. Just because they have died out does not mean their souls have.” 

“You puzzle me utterly,” Sir Denarius murmurs. 

He continues, uncaring for the group’s confusion. Deacon knew what he was talking about. But he did not have the power to help anyone in this story. The General sighs. “It is only vengeance I can offer now, of my Bertha and of Laura.” 

Laura watches as the two men converse, feeling utterly lost as she waits by her maid. “Madame Perrodon, what could they possibly be discussing?” 

Deacon shakes his head sadly. “I do not know, Laura. It is not my story to tell.”

The General’s voice cuts in as he slams at the ruins of the chapel, wooden panels that have fallen. Anger and resentment laces his voice. “—to strike her head off. Decapitate that monster once and for all.” 

═══════

The next few days passed in a blur, quick to progress the story forward. Chase is sick, but not as much as he was when they were in Carmilla’s manor-esque house. Despite the fact that Buddy doesn’t use his magic or persuasions on him Chase still gets sick, though not as horribly as he already did.

A doctor was called one day. Chase puts on his best performance. “Oh, the pain…” The doctor watches the scene, onslaught with horror as he talks to the General. 

Chase hears, “—chronic pains—unbalanced humors in the air—” Before he blacks out.

He’s not quite sick as he was when he wasn’t in the flashback, credited to Buddy withholding his villainess role, but he still feels faint. 

A part of him feels bad for the General, but Bertha was meant to die anyway. Rather give him the horrors to retell through horrifying storytelling yet not actually dying. 

And Buddy trusted him enough to deviate from the story. This was too much on him, and he wouldn’t go to lengths to hurt twice. 

Chase appreciated it dearly, almost as much as he appreciated the presence of Millarca—now a beautiful boy named Buddy. The second the doctor and the General walked out of the room, Buddy appeared, broodingly perfect. Chase gets up at the same moment.

He was wearing flared pants today, and a long sleeved blouse that crossed over and opened to reveal his chest. It made him giddy to think about how things had changed so fast between them.

He could openly stare at Buddy without deflecting or blushing or looking away. “Buddy…you need to stop looking so good in these stories.” He breathes, watching how Buddy goes tomato red.

“Wh- just shut up.” He laughed. It was so easy to fluster Buddy sometimes. Before Chase can lean in to kiss him, Buddy pauses, eyes softening. “Are you feeling okay? I know I toned down my powers, but I don’t want to be sickening you further.” 

“I’m fine, Buds. My own two feet work and I have the energy to compliment you. That’s an improvement.” He chuckles as Chase’s hands move to his waist. “I’d also like to think…it’s the fact that you’re so hot that’s given me so much energy. Have I told you that already? You’re so hot.” 

Buddy lets out an incomprehensible noise, like a snort-laugh as he grabs Chase and kisses him so roughly that their teeth slam together before their mouths can even meet. 

He thinks to apologize for strangling him, but with the way Chase’s mouth hungrily moves against his own, pinning him to the bed, he decides that he doesn’t need to. 

Chapter Text

Laura would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the sting of Carmilla’s mouth on hers. 

She missed being ill with her lover. Ill, delirious, infirmed, these verbs were all one when it came to her love for Carmilla.

It seemed that the longer she was away from Carmilla, the longer that she was forced to confront her horrors, her brain, her consciousness, that was so easily stolen away from her with a simple kiss pressed to her lips, a touch of skin on skin.

She missed her lover, even if it meant that her sickness had dwindled even a few hours out of Carmilla’s presence.

But Laura did not want to be well. She wanted to join her lover in death, in hell, wherever Carmilla was meant to go. The General’s words were not kind to Millarca nor Carmilla, the two girls but the same.

This empty chapel provided no such comfort, nor did the hand on her shoulder by none other than Madame Perrodon.

Madame Perrodon—better known as Deacon Hollow—could only watch as this story unfurled, releasing its thorns, like the very roses surrounding Sir Denarius’ castle. 

Rain poured around them, hitting the chapel windows and seeping into wood, hundreds of years old and weathered. He watched as Laura murmured a prayer to herself. “Heal, O Lord, all these wounds that have been the cause of all evil that is rooted in my life. Please, heal my own heart.” 

Deacon had trouble coming to terms with his own identity: there were too many people to help, and little that he could do but watch. When the story felt apart as rarely as this one, there was no role for him to perform. 

He jolts as he feels himself freeze in place, Laura’s voice no longer murmuring in the empty chapel, the scenery rapidly changing. 

The book’s making me switch scenes again. Back to the flashback? He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he squeezes his eyes shut as he moves.

This was another thing about being the helper: he was only put in scenes that he was needed for, especially in a book like this. 

It felt exactly how he felt when he was thrust into a scene as the henchman from earlier.

To Laura, the scene passed the same. 

She weeped in the comfort of Madame Perrodon’s arms. The prayer was repeated once more. 

Then again. 

Again. 

That little voice in her head spoke again. “Do it until it all goes away. Keep praying. It will stop. The pain will stop.” 

It never truly went away though, did it?

I loved her. I loved her. 

“It will be alright.” Madame Perrodon had not much comfort to offer, except the one offered in her arms. “She will be gone. This pain will be gone under the help of the lord.” 

Laura sobs harder. Her naive maid must think this is the doing of her strange illness, and she is partially right. She wants to love Carmilla, without worrying whether it leads to her death or not. But with her, sometimes even death seems meaningless. 

There’s a soft knock on the chapel doors as the General enters, sitting beside the two ladies. His cloak is soaked in the rain, and he takes off his hood to reveal rumpled gray-streaked hair, a face that has aged a decade. 

There are tears in his eyes as he sits besides the two. “She will pay. I know of it.” He brandishes an axe, the blade sharp and curved. 

Laura only weeps harder as the rain falls, thunder strikes the air. 

═══════

This time, it is not Chase who falls asleep first. It is Nox. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so relaxed in his life, with the way Chase cradles him in his arms like he was the moon.

And maybe he was, with the way the stars reflected off him, holding him and carding his hands through black hair, tugging in a way that only made him sigh into the touch even moer. 

