Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7285696.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Gen, M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars_Episode_VII:_The_Force_Awakens_(2015)
  Relationship:
      Hux/Kylo_Ren, Finn/FN-2003_|_Slip
  Character:
      Hux_(Star_Wars), Kylo_Ren, Finn_(Star_Wars), FN-2003_|_Slip
  Additional Tags:
      Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Vampires, Blood, Biting, Hand_Jobs,
      POV_First_Person, Gothic, Monster_Kylo_Ren, Vampire_Kylo_Ren, POV_Hux,
      First_Time, Death, Child_Death, POV_Finn, Dubious_Consent, Drunk_Sex,
      Blow_Jobs, Drunk_Blow_Jobs, Corruption_of_the_innocent, Minor_Character
      Death, Alternate_Universe_-_Vampire
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-23 Updated: 2016-10-02 Chapters: 3/14 Words: 25054
****** His Shadow ******
by iamyourownforever_(Keepcalmanddontgetangry)
Summary
     When Hux returns to Renfield, the town of his birth, to take on the
     position of his late father, he soon meets the beautifully
     mysterious, self-imposed Lord of the town, Kylo Ren. After months of
     consulting with each other, in Ren's isolated castle, terrifying
     events begin to take place.
     Finn has lived in the town of Renfield all his life. The town may
     have its ways, which those from the outside may deem odd, yet he
     still feels that he has done well for himself; becoming a teacher at
     the town's only school. But after the horrifying death of a childhood
     friend, and the arrival of a handsome stranger with questions that
     need answers, Finn finds himself questioning where his loyalties
     really lie.
Notes
     Thank you so much to my friends, Matt, kyluxtrashcompactor,
     irisparry, catnapcpt, and anyone else I jumped into messenger for to
     bounce ideas off of for this fic, for reading through my work for
     mistakes, giving me encouragement when I needed it, and even making
     art to accompany the story so far!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Part 1 Chapter 1 *****
It is rare for travellers to tread onto the manic pathways that vein through
the forest connecting the town Renfield to the outside world. Those that do are
either lost and desperate to find a way out of the wolf infested wood, having
taken a wrong turn on their journey to a neighbouring place, or know a safe
passage through the dense trees as they are of the town's blood and are
returning home after fulfilling their desire for adventure. The former are not
often found alive, if at all. The remains of their bodies, found by townspeople
searching the forest grounds for berries and herbs, torn to pieces and covered
in dried muddy blood, only a few well-placed turns from the town's sight.
I, myself, am a member of the latter, in part. Returning to the queer little
town of Renfield after the untimely death of my father, Brendol Hux, the
unelected Governor. As his only living relative, which was also the result of
the accidental death of my older brother during my first year away from the
uninspired town, it had fallen on me to take up his place. It was out of a
misguided sense of duty that I took on the role, despite the only memories I
seemed to have harboured of the town was the overwhelming longing, as a child,
to leave it as soon as I became old enough. An unfortunate consequence of my
decision was that my education in London was cut short, and my thirst for
adventure had not been quenched. However, I am, if nothing else, a good son.
Thus the agreement to return was unavoidable.
Renfield itself had not changed from what little I remembered of it, nor did it
change in the time that I have been in service. The town is picturesque, if not
a little old fashioned. There is only one well-worn road that tracks through
the centre of the town. Along one of its side sits the school, the butchers,
the grocers; and along the other is the bakers, the brewery, and the public
house. The houses, which spew from the roadside, in both clusters and on
isolated farmland, are built from old white stone, their roof's thatched. At
the top of the road, upon a hill, sits the town’s church. Every Sunday the
majority of the population attends mass, in spite of the hard climb. This is
also as far as many of the townspeople are willing to venture outside of
Renfield's known limits in that direction. The irrational reason being that,
beyond the grey stones carved into the shapes of crucifixes--in the church's
graveyard--far up the winding path that leads into the mountains, sitting atop
the cliffs that overlook the sea, is the castle of Lord Kylo Ren.
With limited archived supplies at my disposal, learning about of the history of
Castle Ren, when I first arrived, was difficult. I relied on word of mouth from
the townspeople more than I had become comfortable with from my time away.
However, each story I heard, regardless of the change of some minute details,
consisted of similar traits. Them being that the family who once occupied the
castle were the ones who funded the creation of the town. The surname Organa
appeared in these conversations, more than once, in hushed tongues, though
those who mentioned it crossed themselves immediately after it had been
uttered. Apparently the family name held a past far too tragic to be shared,
lest it be repeated. I did manage to find a few recordings of the name, in a
dust-eaten leather bound book in the school library, suggesting that the family
really had founded the town. However, many pages had been torn from their
place, and there was no way of knowing what had happened to them.
I also came to understand, from my conversations with the townspeople, that the
castle had in fact been abandoned for at least two decades. It was only a few
years before my own return that someone had taken residence behind those old
stone walls again. Before that, during its time of emptiness, no one had dared
go up to the castle on account of it being haunted by some ghost or demon... Or
by some other make-believe occupant that would have been much easier to deal
with than the one that lived there now.
The first time I met Lord Ren it was by written invitation. I had been in my
role as Governor for less than two weeks when my first letter arrived. Letters,
I had come to learn, were rare from the outside as it took a messenger to brave
the woods to deliver them. They came maybe once a year in a bundle, usually
from the hand of some attractive, foolish young man who had been assigned the
task of delivering to Renfield without knowing much about the town. Letters
from within the town were equally rare; when everyone knows each other
personally, and paper is a treasured item, there is little reason in wasting it
with useless jabber.
Nonetheless, a letter from Lord Ren came, inviting me to dinner the next night
at his home. The letter stated that a carriage would be sent to meet me, just
past the first turn in the pathway into the mountains, to take me to the
castle. Of course, if I had known then what would be waiting for me I would
have missed the carriage and spent the night alone.
My previous investigations on the infamous Kylo Ren brought me to the
conclusion that he was feared almost as much as the castle he lived in. Since
his arrival, which had taken place on a night with a new moon--information that
was repeated by all those I asked--not one person has seen him in the flesh.
The only evidence that he existed at all were the weekly shopping lists that
were sent to all the businesses in town. The supplies that they offered reached
the castle the same way that I would be, by the mysterious carriage that would
not be met within town.
The sun was setting when I reached the destination described in Kylo Ren’s
letter. Upon arrival I saw that his carriage was already waiting there for me.
A two-wheeled black barouche pulled by four black horses. The driver, whom I
assumed to be a man due to his stiff posture, sat in his seat covered in a long
cloak that covered half his face. The hood of the cloak also sat over his head,
leaving nothing visible to me but the darks of his eyes.
“You’re Hux?” the driver said, speaking in a voice so deep that my suspicions
of his sex were confirmed.
“Yes,” I replied, stretching my back. Despite the way he hunched over the
horse’s reins, the driver was large, and I did not want to seem intimidated.
“Get on board. This is your ride.”
Without further question, partially due to my doubt that any would be answered
if asked, I stepped onto the carriage. We set off in silence. One which I did
not wish to keep. However, as I had predicted, the driver made no response to
any of the conversation starters I sent to him. Other than an ugly grunt once
in awhile, we continued in silence, and I gave up in trying to be polite.
The surface of the road was steep. During the journey I came to understand why
the simple carriage needed four horses to draw it: strength and speed were
necessities upon this path. By the time we reached the castle, a blanket of
darkness had been dragged across the sky. Not a single light shone from any of
the castle’s windows either, causing the seeds of doubt that had been planted
within my stomach earlier to bloom.
“We’re here,” the driver announced, as if I could not see the obvious. He
stepped down from his seat. No hand was offered to me to make the transition
from my seat to the ground any easier, and I must confess my legs shook a
little from the impact of my awkward landing. Meanwhile my driver stood a few
feet ahead, face turned up towards to the castle. “I am glad to have you as my
guest, Governor.”
The voice of my sole companion had changed. In Renfield it had been muffled by
thick fabric, now it was not unlike a faraway storm. Each word was pronounced
as vibrant as lightning, yet his tone never surpassed the distant grumble of
thunder. And, like rain, it had caught me completely off guard.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
"I said, I am glad to have you as my guest," the driver repeated. He turned to
me as he spoke, the hood of his cloak removed from his head. "Welcome to my
home, Governor Hux."
I must admit, the sight of the man that stood before me was not the one that I
had come to imagine when I first pictured Lord Kylo Ren. He was much younger
than his title suggested, and prettier than I had envisioned... Though in a
peculiar way. Large ears, a long face and small eyes, are not features often
associated with beauty, and yet my breath was taken.
He wore nothing but black; a strange choice in fashion, but one I have come to
learn not to argue with him about. Locks of thick dark hair fell from his head
to just above his broad shoulders. His skin was white and speckled with round
moles, one of which sat above the right side of his plump, red, lips.
"You are free to enter at your own will," he continued as he walked past me to
attend to the horses.
In my daze I had not realised that a door leading into the castle had been
opened. However, my confusion was rapidly replaced by frustration when it
became clear to me what had happened.
"Why did you not introduce yourself before? The entire trip...?! We sat in
silence!"
Ren stopped beside the horses. I watched as he petted them with a large hand.
When he did reply it was with repeated words: "You are free to enter my home at
your own will. Please, go ahead. I shall be along shortly."
What choice did I have other than to do as he said? My warnings towards him had
come long before I had stepped foot onto his carriage. It would have been
impossible to ask to return to Renfield. Besides, I did not think I could
suffer through another journey of likely silence. My only remaining hope was
that dinner would not go forth in a similar fashion. My stomach rumbled for
good food and conversation, which the letter had promised.
I was left to wait in a small circular room while Ren busied himself with
chores that I would have hired someone else to do. To my thanks, the fireplace
had been lit, and before it sat two large, cushioned, wooden chairs. Between
them was a table that matched their woodwork, upon which was a bottle and glass
of red wine. At the sight of the thick liquid I found it more agreeable to
forgive Ren for what he was clearly lacking in social abilities. After all, if
what I had heard of him was correct, he was not used to having company.
Dinner itself was a vast improvement to the carriage ride. It seemed that even
Lord Kylo Ren's odd company could be kept when there was wine involved. Wine
was a rare luxury of Renfield due to it having to be imported from the outside.
The drink stung my tongue, yet I could not get enough of its intoxicating
taste. My lips must have been stained purple by the time the final course had
been served. I must confess, I do not remember much regarding the quality of
the food. But I do know that, by the end of the meal, my stomach had swelled in
size on account of the cut of my belt into my skin.
Our conversation was dominated by questions regarding my background and history
with the town. Ren confessed that he had heard of my father, though he had
never had the chance to invite him to the castle like this. I could not keep
the disinterest, caused by the mention of my father from my face, and confound
in Ren that I held a resentment towards the man.
"He had been able to finish his studies, and take up the role of Governor here
much later," I said, rocking back in my chair. Not being used to such
quantities of fine drink, the wine had gone to my head faster than I had
expected. "At least my Grandfather had had the decency to die only after my
father had completed his studies outside of this town. I simply wish I had been
granted the same courtesy. Do not misunderstand me, it is an honour to return
to Renfield and fulfil my duty. I am a good son. But... all the lecturers at
the university had told me, on more than one occasion, that I held so much
promise in my studies. "
Ren leaned across the table, filling my glass. In hindsight I can see the
significance in the comparison of our glasses. Mine was refilled whenever it
was near empty. His own sat beside him, untouched save for a few sips had
throughout the night. Our eyes met above the candlelight. He grinned, revealing
to me the unnatural point of his teeth. This unsettled me for reasons I still
do not quite know. I picked up my drink and drank until the unease had worn
away. It was likely that the wine he had given me hid the ingredients to the
misfortune that was to follow.
                                      ***
I woke to the haunting image of silver eyes staring at me through the darkness.
From what creature the eyes belonged to, I did not know. They were nothing like
any beast I had seen or read about, shining like two moons risen in a black
sky. In my terror it took me a while to realise that I was not lying in
familiar surroundings. The press of the mattress against my back was too soft
to be from my own bed; shadows fell in the wrong corners of the room, and the
cooling breeze that came through my opened bedroom window every night was
absent.  
Sitting up to inspect my surroundings, I noticed that my evening dress had been
replaced with a night shirt and much looser fitting trousers. This implied that
someone had undressed me without my knowledge or consent. Finding myself in a
greater state of confusion, I got up from the bed in search for a source of
light.
Up on the wall furthest from the bed, I saw a sliver of light leaking under
thick curtains of tremendous value. I opened them, allowing the room to flood
with sunshine. The sudden change in brightness caused me to stumble backward
towards the bed. I blinked rapidly until my eyes had become accustomed to the
change. At last I was able to take in my environment.
The first thing my attention was drawn to was the window I had just found. It
was long and narrow, not built for the purpose of letting light into a room.
Now I could see that to reach it I had to step on top of a low ledge. In doing
so, I immersed myself into the stone wall, straining my neck in order to catch
a failed glimpse of what was outside. I did not know what to expect to see from
my vantage point, but I it should not have been anything more than the blue sky
and hundreds of trees.
I stepped down from the window and surveyed the rest of the room. Despite the
window, it actually appeared quite comfortable. Against one wall stood the bed
I had woken in, and at the foot of it was a desk and a chair. Upon the desk was
a stack of books, the titles of which I do not remember--even though I was
forced that day to read them out of boredom--and on the chair I saw my clothes
from the night before. I hurried towards them, picking them up and holding them
to my chest. My nose wrinkled. There was an odd odour to them which I could not
place.
Nevertheless, I changed back into them; smoothing out the creases in my shirt.
There was no mirror to check my appearance in, which I found strange
considering I was in a room most likely meant for guests. There was one not
even to be found in the small bathroom, that stood adjacent to the bedroom,
thatcould be reached by going through one of the two doors opposite the bed.
The second door was locked.
