Lazarus listened with his eyes closed as Melissa told him he had to move on, though she didn’t expect him to simply forget.
‘I want to move on, Melissa, I really do. But it’s so much harder when you know you’re the cause of his death. I can see it... the memory is so clear after all these years. It just won’t leave me alone. His isn’t the only death on my hands, but his is the most prominent...’ He opened his eyes and looked to her for comforting words, though he knew they couldn’t heal the scars, they would simply numb the pain for a few sweet moments.
‘You know I will be here, for eternity. I will help you, no matter what. I'm sure that he is still looking down on you.’ She smiled slightly; a tear fell from her eye as she spoke. Lazarus watched the tear fell, but he was far too lethargic to wipe her own sorrow away. Damn alcohol.
'It's much more likely that he went to hell, Melissa.' Lazarus said bitterly. Melissa placed a hand on his chest and lifted her head slowly.
‘Hmm?’ she asked, her expression falling into confusion.
'That's how religion works, isn't it. Assuming heaven and hell and god et cetera exist, he would go to hell. Because he loved a man. I'm not in a pit of fire or anything like that, but this curse is just as bad. You're the only good thing about anything recently.' Lazarus paused. 'I like you. But I'm going to need time to get over Gabriel. I gotta stop drinking, too.' He came to a stop, realising he was probably not making much sense. He looked away, gazing at the strip of sun on the floor – the only sliver of light in the room. It was slowly turning a deep orange, like a line of fire painted on the cheap carpet.
‘Well, you know where I will be.’ She smiled, resting her head back on his chest. ‘But I agree; drinking won't help anything.’ She heard his heart beat within his chest. Somehow it made her calmer, instead of riling the beast within. Lazarus didn’t know what to say, leaving a stretch of quiet between them.
‘Why...’ Lazarus started to say, but he cut himself short. Melissa turned her eyes to his questioningly. His cold eyes contrasted with her blood red eyes. He looked away to the strip of sunlight on the floor again, noticing how it matched Melissa’s eyes.
‘Why what?’ she asked when he didn’t complete his question.
‘Nothing. Never mind.’ He shook his head gently, wincing as his head pounded from the movement.
‘Tell me.’ Her voice was hard and a frown marred her face as the concern for him grew.
‘Why do you love me?’ He asked quietly, hoping she wouldn’t hear, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to repeat it. ‘I mean, what is there to love? Really; I’m an alcoholic werewolf with serious issues about relationships.’
‘I don’t know. I just do.’ She sighed. ‘Why?’
‘I just don’t understand it.’ Lazarus admitted slowly.
‘Neither do I. But I do. I can stop telling you but it doesn't mean I can stop feeling it.’ She looked at him, her red eyes gradually swirling back to their original green.
‘No... don’t stop telling me it. I think it’s helping me. I can feel it. Unless of course it’s the vodka talking...’ He trailed off sadly, unsure where his words were coming from anymore. The sun was fading from the floor, leaving the two in quiet darkness. A sullen expression lined her face now, as she spoke, a soft, lilting sorrow behind her tone.
‘I don't see how it’s helping you; surely I’m just tearing you apart? I mean, I'm a vampire. You love Gabriel.’ She told him. The tone her voice took wrenched at Lazarus’ heart and she felt his chest thump hard as her words sunk in. The corners of her mouth pulled downwards, though he couldn’t see.
‘I love the memory of Gabriel.’ Lazarus said, realising this as he spoke. ‘Just a memory, now. He can’t hold me, or comfort me when I fall. He would have died regardless, I just hate that it was me that took his life so... so brutally.’ He yawned, lazily covering his mouth and snuggling further down into the covers. He wrapped his arms around Melissa and hugged her tight, kissing the top of her head before drifting off to sleep.