Buddy’s pale skin glows in the rising sun. It makes his heart flutter the more Buddy grasps Chase’s shoulders in an attempt to stay close to him without straddling him or crushing him under his body weight. 

Arguably, he isn’t even that heavy, but Chase can barely think to even move him off his body, intertwined against the sheets, peaceful and slow in the morning light. He feels hazy and slow, though not sick like Bertha was supposed to be…just comfortable. 

Chase pushes him off carefully, Nox too weak to protest. He’s softening Nox with kindness and sweetness that he’s never felt. Maybe softness isn’t such a bad thing.

Buddy sighs, eyes fluttering open. “Hey, darling.” 

“Hey, sinta ko.” Chase can’t help but lean forward to press a kiss to his temple, watching how Buddy softens against the sheets. Buddy flushes at the nickname and their…tenderness. 

“Mmmmgh…shut up. ‘S been less than a few days, you sap.” 

“Wha- y-you know what that means?”

“I know 5 languages, little idiot. Of course I do.” He leans forward. “And for the record, I get to keep that nickname.” He kisses him again. “My love.” 

They’ve been doing this…whatever this is for a couple of days now: just peacefully coexisting in each others’ presence, even as this book was meant to crumple and fade around them.

Even if Chase wasn’t supposed to be as happy as Bertha really was. Even if Laura was in the real story, grieving, even while they were unaware of Deacon’s whereabouts…

With each other’s presence, they had forgotten about everything, stuck in the slope of each others’ arms. Yet, for the past few days—

“Bertha was getting sicker and sicker as my job became more and more demanding. I decided to send a doctor for her as I left for work, even if I was not there to hear of her prognosis.” 

Chase raises an eyebrow as the thump of footsteps up the stairs gets louder and louder. It isn’t just the thumping of his heart. The door opens, and Chase springs apart from Buddy, who is disoriented, barely awake and still sleepy under the physical touch. 

His eyes drift to a dark doctor's coat over a white button up. A bag is laden with items, overflowing, almost, followed by a stethoscope around the doctor’s neck, each item draping down lazier than the next, as if it were meant to melt off the figure wearing them.

When Buddy’s eyes finally flit back to the doctor’s face, he meets specks of brown freckles smattered across a thin nose bridge. For some reason, his eyes meet familiar facial features, cold gray eyes boring into his own before he registers his full face. Luckily, Chase manages to confirm his suspicions first. “D-Deacon?” 

His throat is raw and exhausted. Buddy wants to speak, to say that he’d much rather hide under the covers with Chase forever than to face the rest of the world, but he shuts his mouth before he can say anything pathetic. 

Deacon pinches the bridge of his nose, his glare cold and unwavering. It seems like a myriad of thoughts cloud through his mind, the first being, “Why…did you two sleep—” 

Buddy huffs, trying to recollect himself. “What, would you rather I let him sleep on the floor?” 

Deacon shakes his head. He isn’t even mad about that, he could care less, but— Chase really was too nice to people. 

Before Chase even spoke, Deacon bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to explode. “Hey! Lay off him, he’s not—” 

He can’t hold back. “Do you even see what he’s doing?! He’s— Laura’s mourning. Chase, you can’t trust him.” Nox stiffened, Deacon speaking like he wasn’t even here.

He knows he can’t be trusted. All he’s ever done is harmed and hurt, and Deacon saying it out front seems to confirm to Buddy that he really is horrible. He’s already been given a redeeming chance by Chase, in the form of kisses and gentle caresses, but was it enough? 

Were your bad deeds ever forgotten the moment you learned to be good again? The moment you chose to accept kindness?

The bed creaks and shifts as Nox gets up, eyes glazing over as the door slams. Chase thinks to follow behind him, but he decides to address Deacon first. “Deacon, he fucking cares about me.” 

“Chase.” His eyes are full of disbelief, anger flashing in his expression.

Bile rises up his throat and he feels sick, sicker than he has throughout this story. “No, Deacon, listen to me. It’s not his fault as to what Laura’s going through. Deacon, he’s not even letting me get sick like Bertha was supposed to, okay?! And since when did you care about what the background characters—” 

“It’s because it feels like this is my fault! If only I warned you earlier, if only I— I can’t comfort people! Laura’s relying on me!” 

“Deacon, stop. It’s not your fault the role doesn’t require your presence. Just- stop.” 

“When it became clear that Bertha was not showing outward symptoms of illness, the doctor was said to leave.” 

Deacon wasn’t one to trust people easily. Chase knew that. Chase was ready to explode at the next words that Deacon had to say, his glare reminding him bitterly of Aunt Beth. In the moment, he resents him, and it must show on his face with the way that Deacon’s expression falls. 

“When it became clear that Bertha was not showing outward symptoms of illness, the doctor was said to leave.” 

His eyes widen at the flashback passing in their heads, realizing— “Okay! Chase, but listen to me. None of this matters, but I have to warn—” 

Flash. He was gone. And Chase knew this would happen: the flashback within Carmilla, in Bertha’s flashback, behaved differently— it seemed to progress on its own. 

Deacon was trying to say something. He stares in horror at the blank faced doctor. This one seemed younger and more mute than Laura’s doctor. He plastered a confused smile on his face. “I’m afraid there is nothing outwardly troubling with you, Bertha. It may be the hysteria of menstruation, or the changing of humors due to the rapid weather changes in England today. I think I must get going.” 

Still holding his bag, Chase squeezes his palms until they whiten, and he feels sick. Buddy. Where was Buddy? He had to be downstairs, or— he had to go check. He couldn’t sit here and boil in anger over Deacon. 

But it seemed like Deacon was going to tell him something, even if he was being stern, and even if he looked like Aunt Beth’s reincarnate, which really rubbed him the wrong way…

Deacon just had a role to fufill. He knew what would happen next, as the helper.

“W-wait!” The doctor turns to look at him. “I shall— escort you downstairs. Just write a report to the General dude— I mean my uncle— okay?” 