After banging my fists against the hard wood until my hands went numb, I
resigned back to the bed. My head felt too heavy on my shoulders, even though I
had forced myself to wash my face, and even empty my stomach of any lurking
bug. It appeared that I had already lost my freedom; I did not want to lose
anything else, and that included my voice.
I did my best to not sink into the frantic panic that vibrated towards me
through the stiff air. Eventually I came to the conclusion that there was
little chance of anyone coming to answer me until it suited them. Thus going
back to the bed for a while would do no harm. Indeed, it was not until the sky
had turned a deep orange did my host arrive to free me from the prison he had
placed me in.
The rattle of the key in its lock was the first sound of habitation within the
castle I had heard all day. The disturbance startled me to my feet. Lord Kylo
Ren emerged in front of the door, unchanged in the flesh when compared to my
memory.
"You are up on your feet. Good. I was concerned that you would still be in bed
asleep."
"Up on my... Of course I am up on my feet! I have been up on my feet all day,
waiting for someone to come and unlock the door. You locked me in!"
"A necessary precaution." he said as he stepped further into the room, keeping
to the shadows. "You were dreadfully ill last night. Do you not remember? I had
to put you to bed in here. It was the best thing to do. The journey to town
would have worsened your condition, and I did not want you getting up in a sick
haze. That was why the door was locked. But... you are feeling well now, yes?
After you have eaten, I shall take you home. You must be hungry. I did not
think to bring you anything during the day. I thought you would still be
resting."
I could hardly believe the words that flowed with such eloquence out of his
beautiful mouth. The prospect of food was tempting; throughout the day it had
become more and more difficult to ignore the knife of hunger splitting my
insides. The chance for an explanation to why I had been left alone all day,
especially if I had been as ill as Ren claimed, was calling me too. But another
part of me, that was in greater tune with my sense survival, screamed out its
warnings against the offer.
"That shall not be required. I am rested. I feel well. No other assistance is
needed. None other than the horses and carriage. Or horse, if the carriage is
too much of an inconvenience for you. I can ride, quite well, by myself."
"It isn't an inconvenience. Please, stay. Eat. I shall get you home. In good
time."
Despite the efforts I had set in place to try and remain calm, I could feel my
cheeks and the back of my neck turn a shade of red out of fury. I had never
been listened to so thoroughly, only to have my wishes disregarded without a
second thought. In my anger I managed to override the instincts that told me to
stay away from my host, and found myself standing mere inches away from his
face.
"You misunderstand, Lord Ren. I simply do not wish to spend another moment in
this castle. Take me home. Now. Or I shall find a means to get there on my
own."
In hindsight, it was foolish of me to act so bold. Although the laughter from
Ren that followed my speech stung my ego then, now that I have come to learn
what he is capable of I count myself lucky to only have been deflated. He
agreed to see me home, on the condition that it was with him and in the
carriage that we had arrived in.
“You would lose yourself in these woods, Governor Hux. I would not dare let you
out in them alone. I could not bear to have that on my conscience.”
I had the journey home to muse over the meaning behind such a strange
confession. I also took it upon myself to try and memorise the direction of the
path, but my vision was compromised as clouds covered the moon. From my
observations, it appeared that there was only one path from the castle to the
town. Easy enough to navigate by myself, if I should ever need to. However, the
haunting cries of the wolves soon put to rest the confidence I had mustered up
within myself. They seemed nearer to me there, on that path, than they ever had
in the town. But Ren was not phased.
“No harm shall come to you on this road, Governor. Not while you sit here with
me. You are in no danger here.”
For reasons unknown to me, these words did not seem as ridiculous as they might
have to others. In fact, I even found there to be a certain amount of comfort
within them. Whether it was because of the nightmarish creatures I could
imagine prowling in the dark, or because of my own unstable state of wellbeing
due to a day of isolation, Lord Ren’s company was not entirely unpleasant.
The sounds of the night had steadily disappeared the closer we came to the
town. By the time we reached Renfield the air was silent. Coming down from the
direction of the mountains, I hardly recognised the shape of the familiar trees
until the carriage had come to a stop.
"Go now, Hux. Enjoy your much waited for meal. We shall meet each other again
soon. Do not worry about that."
It was only after this prompt that I saw that I was being dropped off in the
same spot that I had been picked up the previous night. I jumped from the
carriage, bowing my head in thanks to my host for the transportation. Though I
did not want to admit it, he had been right to say that, without him, I would
have been lost to that path.
I did not hear Ren pull the horses away as I walked back towards the town. But
when I looked back behind me, upon reaching the turn in the path, he and his
beasts had gone. The stillness of the air was suffocating. I found myself
hurrying home, finding comfort in surroundings that I had never considered to
ever bring me ease.
Once locked behind the safety of my own door, the keys being tucked away on the
inside of my jacket pocket, I made myself a small meal, before retiring to my
study. The relief I had been seeking from entering my favourite room did not
come, although even now cannot confirm the reasons to why not. Everything was
in the same state as I had left it in. My books were all in place on the
shelves and floor; the papers I had left on my desk were there, untouched since
yesterday, and yet the security that always came from this chaotic order was
amiss.
A week passed, yet my anxieties did not disperse. I busied my days with work,
seeing to the smaller duties that I had been neglecting. I visited everyone in
town, questioned them about how they were feeling. My home no longer felt like
home, and I could not place why. Renfield, although already queer, seemed
changed. Things I had never noticed before crawled out of the white stones of
the town all at once. People were quiet in their greetings to each other.
Nobody ever seemed to speak above a whisper. Even the public house fell silent
after the sun had gone down. Aside for myself, every person wore a crucifix
around their neck, and kissed it on certain occasions. One being when someone's
gaze had lingered too long over the mountains, which they then also crossed
themselves for too. Yet a part of me knew that this had always been the way of
the town.
The nights were worse. I could not avoid them simply through reading and making
a considerable dent into my supply of coffee. Hardest as I tried, sleep could
not be evaded. Nor could the dreams that came with it. My time spent asleep was
haunted by the image of those two silver eyes, staring at me through the
shadows, that had woken me at the castle. Only I could not wake myself away
from them while in my own bed. During that time, I feared that I was losing my
sanity. In the darkness of my bedroom that stare seemed to still penetrate me,
even when I thought that my eyes were open.
I did not receive another invitation to join him for meal at his home until the
end of that hellish week. It goes without saying that I had made up my mind
already to never dine with his Lordship ever again. Not unless my presence at
his table was of absolute necessity. Yet upon arrival of the letter, I found
myself thinking furiously of a way to go back on my own word. I could not help
but find Ren a most intriguing sort of man. There was also--dare I admit--
something that I found quite charming about him. It was inevitably due to this
cursed charm that I, in spite of what had happened, accepted the invitation to
dine with him again then. However, eventually my meals at Castle Ren became a
common occasion that happened at least once a month.
                                      ***
The glow of the fireplace danced in Ren's black hair as he sat beside me,
having just cleared the table of the meal we had shared. I could no longer
count the number of times that I had been in this position. He did not look up
at me, even though I was certain that he could feel my gaze scrutinise him. I
watched as light and shadow competed for the soft features of his face. The
fire burned deep in his dark eyes, turning the brown of his irises red. Upon
seeing this, I had to keep myself from making an embarrassing sound. But one
escaped from my throat anyway. Although it was unmistakable that he had heard
me, my host still did not turn his head to face me. Nevertheless, I distracted
myself from my rising shame by flickering my attention to his lips. At this Ren
leered, giving evidence to my theory that he was not simply pretending that I
was not there. The fire caught the abnormal extension of his canines. I turned
to the fire too, unsettled. There was something strange, that I could not quite
place, about his teeth.
The atmosphere of the room shifted. Tension caressed my cheeks. Heavy food sat
undigested in my gut, stretching the lining of my stomach. I leaned back in my
chair, trying to get comfortable. Everything regarding the evening insisted
that I should be content. The meal had been good, exquisite even. Conversation
had flowed well, complementing the wine. The fireside was warm, and Ren was
sitting there with me too. His hulking figure a mere outreach of the arm away.
If I had so wished, I could have turned back to him, placed a hand on his
cheek, and...
Nothing. Silence. Time passed. Time in which I allowed myself to be dragged
further down by my unease. I put it down to nerves. A topic of a much needed
conversation had stabbed my tongue all night. But I never did like to bring Ren
news of the town. Previous conversations surrounding the Renfield--such as my
questions to why my host always had his supplies delivered to him, rather than
buy them himself in person--was met with dead ears. I was quickly given the
impression that Ren disliked the town nearly as much as they disliked him,
though no reason was apparent. The fire crackled, waiting.
"There is something I have been meaning to talk to you about, Ren." My voice
sounded foreign, even to myself. I swallowed, watching Ren out of the corner of
my eye. He sat, unmoved, still sneering at the fireplace. Wetting my lips, I
tried to encourage the rest of the words to come. I could not help but notice
the light catch the sharpened points of Ren's teeth. Teeth that sharp could
surely pierce skin. Again my head spun. Thoughts of Ren pulling--biting--my
bottom lip swirled around my brain. "About the town... About what is currently
happening within the town."
"Oh? Aren't you doing your job well," Ren replied, twisting his body in my
direction. "Showing concern for your townspeople. But I do not understand why
you would think that your concern is something that I would care about. Please,
elaborate. I am interested in your thought process."
I clenched my jaw. Ren's response had not surprised me. Anything about Renfield
was not deemed worthy of his time. Nonetheless, his reaction was still a
personal blow to me and the town. "This isn't some game of logic," I said,
disgusted. "I am not sitting here, telling you this, so that you can second
guess the reasons of my emotions. The bottom line is that people are
frightened. Myself included."
At this Ren stirred; dragging his seat across the stone floor so close that his
nose almost touched my ear. My confession to my own fear had been a mistake. I
could have sworn that I felt Ren smiling, with those awful teeth, as he spoke.
"You, frightened? Ooh, Hux... Is that what you wish to talk about? You have no
one else to confide in about your fears? No one else to share with? I take it
there have been no recent deliveries from the rest of the world."
"People are disappearing, Ren," I said. My neck snapped from the speed used to
face him. "I understand that disappearances here are not rare. In fact,
Renfield has the highest rate of disappearances that I have ever known. People
leave. Sometimes they come back. But there are children disappearing, Ren.
Children in the middle of the night. From their beds."
Ren did not so much as blink. "I never thought of you as the sort to care much
about children."
I wavered, making the mistake of looking at his mouth. It was pulled back into
a grin. "Their parents are loud," I said, inhaling the inebriating scents of
Ren's clothes. An elegant fragrance rose from them and clung to the inside of
my nose. I inhaled deeper, catching the finer scent of damp, and something
else. Dirt?
Ren smirked. The glint of his teeth distracting me enough to not notice the
slender hand that settled on my right knee. "Well, I hope you cannot hear them
here. So their children are running away from them during the night. That is a
reflection of their bad parenting, no? I fail to grasp how that is your issue."
"Children that run away are usually found," I replied, my eyes dropping for a
moment to the white hand that touched me. A layer of goosebumps protruded down
my leg. Ren's stare did not leave my face. "The issues of parents, within in
the town that I govern, are my also my issues. Or did you not get as far to
think about that? Who do you think they'll blame? Themselves? Ha!"
"So dedicated to your job, Hux. That is... admirable." The tips of Ren's cold
fingers grazed up my thigh, shooting shivers through my bones. "But you are too
good for them. Did you know that? They do not deserve to have a man like you,
Hux. Not if they are not willing to see their own mistakes. Not if they are
willing to pin the consequences of their mistakes onto you. The fact that you
are here proves to me that you are better than them. If I were you, I would not
think of these people worthy of my time. "
Ren's voice had become low. So low I had been forced to lean in to hear the
honey that dripped from his words. Oh how I was tempted to lick up the sweet
substance and believe it all to be true. After all, I had to admit, some of it
was. In that moment I feared that my dedication to Renfield would be my
downfall. Coming to the castle, in the hopes of asking Ren for his assistance,
had taken more bravery than I liked to admit, and it took more bravery, still,
to ignore the direction of his hand. Of course, by now I had gathered enough
experience of Ren to know that his behaviour was unpredictable. Yet this was
the first time he had ever touched me for so long without interruption.
However, during that moment, none of these thoughts came to me in full. Ren's
fingers squeezed the outside of my thigh. The point of his sharpened nails dug
past the fabric of my trousers, while his thumb made a slow circular journey
around the inside of my thigh. I could feel the strength behind his hand. It
was unnatural. I caught myself trying to justify the cause of such strength by
studying the unmistakable toned shape of Ren's arms under well fitted black
sleeves. Wine soaked blood half swelled what sat between my legs.
"Regardless of whether or not that is true," I replied, doing my best to focus
my thoughts. "In times like this they will be looking towards their leader." My
voice betrayed my attempts of concentration.
"And you consider yourself to be that leader? The answer to all their
problems?" At these last words, I watched as amusement crawled into the corners
of Ren's mouth. It disappeared as he leaned in closer to me; his entire hand
slipping down, without shame, to the inside of my leg. "See? I was right. You
are far too good for them."
I knew that he was mocking me, yet I could not bring myself to argue against
him. Shadow had won in the casting Ren's face. The light from the fire had died
to nothing more than an orange afterglow. I opened my mouth to speak, but no
words came. Then I felt the pressure of Ren's fingers move rhythmically against
my leg; as if to coax out of me what would not come.
"I..." I began, eyes downcast. There was no doubt that the heat of my groin
could be felt by his hand. "I..." I tried again, my mind swimming around in its
own stunned disbelief. A distinct form of yearning coursed through my body. In
that moment I knew that it would be hopeless to raise my head to face Ren
again. My mouth had already hung open for too long, and my erection stretched
the front of my trousers. Ready to give in to my humiliation, I closed my eyes.
The nauseating need that I had for the distance between us to cease flushed
across my face.
"You need rest."
