so long, lonesome

Muramura

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Oct 29, 2016
156
[BCOLOR=transparent]The fall months were passing by far too quickly for Johann's tastes. The days slipped by like clockwork, carrying on ever-closer to December. It made him anxious — winter was not a good time for the ghost. There were too many painful memories and unanswered questions. Thus to quiet his mind he threw himself into his work. As of late it was not uncommon to find the librarian puttering around at all hours of day and night.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It would only get worse as time passed and likely wouldn't settle until well after spring arrived. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Johann would cope. He always had.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Many of the nocturnal students had started to take advantage of his exhaustive work schedule. More than once he had been called upon to find some obscure tome or reference to aid with midterms. The distraction was welcomed — anything and everything was a boon to keep his psyche from pursuing hurtful trains of thought.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]This particular evening had been rather slow, however. Johann was left to tidy and organize, reorganize and tidy again. So caught up in autopilot was he that he almost startled when he noticed a student. They must have wandered in when he was in the back room.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“Good evening...” He began as he approached, only to trail off as he got closer. His brow furrowed in concern at the student's state. Their skin was flushed and they didn't seem to be responsive at all to his voice or any telekinetic nudging. He felt fairly confident they would be warm to the touch if he was capable of physical contact.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“Come now...let's get you to the infirmary...” he murmured quietly as he gently picked the student up with his telekinesis. “You'll be fine, don't worry...” Johann wasn't certain how much they could actually hear him, but it felt better to be comforting.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The walk to the infirmary seemed to take forever, but much to his relief they finally arrived. Johann set the youth down gently on one of the empty chairs then straightened up, peering around curiously. He wasn't keen on walking away from the student to search for someone, so he settled on calling out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent][/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Guten abend[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent],” The soft timbre of his voice lilted, “I know it is late, but there is a student here who could very much use some assistance...”[/BCOLOR]
 

birdie

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Jul 9, 2005
5,558
Once the sun had set, and after he drank his breakfast, Aldric went in to the school to relieve the day crew of their shift. The afternoons, he imagined, were busy, with students leaving classes or skipping them altogether for some sickness or another, and then, of course, there were the athletic injuries.

The night shift was typically quieter. There were fewer classes to leave at this hour, which meant the students he saw were sick with something usually a bit more serious. Food poisoning, a bit too much to drink, sudden viruses that required a note to get them out of class the next day—it was a different pace, but one he was fine with, for it permitted him to grade papers in between patients.

It was not ambition that drove him to gather responsibility, but rather, a desire to fill his time with as much work as he could. There was too much to think about, too many melancholy crooks in his memory to revisit, when he did not fill his time adequately.

There were no students waiting for treatment, or for a signed note, and so he went into his office, where he took out papers and began reading. He kept the door to his office open, in the event anyone came in to the infirmary.

Five papers later—decent papers, he was pleased to report—he heard a soft voice call out in his native tongue. Aldric's head shot up. There was a brief spark of excitement in his eyes, for a long time had passed since the last time he encountered anyone whose language sounded like home.

"Guten abend!" he called back, his voice strong and affable. "One moment, one moment." He tucked the papers back into his briefcase, then walked out, a stethoscope around his neck, a white jacket on his body, and a clipboard in his hands.

"My name is Dr. Reinhardt," he said, "what seems to be the—"

He looked up from the clipboard to see two people: a student in a chair, who looked feverish, and a young, transparent man who looked like Aldric's greatest failure.

A calamity began in his chest—though his heart no longer bear, and though his lungs no longer required air, there was a sudden, sharp tightness, as if his insides had been twisted. Was the face his face, or just a similar one? And were those his clothes, or someone else's? Aldric's first instinct was to call it coincidence, some random chance in the wild universe that tortured him centuries later over an error he could not forgive himself for.

His brows furrowed slightly, the only visible sign of vexation.

"The… trouble," he said slowly. "What seems to be the—the trouble."
 