He nods wordlessly as they both walk downstairs. Chase watches as he retreats, the door shutting. The moment the door closes, Chase dashes to the kitchen, the only place in the house he can think for Buddy to be that he hasn’t seen already. 

Sure enough, upon the kitchen, his eyes lock with jet black hair, unkempt, a frame loosely obscured with pajamas. Buddy. 

His posture is composed, back straight against the wooden chair, the cushion grounding him to the floor. Sure enough, his hand shakes as he picks up a mug of something, sips it, and sighs. He’s shaking. 

Maybe…he’ll ask Buddy about the story later. None of that matters right now.

Chase cautiously steps forward. “B-Buddy?” 

Buddy turns around. “Chase.” He clutches the cup, trying to place it down, but his hand slips against it, smashing to the floor in a mess of hot chocolate and shards of pottery. 

He gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears threaten to spill over, and Chase steps past the pottery, desperately avoiding the mess of shards that have created distance between the two of them. “S-Sorr—” he swallows, and a sob escapes him. 

Buddy squeezes his eyes shut. 

Chase reaches for his hand, shaking his head. “Hey, no. We’ll clean it up later. Come on.” 

He starts reaching for him, pulling him upstairs. “But the mess—” 

“Come on.” 

“Sorr—” He shrieks as Chase gathers him in his arms, hoisting him in a princess carry. Maybe it was a dumb idea, maybe Buddy just needed comfort…but he also needed a distraction.

“It isn’t your fault, okay? None of it is.” 

“H-how are you even carrying me?” 

“I’m not as weak as you’d expect, idiot.” 

Buddy flinches at the bitterness in his voice. “Y-you’re right, sorr—” 

Chase presses a kiss to his forehead, making Buddy flinch at the sudden softness, continuing to carry him up some steps. "Dude, I was kidding." 

He won’t stop pausing in between each step, watching Buddy’s eyes soften through tears.

“And for the record, if you keep apologizing, I’ll kiss you again.” Buddy wants to retort with a sorry , but he’s also failing to hold back a satisfied grin, his mind blank. 

He buries himself into Chase’s neck, breathing heavily. Chase seems like he can sense his smile, because he giggles. “See? You’re perfect.” Buddy mumbles something incomprehensible, his ears burning red. Step by step, they reach Bertha’s room, and Chase carefully puts him down. Buddy’s face is unreadable as he brushes aside some stray tears. 

This time, he genuinely means it when he tries to apologize, forgetting what Chase had said earlier about kissing him. “Sorry for—” 

Chase leans forward to kiss him on the mouth, pulling him to the back of Bertha’s door. “I told you to stop apologizing.” 

It’s hard for him to resist his softness, his kindness, his mouth. Nox tilts his head down in order to press their lips together once more, hands clasping around his waist, that slight curve made for his hands to rest against.

When Chase’s hands grasp his hair with mutual eagerness, he thinks that he really does love him.

They won’t stop sighing into the kiss as Chase pushes them towards the bed, staring at him with utter softness before they crash together once more.

Maybe it was too early to utter an I love you just for Chase. But he sure did deserve it.

He hoped that these kisses conveyed that much. They’d forget about it all, just for now.

═══════

“...so, the story’s still going on as we’re in this flashback right? Even Deacon?” Chase’s hands ran across the expanse of Buddy’s collarbone and across his hair as he spoke. 

It had been at least an hour of them just talking before the conversation shifted into something more serious. He watches how Buddy stiffens, but realizes that they had to snap back to reality somehow. 

“I— yes. This is about the time they uncover the secret of Carmilla Karnstein. They find their family, their manor. It’s a high stakes thing. I’d assume that Deacon is still playing the role of Madame Perrodon, Laura’s lone comfort, because he got…taken out of this flashback, you said?” Buddy tries to keep his face from crumpling.

“Can you please tell me what happens right before we leave this flashback? Deacon didn’t have the chance to tell me…” 

For good reason, I would hope. “We…we’re…I think we have to— I’m…” he can’t even lie to Chase. “Chase…Carmilla is meant to die.” 

His eyes widened. “You- what?” 

“Not that I’ll die, I can’t die because—” I’m a key, not a human, and I don’t injure the same way, I’d just feel the pain. But he can’t say that, he can’t explain that to him. The injury will still look the same in the book, but when he comes out he should be relatively untouched. 

But Chase doesn’t know that. 

For a few moments, Chase stands still as Buddy tries his best to summarize the ending of the story, but he isn’t exactly listening. 

“—the General outside of the flashback is angry and vengeful. He lost his daughter to Carmilla, Millcara…the names are the same.” 

Buddy speaks, and then pauses, but Chase doesn’t register his pause. He still hasn’t answered his question. “You won’t…die, right?”

Nox wants to answer with, I’m supposed to, I see stories through, I won’t actually die here, so yes. But for him, he has to say that he’ll live. As long as Chase believes he’s human. “I won’t.”

Chase sniffs as he pulls him in, holding back tears. “I’ll leave, Chase. Okay?” He nods, a cough ripping its way out of his lungs, his eyes shutting to the pain. 

“When I came back, it seemed that the closer they got, the more sick Bertha seemed to get. She was coughing horribly.” 

The door creaks open, but they don’t spring apart. It’s the General. He has a gaunt look on his face as he grasps a letter. “Oh, Bertha.” He pushes Buddy aside as he runs to his daughter. “The doctor told me…you are getting sicker. What is this ill fate!” He hugs him to his chest, crying out with anger.

Chase coughs once more. “I’m fine, dude. Honest.” He coughs a few times, but they are not the brutal coughs that seemed to push out of his throat when he was Laura. 

In the flashback, he is only mildly sick, even as he feels weakness overcome him. Buddy holding him is the only thing he can feel as his eyes shut.

═══════

Chase has a dream, this one feeling quite different.

Is he…seeing the future? He’s stuck in place, chained in a box. He jolts when he realizes…

He’s being buried alive. He’s trapped in this coffin. 

Right next to him, squishing and suffocating him in the coffin, is Buddy, blue eyes boring into his soul, even as his expression is slack and distant, like a dead man’s. He’s seen the eyes of dead people before.