The weight of Ren's hand disappeared with his words. Disappointment flooded my
senses. I frowned into the remains of the fire. I did not wish to think about
what I had expected. What I had longed for.
"Excuse me?" I asked, bitterness spilling into my voice. I knew that Ren had
heard it.
"You are tired and you need your rest. Please, know that you are welcome to
stay here. In fact, I must insist. The night is dark and filled with dangerous
things. It would not do for you to go missing. What would the people of
Renfield do then?"
The shadows of the room disguised my scowl. Of course Ren was right. On the
late night journeys, even when he had accompanied back to Renfield, I had had
first-hand experience of some of the horrors that lay waiting in the dark. I do
not know whether it was a phenomenon unique to Renfield, but the wolves that
surrounded the town took on a different form after the sun had gone down. The
prospect of coming up against them that night, even with Ren by my side, filled
me with enough fear to agree to stay.
                                      ***
The bedroom Ren escorted me to was far finer than the one I had woken up in all
those months ago. The mattress welcomed the weight of my body like a mother
embracing her first born child. The pillows were soft and gave just the right
amount of support for my neck. The bed itself was large enough for more than
two bodies, and built out of expensive wood. The flickering light of the fire--
which Ren had been so kind to light before leaving me for the night--
illuminated the slick curves of the carved flowers and leaves inside its frame.
Alas, despite my comfortable surroundings, and wish to give in to the lure of
sweet sleep, another desire tempted my thoughts.
What had happened downstairs, at Ren's great dining table, repeated itself
without permission through my head. Or rather, what had not happened. What I
knew I had wantedto happen. The image of Ren's red mouth flashed across my
eyes: the stretch of his lips; the glisten of his teeth. The skin of my right
thigh, where Ren had so easily placed his hand, prickled with the memory of his
touch. I cursed under my breath. Beneath the thin sheets of my borrowed bed, I
felt a twinge of pleasure surge between my legs. I groaned, closing my eyes. I
was alone.
The sheets rustled only a little as I slowly lowered my hand beneath them. Old
familiarity guided my actions as I traced the outline of my stiffening cock
with the tips of my fingers, encouraging the redirection of blood. I had been
sitting on the sofa in my apartment in London the last time I had given in to
such an indulgence. Though then the cause of my desire had not been so
repulsively arrogant... nor had I been alone.
The darkness made it easier for me to imagine all the sticky sweet words that
would have emerged from Ren's mouth if he had been lying beside me. Dirty
whispers that would have had a way of feeding my ego whilst simultaneously
insulting it. I groaned again, at last breaching the waistband of my night
trousers. The appearance of plump lips, curled at the corners, took forefront
in my mind. My body burned for the space beside me to be filled with Ren's
giant frame; his mouth ghosting against my ear; my aching cock weeping in one
of his large hands.
It was just as my hand was about to clasp around the engorged flesh of my
erection when I heard it. Three distinct taps against glass. My hand shot up
above the blankets, and I opened my eyes. Turning my head to the direction of
the sound, I tried to distinguish whether or not I had actually heard it.
Evidently, the light that had come from the fireplace had died during my
previous tortured musings. The room had at last given in to the air of night,
which sank with ease into every corner.
I sat up. A chill run between my shoulders. Without the warmth of the fire, the
room had grown cold. Sitting still, with the blankets bunched at my waist, I
noticed a soft breeze grace the length of my right arm. Frustration buzzed
through my raised hairs down to my nerve endings. Of course Ren would have
neglected to close the window after, I assumed, airing the room out for my
possible stay. I crossed my arms against my chest, shivering before climbing
out of the safe warmth of the bed. My cock was now soft.
The iced floor bit the bottom of my feet. I was about halfway to the window,
guarded by a heavy curtain, when a thought stopped me in my tracks. The tapping
had almost certainly come from the window. If I were to close it, and shut out
the cold, I risked seeing whatever awful thing lurked outside the thick castle
walls. I shook my head, ridding myself of the hesitation that had unlawfully
penetrated my bones. Reason flowed back to mind. We had walked up more than one
flight of stairs to reach this room. It was ridiculous to think that anything
could so much as reach the window, let alone tap at its glass. Besides, with
the window open it was possible that the wind had simply been the cause of the
sound. It was much more likely that it had been my mind--manipulated by unsound
emotions--that had twisted the noise to be something that it was not.
Satisfied with these explanations, I continued my short path to the window.
Brilliant moonlight flooded into the bedroom as I pulled back the curtains. I
had been right in my estimate of how high my window was from the ground. A
tremendous amount of wonder overcame me when I realised that the room Ren had
prepared for me was one that overlooked the sea. The odd smell, that had taken
home in my nostrils upon first entering the bedroom, was suddenly explained.
Out of impulsive bravery--fed by the conclusion of one mystery--I leaned out
the window, and viewed the steep wall of the castle and cliff edge that fell
below. Then, when satisfied by the impossibilities that came from being in such
a setting, I moved to shut the window. However, I was unable to complete the
simple task.
At first I did not I trust my eyes, for what I saw could not have had any
scientific grounding. Within the reflected rays of moonlight, specks of silver
dust collected into smouldering clusters. I watched with a sense of forbidden
soothing. The beauty, in the shaping of the different dusty constellations,
calmed the worries that had so recently taken hold of me. I leaned forward, so
as to be in a more comfortable position, my arms dangling from the window.
I cannot recall how long I sat there. But I can say, with much certainty, that
I would have lost myself to those mystic clouds if my hypnosis had not been
interrupted by a terrible screech. I fell back from the window, dazed, landing
on the floor beside the bed. My mind scrambled to try and place what sort of
creature could have made such an inhumane sound. The dust continued to swirl.
Closer and closer it came, threatening to pass over the threshold of the
windowsill. It was then that I heard a heavy bang against wood. Ready to
scream, I twisted my head towards the door, which had swung open. Inside its
frame stood a large figure, a bundle of something in its hands. Terror sank its
teeth deeper into my senses. Tears threatened to escape the corners of my eyes.
It was only when the figure spoke did I recognise it to be Ren.
"The castle grows cold at night when the fires go out. I thought you might have
been in need of another blanket. Hux... Why are you on the floor? What
happened?"
"Of course it gets cold if you do not bother to close the windows!" I said,
pointing to the frame. It took all my energy not to sob. "Did you not think to
do that before leaving me in here? Perhaps after lighting that fire you knew
would eventually die out?"
I watched as Ren crossed the room towards me, depositing what he had been
carrying onto the bed as he did. "You're shivering," he said, his huge form
blocking the sight of the window as he knelt in front of me. I pushed away his
hands.
"Well what do you expect? The window is still open."
"The window..." He repeated in a whisper. Then, in one fluid motion, stood up
straight again. My eyes went wide as he swept towards the window.
"Be careful!" The volume of my voice shocked even myself. "There... there's
something out there. Though I... I don't know what."
Ren paused as he reached the opening. The night sky went well with his
complexion. He looked at me over his shoulder, his expression blank. Without a
word, the window was closed.
"Now that that is done," Ren said as he closed the curtains too, enveloping us
in darkness.  "Perhaps I can convince you to get back into bed." The edge in
Ren's voice appeared to be vacant. I had become so accustomed to hearing it
that I did not know what to make of my host's words without it.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The tread of his
soft step echoed towards my ears. I scratched my nails across the floor,
clenching my fists. Ren was above me again; his feet knocked against my
outstretched legs. "Get into bed, Hux. I would hate for you to come down with a
cold from sitting there all night, or become stiff."
The air was thick with Ren's perfume as he knelt before me again. It blotched
my nostrils, yet I could not help but inhale. My heart pounded against my ribs.
Raising my head, all I could see of Ren was the outline of his body. His arms
came towards me, and this time I did not push them away. They slipped under my
shoulders, pulling me towards his chest before lifting me from the floor. The
entire transition was performed with effortlessness.
It was out of instinct that I wrapped my arms around Ren's neck. But it was out
of tragic need that I pressed my body closer to his toned chest. I gasped. He
was cold. So cold. But there was nothing I could do about it, for I was cold
too. Despite my feet still being able to reach the floor, I took further
advantage of my powerlessness by I burying my face into Ren’s shoulder. All the
while ignoring the tenting of my trousers.
"Are you going to put me to bed?" I asked, voice muffled by Ren's collar. He
had not changed from the clothes he had worn at dinner.
"If you are incapable of doing it yourself."
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I turned my head, our cheeks
brushing against each other. "Ren..." I gulped, though I was not granted the
opportunity to finish my thought.
I grunted at the force in which my back met the mattress. Before I was given
the chance to grasp what had happened, I felt the bed below me sink with the
added weight of Ren. My legs parted as he pushed between them, his great
heaviness coming down on top of me. I moaned, dragging my hands up his back to
his shoulders. Friction burned the tips of my fingers. I shoved Ren closer to
me, my hips thrusting forward. My entire body ached to be consumed.
In my ear Ren laughed. "Eager, aren't we?" he said, gripping the back of my
hair and pulling it to expose my neck. My own hold on him loosened. There was
no way in hell that I could have kept up with the power that he exerted upon
me. "I can only imagine for how long you've wanted this," he continued,
bringing his face down to mine. I saw the lust in his eyes. "Don't worry, I've
wanted it too. I just did not know whether I..." His eyes fell to my lips, open
and desperate to kiss him. "...whether I should have made the first move." His
thumb and forefinger came to hold my chin. "I'm glad I waited for you to make
up my mind."
The knowledge that I had not been alone in my attraction--that I had, in fact,
been desired by one so damnably beautiful as Lord Kylo Ren--went straight to my
cock. It throbbed against his leg, while he swallowed my moans with his perfect
mouth. I closed my eyes, racing my hands to the back of his head. My fingers
ran through his voluptuous hair, wishing to make an even bigger mess of it than
it already was.
Ren's lips were overwhelming against my own. Within in seconds his tongue had
forced its way into my mouth, tackling my own with superior skill and
expertise. I tightened my grip in his hair, unafraid to pull at the thick locks
to even out the pace. Kissing open-mouthed allowed for Ren's sharp teeth to
dent my upper lip. I became frantic. My cock pulsated, still inside the cursed
safety of my bed clothes. I lunged my hips forward, beyond desperate for the
friction offered by Ren's muscular abdomen. I felt as though I would I would
die if I were not granted release.
Ren withdrew his tongue from my mouth to chuckle against it. Frowning, I opened
my eyes. I was about to criticise him for his poor choice of behaviour when his
mouth smothered mine again. I groaned, my head falling back against the pillow.
Ren pulled away, the skin of my lips still between his teeth. I felt the tear
of flesh.
"Jesus Christ, Ren!" I said, rolling my head away from him. The distribution of
weight in the bed changed as he sat back. Warm liquid pooled onto the ends of
my fingers as I inspected my lips. I looked back up at him, my hand still
protective over my mouth. Even in the dark I saw the wet of my blood on his
mouth. In the darkness it was black. "I'm bleeding."
"Yes," Ren said, unblinking. "You are."
"Well," I said, taking his face in both my hands. "Do not let it stop you."
I do not know what demon it was that possessed me to speak such words. Whatever
it was, I am certain that it was fed by the hunger that flashed within Ren's
eyes. He did not have to be told twice. Our mouths crashed together again,
knocking teeth. Ren grunted into my open mouth. It took me a moment to realise
that he was licking up my blood. I had no time to protest as Ren's hands were
busied in ridding us both of our trousers.
All at once I felt Ren seize my erection with one great hand. He held it with
his own, and I am not ashamed to admit the exhilaration that rushed through my
blood as I felt the size of him. There was no need for added spit. Enough semen
had already drizzled free from both our cocks, which sufficed as lubricant. It
was with some sloppiness that Ren jerked us off together, his mouth suffocating
my moans.
We came together too. Fast. I heaved at my ejaculation, my hips suspended from
the bed. Ren sucked on my neck. The light of dawn, of a new day, was sure to
reveal a number of marks upon my pale skin.
Once he was spent, my host rolled off of me. Almost immediately I curled back
into his side. There would be time to wash ourselves off tomorrow, I reasoned.
Besides, I had waited far too long to have Ren in my bed. Without question or
hesitation, he put his arms around me. Neither of us said a word.
It was at some unknown point in the night, when my eyes exceeding with sleep,
that I managed to drag the blanket Ren had brought to me over us both. As I
did, I found it impossible to judge my state of wake. The reason being, just
before I fell back into the land of sleep, I was almost certain I had born
witness to something that could not have possibly made sense. The mesmerising
swirls of dust, that had been outside the castle window, had appeared to
congeal in the furthest corner of the room. For a moment I considered waking
Ren up, to ask him whether he could see them too. But I eventually decided
against it. After all, the last thing I wanted was to do was risk my chance of
sleeping soundly beside my host for the rest of the night. I fell back beside
Ren, turning on my side to face away from the tricks my mind was playing. It
was not long until I too was lost to the night.
[by letmeputitinyourbutt]
          
***** Part 1 Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Both Finn and Slip are 16 when they have their first sexual
     encounter. I am aware that this is not the age of sexual consent in
     some countries and this is why I have added the warning. This is the
     only reason for the warning.
     If you only wish to read the chapters of this fic from the POV of
     Finn (and soon to be Poe), and avoid reading the POV of Hux and Kylo
     Ren, the POV of each chapter are as follows*:
     Part 1 Chapter 1: Hux
     Part 1 Chapter 2: Finn
     Part 1 Chapter 3: Hux (Finn is present near the end of the chapter.)
     *this list shall be added to, and it shall be added to on this page
     here.
My grandmother used to tell me stories before I went to bed. Or rather, I used
to beg my grandmother to tell me her stories before I went to bed. My
grandmother was still a child when her parents first moved to Renfield and she
lived here until she died, which was a while ago. During that time she
collected plenty of stories and she shared them all with me.