Muramura

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Oct 29, 2016
156
[BCOLOR=transparent]Thankfully it didn’t take long for a response to come. He reflexively straightened his posture and pivoted in the direction of the voice, head tilted attentively. There was no way he could have anticipated the vision that walked out into the infirmary proper. The moment his amber gaze settled on the tall, blonde spectre from his past, time seemed to stop.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Oh.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Science would say that once you are deceased, you can no longer feel anything. Johann learned long ago that this was untrue, especially for ghosts. Ghosts were all psyche and consciousness. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]All they had was emotion.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] He stared, drinking in the view of the vampire with rapt attention even as pain unfurled in the hollow of what would’ve been his chest, anxiety coiling around his very being.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There Herr Reinhardt was, looking every bit the same as he had when Johann last saw him. The same eyes, the same hair, the same jawline.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was reeling. Nothing else existed. There was only the vampire and the overwhelming weight of his past. The hurt pulsated throughout the core of his existence steadily like some foreign heartbeat, and in that moment, he forgot himself and inhaled deeply. Breathing did nothing for him, it was simply a psychological trick that sometimes helped him. Just breathe. Just breathe and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]it will all be okay.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Except it wasn’t okay.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent][/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Ach,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]” He breathed out, voice shuddering. Absent-mindedly, one hand shot up to rub at the side of his neck. Without thinking, he turned sharply on his heels, skirt swishing soundlessly about his ankles. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]He couldn’t--this couldn’t--it...[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A handful of seconds stretched for eternity but eventually he turned back around. His pale lips were pursed into a thin, quivering line — his tongue heavy with questions. If only he could pretend that this was some descendant, some uncanny doppelganger...But when he blinked, it all came rushing back to him...[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]...dim lighting casting menacing shadows on the vampire’s face...[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]...blood dripping from exposed fangs...[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It hurt.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The paintings on the surrounding walls shuddered lightly and it took all of his willpower to cause them to stop.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“I-—” It took many false starts to get anything coherent out, his voice wavering, accent thick with emotion. “This little one...needs help...” Ended up being all he could get out.[/BCOLOR]
 

birdie

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Jul 9, 2005
5,558
A hand shot up to cover the man's neck, and just before the palm could cover it, Aldric saw the old wound he had inflicted. A wound to save Johann's life—a wound that had failed—a wound that now taunted him, as if those two puncture holes were empty eyes, staring blankly at him.

No wonder this man was transparent. He was a ghost. But Johann was buried in Germany. Aldric himself had dug the grave, had himself ordered the headstone, had himself given the eulogy and seen Johann put peacefully into the ground.

It made no sense for Johann to be here, so far away from home and so far from a peaceful rest. Desperation told him some apparition must be playing a cruel joke, and perhaps some evil was at work here—but Aldric had a job to do.

The paintings on the walls shuddered. Aldric snapped his eyes away to watch them quiver, and then, once they stilled, he looked back to Johann. Something like terrified, confused awe glimmered in his eyes, but it was faint and reluctant to show itself fully.

"Of course," he said. "I can help."

He swallowed over a growing lump in his throat, then turned away for a moment to retrieve a thermometer. When he returned, he knelt in front of the student, and explained, in a careful and gentle voice:

"I'm just going to take your temperature," he said, "and then listen to your chest, is that okay?"

The student nodded, though very slowly. Clearly exhausted. Midterms would do that. Aldric gave the student the thermometer, and it came back with a high temperature, just as he suspected. He put the stethoscope into his ears and placed it against the student's chest.

"Deep breath," he instructed. The student did so, and he gave the instruction a couple more times, moving the stethoscope to a different part of the chest. Aldric's eyes wandered back to Johann—despite the calm professionalism of his voice, he felt wild, and could not look away from him.

"Thank you," he said to the student, "and—" to Johann, "thank you for bringing them. There is—it's going around—a bug. There's a bug going around. It was good of you to—be on the lookout."

He stood up fully, then averted his eyes. "I'm going to prescribe some antibiotics," he said to the student. "And lots of rest, and lots of liquids." He scribbled something on a pad of paper, then offered it to the student to take and hopefully be on their way.

He had much to discuss with this ghost.
 