They’re being buried alive together.

═══════

Tears spring in his eyes, and when he’s awake, Buddy is shaking him furiously. “Chase. Chase. ” 

Chase blinks. It’s dark. Not like it was in the tombstone that carried both their souls together, but the darkness of the night. 

Once again, the brightness of blue eyes is the only thing he can stare at. “Buddy.” His voice cracks, and he shudders with a sob as Buddy thumbs at his cheek. “I don’t want you to die.”

Buddy is not one for comfort, but he lets himself be anchored closer to Chase as he lets go of his cheek. He doesn’t even know what to say. When has someone cared for him this much? “Hey…” He holds him carefully, like he’s scared he’ll break him. But he isn’t, as Chase is the one that pulls him closer, squeezing him and making him wince ever so slightly. “You’re okay. I’m okay.” 

“The nightmares that seized Bertha went on for nights and nights, even as her coughs seemed to carry on endlessly. It was like this forever, and no doctor I found could cure her.” 

They wake up together earlier than usual, limbs tangled together and tear streaks making their way down Chase’s beautiful face. Buddy cups his cheek, moving to kiss him before retracting. “Chase.” 

His eyes flit open, and brilliant brown stares into softening blue. “Hey.” His voice cracks, so silent and emptier of life than had ever been seen before.

“I think we have to sneak out of the house when he’s gone. Let him believe we’re gone. It’s better than dying.” 

Chase nods. “I- I know. Death makes me…can we just leave now?” Buddy nods. 

“Get ready.” he clasps Chase’s hand tightly in his own. They’re wearing pajamas, but it doesn’t seem to matter very much. Buddy creaks open their window, which is attached to a ladder as a fire escape. Their eyes meet, grabbing onto the ladder. All of a sudden, Buddy takes off running, grabbing Chase’s arm as they flee.

For the first few times since they’ve entered this story, Chase and Buddy are gasping with laughter. Chase knows this was for the sake of the flashback, but even then he can’t resist to ask, “Was all this necessary?!” He shrieks as they enter the woods, Buddy pushing both of them against the bushes.. 

“Shhh. I know it’s hard on the General, but we must seem to be gone.” 

Chase nods, yet hesitates. “Buds…we’ll be fine when we enter the real world, right?” 

He nods. 

“I checked her bedroom. The monster was gone, taking Bertha with her. No matter how much I searched, turning the whole house upside down, she was never to be found again.” 

“Now you understand how the pain of a dear girl akin to my daughter builds up, wrenches its life from my heart. I have to kill her, I must, if it is the last thing I do. I must defeat the Devil. She is not to harm any longer.” 

“We’ll be okay. I know it.” 

Chase swallows harshly, nodding. 

Before he can blink, they’re thrust into the last part of the story. Despite whatever happens to them next, Chase hopes that they’ll be okay. 

They have to be.

Chapter Text

Nox was cold.

It was not in him to feel human sensations, and yet, a shiver caressed his back and fell down his spine. 

He shuddered, his teeth clattering as he felt his newer outfit a few times. His coat was beautiful and studded, adorned with more jewelry than the rest of his outfits. It was nowhere near as plain and simple as the rest of his outfits, as if, for the last day of Carmilla’s life she was given wealth, revealing her true form, her true heritage.  

She was to be remembered, he thought, as rain fell around him. 

The black of his outfit left little to interpretation: his funeral.

He swallows back every emotion running through his mind as he takes a tentative step forward, trying his best to locate the manor. 

Even though the forest was dark, it felt strangely calming. Through the wind, he could not hear any other sounds of wolves or screams or whispers of an unknown force guiding him. 

He stares at the moonlight, the curves of its face peeking through the clouds.

Surely the moon would guide him back to the beginning. Even if his lover told him to leave, he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Nox takes a step forward, and it seems like he's subconsciously being guided to the end. As the path clears, he realizes he's right in front of the Karnstein chapel he was required in for this scene, right before disappearing into shadow once more.

═══════

Chase’s back hits a chapel pew. 

It’s dark where he is, and he winces at the sudden thump of his body against wood. 

Next to him, patting his back awkwardly, is Deacon. He doesn't stop his awkward pats, humming, "It's going to be okay Laura." 

He nudges Deacon’s foot, who snaps out of a trance. A look of surprise flashes across his cousin’s face before he nods, finally comforting him with much more ease. 

It must’ve been hard for Deacon to comfort Laura, he thinks. The awkward pat of his back said that much. But Deacon knows how to comfort Chase, even if it’s a shoulder squeeze and a slight nod in his direction.

He doesn't have to say much, just be there for him like he's always been.

Chase doesn’t want to cry at the end, so he wills to keep a straight face. He doesn’t want to leave just yet. He doesn’t trust Buddy enough to leave this story without Chase forcing him, even if it’s in the last scene and— “You okay?” Deacon raises an eyebrow at the myriad of emotions flickering through his cousin’s brown eyes. “Chase?” 

He doesn’t seem to hear him. 

Deacon looks around for a sight of the General in the chapel. He sits at the preacher’s desk, murmuring a few more spells, flipping through a bible, pausing at a quote. 

“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” His voice shakes at the recital, only slightly. But Deacon hears a quiver. He closes the book, slamming it onto the desk as he turns his face away.

There’s no light here to be shown through the stained glass windows. The few green and dark red panels imitating roses do not show any hint of light. 

Chase looks up all of a sudden. “Did- did you say something?” His outfit is draped with shapeless black, nothing regal, nor nothing bright unlike the other outfits in this story. The contrast seems to hit Chase, and he looks down at his outfit, biting his lip hard.

Deacon’s outfit now was a similar shade of black, as he was wearing a shapeless coat. 

Mourning. We’re wearing funeral clothes.

The General moves back downwards. “I am waiting for the monster to arrive.” 

Chase grits his teeth. “Don’t call her that. You have no idea who he really is. He's my everything.” The confession rips its way out of Chase's mouth before he can stop himself.