The stories she told me were about the town: the history and superstitions of
Renfield. Myths mixed in with facts. She knew a lot about the about the family
founded the town. They lived in a castle in the mountains, and she tutored
their daughter. But it was not their stories I wanted to hear about. The
stories I wanted to hear often resulted in me squeezing between my mum and dad
in their bed and crying because I was afraid of what was in the dark.
Despite the fear they brought, those were still my favourite stories. The
stories about the wolves that surrounded all of Renfield, and would hunt down
any children that travelled off too far. The stories about the other beasts,
with glistening eyes and sharp teeth, that roamed the forest that covered the
mountains, and could only be seen in the light of a full moon. The stories
about the terrible presence that she felt whenever she was in the castle, and
the shadows that followed her from room to room. The stories about the
creatures with wide red eyes that would wait outside your window, waiting to be
invited in.
But they were all only stories. Each new morning, when the sun rose and poured
light into my parent's bedroom, I was assured with the satisfaction of knowing
that that's all they were. It wasn't until I was a little older--when the
conversations in the playground about our favourite games and hobbies outside
of school, turned to tales of superstition--did I learn that the stories my
grandmother told me were told to every child.
My grandmother died before my parents did. She was old, they were not. The last
moments we spent together weren't spectacular or particularly special. She had
been unwell for a few weeks, unable to get up from her bed without being in
pain. Her ankles had swollen purple, and it had been my duty to massage them
each morning and evening to help relieve them. The night she died I had been
feeling a little hard done by because I had missed playing outside with my
friends for an extra ten minutes. We were never allowed to play outside past
sunset, and because the trees had turned orange night came faster every
evening.
When I finished my task I stood by her bedside, ready to say goodnight like I
had done every night since I could remember. She had been dropping in and out
of sleep the entire time, mumbling words that I could not hear. It was as I
leaned forward to kiss her warm wrinkled cheek, that was far too hot due to her
fever, she opened her eyes and took hold of both my hands.
"You're a good boy, Finn," she said, her smile reaching her brown eyes. My
mother always commented on how we shared the same eyes and smile. "Thank you
for rubbing my sore old feet."
"I love you, grandma," I said.
"And I love you. Goodnight, and God bless."
Those were her last words to me. The same as every night. Once she released my
hands, I went off to bed. Stories had stopped being told as soon as she got
sick. The next morning, my mother went into my grandmother and found that she
had passed.
At least there was comfort in knowing that my grandmother had died peacefully
in her sleep; that there was a had a body to bury; that there was time to mourn
her passing. One evening my father never came home from work. My mother huffed
over the fire, tired of waiting for him to return. She had been hunched over a
large pot, that sat on top of the flames, the majority of the evening,
preparing dinner for us all. It was supposed to be a treat, everyone eating at
the same time together. The loss of my grandmother still loomed in the dusty
air, even though four years had passed. Since her death, nothing had ever felt
the same. After telling me to go to bed once I had finished my plate and washed
up, my mother left our home through the front door in search for my father. I
never saw her again.
What was recovered of my parents’ bodies was too horrific for any child to see.
Their funerals were short. I remember standing by their graves, wearing my
Sunday best. They had been buried before the service had started. Their names
were amongst the list of many who had been found dead. To be honest, I don't
really remember much else about their funeral or what my life had been like
with them.
                                      ***
All the children who had lost their parents were moved into a home together.
That's how I met Slip. We shared a room. Our bedroom was at the furthest corner
of the house, and could only be reached by going down a small staircase at the
end of a narrow corridor. Having once been the top half of the house’s old
stables, our room had not originally been attached to the main building. The
roof slanted above both our beds, which had been pushed against the walls
either side of the door. There was no more than a foot between them, and only
enough space for one bedside table. A thin-glass window was set in the wall
above it, serving as the only source of natural light. I remember clearly how
cold our room would get during the winter, and that Slip and I would often
share a bed for heat. No one ever came up to check on us, despite our bedroom
being the best place in the entire house to watch the sunset.
One evening, when Slip and I were both fourteen years old, we stood squashed
together looking out of the round window to see the last rays of sunlight bleed
into the clouds as it disappeared behind the mountains. People had stopped
going up into them by that point; there was no longer any purpose to. The
family, who had lived in the castle and employed over half the town, had
disappeared. A steady trickle of rumours had had more than enough time to
spread into the cracks of Renfield, building reason to why both the castle and
the mountains were to be avoided.
"What do you think happened to them?" Slip asked for what was probably the
hundredth time. He brushed against my arm as he pressed his nose against the
cold glass of the window. Neither of us was yet used to the lankiness of our
growing bodies, nor the sudden increase in space that we were each beginning to
take up.
Conversation surrounding the disappearance of the Organa family had never worn
thin. Slip and I had plenty of our own theories as to why it had happened to
them. Two years was plenty of time for us to develop and ground them, and new
tales--that were always spun from the playground--helped keep our imaginations
fresh.
I risked a glance at Slip. The orange aftermath of the day glowed against his
light brown skin. My heart jittered for reasons I was too afraid to understand.
"I do not know," I said, quickly turning away from him and the view. It felt
like there were heavy stones at the bottom of my stomach. I sat down on my bed,
hoping to distract the weight of my nerves by being in a different position.
"My grandmother used to work there at one point. I could bet that she could
have told us why."
Nearly knocking the gaslamp, on the bedside table, to the floor, Slip spun
around on his feet. He looked at me with wide eyes, a dangerous smile playing
in the corners of his lips. I knew that expression. The last time I had seen it
had only been the week before; right after hearing the news that the Governor's
second son was leaving the town to go to university in London and coming to the
conclusion that there was actually a way out of Renfield if we ever wanted to
take it. It was the manifestation of pure excitement and wonderment.
"You’ve never shared that with me before!" Slip said, his voice lifting to a
higher pitch in the middle of his words. "How could you have never have shared
that with me before? What did she work as?"
"She was a tutor for their daughter, I think." I chewed my bottom lip. My
cheeks burned. "I don't remember much. It was a long time ago."
Slip sat down on his bed opposite me. His expression was unchanged. "That's
remarkable. Did she ever tell you anything about them?" The exhilaration in his
green eyes made me want to weep.
"A little. She used to tell me lots of stories, about the castle and the woods.
I don’t really remember them... I was very young when she died." Slip frowned
and I paused. "But I remember that they used to scare me," I said, my speech
quick. "She told me that the castle was haunted by something. Something that
only came out at night. She didn’t like coming home once the sun had set, I
remember. But she preferred to come home than spend the night if she had to
leave after it had."
Interest poured back into Slip's face. He nodded at every other word. "I heard
that too," he said, his voice taking on a superior tone. "My father used to
take them their bread and cakes. He didn’t like to leave the wagon alone while
he was up there. I went with him once..." Slip trailed off.I swallowed down the
lump that had formed in my throat. Knowing better than to press him for more, I
fell back onto my mattress. It creaked in protest, though I had my own
complaints with it too. My feet came near to dangling off the end of the old
thing if I did not sleep in a ball.
"We should probably go to bed," I said, attempting to chase away the silence
that had trickled into the spaces around us. "Sister Olivia is on duty tonight.
She might come up to us."
It wasn’t likely. Everyone knew that Sister Olivia liked to drink during her
night shifts, and spent most of her time sitting on a stall in the kitchen with
a bottle of “borrowed” wine. By the time the hour came to check on all the
children--to make sure that they were all at least in bed, if not soundly
asleep--she could rarely make it up the first flight of stairs. Regardless of
this shared knowledge, Slip got up from his bed to strip down to his underwear.
There was a striking difference in temperature of the room in summer compared
to winter. So much so that there was no need for sleeping clothes during hot
summer nights. My eyes--with a will of their own--followed the curve of his
lower back as he rolled into bed, turning to face the wall. I had already
dressed for bed, preferring to wear a night shirt over my underwear.
I do not recall sleep coming to me that night. My concentration had remained on
Slip; watching as he shuffled in his bed until he lay on his back, his arms
sprawled above his head. But sleep did come, regardless of my memory to it. Or
at least it must have done, because the only other thing I remember of that
night is waking up to the soft sound of sobbing coming from the bed beside me.
The room had gone black. Not even the glow of our lamp complimented the
darkness as neither of us had thought to light it. The rest of the house had
become devoid of almost all sounds of life too; the one exception being the
crumbled snoring of someone, somewhere, below us, cruising through the tight
air.
Without thinking too much about it, I crept up and crossed the threshold
between our bunks. The sobbing stopped. It was replaced by the creak of Slip's
bed as he shuffled towards the wall. I climbed in beside him,  trying to keep
my breathing even. This was something neither of us had dared repeat since
reaching our teen years. Yet almost at once I was welcomed by the warmth of
Slip's arms as he wrapped them around my middle; his forehead pushing into the
crook of my neck.
It was not until I was sixteen years of age when I was finally ready to admit
that the feelings I had towards him were more than just brotherly. That they
had, in fact, never been bounded in brotherly bonds at all.
Despite the odds it seemed to face every year, Springtime managed to pierce the
veil of winter once again. Slip and I were on our way home from town. We had
been sent on the errand to pay the butcher’s for the meat that had been
purchased earlier in the week. All debt had to be settled before we were
allowed to come back home.
The cold light of the sun did nothing to warm our journey, though that did not
stop it from shining bright in our eyes. Slip was a few paces ahead of me,
kicking stones along the narrow path on which we walked. We had argued over
something, the topic of which I do not remember, before turning onto the lane.
We had each opted for silence as a means for our quarrel to be resolved. I kept
my eyes on the ground, it's surface was hard from the cold. Along the narrow
roadside daffodils had started to grow their golden crowns. I stopped to gaze
at them, contemplating whether to pluck some from the earth and take them home.
Although we had not been sent to collect anything, it would be a shame to
return empty handed. Besides Sister Judith had such a fondness for cheerful
flowers. My fingers were curled round a chosen stem when a heavy thud up ahead
broke my tranquillity.
On their own accord, my feet ran to the source of distress before my eyes even
had time to focus on the path up ahead. I stopped short behind Slip, who was on
the ground with one leg caught beneath him. His arms were outstretched before
him, presumably to catch himself from the fall, and the starch-fabric of his
trouser legs were torn. My heart beat far faster than was necessary for such a
short sprint. However, concern quickly conquered my hesitation. I bent over
him, linking my arms beneath his shoulders.
"What happened? Are you hurt?"
The pulse of my heart was ferocious against my chest. Slip shrugged me off,
panting in frustration. It appeared that his anger at me had not subsided.
"You have two working eyes; didn’t you see what happened?"
I pulled away, holding my hands out as a way to offer my surrender. Yet my
actions proved worthless as Slip did not look up to register my defeat. I
watched, feeling helpless, as he tried and failed to regain his balance. There
was no obvious reason to why it proved so difficult for him, other than perhaps
the shock of the fall.
"I didn’t see," I said, attempting to present a truce in a soft voice. "I was
looking at the flowers. I thought I would pick some and bring them home... I'm
sorry. Are you hurt?"
"A little," Slip sighed, confessing to his own feebleness by collapsing onto
his front. I was about to reach out for him when he rolled onto his back and
pushed himself into a shaky sitting position. "I'm bleeding," he commented,
running a finger through the stiff blood that had collected around his knees. I
sat down with him, taking his hand in mine to pull it away from the small
wound.
"Don't do that, you'll get it dirty," I said, his fingers still in my gentle
grip before I released them. My eyes fell to the cuts, certain that the blood
made them look far worse than they actually were.
"I'm going to get into so much trouble," Slip said, his bitter laugh broken by
a choked sob. "This is the third piece of clothing that I've ripped this month.
Mother Superior Margaret is going to kill me."
I sucked my bottom lip, pretending not see the tears that swelled in the
corners of Slip's eyes. It was true that he had torn more clothes than anyone
else in the house, and that Mother Superior Margaret had threatened to punish
him if he continued to do so. Of course this was completely unfair as Slip
could not help the fact that accidents were drawn to him. With a frown I
studied his scuffed knees and the fray's of fabric that circled them.
"No she won't," I said, though I knew that I sounded less than convincing. I
got to my feet, hoping that movement would distract Slip from whatever
impending doom waited for him at home. “Come on.”
Slip sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Eventually he
nodded. He knew, as well as I did, that it would be much better for him to
return home and face Mother Superior Margret head on, rather than try to avoid
her. He put out his hands and I took them, helping him to his feet. He groaned,
no doubt feeling a sting in his legs from bending them. His fingers were
freezing compared to mine.
"You're cold," I said once we were both standing up straight. I tightened my
grip around his hands, afraid that he would withdraw them from me. But he
didn’t.
Slip shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "It's cold," he said. "Or did you not
notice that either?"
I blinked, unsure of what to make of his words. Instinct told me to let go and
start walking home, but what would that do for Slip's half frozen hands?
"Here."
Without thinking, I guided his hands under my armpits. A new warmth surged
through my body; a vibrant heat that sparked at the bottom of my belly and rose
through my torso towards my cheeks. Slip's face mirrored my alarm; though I
knew that for whatever reasons he felt unease they were different from my own.
"What... what are you doing?"
Exhilaration drove itself through my veins, clinging onto my bloodstream. I
lowered my eyes, praying that Slip could not feel my pulse beneath his
beautiful hands.
"Warming you up," I said, as if the answer really were that simple. I could
hardly speak.
"Doesn’t it bother to you?"
I shook my head, afraid to ask for any clarification of his question. In that
moment, I could not think of a single reason to be bothered by Slip and the
placement of his hands. I closed my eyes, not wishing to bear witness to what I
was about to do.
Slip's cheek was cold against my lips; colder than his hands which trembled
under my arms. He flinched as I kissed him, hauling away from me. The loss of
his hold was almost more than I could handle. I opened my eyes, ready to beg
for either the return of his hands or for forgiveness, only to see him wipe the
place I had kissed him with the back of his hand. Guilt burrowed a home deep
inside my gut.
