1. Chapter 1 (1/1)
this will have a second part to it, possibly more, i'm not sure yet. it's inspired by the song 'better than you' by heather peace (it's on youtube, i recommend having a listen). enjoy!
disclaimer: i do not own anything recognisable in this.
bertrand paused, listening to the sounds of the school around him, and wondered for the fifteenth time if he was doing the right thing. he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, and listened to the sound of the maths class vlad was currently sitting in. he had about half an hour before school finished. then one more training session before nightfall. he tucked a trailing sleeve into his case and snapped down the clasps to hold it shut, placing it behind a pillar to avoid awkward questions.
training was the same as it ever was. vlad paid attention, did the work, and then began to demand bertrand's more personal services. it was all innocent enough; a kiss here, a slight nip at his collarbone there, a stranglehold that lasted just a little too long, their bodies pressed a little too close together. bertrand chided him for that last one, making him show him that he could execute the move correctly three times before allowing vlad to turn and claim his lips again. he shouldn't, he knew; it would just make everything more difficult, but as vlad pinned him against the wall he could feel his resolve weakening. surely just five more minutes in the chosen one's arms... it couldn't hurt. could it?
vlad eventually left, other work to attend to, and bertrand couldn't help himself from calling out to him."does this mean anything to you?" vlad turned, surprised, and shrugged."yeah, of course." then he was gone, and bertrand felt his chest constrict painfully. night had fallen, vlad had left him again with nothing more than a lukewarm assurance that he would continue to do what he'd been doing, and it was time for bertrand to go.
he should have known this couldn't end well. he should, at least, have had the sense to realise that it would end, and sooner rather than later. but somehow he'd convinced himself that his feelings for vlad were enough to sustain a relationship. where, he wondered, had it all gone wrong?
it had crept up on him, this uneasy knowledge that something wasn't working. he had thought he had everything he wanted; vampire relationships were rarely more than this, this shared desire to explore one another. bertrand had found himself slamming the
akes on, refusing to let vlad get carried away with his teenage hormones, and he'd convinced himself that it meant nothing. eventually, though, he had to admit to himself – and, later, to vlad – that what he felt, what he wanted from the younger vampire, went beyond physical need.
vlad had shifted awkwardly, then kissed him again. the subject had been dropped, and vlad had continued to treat bertrand as if he was some disposable object, picking him up whenever he needed to feel desired and then tossing him aside, dismissing his advice, making him feel like he was nothing. bertrand had borne it patiently for a few months, but tonight he was getting out. he couldn't do this anymore; it did neither of them any good to continue as they were.
he opened his case, pulling out a note to vlad, which he left in the training room, and a letter of resignation to the count, which after a moment's pause he slipped underneath the other note. vlad could deliver it; it would help him to cover up the existence of bertrand's personal farewell, too.
he took a last patrol around the school, checking that he was at least leaving the chosen one in safety, before returning to the training room, picking up his case, and walking off into the night.