“Pardon?” The General’s eyes widen, and he spits venom. “You do not understand a father’s pain. You do not understand the pain of death.” 

“Don’t tell me what pain is and what it isn’t. It never goes away, okay? And I know that. Stop acting like you’re the only smarty-pants for miles around.” 

Deacon wants to laugh, even if it isn’t the situation to do so. He admires his cousin’s grit sometimes. And he also is very well aware that there’s a high chance the story didn’t translate much of Chase’s speech. 

He was just like Laura. 

The general is at a loss for words, but he sighs. He takes his axe from behind the pew where he had left it earlier, caressing the blade. Chase lets out a noise like a gasp. 

“You are right, Laura. Your mother was…a great person, but you did not quite know her.” 

“But I do. And this is about Carmilla. My—” he stops before he can say anything quite incriminating. He doesn’t even know what he and Buddy are, but it doesn’t really matter. Their relationship is for their own eyes, at least for now. Chase’s face flushes in the dim light, the rain tapping around them in the dark night. “My friend. ”  

The general shakes his head, setting down his top hat and the axe as well. “I wish all could be as forgiving as you, dear Laura. Carmilla is not as grand as we made her out to be. Bertha fell for the same trick."

In reality, conflict arises within him. He knows that Laura cares for Carmilla more than necessary underneath the charm. Chase squeezes his palms together, trying his best not to run out into the wet forest, search for Buddy and scream at him to leave. “Okay. If that’s what you think.” 

The general seems to have taken a gentler tone all of a sudden, addressing Deacon directly as if Chase wasn’t standing right there. “Madame Perrodon. You know how young girls are. Headstrong. Valiant.” 

“Mm. Laura’s like that. It’s not a bad thing though, having strongly-worded opinions. After all, who wouldn’t say things like that for the people they love?” 

Chase squeaks and jumps at love. “Wha—” 

Deacon smirks ever so slightly, but he continues his monologue. “General, I’d just like to think that maybe love does solve all evil. Just a thought, alright Spielsdorf? After all, love seems to be the cure.” 

“Dorkin’, I’m gonna kick you—!” 

He really does, hitting his shin with as much force as he can muster in the pants that he’s wearing, Deacon yelling out a loud “You— I’m trying to make a point!” Deacon grits his teeth, grateful that the story filtering does actually work here, filtering their bickering.. 

Well, at least it has to have, because the General seems to be thoughtfully staring off into the distance, sighing sadly. 

The General strokes his beard in thought, the wrinkles in his face protruding, his jaw animatedly wide. “I— well. You’re…not wrong.” He places the axe down, and for a few moments, Chase has hope, taking a deep exhale. “But Madame Perrodon. You, a woman, are an innocent vessel. What do you understand about the evil of the world?” 

A slam echoes behind them. Chase doesn't even have to look to know who it is.

Buddy. 

He’s unrecognizable, his hair falling over his eyes, coat hanging off his frame until he’s sure to only be a bag of bones. Deacon gets up. 

The General yells, “YOU!” 

Chase barely latches onto the piercing blue of his eyes before he desperately shakes his head. 

Buddy. Don’t die here. Please, get out while you— Was he supposed to die this early? 

Chase lunges forward to grab the axe, gripping around it.

“Weren’t you just calling women headstrong? Or do you only characterize women based on the traits around you? Is that why you failed to notice the presence of Millacra latching onto your daughter until it was too late? Do you think my words are opinions, rather than deep companionship!?” 

“You would never understand me! My niece was taken from me. GIVE ME THE WEAPON! WE CAN’T LET HER—” 

As quickly as blinking, Buddy is gone in a flash of smoke at the sight in front of him, knowing he was not to stay. 

“No.” He grips it, and the General screams. 

“GIVE IT TO ME. I can— still— FIND HER!” 

Deacon screams out, “Stop! You can't kill her with your bare hands, and you know that!"

The General shudders and when he turns to look once more, he lets out a piercing shriek and disappears. Chase feels the sound travel through his spine, making him shake and shudder. "She is taunting me. She is taking my pain." 

Laura’s father is back, his hat drenched. “General, what are we to do?! I heard clamors and the piercing yell of that—” 

The General shakes his head. “Go home. I’ll get the priest.” 

═══════

Nox runs through the forest, every step heavier than the next as he narrowly avoids patches of mud, the scrape of pine needles against his outfit, pure black as if he would blend into the shadows. 

Nox has always done this: ran through darkness, hoping that it would be enough for him to find light, an ending. 

Was it bad for him to consider finishing this story? Even if it meant that his actual form wouldn’t be quite the same? 

Even if it meant hurting Chase? 

His footsteps grow heavier the more he trudges, though it seems like the rain has stopped. He’s getting somewhere. He’s near the end. 

The moon has been brilliantly shining out through the clouds as he walks, illuminating his pale face and reflecting off the moonstones that were his eyes. 

It felt nice to soak in the sereneness after the storm. So he did. 

He let himself gaze at the moon, one which he hadn’t seen in so long. One that he would only ever see in stories, fabricated for his— 

Nox trips over a fallen branch, snapping his attention back to the scene in front of him as the leaves clear. 

He takes a tentative step forward at the change in mood. The path he was on actually seemed to be leading to something, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for this. 

You’re not human. You’ll be okay. 

But… would he? 

He couldn’t leave, couldn’t back out now. Even with the weight of no consciousness falling on him, no responsibility, a part of him was still bound to unrealistic expectations as he swallowed down his fears and took a step forward. 

His dark boots met wet grass, patches of mud that he navigated around before he found his way to the dark, abandoned tomb in front of him. 

Suddenly, the words that he had spoken to Chase echoed back at him. It’s your funeral. 

The irony was disgusting. 

He lets his eyes roam, drinking it in. Buddy hasn’t been doing that a lot in his story, savoring every moment, but somehow this last scene felt like the end of something that he dreaded to come. 

Maybe Nox did want to prolong the story’s ending.

Maybe he didn’t want it to come. 

Maybe…he didn’t want any of this. 

