"You look tired, Dante. Are the ARVs still working?" Emile pecks my cheek.

"They are. Just ... exams. They scheduled fourth grade Latin on the last day and then deliberations. You don't want to know the gossip I've heard in that room." I hang my coat on the rack and follow him to the kitchen. It's late afternoon and we make dinner together. A salad, cold fish, potatoes. When we first cooked together, we constantly ran into each other, but we've become a good team. I even convinced Emile to put on some Bach.

Afterwards, when we settle down on the couch, we watch the news and enjoy the silence. Eventually, I ask: "How are you doing?"

"Quite well." Emile smiles. "I have a beautiful daughter who will graduate this summer and a wonderful vampire by my side."

I chuckle. "You're not afraid my ego will grow too big if you keep complimenting me?" There is no risk for that, but the compliments do feel pretty good.

"Of course not. I can perfectly keep up with you. My beautiful, smart, caring mosquito." I snort and then laugh at the embarrassing sound that comes out. "Have you fed already?"

"No. I didn't have time yesterday. Well, I was too tired."

"Do you want to feed on me?"

"Are you sure?" He has offered before, and I have taken him up on it, but I like to check.

"Go on." He leans back so I have free range. I cup his cheek and peck his lips before I bite. I drink slowly because it feels less impersonal and Emile stays more aware for longer. When I finish, I lick and kiss his neck. Emile's eyes are closed, but he's breathing peacefully.

When he comes to, he looks up at me and mumbles: "Have you licked my neck again?"

"Yes."

"Naughty. Remember, no sexual acts." He smiles and I wrap my arm around his shoulder, so his head rests on mine.

"Licking is sexual?"

"For some."

"I was just licking over the bite."

"I know." Emile lifts up his head and looks at me. "You're too innocent. It was a joke. Your sense of humour is ..." He shakes his head. "Have you ever watched a stand-up comedian?"

"I haven't."

"I'm gonna correct that right now. I should have a recording still."

Emile looks through a bunch of movies and TV programs and settles on Wim Helsen. Whenever I don't understand a joke at all, Emile pauses and explains it, as if he just knows when it's simply not funny and when I have no clue. My chest feels tight from laughing. We sink into each other, close the space between us that wasn't even there anymore. At some point, Emile pecks my cheek and I kiss his when he focuses on the screen again. Emile turns back and puckers his lips and kisses my cheek again with a loud smack. It becomes a game and our lips end up pressed together, nothing more. We rub our noses against one another and I rest my forehead on his while I close my eyes and breathe him in. I feel so light I could float.

***

My thoughts are running despite my slumber. It's early morning and I'd love to revel in that moment between waking and wakefulness, but instead, I'm sifting through the remains of a nightmare. They're not frequent, but every once in a while, they visit and I can't close the door. These days, I can't remember what elements are dreams and what was real, but I guess it doesn't matter when it hurts equally.

"Dante? Are you awake already?"

I turn my head to the side and open my eyes. "Hm."

Emile turns on his side and reaches out to clasp my hand. "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry. Just a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I consider that. I've talked about my past, but not that, though he knows that's how I became what I am. "It's not about a single thing. I don't know what this one was about, but I dream about my father. The Plague. The monastery. The monk that locked me up. The one I killed. It's a mess in my head. Hazy."

Emile squeezes my hand. "That's natural. Your mind wants to protect you from your trauma."

"I know. But it's still there."

"Do you want to let it out?"

"Let it out?" I scoff. "I would have done that long ago if I could."

"But have you ever talked about it? Do you want to see a therapist?"

"And tell them what? Orphans don't go to monasteries anymore, monks don't whip people, or turn them into vampires!"

"You're not the first to be abused by a priest. We could try to cure your ... cancer. You can talk to me."

I sigh. "You're too kind. Too patient."

"You're my partner. Of course I want to support you. Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

I close my eyes and mutter: "I would."

"So, do you want to let things out?"

I look at the ceiling. "He made me drink things. They burnt. There were chains. Dusk. I love light, but I hate the sun."

"Because you're albino? Or another reason?"

"Albino. It's better since I have the immune system of a vampire, but my skin and eyes don't like a bright sun."

"I love your eyes."

"Even though they're red?"

"Because they're red." I hear the smirk in Emile's voice. "So your ideal present is a lamp or candles?"

"I don't know? My students have given me those baskets. My father gave me an unclear piece of glass once. That's the only present I've ever gotten. That type of things."

"A piece of glass? Do you still have it?"

I turn my head again and Emile's eyes are softer than a blanket. "No. I ... My father made me flee, when he was ill. I didn't take anything with me. And another family lived in the house when I went back. After ..."

"Do you wish you had something left from him?"

"Sometimes. I don't remember a whole lot anymore. I'm not sure what his voice sounded like. Or the shape of his face. I can't visit his grave. I have nothing. It was ... is ... was very lonely."

Emile rolls over to wrap an arm around me. His face is uncomfortably close and intimate, but I don't look away because it also burns in a way that reminds me I'm not a lone soul in a void. "It's okay to miss your parents. Everyone does. I miss my dad, and I still have my mom. But what you've been through ... You're strong. And you're not alone anymore." He pauses. "Do you want to meet my mom?"

"That's ... okay?"

"Of course. She knows I have a partner."

I keep silent for a while. "Thanks for listening. Do you want to talk?"

"I will when I do. I'm fine now. Let's just lie in bed for a while longer. What time were you gonna meet Charles?"

"Ten. Brunch hour."

"You can afford half an hour more with me then."

I snuggle up to Emile. It's hot already, despite the early hour, but I can stand the extra body heat for this.