"What kind of game are you playing now?" Slip asked. I could not distinguish
whether the tremble of his voice was out of anger or sheer confusion. "If you
were trying to kiss me better, you're supposed to kiss the cuts!" He gave an
unsteady laugh, turning away from me to stride back up the path. "We better get
home. I think there is still some cake left that Sister Judith baked for Zeros'
birthday. We might be able to have some... if... if we aren't late."
"Wait, Slip. Wait!" I called after him, nearly tripping over my feet to catch
up. I surpassed the urge to grab his arm when I reached him, instead I willed
my legs to stay in pace with his. It also served as a distraction to that panic
that rose in my throat. "You're not... Slip you won't... you won't tell anyone,
will you?"
Slip didn’t reply. The remainder of our walk home was spent in silence. My need
to seize Slip's arm, and demand an answer from him, decreased with every step
we took. By the time we had reached the house, and crossed the threshold of the
front door, it had disappeared completely only to be replaced by an anxiety
that took over every inch of my body. I was rendered useless the rest of the
day, something no one other than Slip--who, in the end, was not punished for
his split trousers--noticed.
The grey skies of spring had dissolved into the storm clouds of summer before
either of us found the courage to speak about what had happened. Just as the
trees shed their pink blossom, Slip and I had come to act as though nothing had
bloomed between us. It became easier the more time that passed. And despite the
countless nights I woke from dreaming of Slip's soft cheek against my lips, I
knew better than to try and recreate the scene in person.
It was to be our last summer at that house, thus much of our talk had turned to
what plans we had for the future. There was a girl in town that Slip had taken
a fancy to. Her name was Lydia Harris, and I do not remember a single hot
summer evening where her name did not dominate Slip and I's conversation.
"Do you think she would ever consider marrying someone like me?"
Sweat seeped down my face. I sighed, rolling my eyes at the question, as I
turned my head to face Slip. Across from me he lay, a melted mess, on top of
his own bed. The summer heat was unseasonable, and even though the sun had long
gone down neither of us felt the need to sleep under our sheets.
"How would I know, Slip?" I said, looking back to bumps in the ceiling. I
cannot recall the number of times Slip had asked me that question in that
evening alone. My reply was beginning to feel overused, in spite of my
certainty that Slip was not listening to it anyway. "The only way to find out
would be to ask her. Are you considering doing that?"
The screech of an owl passed by our window, filling the absence of Slip's
reply. The calls of the night were common to us by now, but they weren’t what I
wanted to hear. Not that I wanted to hear Slip's answer either, knowing full
well that if he were thinking of ways to ask for Lydia Harris' hand I would be
obliged to listen to them all: an exercise that would produce in me nothing but
a feeling of inadequacy. I risked another glance in Slip's direction, his
silence feeding my regret, only to see that he had turned onto his side and was
staring straight at me.
"Would you be jealous?"
My heart lunged into my throat. Feigning a laugh my eyes shot back up to the
ceiling. "Why...? Why would I be jealous?"
"Finn..."
The sound of my name was followed by the creak of a floorboard. Before I could
protest the mattress of my bed sunk, letting out a defeated wail, as Slip lay
next to me. Acting out of a mixture of memory and instinct I moved onto my
side, my back pressed against the slanted wall. Our beds had long become far
too small to even fit just one of us. I inhaled through my nose as Slip's long
limbs found their way around me. His fingers brushed against my cheek.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my eyes following his thumb as he ran it over my
bottom lip.
Slip lifted my chin, the tip of his thumb remaining on my lips. "Remember, at
the beginning of spring, when you kissed me?"
Convinced that I was in a dream, I lowered my eyes and nodded. "Yes."
"I never told anyone. You know that, don't you? Not a single person."
"I asked you not to... I hoped... I hoped that you wouldn't."
"I could have done; you know that too? I had plenty of opportunities to, but
I..." Slip shook his head, moving his hands to cup my face. I could see the
pain in his eyes. "I... I'm at a loss of what to do. We’re friends, Finn, you
and I. You are my greatest friend. I don’t know where I would be without you,
and... and I love you. I love you because.... well, because you’re my friend."
"I love you too, Slip." My voice was no more than a whisper.
Slip's fingers trembled against my cheeks. "What are we going to do? Soon we’ll
be leaving this place, and I haven't the faintest idea of what to do.  You'll
stay with me, won't you? I mean... we’ll stay together?"
"I... I would like for us to stay together."
"Finn..."
My heart had fluttered each time Slip had spoken my name. However, it almost
came to a complete stop when the pronunciation of it was followed by the press
of Slip's lips against my own. My entire body tensed, and for a fragment of a
second I forgot to breathe. Upon sensing my hesitancy, Slip stopped; pulling
his mouth away only to brush our noses together. His eyes were closed.
"Finn?"
I closed my eyes, rejoining our lips. Slip opened his mouth, welcoming me with
his tongue. Currents of excitement surged down my spine. We rolled closer
together, my body finding its way on top of his. Fevered fingers followed the
jolted lines that had waved through my back. Slip gasped, bucking his hips. I
buried my head into his neck, my cheeks burning, as I realised that his body
was in a similar state of exhilaration compared to mine.
The drum of my heart pounded in my ears. Every inhalation of breath immersed me
with all of Slip's aromas. I breathed them in, greedy from exhilaration and
encouraged by our shared desire. The smell his neck was a mixture of
perspiration and a faint twinge of the lavender soap we used in the shower. I
kissed it, daring to waver my tongue along areas of skin beaded by sweat. My
nose nudged behind his ear, which held the faded scent of summer grass, and
Slip's fingers curled tight around my waist. He thrust his hips again, wrapping
the back of my thighs with his legs.
"Finn... oh god. Finn. Please... don't... don't leave me. Please, god, don't
leave me."
"I'm right here..."
I kissed Slip's earlobe, hoping it would be enough of an assurance. He
whimpered, pushing my body closer to his. The rub of my underwear almost burned
against my erection. Gasping into Slip's ear, I finally gave in to my yearning
and ground our hips together. The bed squeaked against the wall. The
possibility of us making too much noise never crossed either of our minds.
Slip's hands gripped my buttocks, giving direction to my frantic thrusts.
It was I who tipped first over the narrow edge of elation. We had both become
so desperate, it came as no shock that we could not last for long. I shuddered
in Slip's arms, shame and guilt riding alongside my orgasm with me. Slip
groaned, his hips rising from the sheets to join me in my bliss.
I could have sworn that he spoke my name as he came, though I have always been
too afraid to ask. Once finished the adrenaline wore off and weakness caught up
with my arms. They gave way beneath me, causing me to collapse on top of Slip.
Despite the heat, we rolled into a ball together; both reluctant to be the
first to let go. In spite of the pleasure that came that night from sleeping
like that beside Slip, I could not shake an awful sense of foreboding. After
all, what was to become of Slip and Lydia Harris?
                                      ***
The rest of that hot season was spent harvesting potatoes with the eventual
hopes of saving enough money to rent a property in town. My seventeenth
birthday came at the end of the summer, meaning that it was time for me to
leave the house where Slip and I had spent our childhood together. Slip's plan
was the same as mine and, as he had turned seventeen at the beginning of
February, it was time for him to leave too. It was for these reasons that I
kept my word to Slip as it was by far easier for us to find a home together.
Despite the advantages that came from living in a place where it took mere
minutes for us to walk into town, our new home was compact and in need of some
repair. Indeed, the two-storey cottage was tiny in comparison to the old
farmhouse in which the nuns had lived in and that we had become accustomed to.
The house consisted of two rooms upstairs, which Slip and I turned into
sleeping quarters, and two rooms down, which were the kitchen and a small work
space area that the previous tenants of the house appeared to have used for
carpentering. However, after years of sharing a bedroom together, Slip and I
had become used to being in each other's spaces, and neither of us minded the
extra work required for the maintenance of the thatched roof and large
fireplace. On the whole, the house was comfortable enough, and that was all
that really mattered to either of us.
Moreover, the possibility of returning to the farmhouse was soon no longer an
option for us, not due to our age--although that would have been a factor
considered if we ever did wish to return--but because of what happened that
first winter we lived alone. Late in the night of Christmas Eve, a terrible
tragedy bestowed upon the house and all those inside. Nobody knew how the fire
started, nor what time it began to burn. Accounts of others who lived in town
stated that all those who lived in the house had been seen in church, the
previous night, for midnight Mass. However, the events in the hours that
followed are still, even to this day, unknown. In fact, the news that there had
even been a fire did not spread to town until the day after Christmas when it
was noted that all occupants of the household failed to attend the church
service that took place late in the afternoon. By the time anyone thought to go
to the house, and check on them, nothing remained of the building but it’s
burnt foundations.
But that was not the most chilling aspect of the disaster. When it was deemed
safe enough to enter the destroyed building, to retrieve the bodies that would
no doubt be inside, it was only those of the old nuns which were pulled out of
the ruins. The bodies of the children, who--like Slip and I--had been taken in
by the Sisters, were all missing. Rumours spread, as they always did, to what
could have happened to them. However, once the search for them had been given
up on--it being an unspoken understanding between everyone that they were dead-
-interest in the calamity disappeared, as it always did too. Even so, life had
to go on and, despite the personal loss Slip and I felt, it did.
The next year, when Slip and I had both reached the age of eighteen, Slip asked
Lydia Harris to marry him. The proposal came as more of a shock to me than to
her. Of course, since moving into town, the two of them had grown much closer
in company.Before the proposal, many an afternoon of mine was spent either
helping Slip host a visit from Lydia, and sometimes her mother, or coaching him
through an evening that was to be spent with Lydia alone.
It happened one night that was just like any other. Grey clouds sauntered in
the summer sky, the early evening sunlight outlining their varied shapes. The
chiming of church bells marked the hour to be six. I stood by my bedroom
window, looking out of it to watch Slip greet Lydia by our gate. He bent at the
waist to kiss her delicate hand, and as he did I felt an ugly jealousy surge
through me. I turned away, not wishing for my ill feelings to venture their way
down to the happy couple. I succeeded in keeping them away for the remainder of
the evening, that was until Slip returned home with his joyous news.
The visits of Lydia with her mother were not as bad as they may sound; Mistress
Harries and I got along well. Conversation between the two of us always flowed.
This gave Slip and Lydia the chance to enjoy only each other's company, as
Mistress Harris and I would sit in the workshop with tea--which had been
converted into a living space almost as soon as we had moved in--whereas Slip
and Lydia would stay in the kitchen.
The only problem was that topics for discussion did not always flow so easily
for Slip with Lydia as they did with myself and her mother, even with the
extensive practise we took in preparation for such situations. On the nights
where the exchanging of words had been scarce between them, and once the two
women had left our company, I was subjected to Slip's worried words concerning
how much he was certain that Lydia must now despise him.  
"We said nothing new to each other, Finn! Nothing new at all! How am I to know
where we stand with each other if we cannot even think of new things to say?
Perhaps we have said all there is, and the rest of our lives are destined to be
nothing but a meaningless voids of no conversation? How horrible for us both. I
would never allow such a thing to happen. Or perhaps she has grown bored with
telling me new things. I could never grow bored of her, Finn, you know that.
How could she not know that too?"
Of course, none of Slip's worry had been necessary; Lydia's acceptance of his
proposal made that clear. Despite what could now be viewed as bordering on
over-dramatics, at the time Slip's anxieties had been real. And so had my
ability to revel in any opportunity to succumb to the sensations that came from
making him feel better.
Gazing back to those nights, as well as to others that preceded them, it is
almost funny to notice how much they influenced my submergence into the false
hope that surrounded my own feelings towards Slip. There is little doubt that
they contributed to my confusion towards Slip's proposal, as they so often
ended with sweet suggestions of our own.
But not all was lost for me from these visits surrounding Slip's courtship to
Lydia Harris. After all, Mistress Harris had still taken quite a shine to me,
and on one of the visits that she accompanied Lydia to our home--before Slip's
proposal to her daughter--she offered me a job.
"I understand that you have had plenty of experience with children, Mr
Johnson," she had said, sipping her milky tea through pursed lips. The tea had
been a house warming gift from the late Sister Judith, and it pained me to see
its delicate flavours being overpowered by too much milk. "You would be an
asset to the school and myself. We both know that Mr Pearson will not last
forever, no matter how hard he may try."
Mr Person had been the teacher for all students over the age of eleven and
under the age of sixteen. He had been Slip and I's teacher when we had attended
school, and had looked old even then. It was with great happiness that I
accepted Mistress Harris' job offer. After all, farm work was seasonal, and
there was only so much you could do before someone else took over.
We shook hands, agreeing that I should start work the following week. This
granted Mistress Harris enough time to prepare a new school schedule. It was by
this schedule that I followed for the next five years.
                                      ***
Slip's engagement to Lydia came to nothing but three long years of extensive
wedding planning; by the end of which Lydia decided that she could no longer
stand the broken promises and decided to marry the son of a farmer instead. She
moved out of town into the residing countryside. After a year of happy
marriage, Lydia then left Renfield altogether. The reasons for doing so are
still not quite known, but there was a general understanding that it was to do
with the sharp decline of her husband's, and every other farmer's, livestock.
Not every farmer moved away, even though the epidemic did have an impact on the
entire town's economy. However, Slip and I were hardly affected. As I had
expected, my teaching was a steady role and, even with fluctuating numbers,
there were always children to teach. Slip had taken a job in the pub, along the
main road, where business only ever seemed to increase during times of any sort
of hardship. The only negative impact I can recall is having less meat in our
diets.