Muramura

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Oct 29, 2016
156
[BCOLOR=transparent]The world moved in slow motion.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Johann was only vaguely aware of the exchange between the vampire and the sickly student and even less cognizant of the latter’s departure. Had he not been so consumed by other emotions, perhaps he would have felt some guilt for not escorting the youth back to their dorm. As it was, there was only that ache in his empty chest. He pressed his free hand to his sternum, as if the gesture could somehow ward away the discomfort. Nostrils flaring, he inhaled deeply and released it in a slow, unsteady sigh. How unfortunate it was that ghosts didn’t require sleep; he couldn’t blame this on some nightmare.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It took him some time to realize he had been addressed, and even then the words meant nothing to him. He ended up peering at the vampire, uncomprehending. How cruel was it, that he finally got to see the man he cared for so much after all these years and it [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]hurt[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] to look at him. To see him was to remember [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]everything[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. His mind’s eye was tuned to an intrusive, painful montage of all his past failures and missteps; everything, real and imagined, that could have led them to this point.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Slowly, he blinked, and came back to the present. His palm was pressed to his neck, as if he were trying to staunch bleeding that stopped centuries ago. Momentarily, his lips parted for him to speak, but he quickly shut them.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Every fiber of his being was quivering with the effort of keeping himself together. He refused to fall apart in front of Herr Reinhardt.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Not again.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He had already disgusted him once before.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When he finally managed to speak, it came out stilted, disjointed, first with a blurted [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]“Why-—”[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] and then “Do you want me to leave?”[/BCOLOR]
 

birdie

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Jul 9, 2005
5,558
The student left, prescription in hand, and Aldric watched them go. Even as he looked away from Johann, he felt some force tugging his gaze back to look at his long-departed companion. He tried to resist it. When he looked at Johann, he saw nothing but despair; Johann's death had been his undoing in so many ways, and for over a century Aldric had regretted it.

He turned his head away to look at the opposite wall. He inhaled an unnecessary but calming breath. The pain in his chest increased, then dissipated slightly as he exhaled through his nose. It sounded like a heavy sigh, but was meant only to be a breath to clear his head.

But his head didn't clear. How could it? He was not so unfeeling that a simple breath could dispel everything that Johann's presence here made him feel.

At last he looked back to Johann, and wondered how he had managed to look away to begin with.

But Johann looked pained, and Aldric could hardly blame him. He was surely in pain, remembering how Aldric had failed him in the moment of his greatest need. Aldric did not know what to say, and so he merely stood there, looking at Johann, who he thought he would never look at again.

"Leave?" The wrinkles in his forehead were evidence of his bewilderment, to be asked such a question. Aldric shook his head from side to side. The motion felt both fast and slow, as if he were moving through syrup and yet also on fire.

"No," he added. "I don't want that—how could you think…"

He trailed off. It was a useless question.

"There is no reason for you to leave," he said.

He did not know what else to say. All the questions seemed futile. It didn't seem like the right time to ask any of the important ones. Aldric wet his lips with his tongue, thinking, and then made an offer—he had waited too long to do that once, and he did not want to make that mistake again.

"Would you like to join me in my office? You needn't, of course, if you're busy, but it has been so long…"
 

Muramura

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Oct 29, 2016
156
[BCOLOR=transparent]Nothing made sense.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Caught up in the heavy ache of years past, Johann lacked the clarity to see the confusion on the blonde’s face. All he heard, all he saw, were things contradictory to what he experienced.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It has been so long.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The words felt like a blow. Johann took a half-step back — years and years of practice being the only thing keeping him level on the floor — and curled his arms about himself.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“It [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]has[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] been so long. One hundred and ninety-nine years, eleven months, nine days-—” He inhaled deeply. Surely a ghost couldn’t hyperventilate, but he was certainly fighting for every unnecessary breath. Shoulders trembling, brow furrowed, he was trying to maintain a calm outward facade but that was rapidly failing. It was written all over his face, this hurt — his translucent cheeks were flush with it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His eyes stung, and he immediately remembered what it was like to cry and fight back tears. It was a struggle even now, with no body.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He shuddered, and many of the loose, small, movable objects around the room shuddered with him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]You left."[/BCOLOR]
 

birdie

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Jul 9, 2005
5,558
One hundred and ninety-nine years, eleven months, nine days.