He presses his hand to old, rotted wood. Carmilla’s tomb. 

Right on the edge of the forest, across from the chapel and the manor and all the horrid memories Carmilla must have had of this place. 

He lets the door creak open to the tomb. 

Immediately, he’s immersed into Death. He is Death, he is evil. 

He remembers the last time he was in a coffin. Nox swallows his thoughts down bitterly, letting himself disassociate into darkness. 

The archways curve above the coffin, implanted with angel wings and the angels themselves. Here, he is close to death, but he is protected. 

After all, it would not be a real death, just of his soul within a key. He would be trapped, stuck in suffocation until he was turned back to normal with Violet’s help. 

No wonder he hated being suffocated, feeling so trapped. Being stuck in key form made him feel like the air he used to breathe in and out was being squashed out of his lungs. 

Suddenly, he felt closer to key form than ever before. 

He lies down. 

This is it. The end of the story.

But he does not want it to consume him. 

But it will. 

As long as he lets it. 

He hears a hum coming from somewhere, and he is somewhat confused. The coffin is nearly shut before he wedges his hand in the space, shaking his head.

He doesn’t see the face of the pale hand that shuts the coffin, but there’s another hum, and it’s left partially open, as if the person carrying it is a tad terrified that the remnants of the person inside are even alive.

That same pale hand falls upon his forehead, and he shudders as he descends into sleep, unconscious, unaware of where he was going next. 

═══════

He desperately hopes Buddy had decided to leave the story early. Really hopes. 

Because the more he thinks about the ending, the more dread builds up in his stomach, threatening to make him sick. 

When they get back to the carriage, the rain has dried up much to their surprise, so Chase folds the large umbrella for him and Deacon to stay under. 

The rain has stopped, but has everything else? 

He flinches at the second carriage in front of them. “Why is there…” 

The General snorts, brandishing his axe as if he’s getting ready to slaughter an animal, as if he’s waiting for the moment Carmilla appears in front of him, ready to offer herself to Death.

But she won’t. 

“Oh, hello, Baron, my dear friend! I was awaiting your arrival.” 

The noble—Mr. Vordenberg—smiles and shakes General Spielsdorf’s hand. 

He's an old man, his white hair was frazzled, streaked with bits of gold, almost like how he’d imagine that Einstein dude to look like. He shook as he took a few steps forward, getting out of the carriage. 

“Spielsdorf. It is but a pleasure for you to call me for business. It is well known to me by now, based on the information given, about the whereabouts of this…Millarca or rather, Carmilla.” 

The General nods. “She had disappeared from that old chapel we were sitting in. Come see.” 

They walk back inside the old ruins, Chase biting his thumbnail until he’s peeling away at skin, Deacon anxiously walking behind. 

The Baron brandishes an old and worn piece of paper from his pocket, looking around the worn chapel. They measure distances from a wall covered in ivy, its inscription something that Chase only now notices.

He drinks it in, wondering anxiously about wherever Buddy is now. He hopes he’s okay. 

They nod and murmur to each other, Laura’s father awkwardly trying to digest the news. 

Chase has already stopped listening by now, but he does catch a whiff of “—Carmilla Karstein's ruins are here—”

He perks up, but doesn’t say anything. The General sighs. “What does it mean for her death?” 

“She will come by here, now that the ruins are vanquished. She will arrive by coffin.” 

Sir Denarius looks up. “Ah, but we must bring a priest then, yes? To fully vanquish the Devil?” 

The Baron, old and frazzled, nods, his hair askew with madness, his large, worn coat flapping furiously as he nods. “Yes, yes! We must. Come by ‘morrow, and we are sure to get rid of the creature for good. The priest lives not too far from the outskirts of this forest, we can call him to break the lock in the coffin.”

Before Chase can speak, he gasps. “L-locked? Is he— she— locked in a coffin?” 

“Yes.”

Sir Denarius nods, patting Chase’s arm. “Daughter, let us go. Come, Madame Perrodon. Spielsdorf, will you be joining us?” 

“No Denarius. I have other business to attend to. I am sure to find a cabin back.” 

With that, he takes off into the thickness of the forest, shutting the door behind them. “Well…I guess we should go back home then, right Laura?” 

Chase is more frustrated than ever, but he smiles a tight lipped smile. Deacon notices the tenseness in his expression. 

They go back into the carriage, Chase’s feet heavy as he sits in the carriage.

He doesn’t speak the whole ride, doesn’t cling for comfort, doesn’t ask for an answer…he’s utterly silent, as if he’s accepted defeat. 

There’s nothing he can do. 

As they get back to the castle 30 minutes later, dread errupts in his spine. 

He doesn't want to accept defeat, not yet, but he has absolutely no idea what to do. This is his fault.

It's at least 2 hours past midnight, and the rest of the castle has seemed to go silent after the journey into the Karnstein ruins.

Chase trudges up to his room, Deacon making an excuse about helping Laura out. The second the door is shut behind them, Chase exhales, “Deacon. We need to do something now.” 

Deacon bites his lip. “I have an idea. I think…if we can pull this off...” He opens the door. "Come on." 

Their footsteps are quiet as they walk downstairs. Sure enough, the hallways are empty, the front door barely creaks open. It takes them a few minutes to navigate past archways, the creak of wooden flooring as they step...

They manage to close the front door behind them quietly, and Chase hums in confusion at wherever Deacon's leading them. “Okay, are you going to at least tell me what plan you have in store?” 

Deacon walks up to the same horse tethered to the outskirts of the property, taking a key out of his pocket to open the pen. Chase gasps. “Where did you—” 

Deacon huffs at his cousin. “Dude, I know the story. It’s fine.” With his and Chase’s help, they manage to get the horse to sit still.

When the horse doesn’t do anything but grunt, Deacon pulls at the reins of the speckled brown and white horse. “Hey, we need this, whether you like it or not. If you don’t listen, it may as well be too late.” 

The horse whinnies angrily, but obeys like it heard Deacon’s words. Chase is half-confused and half-impressed. And half grateful. Those add up, right? 