Despite the obvious heartbreak that Slip suffered during this time, I believe
that a small part of him had always known that he was to never marry Lydia
Harris. After all, throughout those three years of Slip's engagement, there
would be nights where I would stir in my sleep from the soft footfall of Slip
coming from his room and sanding on the landing. On those nights, which
happened at least twice a month, my sleep filled eyes would be greeted by the
gentle creak of my door opening, revealing to me the silhouette of a man whose
dear mouth still knew how to moan my name. This shadow would then advance to my
bed, interrupting the silence of the night with heavy breath, and, in
anticipation, the sound of my heart would join his ragged breathing. I would
move to one side of my narrow bed, making room for my company as I always had.
Alas the rising of the sun assured both the start of a new day and the
guaranteed the departure of my bed-mate. But that made no difference in the
fact that our night had been spent intertwined together, each of us gasping to
the other our praise.
Other than Slip's sorrow, which slowly diminished over time, and the mystery of
the disappearing livestock, which was soon forgotten about--as was the way of
the town--those years were uneventful. There was some talk of a strange figure,
who had been said to be seen travelling through Renfield at the dead of night,
taking occupation in the abandoned castle in the mountains, but I did what I
could to avoid most news of that dreaded place. Nothing truly worthy of note
happened until the following year when our Governor died and his son returned
to take his place. It was from that time on that I felt a definite change
within our small town. But it was not until one peculiar day, after a day of
teaching did I come to discover the horrific extent of the alteration.
Since the arrival of the new Governor, children had started to disappear. At
first it seemed like mere coincidence, one every month or so, and would not
have been noticed unless someone was keeping an eye. It wasn't uncommon for
people to go missing in Renfield and turn up years later unharmed. From this
mentality I am sure many just thought this would be the case for the children
too. However, as a teacher, it was part of my role to keep a record of how many
children attended school and how long any of their absences were. My classes
had steadily become smaller, and thus I had the unfortunate position of being
aware of the situation before most. But it was not until about half a year of
the new Governor’s presence were there cries, from almost everyone in town, for
action to taken. Nor was it until this halfway point did I suffer a direct
consequence of the horrific changes that had begun to take place in Renfield.
The morning began like any other. Cold winds accompanied my short walk to
school, collecting the dead leaves and debris along my path and twisting them
into figures that seemed to walk beside me. They disappeared when I reached the
school grounds, making way for students with reddened cheeks.
"Good morning, children," I said, unlocking the gate to the playground where
already a group of students stood huddled. "It is nice to see you all here
early."
A few glances were exchanged between them before they all answered at once.
"Good morning, Mr Johnson."
I smiled at them as the gate opened and allowed them to enter first. They all
rushed past me, which I assumed was because they wanted a chance to play before
the school bell rang. I closed the gate behind me and went to my classroom. The
day was not long; indeed the days had started to grow short, and many of my
pupils were needed at home in order help bring in the harvest, and other such
tasks. Classroom hours had been reduced to take this into account, and the day
passed with little disruption.
It was not until my walk home, while I reflected on the day's lessons, did I
begin to feel that there had been something bothering them all. Of course, it
was entirely possible that each student knew, and was close with, at least one
person who had disappeared, and it was simply grief that was making
conversation short and games quiet. Then again, there had been something else
about them all that I had found unsettling. Once sat inside the classroom, even
as the icy air turned thin and warm due to the close proximity of everyone’s
desks, each student’s face remained cold. Unfortunately, I did not have time to
ponder the matter at too much length as that evening Slip and I were to have
dinner together.
It was not uncommon for Slip to return from work a few hours before I left to
go to my own. For this reason, there were sometimes days between us where we
would not see each other at all. Though this would not have been considered a
problem for anyone else in a similar position to us--it was not thought of as
unusual for young men to live with each other--the true nature of Slip and I's
relationship was not like anyone else's, and thus extended periods of time
spent apart had the ability to cause us strain.
It was only after a late night’s discussion, that took place after the church
bells had chimed midnight, was it revealed to me that the reasons for Slip's
late hours. The old man who owned the pub, and ran it alone, had taken a shine
to Slip as he reminded him of his son whom he had lost at an early age. Only
then did it become apparent to me that, rather than Slip being overworked,
there was a great likelihood that his presence was bringing someone, who was
very lonely, comfort. Thus I realised that I could not fault Slip for his
compassion, especially since I too had spent hours after work with children who
needed a little more guidance, even if it did impact on the amount of time that
we were able to spend together.
That evening would have been the first time that we were to properly spend time
in each other's company in just over a week. Needless to say I was looking
forward to it and, for at least that one night, I did not wish to fill my mind
with the troublesome thoughts that were buzzing around town.
To make sure that the meat in the stew I was boiling had enough time to
tenderise to Slip's liking, I began preparation for dinner almost as soon as I
arrived home. As it was not often that we ate with each other, nor cooked for
one another, the meal I made was Slip's favourite and would be, I hoped, a
welcomed treat. I knew for certain that there was still a half loaf of thick
crusted bread left too, which we would then later use to soak up any of the
remaining gravy in our bowls. Excitement hummed through me as I cooked.
When the clock reached the hour Slip was due to return, the whole house was
warm from cooking and smelt of delicious simmering beef-stew. Half an hour
after Slip was supposed to be home, I decided that it was no longer worth
trying to keep his share hot and sat down instead to eat my meal. Another hour
passed and disappointment sat inside my stomach alongside my digesting food. I
knew that there was no point in waiting up for him, as any time that could be
accounted for as lateness had already passed. Getting up from my seat,
dejected, I went upstairs to my bedroom.
"At least he shall have his favourite dinner ready there for him when he does
get in," I said to myself, readying for bed.
The night drew on. Clouds suffocated the sky and held the gloomy earth hostage,
threatening every moment to slice open their bellies and drown everything with
murky rain. Awake, I tossed in my bed, each hour that passed filled me with
unease. If it rained Slip would be held back even longer, I thought, not even a
fool would venture out onto the dark pathways during storm at night.
I do not know at what point I fell asleep, nor do I know how long my sleep
lasted. The next thing I knew, I was being woken by the sound of a door below
me being opened, and then steps on the stairs. There was no other noise, not
even the sound of rain. My body relaxed, unscrambling the facts of the
situation from the fiction that my half-conscious mind could entail: Slip was
home at last, it wasn’t raining, Slip was safe.
It was the sound of rain tapping on my windowpane that roused me from my sleep
for the second time that night. I woke with a start, my heart hammering against
my chest at an unnatural rate. My dreamless slumber had taken a dangerous turn.
Ambiguous shadows had reached for me in the void, whispering words that I had
only just been able to distinguish. My body had remained still from fear. Even
after waking, the words had continued to echo through my head, breaking any
laws that had been put in place to separate the realm of dreams from the realm
of reality.  
"Let me in. Let me in. Let me in."
A shaky breath left my lungs. My legs and my arms were heavy, it felt as though
they had been crafted from stone. I steadied my breathing, concentrating on the
expansion of my chest on every inhalation. It was with great effort that I
rolled onto my side and stared in the direction of my window. Even with it
closed--for the weather of the season was far too unpredictable for it to be
left open--there was an unmistakable chill in the air. I shivered. The rain had
stopped, at least against my window, almost as soon as it had started;
supporting my opinions on the fickleness of autumn weather.
It was as I closed my eyes, and made to go back to sleep for a third time, when
an unknown anxiety began to tie around my bones. I curled into a ball, bringing
what little comfort I could for my body from the familiarity of the position.
It made no sense for rain to fall on only one part of the house. If it had
stopped outside my window, then I should not be able to hear it pattering
against the glass of somewhere else. And yet there it was, a soft tapper
against another window. Weariness won my body over before I could find the
solution to the mystery. Though if I had known then what I was to find in the
morning I would have fought the lures of sleep with all my might to keep myself
awake and find out the cause of the tapping.
[by_sinningsquire]
[Finn_and_Slip]
***** Part 1 Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you to my friends Matt, Beck, white-rainbowff and huxblush for
     giving me advice on this chapter.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
I woke to the sound of waves colliding against the cliffs on which the tower of
my room was perched. My body ached as I turned onto my back and the worn sheets
stuck to my middle in a most bothersome way. All at once the shrouded images of
the night before revealed themselves. One hand reached to feel the space beside
me, my hazed mind already coming to the conclusion that there should have been
a weight beside me, the other fingered my swollen bottom lip. The emptiness
that met my hand proved my conclusions false. I opened my eyes, an unwelcome
sigh breaching my throat. It had been foolish to believe that Kylo Ren would
still have been there lying next to me.
My eyes were welcomed by the blackness of the room. A part of me became
instantly envious of the quality of the curtains that seemed to hang in every
bedroom. Pulling my bed clothes back over my body, I got to my feet and went to
the window. Any fear that had been felt the previous night, from returning to
that particular space, failed to manifest itself again. I drew back the curtain
and at once my vision went white. Dazzling sunlight soared into the bedroom,
bounding off every dust covered surface. The sun was high in the sky, evidence
that I had slept through the morning. I opened the window, leaning over its
edge. The sea had risen too, indicating that the tide was coming in.
I slunk back inside the room, the salty air too fresh for my nostrils, and
crawled into bed. The sheets smelt of sweat, sex, and Ren. I did not regret
what had taken place between them. Indulgently I rolled into them, holding them
up to my nose and inhaling all that there was left of my departed partner. It
had been a long time since I had been left feeling so satisfied. Indeed, since
returning to Renfield, it was rare--if not near impossible--for me to find a
partner that knew the limitations that a relationship with me would endure, let
alone someone who met my tastes.
The last had been one of those messenger boys that delivered letters to those
of us who still knew people outside of Renfield. His company was desirable to
me because it was guaranteed that he would never to return to my godforsaken
little town. I first met him when he knocked at my house. He was carrying a
bundle of letters and packages that would not all together fit through the
letterbox on my front door. He smiled sheepishly as I grazed our fingers
together as I took them from him, offering him a drink or a bite to eat. He
couldn’t have been much older than twenty.
"No thank you, sir. I have other houses that I need to deliver to, and I need
to give myself time to find them all. You were first on my list."
"I am your first?" I said, a sly smile breaking out onto my face. "What an
honour that is."
"I think it's because you're the Governor, sir. Isn't that right? The most
important man in town." He returned my smile, his blue eyes bright. "They told
me that I had to deliver to you first. Or if I couldn't deliver to anyone else,
I still had to somehow make sure that your deliveries reached you. Funny,
really. When you think about it."
"I'm glad you managed to deliver to me first," I said, as my gaze fell over his
chest and down to his narrow hips. An idea formed in my mind. "I would be happy
to write a note to your masters informing them of a job well completed. If you
wouldn't mind waiting here a moment, I could do it right now?" 
He shuffled a little but nodded. I closed the door as I went up to my study. On
a small piece of parchment, I wrote a note of recommendation for the dear boy
and folded it neatly down the middle. I then returned to my door and opened it
again, glad to see that the young blond was still standing outside.
"Here you are," I said, slipping the piece of paper--as well as a banknote--
into his front waistcoat pocket. "There is a little something in there for you
too as thanks, but do not take it out now. I do not want anyone knowing that I
gave it to you. Someone might try to take it off you."
"Thank you, sir!"
The boy beamed his gratitude. I waved him goodbye, knowing full well that the
next time I would see him would be in the public house that very evening. I
knew this to be a fact because the owner of the public house rented rooms to
those who needed them. Although it would not have taken him more than a day to
deliver to whoever else was on his list, the journey to and from Renfield was
rough, and it would have been unkind for his masters to expect him to complete
it all in one day.
Later that evening, when I entered the place, he recognised me at once. I
smiled as he waved me over to sit with him, assuming that he only did so
because I had tipped him well. We reintroduced ourselves, giving each other our
names. His was Thomas Penrith.
"It feels strange to be in a place where I don't know anyone," he said, leaning
on my shoulder to whisper the confession into my ear. "I would have been very
lonely tonight if you hadn't shown up."
I smiled, knowing that my tactics were working. "What are you drinking? Let me
buy you another. I've always found drinking to be a social activity, wouldn't
you agree?"
Thomas nodded, relaxing under the hand that I had placed on his shoulder. We
drank another three rounds together before I insisted that I had a finer drink
at home.
"And if you're hungry, I'm sure I can find you something to eat." My eyes met
the those of the young man serving behind the bar as we stood. They were a pale
green and frowned with disapproval as I put my arm around Thomas' waist. "Not
that the food here isn't good and delicious, I just don't want you spending
that money I gave you. I want you to spend that money on a treat."
Thomas laughed. "Lead the way!" he said, putting his arm around my shoulders as
we walked to the door.
We arrived at my door in good time. Thomas had rested his weight on me the
entire walk home, giggling with glee each time my hand slipped a little further
down his back. I apologised each time it happened--blaming the wandering of my
hand on the drinks we had shared--as if it had been an accident when in actual
fact I was increasing my understanding of the movement of his muscles and the
shape of his body. Once home, I untangled myself from him, knowing that there
would be more time to touch, and lowered him down onto my sofa.
"How about that other drink?" I asked, standing over him. He was sprawled out
over the seat as if he were in his own home; his legs wide and his head tipped
back so that it could rest on the cushion behind him. I could not help but
study his relaxed form. Two of his shirt buttons had come undone on the journey
home, revealing to me the soft expanse of his long neck coming to meet the fine
hair that poked out from the top of his chest.
"No... no, don't leave me here. Don't leave me here in this strange and new
place," he said, his Adam's apple bumping as he laughed. "Stay here. Stay here
with me. Sit down with me too for a little bit. You pretty much carried me
here. You should rest." His hands latched around my wrists and I felt inclined
to do as he asked.
I smiled. "If you insist." He grinned up at me, releasing his hold to prop his
hands behind his head. I perched on the cushion beside him, resting my hand in
the narrow space between us. "Have you a place to stay tonight?" 
"Ah, yes. I rented a room in the pub yesterday when I arrived. My bags are
there too. It was horrible journey getting here! It took me a whole day. My
masters warned me not to stray from the path, as if I would dare! I thought the
boys back in the post office were joking about there being wolves in the
forest... but now, coming here... I don't think they were joking."