Johann had kept count, and this felt like a wound. It had been more than a long time—it had been lifetimes since they'd seen each other. So much time had passed that Aldric had forgotten the sound of Johann's voice, had nearly forgotten what he looked like until he was confronted with him again.

Though he had forgotten the physical aspects of Johann—what he looked like, what he sounded like—there were other things he could not forget. The weight of his body in his lap while he tried to save him. The taste of his blood in his mouth. The way his breath had stopped. The sound of his heart stuttering, then stopping, and not starting again.

As Johann grew more emotional, objects about the room began to shudder. Pens inside a repurposed coffee mug ricocheted off each other. The room belonged to Johann now, and to the strength of his own grief.

"What?"

The accusation made no sense.

"I didn't leave you, Johann," said Aldric. His voice hitched to say that name again—the air rushed out of his chest.

"I was with you until you died. I stayed with you, even after. When the sun rose, I was holding you. And afterwards I buried you—I didn't leave you."
 

Muramura

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Inactive
Oct 29, 2016
156
Johann was lost in it, caught up in a whirlwind of emotion. Every time he tried to calm down, the weight of the grief within him grew heavier. How — how dare the vampire suddenly be here, appearing well-adjusted and fine while he — he struggled to find any sense of normalcy. Though the physical sensation was likely imagined, he still felt the tears welling up in his eyes, distorting his vision. They trickled down his cheeks as he blinked, dripping off his chin and jaw before dissipating into nothingness.

All the aching hurt swirling around his psyche made it hard for him to focus properly; he didn't have the presence of mind to piece together what Herr Reinhardt was saying. The only thing he did absorb was the denial.

I didn't leave you.

The lie was a knife plunged into the hollow of his chest, striking the empty hole where his heart would have been. What followed was an unbearable agony; he couldn't understand how this man that he trusted — that he loved — could stand before him and lie straight to his face.

His breath was ragged.

"[You did leave. You left me after--]"

His breath hitched, reflexively slipping into their native tongue.

"[You--you--you--]"

He couldn't get the words out, voice tumultuous and body trembling.

"[Don't lie to me.]"

The statement left him in a rush, shoulders slumped and shaking as some scrap of him endeavored to not enter full-blown sobbing. Johann pivoted away so he could stare at the wall, or the floor, or anything but the blonde. Wrapped up in his own sorrow he was oblivious to the chaos he was wreaking on his surroundings — staplers shuddered off desks, pens shot against the room and struck walls, at least one painting fell to the floor...

ooc note: I'll use brackets for German since I don't know that much, hahaha.
 

birdie

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Jul 9, 2005
5,558
Tears dribbled down Johann's cheeks, a sight which he had never seen during the young man's life. Johann never wept before him—not even when he was a child, newly brought to the manor, or in the days before his death when he'd had something on his mind.

Until now, Johann had done all his crying alone, behind the closed door of his bedroom, through which Aldric could only hear him. To offer comfort then was to breach Johann's privacy, but now Aldric took a small step forward. He raised his hands a little bit, with the fingers spread wide—he was not quite reaching for Johann, but instead trying to calm him, trying to show that he had no way of hurting him.

"[After what?]" Aldric asked. Despite his concern and confusion, he kept it out of his voice—his words were soft and low, hoping that if he stayed calm then it might spread to Johann.

With the room dissolving into chaos, calming Johann was the first priority. Now it was more than a coffee mug full of pens clattering, more than paintings quivering.

One of the paintings fell to the floor, and its frame snapped. Pens lifted off of desks and flew across the room, like arrows, to stick themselves in walls.

"[When did I leave you, Johann?]"

One stapler began pressing itself down, stapling nothing. Another sprang open and fell to the ground, spilling out the staples inside it.

Aldric seethed to see the pile on the ground. This was the last thing he needed. Compulsion drove him toward the staples and as he knelt down, he said:

"[I'm not lying to you.]"

And then he began picking up the staples, counting them in his head. He was glad, at least, that the stapler had not been entirely full when it fell.

…Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…

He paused and looked up from the small mess.

"[I am not lying, Johann. I did not leave. You died in my arms. I buried you. I did not leave you.]"

…Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…
 
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