Whatever. They’re on the horse now, and they gallop right outside the gate, past the drawbridge…

They’re off into the forest. 

Deacon leads the horse, and it jolts him to realize they’re going right back to the chapel. 

Excitement courses through him like they’re so ready to finish this story, to rescue Buddy, wherever he is now, in that coffin. 

They travel for a good 30 minutes, cutting through the forest, straying through the path, but it seems that Deacon is perfectly aware of where they’re going.

As the forest clears, the horse stops struggling through the leaves, trudging along to the chapel. They’re back to where they once were, and they stop outside the ruined chapel, wood dripping with rain and the door left ajar.

There’s a coffin. It’s the coffin. 

Buddy’s in the coffin.

Before Deacon can stop him, Chase dashes over to the coffin, choking gasps escaping him as he runs. 

“Buddy…” He whispers it, as if he’s scared that they’ll be listened to, scared to hurt something so gentle. 

A thump sounds back through the peeking coffin. Buddy gasps. “Chase,” his voice sounds raw.

He drops to his knees as he stares into the coffin. “Buddy!” 

He thumps more desperately against the slight opening, and Chase manages to push it open. 

Buddy collapses in his arms the second Chase pushes the coffin open. He's not crying, not struggling, just relaxing in Chase’s arms like he’s been waiting for comfort these past few hours. 

His consciousness has been holding him back. Through the hug, Chase whispers, “Leave this story. Please.” 

Buddy shakes his head, burying himself further. “I— c-can’t.” 

“Buds, I promise Ex-Libris won’t—” 

He shakes his head once more, and it feels like they’re the only two people in this room, their whispers echoing through the chapel while Deacon pointedly looks away, letting them have this moment. Buddy shudders. “It’s not about them. I just— I don’t want to be selfish. They can’t see— I- I mean, they won’t care whether I finish it. I am safe, and away from them. But I don’t choose for myself. ” 

Chase pulls back. “Then choose for me.” 

A creak sounds behind all of them, startling them. With a gasp, the General and Baron appear behind them. 

The story has escalated quicker than they’ve expected. The General’s axe gleams in the low light of the early morning. 

Deviation. Don’t deviate from stories or—

Chase drops Buddy’s hand as the General comes running at them. “Laura, you— you’re trying to help the monster escape? The priest came here to check on the coffin, but—” His voice softens and cracks. 

The only thing that flashes across his face is hurt and anguish as he lunges. Deacon stops the Baron before he can come forward, and the priest walks in past the clamor. 

It’s a flurry of people trying to rush at the coffin.

“Get— away—! LET ME KILL THE DEVIL!” 

“CARMILLA! LEAVE, NOW!” Chase yells. 

He runs from the coffin, not having looked to see if Buddy had left, but now desperately trying to restrain the General, stall for as long as he could before he rushes at the coffin.

The priest pushes past them, yelling a rushed spell as the General raises his axe. 

Chase shuts his eyes, Deacon squeezing at his arm. “He left, he left the story before— It’s okay Chase, I saw him.”

The axe slams down into the coffin, and they all go silent.

No more screams erupt from the coffin. All is silent. 

The story ejects them the moment the silence starts, leaving no time for reflection. 

═══════

Deacon and Chase collapse on the floor of the attic. 

Silver gasps. “Surely, that was a lot of narratonin for both of you, but…” she stops at the pain-stricken expression on Chase’s face. “Chase?” 

Deacon shakes his head as Chase buries his face in his arm. “I think…I’m going to take a nap.” 

Bronze raises a confused eyebrow. “What—” 

He scrunches his nose, his freckles more visible now. “We’ll talk later, okay? Promise, guys.” Deacon follows behind, stepping down into Chase’s bedroom, where sure enough, he’s curled into his bed. 

“Chase? He’s okay, I promise.” 

“I— I know. But…that was…I need to know if he’s okay now , Deacon. It’s all my fault.” 

“You didn’t know. You can see him later, give him time. He’ll be okay.” 

“But—” He chokes on a sob. 

“Chase, just— rest. We’ll go look for him tomorrow, okay? He needs time to recover from that book too.” 

With a final shuddering breath, Chase sighs. “Okay.” 

He knows Buddy would be okay. 

Chase lets his eyes shut, allowing him to rest, something which he hadn’t allowed himself to do ever since he’d entered the story. 

His brain’s still reeling with unanswered questions, but he thinks that he can wait until tomorrow, let himself rest.

Chapter Text

Chase paces the floor of the ballroom in this book. Since he was the heroine, he had chosen a book to be away from every other character but the villainess. He willed for Buddy to come back.

The memories of the last book had left him fractured in pieces, a silence so loud that only the sight of Buddy could fill it again, even if he held a quiet resolve.

It had only been a day of waiting and pacing, and it was right before sunrise. Chase hadn't slept the whole night awaiting Buddy, waiting for Deacon to fall asleep before he decided to go into another book anyways.

It hadn't even been that long since Chase had talked to him. He knew he needed to give Buddy time to recover, time to let him survive nearly getting—

He can't even utter the words out. Buddy almost died. He doesn't want him to ever again. It was his fault, but he hoped it wasn't and he didn't want to admit it was, because—

Chase needed to stop making mistakes. He needed to stop going into books with the foolish intention of finishing them, of hiding behind secrets because of stupid Buddy.

But it wasn't really Buddy's fault, it was his. He shouldn't have mindlessly went into a book like that, watch Buddy hurt and then him hurt, the shared weight of their secrets crashing down on them like an anvil. They'd hurt, their hearts slamming, crashing down all as one.

In this book, they were intercepting parallels, all types of one in many different ways. They were parallels of their characters, beyond just heroine and villainess.

Chase wants to pick at his skin until it bleeds. It was something which he rarely did, but it came back to him in the few moments where he needed to worry, needed to think.

He thought back to after he'd gotten out of Carmilla.

The book had thrust him out, had taken him out. Deacon wouldn't let him do anything but sleep. It was obvious Chase wanted to go back right away. Despite tucking him in, urging him to just sleep, Chase had stayed wide awake, trying to peak open an eye, only to realize that Deacon wouldn't leave his side within the darkness.

