Unconnected Short Stories
falsteloj
Ao3
1024 words

#01. Confused

"This," the Count had said back when they still lived in Transylvania, holding up the sobbing woman with a fist in her long blonde hair, "is dinner." Vlad had watched in horror as his Dad sank his fangs into the pale curve of her neck, lips and chin coming away streaked red with blood. The Count had grinned then, fangs glinting menacingly in the candlelight. Vlad had shrank back against the wall shaking his head, unable to form words, eyes fixed on the lifeless form at his father's feet. He knew it was what he should want. But he didn't.

#02. Shocked

"She's gone," Ingrid had said the day their mother ran off with a werewolf, eyes wide and over bright. Vlad had offered her a strained smile, not knowing what to say to make it better. Somehow knowing instinctively that there was nothing he could say to make it better. Ingrid had sunk down onto the cold stone step next to him, expression blank with shock, and he had touched a hand to her arm. She had looked at it like it was a bug and snatched her arm away, sneering into his face, "She's gone and it's all your fault."

#03. Hurt

The first time he argued with Robin – really argued with him – it hurt like nothing he had ever experienced. It wasn't the sharp pain of being punished, the blistering heat of fire or the crack of the cane against uncalloused skin; that he could handle. Instead it was an ache deep inside of him, tearing him apart with the need to go and beg Robin's forgiveness. To plead with him to still be his friend. He did neither, forcing himself to stay away until Robin finally came to him. In that moment he knew; he'd never be so stubborn again.

#04. Angry

He wanted to scream, to lash out and howl his frustration. He stood there trembling, fists clenched tightly at his sides and the words just wouldn't come. The 'how could you!?'s and the 'what were you thinking!?'s dying in his throat at the sight of the misery on Robin's face. The way he couldn't even bring himself to look him in the face. He was still angry, still wanted to know the how's and why's. Instead he pulled Robin into his arms and let him sob into the fabric of his shirt. Sometimes you just had to let things go.

#05. Vengeful

"How can you let him say that about us?" Robin hissed, glaring at Jonno's retreating back. "Why don't you want to do anything about it!?" Vlad shrugged with careful nonchalance, training his own gaze on the floor. How could he ever begin to explain to Vlad that the insults didn't bother him. That he wished harder than he ever had before that they could be true. That Robin might one day come to like him back. Robin shook his head in disgust and Vlad scurried to keep up with his long strides, wondering what else he was supposed to do.

#06. Love-Struck

The first time Vlad realised that the feelings weren't going to go away, were only getting stronger, he didn't say a word. They were sat in his bedroom, Robin for once silent as he concentrated on his work, expression so intense Vlad could do nothing but stare longingly in his direction. Imagining what would happen if he just reached out and touched Robin, his tousled hair and impossibly pale skin. Robin felt his focussed gaze and glanced up, smiling, before returning to his art. Vlad felt his heart constrict and in that instant he was certain; it was love.

#07. Realisation.

It couldn't have gone on forever, Vlad knew that. It was still a shock; a horrible sick-to-his-stomach shock when he saw the realisation on Robin's face. He'd been found out. Robin had gaped for a long moment, jaw working but no sound escaping. Vlad had looked down at his own hands to see them shaking in fear, terrified that Robin would want nothing more to with him. "Why?" Robin had asked finally, big dark eyes demanding an answer from him. Vlad had bit his lip and shook his head helplessly; he didn't know why he loved him. He just did.

#08. Ecstatic

At night, when he was alone in his bed, Vlad struggled to keep silent. Bit down at his lip hard enough to draw blood, cringing even as he was powerless to stop himself panting heavily into the darkness. Robin wasn't even talking to him and still he couldn't stop himself imagining that it was his hand wrapped around him, larger and hotter and surer than his own. When it was all over, the pleasure fading to guilt and shame and a hundred other unpleasant emotions he thought again of Robin and it was all he could do not to cry.

#09. Depressed

Those weeks were the worst of his entire unlife, the neverending ache in his chest and then the long miserable nights of sobbing into his pillow. Robin was careful to avoid eye contact with him in school, preferring to sit on his own than acknowledge his existence. Mrs. Branagh came to the castle especially to see him, asking if there was anything she could do to help mend the rift between them. He had shaken his head and fought back the sting of tears. It didn't make any difference what he felt; he couldn't force Robin to love him back.

#10. Flustered

Robin was blushing and awkward when he finally came to apologise, avoiding eye contact and wringing his pale hands together. Vlad couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, tentatively touching a hand to Robin's forearm in an attempt to tell him that it was all okay, that he would always be his friend. Robin met his gaze then; eyes heated, surging in closer and crushing their lips together. Vlad froze then kissed back desperately, pushing his hands into Robin's dark hair and plundering his mouth until they were forced to separate for air. For once they were both speechless.