I listened, observing the movement of his lips as he spoke. My fingers twitched
closer to his leg. "In that case, I admire you for your bravery."
Thomas had been in the middle of shaking his head when my hand skimmed the
length of his thigh. His mouth hung open, ready to speak, but no words came.
All that followed was easy. I undressed him where he sat, sinking between his
knees to strip him of his trousers and boots. He gasped beautifully when I took
him into my mouth, his clumsy fingers rifling through my hair. By the time I
pulled off of him, to invite him upstairs, his legs were trembling either side
of my head.
I led him by the hand up the staircase with his shirt open and his trousers
falling down his legs. His jacket, waistcoat and braces had been abandoned on
the sofa; I promised that I would wash them before he left, a promise that I
did not keep. When we reached my bedroom door I pressed him against it, tasting
his mouth and letting him taste what was left of himself of my tongue.
"I want you to fuck me," I said into his ear, guiding his hand to my groin.
"I... I don't think I know how..."
Desperation forced me to press against his hand. I groaned, not only from the
touch but from the need that I felt to have someone inside me. It was a
sensation I had ached for since leaving London; no matter what tools I used to
try and quench my desire, nothing had compared to the real thing.
"Fine," I grumbled as I opened the door and pushed the boy inside. "Then get on
your knees."
"W--what?"
His hesitation did not surprise me. Even though I had been the one to perform
that specific act first, it had not required anything from him other than to
sit comfortably. However, I was persistent with my request, pushing on his
shoulders until his legs finally gave in to my demands. His mouth was easier to
persuade; it opened with ease to take what was offered. I ran my fingers down
his flushed cheeks, looking him in the eyes as they bulged up at me.
"Good boy."
The remainder of the evening was satisfactory. I allowed Thomas to play with
himself while I thrashed in and out of his throat. His inexperience was
evident, and I was in no mood to reward him for his mediocre performance. Nor
did I wish to waste time in teaching him the finer ways of using his tongue and
mouth.
My ending was swift. Thomas choked and spat. I decided against scolding him. He
was such a pretty boy; I regret the way I treated him the next morning. But at
least I had been present to see him off and pay for his silence. At least I had
been there to lie my confessions that my actions had been a mistake.
Coiled embarrassment unravelled itself from inside my stomach, merging with the
frustration that radiated in my chest. I pushed the sheets away from me; if Ren
did not even have the decency to stay with me until I woke, I would not give in
to anything that he lingered in. Another unwarranted noise escaped through my
lips; the absence of Ren's did nothing to stop the annoyance I felt from him
not being there.
Compared to other sexual experiences, what we had done together hadn't been
particularly complicated. In fact, what we had experienced was actually quite
basic. Yet it seemed absurd to compare it to any other of my sexual exploits.
It had been so absolutely unlike them, in ways that not even I could
comprehend. The words to describe what I felt, what he made me feel, could not
be found.
I pulled the sheets back over me, inhaling them deeply. There was no use in
trying to hide my desperation. After all, there wasn't anyone here to witness
it. Troubled bitterness attached itself to that fact and spiralled to the
conversation Ren and I had shared at dinner. No, the conversation that I had
shared at dinner. Despite the sensitive, and partially secret, information that
I had shared with him, Ren had done nothing but try and derail my concerns and
distract me from my duties. Shame bolted through my stomach, colliding with my
humiliation and intensifying my rage. He had succeeded.
Outside I could hear the faint call of the sea. Even in times of human idiocy
the salt water served as a constant; coming and going as it pleased, and
washing away the atrocities of the earth, through storms, when needed. I got up
again, thrashing the sheets away for the final time, bending over in search of
the clothes I had worn the day before. They were nowhere in sight.
My anger at my own foolishness rocked through me with a growl. Turning to the
door I advanced towards it, prepared to kick it down if I had to. But there was
no need. When I reached the door and tried the handle it opened with no
protest. Exhaling I descended down the spiral staircase, not stopping to marvel
at the views out of the narrow windows that I passed. 
The steps of the stone staircase were more uneven than I recalled, and there
was no banister, or grip, in the wall to hold onto for balance. It was a wonder
that I had not fallen flat on my backside while ascending the stairs the night
before. Then again, Ren had been standing behind me during that journey,
dictating my way with his deadly sweet voice. There was little doubt in my mind
that if I were to have fallen then he would have caught me; his great arms
protective around my waist, my back pressed against his large front, my
buttocks yielding into his powerful groin... I cursed myself. What could have
happened the night before was no longer any of my concern. I continued to make
my way down the stairs, irritated that my feet had stopped while my mind had
wandered.
Pushing all thoughts of Ren away from my mind, I reached the floor below my
room where there was a wooden door that stood open ajar. Although it had been
my original intention to go all the way down to the ground floor and find a way
out of the castle, a greater part of me knew that that plan of action was
completely impractical, not only because I was wearing borrowed sleeping wear
but also for the fact that there was still a forest to navigate my way through.
Of course I had journeyed the path from Ren's castle to the town alone many
times before, but on every one of those occasions Ren had always lent me a
horse to ride. These horses were peculiar in that they seemed to know the way
to and from the castle without being guided. Thus, travelling by foot alone,
without the aid of a horse, the passage was near impossible. Bearing that in
mind, along with the knowledge that I was effectively trapped in the castle
until further notice and had time to let my curiosity get the better of me, I
pulled the door open with ease. Inside I was welcomed by the sight a large
bathtub in the centre of the room, a tiled washbasin, beside which were a pile
of folded clothes, and a toilet. The rule of no mirrors seemed to be persistent
throughout the castle, and I had not been shocked to find that there was not
one in this bathroom either.
Further inspection of the clothes revealed to me that they were the ones I had
worn the night before, and that they smelt unmistakably like Ren. In spite of
my self-given warnings, I breathed the scent in while eying the bathtub and
mulling over the likelihood that it had been my elusive host who had brought my
clothes down one floor to this room. I was not too dense to understand the
message behind Ren’s actions. I was to wash and then dress. Though there was
still the question of what I was to do after I had done so. There had been no
written note to accompany my things, despite my disappointed double checking as
such a note could have slipped onto the floor or easily been hidden from plain
sight. Alas, Ren was content on keeping his whereabouts unknown to me, relying
instead on my ability to decipher vague messages given through moving my
possessions around. It was with further irritation that I bent over the large
bath to turn on the lavish styled taps. Though their design was modern, my
expectation was for them to be stiffer than they were due to the likelihood of
them not being used often; a fair assumption when considering that the entire
castle seemed to possess the quality of not being lived in, regardless of the
design of the rooms. Subsequently I used more force than necessary to turn them
on, and was surprised by how easily they twisted under my hands.
Steaming water began to fill the tub and, despite all the slight annoyances
brought on by the morning, I sighed with relief. I let the water flow as I
stripped from my night clothes and relieved myself on the toilet. It was while
washing my hands that I noticed a small cupboard beneath the sink. Inside I
found an assortment of glass bottles of different colours and shapes. Upon
further inspection—after opening each individual bottle and smelling its
contents—I discovered that they contained different soaps and oils. Choosing a
couple, I turned off the water and poured one of the oils into the bath. The
sweet scent of orange blossoms collided with the steam, changing the queer
atmosphere of the room into something much homelier. I closed my eyes and
inhaled. It was becoming less difficult for me to suspend my disbelief and
imagine that I were in my own bathroom. A sliver of envy snaked around my tired
limbs as I climbed into the tub and lowered myself into the hot water. Of
course, it would have been ridiculous to think that I was the only one with a
bath and plumbing in Renfield. Then again, most likely being trapped in a
tower, miles away from my family home, could not possibly qualify me as being
in town. 
I cleaned myself quickly, glad to rid myself of what had been physically left
on my body from the night before. It was only when I was scrubbing my armpits,
with the second oil that I had chosen, did I regret not examining my body more
closely before stepping into the tub. The thought continued to haunt the
corners of my mind as I drained the bath and dressed into my old clothes.
Although I had never considered myself a particularly unattractive man, a sense
of eroticism followed the idea of studying how my undesirable features had been
further ruined by what my host had done to me... by what he could do to me.
Despite the part of myself that was ashamed that I found such excitement in the
humiliation that such an inspection of my body would cause, there was no way to
deny that a greater part of myself was annoyed that I had only discovered such
an interest after all attainable evidence had been washed away. The strange
longing increased as I fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, distracted by the
familiar scent of Ren that wafted up from the fabric and settled in my nose. I
paused, gazing down at the round outline of my stomach and the, partially
covered, area of my soft chest. The plumpness of my body was a sign of my
wealth, yet I knew it would be an embarrassment to any hard working man. It had
been a mistake to wash away the seed that had dried, and defiled, me there so
soon: that I could have returned to Renfield with it still pasted over my
chest, and have had it as a shameful reminder of my desertion of the town's
best interests.
I sniffed, unimpressed, and finished dressing. The thought of returning to town
filled me with some dread. There was no way of knowing the judgement I would
face if anyone were to ever learn of the sins I had committed with one of the
most hated figures in the entire community. My other option would be to return
to the room I had spent the night. However, I decided against that course of
action on account of my curiosity. After all, two doors had already been left
unlocked for me to find by my absent host, how was I to know that other doors
had not been left open too without further investigation?
Leaving the dense heat of the bathroom behind me, I followed the staircase down
towards the ground floor. It was with some disappointment that I reached the
end of the staircase without passing any other doors which were unlocked. Two
floors had been left unexplored, despite my best efforts in trying to get into
them. However, my disappointment dispersed, while on the ground floor, as I was
met with the sight of another two doors to try. Of course, it was with a minute
amount of prying that the second door was discovered. The design of the first
door, which was to the right at the bottom of the stairs, was one that I
recognised and deduced to be the way in and out of the tower. Set into the
heavy stone wall, underneath the steps of the spiral staircase itself, the
second door was small and much less grand than the first. If one were not
looking carefully out for it, the likelihood was that the door would be missed
altogether.
I tried the handle of the second door, assuming that it led to a lower, hidden,
level of the castle. But no matter how hard I strained, the it would not budge.
Defeated, I walked back to the first door with every expectation for it to be
locked too. It would not have been uncharacteristic for Ren to only unlock the
doors to the places that he thought I would need, even if he fed me a false
sense of freedom in doing so. In reality I was still being kept his prisoner.
Thus it was to my surprise, and great delight, that I found the first door to
be open. Partially formed thoughts of me being trapped in the castle were half
extinguished; though my fear was well founded, and there was no way yet to tell
if the rest of the castle had been made off limits to me.
Escaping the stairwell, I found myself at the intersection of two dark
corridors. If there were any windows built into the walls along the long way of
the passages, they were either covered or blocked for there were none visible.
Instead flame torches hung low from the ceiling, flickering about five feet
away from each other, all the way down both pathways. The memory of which I had
been led down the night before, on the way to my bed, was lost due to the
intoxicating company of Kylo Ren. I cursed myself and his name, staring down
one passageway and then down the other; their near identical appearance doing
nothing to persuade me in which I should take.
Once again the prospect of returning to the room, from which I had come, became
an appealing choice of action. I shook the idea from me. The thought of doing
nothing but sit up there and wait for Ren's return, in order to show me the way
out, brought on a fresh source of fierce inner conflict. I did not need, nor
want, his assistance or presence for my exit. It was from my desire to not give
in to what--I suspected--Ren expected of me that I took my chances down one of
the corridors. I do not know for how long it was that I walked until the walls
around me became somewhat familiar. It was not until I recognised a door to my
left, that led to the dining hall, that I knew for certain that I had been in
that part of the castle before.  
Relief, that I did not know I had needed until it had come, swarmed over me. By
instinct, that came from walking a familiar path, my feet found their way to
the entrance of the castle. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. My need to
leave those accursed grounds, and never look back, was only seconded by my need
to find Ren and ask him what hellish games he was playing.
I fell against the old wood of the front door as I reached it. Exhaling
heavily, I realised that my legs and arms were shaking. I did my best to steady
them before standing up straight. My heart knocked with rapid intent against my
rib cage as I reached for the door handle. Even before pushing it I could tell
that it wasn't locked.
Bright light burned my vision, and it took me a moment to regain my sense of
sight. Warm sunshine bit into my pale skin as I walked out onto the castle's
stone front grounds. To my surprise, in the place where Ren usually stopped his
barouche, whenever he brought me to the castle, stood a large chestnut horse.
The horse was saddled and ready to take a rider. Taking tentative steps
forward, I approached the animal with outstretched arms. There was no way of
knowing how long the creature had been there, nor why it had not run away to a
new life of freedom as it's reins were not tied to anything to stop it from
doing so.
The horse appeared not even the slightest bit interested as I came towards it,
an uncanny characteristic which would have filled me with concern if the animal
had belonged to anyone other than Lord Ren. Even in the limited amount of time
that I had seen the man interact with animals, I had come to notice that he had
a profound effect on them. Subsequently, whatever sorcery, or training, that
Ren used to keep his creatures under his demand must have been powerful, and
much sought after, for it seemed to work even when he was absent. Once again I
was forced to decipher the thinly established message of my host through the
vagueness of his actions. Using the concept of Occam's razor, in that the
simplest explanation was the most likely, I came to the conclusion that the
horse had been saddled and left here as a means for me to return to Renfield.
After letting the creature sniff my hand, allowing it the chance to learn that
my intentions were nonthreatening, I climbed upon its back and kicked it
forward. However, that little interaction of instruction seemed almost
unnecessary as, as soon as I was safely on board it's back, the animal moved on
in the right direction. In spite of it feeling as though the horse already knew
the best path in which to take, I still held onto its reins and took every
action needed in order to guide it where to go. I did this with the knowledge
that it was impossible to ever completely trust any creature, as even the most
domesticated ones are victim to moments of madness.