And there was that too: he didn't talk to Deacon about the story yet. They'd both left unscathed, the only thing that mattered to the both of them. There was a high chance Buddy was safe, even if the book had decided to test every ounce of his humanity.

Sanity sounded like a better word, Chase thought bitterly.

Was Buddy even…willing to forgive him for being so adamant that he wouldn't leave? That he'd work it out, unknowing what it would lead to?

His mother was fine. Buddy was fine too, right?

Chase had overreacted yesterday at the thought of his mother. Though in stories, time rarely ever felt like it was anything less than weeks. Especially in a book such like that one.

God.

He needed to think of what to— He stiffens as the door opens, knowing the exact scene where the villainess entered the heroine's room, and they had a conversa—

Chase's eyes meet blue eyes, full body going stiff until he realizes…

It's not him. The villainess raises an eyebrow, perfectly carved into arches, her hooked nose giving her an element of elegance. She's beautiful, but she's not Buddy.

He's not here.

Panic overcomes his senses for the briefest of moments.

He's not—

Poof.

Immediately, the same figure was replaced with—

"H-hello." It's the same posh accent that graces his ears, tickles his senses and makes his brain buzz.

Chase, instead of leaping towards Buddy like a madman on the verge of insanity at the thought of Buddy and how he's here, freezes in place.

He tries to choke out a sentence, but everything comes back to him. The thoughts quiver in Chase's head, the very same projections he knew would come out the same if he spoke them into existence.

Nox takes a careful step forward, not knowing what would happen if he willed himself to come close. But the look on Chase's face worries him. Chase's lips part like he's seeing a ghost. Like he can't believe his eyes, even after witnessing a flash of light, his disappearance the moment—

He doesn't even want to think about the moment Carmilla had…been killed. She was dead in every form. A character he had grown attached to was taken from him just as quick, the jolt as he had left the story just moments before.

But he was okay! It was over, it didn't matter, but Chase's emotions most certainly did.

Nox lets out a soft—what, a chuckle? Why is he laughing?

Before Chase would even fathom of letting Buddy close that gap in between them, he rushes forward and falls into Buddy's arms, hesitation be damned.

Buddy responds in kind, his arms stiffening at his sides before he chuckles and pulls Chase in. "Hey, you're going to strangle— hurg—"

Chase shakes as he holds him. Every ounce of joking, trying to mimic the human's actions gone as Chase tightens his grip. Chase doesn't want to laugh right now, it seems. And Nox knows that.

His blue eyes that drown every sweet ounce of affection from Chase with his own flutter shut. He goes silent, letting Chase cling onto him, chest heaving the more he processes it. It's him. He's not dead.

"Are you…here?"

Buddy's hands around his waist soften, pulling back to look at Chase, mind reeling at the bout of affection. God he's so touch starved.

If Nox could, he'd melt in those arms forever.

"I- y-yeah. I— sweetheart, of course I am." Chase's eyes fill, and Buddy tries to salvage it, tries to lean forward.

"I'm—" Chase chokes on his words. "I missed you."

"It's been a day," Buddy murmurs.

"You could've died. And it was my fault. I let you go into that fucking book. Why would I—" Buddy leans forward, his hand cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to— I mean, I'm supposed to be—"

Buddy shakes his head, this time actually letting a chuckle escape him. Chase's eyes flash angrily, the tears filling them pausing as they water and trail down his cheeks. "I'm okay, Chase. Don't feel bad. You didn't know. The book didn't— or you didn't get to know about what happened in the story. And that's…not your fault."

Chase wants to protest, wants to say something. Instead, he wordlessly tightens his grip around Buddy, burying into his shoulder. "If you say so," he mutters, muffled. "I hate you, goof."

"You made a mistake. But…I swear I'm not angry. I mean, learning experience huh? Don't go into a classic book without reading it." He presses a kiss to Chase's forehead, and it's so tender it makes him freeze. It was meant to be a teasing remark, but instead it freezes his every nerve, unknown to Nox, who's kind of confused and still thinking if he's being honest.

Maybe Chase does have a right to be this guilty. He didn't know that Nox couldn't feel any pain, any sort of strain on him throughout the story—even if he could feel the effects of every story on his heart.

But Chase is…

He's reckless, to put it simply.

It's not his fault, not exactly. He's a stupid, beautiful, human. And the longer Nox gazes down at Chase, the more fondness overtakes his senses. The more he wants to throw it all away, every argument . He already has for this boy, hasn't he?

Chase's eyes flutter shut before Nox even leans in, like he wants the kiss, like he's expecting it like the very oxygen he breathes in the form of Nox's lips on his.

"Chase, can I—" He wants this, he wants to say it out loud, he wants to complete his sentence—

But he never completes his sentence, because Chase jumps into his arms and closes the gap between them. They stumble across the hall of the room, and it ceases to exist under this moment.

Buddy's eyes flutter shut, and he exhales into his mouth, kissing softly and sweetly at the same time. Chase's hands reach into his hair to tug, to caress, to touch the apologies into his skin and make them real.

He wants Buddy to believe that they are real. Why wouldn't they be? They're real.

I'm sorry.

Buddy's eager returning kiss, the way they twirl across the ballroom like they're in a frenzied dance. His eyes flutter shut, and they're sure to trip and fall, but they don't.

The universe holds them up as their lips crash together in soft pecks, over and over, feverish until Chase breaks the kiss to breathe.

Buddy's arms around Chase's waist don't still. The faint sounds of piano play behind them, and it makes both of them chuckle as their foreheads separate in distance. "We never got to dance in that ballroom scene in Carmilla," Chase pouts.

Buddy sighs. "And who's fault was that?"

"Shut up. Can we dance now?" His eyes soften as he looks down into Chase's brown puppy eyes, and he's a goner.

"Ask nicely."

"Can we dance, please?"

"Yes, you may have this dance."

With that, Nox takes him back into his arms, unwavering, ready to hold him there as long as necessary, enough to keep them together.