The ride home was unusually uneventful. Trees, painted the colours of autumn,
stood calm. The late afternoon sun drifted absently through their branches,
scattering light on the path ahead turning the already fallen leaves gold.
Every once in a while, the call of a small bird would erupt from amongst the
wild berry bushes that lined the trail. At first, the rustling that came with
the cheerful tune filled me with some concern. My instinct, in those woods, had
learnt that even the most pleasant of sounds could be a warning for trouble
afoot. But after turning to the sound and glimpsing the red breast of a singing
robin my fears settled down.
When I at last emerged from the forest, spotting the steeple of the town's
church long before coming out of the thicket of trees, the sun was beginning to
set behind me. It had been my plan to ride into town, turn off the main road
and continue on to one of the farmhouses, leaving the horse at somebody else's
stables. However, once I had reached the first stone head of a grave the horse
came to an unexplained stop. No amount of order or persuasion could convince
the creature to move on forward. It was my yearning to return home, and
surround myself with some commonplace familiarity, that I descended the thing
and continued the last part of my journey on foot. As I passed through the
grave, I hazard a look behind me. In the depths of my stomach there was a
dulled menacing expectation of what I would find there. The hostile feeling
exhilarated through my body at the sight of the horse still there, standing
still, watching me as I walked. Though I knew that it was foolish to find fear
in something as menial as an unmoving horse, it did not stop me from returning
home as swiftly as possible, not daring to look behind me again.
                                      ***
My home was as empty and uneventful as I had left it.  Nothing had changed
between its aged walls during my absence, despite how different I now felt
within them. In a hallucinate daze I moved around each room, barely registering
my surroundings before I walked on into the next. The stiffness of the air
suffocated my every step. Each room was silent. Long unquestioning shadows
sprawled over my belongings, confusing their colour and shape. It felt as
though I was either in a realm of a broken imagination, or that I myself was
the figment of somebody else's unforgiving mind.
I found myself standing at the edge of my desk. My fingers wandered its
forgotten surface, collecting dust on their tips, as I looked out the window.
Absently I felt a protesting growl from my stomach, desperate to catch my
attention in a way that my mind had failed. I ignored it, knowing that what I
hungered for could not so easily be sated. From that side of the house I had
plain sight of the ill-fated mountains in which Ren lived. The sun had just
dipped under its ridged heights, bringing with it the promise of night.
Cursing, I turned away from the scene, knowing full well that if I allowed
myself to gaze at it any longer I would be reminded too much of who I had fled.
I moved towards my bookcase, scanning the varies volumes that lined the
shelves. The majority of them had belonged to my father. His collection of
books was expansive and expensive, though only the finest prints of his
favourites were given the honour to sit in his office. The rest were shelved
around the house for there was not a single room that did not possess a
bookcase. Even my brother and I's bedrooms were subject to holding books that
did not belong to us. Fingering a thick leather spine, I recalled the rules
that had come with the so-called privilege: under absolutely no circumstances
were we allowed to read any of the books that had been placed in our care. Of
course, that did not stop my brother and I having the undying need to know just
what exactly was between the forbidden pages of at least one of our father's
books, and when our father learnt of our disobedience we were each punished
accordingly. I never did care for my father's taste in literature. The only
books we had been permitted as children were our own individual copies of the
bible and reading material for school. My own collection of books had grown
during the number of years that I had lived away from Renfield, but it had
never reached the size of my father's personal collection. Unfortunately, upon
my return to town, most of my books had had to stay in London due to shipment
costs. What books I had brought to Renfield were either on the desk, that had
too belonged to my father, and a shelf in the great mahogany bookcase which I
had cleared for myself. 
My thoughts strayed back to the view outside my window. I did not read any of
the books Ren had left me for my pleasure during that first day I had spent in
his home. Nor could I remember seeing any other books within his possession.
The rooms I had acquainted were absent of them, and the idea to sit down and
simply read with the man was so absurd that it had never crossed my mind. If
such an activity with him were ever attempted, I feared that it would bring me
stress, rather than the relaxation that reading often promised. It was a sad
certainty that my eyes would be unable to focus on any page if they knew that
he was nearby. My mind too would refuse to intake any of the information that
my reading book had to offer, perplexed instead by what sights could be caught
at the corners of my vision.
I huffed, dragging one of my father's books from its place, irritated by the
hypothetical situation that my mind had conjured. I strode towards my desk,
sitting behind it and opening the book onto a random page; the tired pages
cracked under the strain. A callous part of my being doubted that Ren was even
able to read. Knowing him as I did, I suspected that if the chance to ever sit
and read, while in each other’s company, ever occurred, it would be used as an
opportunity for him to test how far he could get on my nerves... and how much I
would let him get away with.
The position in which I had chosen to hunch over my, randomly selected, book
caused my spine to ache. The black printed words, I was attempting to read,
wiggled into nonsense. I slammed the book shut. Dust sprung from the pages,
getting caught in my lungs. Coughing, I pushed away from the desk, punching my
chest with my fist; an action that caused more pain than relief. When the fit
finally passed, I got to my feet and returned the book to its place. Regardless
of the frustration that had built a home within me, the light from outside had
become too dim to read from anyway. Despite my best efforts to avoid it from
happening, Ren's presence had continued to infiltrate my head.
Sore longing towered against my limbs as I slotted the book back onto the
shelf. A sense of loneliness welled inside my chest, pressing against my ribs
and lungs. It was not often that I registered that I lived so alone, nor take
on the negative aspects that came with it. Most of the time I felt better for
it, knowing that my time was my own and that only I dictated what to do with
it. With the exception of my duties to the town, being alone meant that there
was no one that I had to answer to, that there was no one that I had to take
personal responsibility for. Only sometimes did it dawn on me that with such
isolation came a form of suffering. All of my immediate family were dead, and
those alive I dared not speak to; I had no friends, so to speak, as I had left
them all in London, and I had made no friends in Renfield to come back to. My
stomach spun, threatening to unleash what ever little contents it could find.
The room around me stood still, unchanged and unaffected, perpetuating my
lurking feelings of neglect. I shivered while gasping for air. A distraction
was needed. 
Though I had mastered the art of drinking during my early teen years, and
usually found drinking alone a solution to many of life's problems, even I was
not above admitting when some company was needed for the act to be beneficial.
Besides, in a more alarming matter, the prospect of spending any more time with
nothing but my thoughts--that had been spiked with the manifestation of Lord
Ren--was downright terrifying. The only silver lining to my woe was that,
thanks to the hired help, the public house was able to remain open until all
customers had finished their final drinks; a small miracle that was not
restricted by any time shown on a clock or watch.
The sun had been down long enough for the roads to my destination to be
relatively empty. Those that did cross my path did not so much as look up from
the sodden ground than realise that it was their Governor whom they had just
passed. However, a sinister part of my mind was set on insisting that the
reason no one had met my eye was because there was an innate sense within them
that had already informed them of my betrayal towards their families, and the
town, through what had passed between me and the mysterious Ren that they all
so hated. Nevertheless, I had almost reached the welcoming front door of the
public house when I was at last cornered by someone who I knew, by the look on
his bothered face, would not give me peace until I had admitted to him by
sins.   
"Governor Hux, I need to speak with you."
I stopped, my hand midway to the handle of the public house door. Inhaling
sharply through my nose, I gave myself a moment to mask any mislaid emotions of
irritation before turning to confront him. There was every chance that I had
misjudged the intentions of the man that stood behind me as, as soon as he saw
my face his expression, which I had interpreted as quarrelsome if not hostile,
changed to one of sympathy.
"You look terrible, sir. Are you feeling well?"
The question confused me. "Wh--what?" I stammered, frowning as I met his eye.
"Your mouth, sir. What happened to it? It looks painful."
"My mouth..." I touched the offending area, not having previously properly
comprehending how swollen my bottom lip was and what impressions this gave.
"I'm fine," I lied, for, without warning, my vision had gone dark; revealing
nothing to me but the snarl of Ren's horrid smile, my blood painting his
pointed teeth.
"In that case, Governor Hux, I need to speak with you."
The urgency conveyed in the young man's voice pulled me abruptly back into the
present. Nodding, I opened the door to the public house and gestured for him to
go inside. Having already misinterpreted his emotions, it was difficult to tell
whether or not there really was any hesitation in his step before moving
inside.
"Your name is Johnson, isn't it? You teach at the school?"
The low lights of the public house had helped to clear my mind and refresh my
memory. We sat in a corner, close to the fireplace and not in view of the bar,
upon the man's request. The glare of the sunken fire revealed that my company
seemed in need of a strong drink too. Thus I had bought us both a gin. Mine
sat, half-finished, on the small round table, while he clutched his with both
hands.
"Finn. My name is Finn. Yes, I'm a teacher at the school."
"Finn," I repeated, nodding. I held my chin as I gazed into the fire. The
warmth it offered was a welcome change to what waited for me at home. "You
needed to speak to me, Finn? What is it that is so serious that you cannot wait
to speak to me about it tomorrow?"
Finn shifted in his seat, no doubt uncomfortable by my worded implications. He
twisted his head to the lone bar, the tender having supposedly returned to the
rooms behind it, before looking back at me. His eyes were wide and red and I
could not shake the sense that he had been crying.
"My friend... my friend, Slip. You might know him; he works at the bar. He, uh,
he came home late last night. Or at least I--I think he came home late last
night. I'm not sure. I got up this morning, as usual, but something, um,
something didn't feel right. Something was off. I'm not sure what it was. But
you know sometimes how the air--how the air can feel too tight? It happens,
sometimes, after you've had bad dreams. Last night... last night I had very bad
dreams. I hadn't really seen him all week. He'd been working here most nights.
I'm sure you know that. I'm sure you've seen him."
I nodded. The man Finn spoke of did indeed tend to the bar of the place in
which we sat. I had seen him a number of times, in the public house as well as
elsewhere, and could bring his image to mind with little difficulty. His green
eyes had always captivated me in the most carnal manner, and if he had not been
a well-known face about the town I would have acted more upon my desires
towards him than simply slipping an extra-large tip into the pocket of his grey
work shirts.
"Yes, I have. What of him? He didn't return home last night? Or he returned
home late? That would not be uncommon, would it? With his working here?"
"Um, no. No, it isn't uncommon. Actually, he's been out late every night this
week. Um, he was supposed to come home early last night--or at least on time.
We had plans, you see. I had cooked him dinner. We lodge together in the
cottage just down the way. But that's not my point, sir. My point is that he
did return home, in the early hours of this morning, and... Well, as I said,
this morning I got up as usual, but I couldn't shake this feeling of unease..."
"And why were you uneasy? Surely his coming home in the early hours is
something you would have grown used to? Did his dinner go to waste? I'm
certain, whatever it was, would be good for him to eat again today, if you
really wanted him to."
"If it were only so simple, sir. I would want nothing more than that to be
possible..."
Finn paused. I looked up at him. His gaze wandered over to the dying fire. I
cleared my throat, prompting him to continue. Our eyes met and I was taken
aback by how beautiful his were; even with the clear tears that were now in
their corners. Bewildered, I leaned forward.
"Go on. Tell me. Tell me why it would not possible?"
Finn nodded, and I could have sworn on my heart that I heard him gulp. "I went
up to his room to see him this morning, after getting ready and eating. I went
up to see him because I was sure--I was positive--that I had heard him come
home. He didn't answer to his name when I called, and he didn't come to his
door when I knocked... that happens, sometimes. Sometimes he's distracted,
reading, or busy that day and has left the house without me hearing. Sometimes
he's even still asleep. He can sleep so deeply..."
"And?" I asked, irritated by the constant stopping and starting of the
conversation. "Was he still asleep?"
"No, sir. No he wasn't. He was dead."
"Dead?" I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I could I help but
feel that the revelation of what had happened to Slip was anticlimactic. It was
an unfortunate truth that we all had to die eventually. For some the end came
sooner than it did for others. Nothing could be done for those who had already
met their fate. "I'm sorry for your loss. I trust you've spoken to all the
relevant services? Been to the church, and such?"
"Yes, sir. I have. Sort of. But that's not, uh, that's not the worst of it. I
mean, that isn't the reason why I needed to speak with you. There's more. More
that I think you should know."
"Well then, I propose that you had better tell me what it is, Finn. For, at the
moment, I cannot help but feel as though you have done nothing but waste my
time."
"Please listen! I promise that I'm not wasting your time! I'd never seen
anything like it. He was in his bed, and at first I thought he was asleep. That
was until I noticed that his eyes were open, and then I saw the blood on his
sheets. There was so much blood, Governor Hux, so much blood. It had soaked
into his bed clothes and his blankets--"
I waved my hand, cutting Finn's panicked speech off mid-sentence. Refusing to
hear anymore, I asked, "Have you moved the body?" Whatever that had happened to
Slip, I could not be certain that he had not met his fate from the man who sat
opposite me. If the man had been murdered, and there was as much blood as Finn
suggested, I was sure that--even with my limited knowledge on the subject--
I would be able to tell. 
Confusion flowed into Finn's face. Opening his mouth to speak, he shook his
head.
"Then I need you to show me, understand? I need you to show me his body."
Chapter End Notes
     This may be the last chapter I post for a while because I'm going
     back to uni and will have other writing to do. In the meantime,
     please read and tell me what you think! If you spot any grammatical
     errors/spelling mistakes/ect. kindly point them out too (with
     compliments also ;)!). Cheers.
End Notes
     As you may have read from the summary, I do intend this fic to
     incorporate both kylux and stormpilot. I shall update tagging
     accordingly as I add chapters. Thank you for reading! Feel free to
     come find me on my tumblr here.
     Also, please look at this amazing concept_art by catnapcpt! They
     asked for extracts of work to get back into art, so I sent them draft
     copies to this fic. It makes me so happy! Also look_at_this_mouth.
     Stunning art included within the fic is by letmeputitinyourbutt and
     sinningsquire.
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