How do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait?

At some point Sorrow thought to use one of his rare moments for more than just aimless wandering. Or, perhaps, he had finally just gathered up the courage to contact his... well, to be quite honest, Sorrow was not sure what he and Vanity were any more. What Vanity was to him. It was not just space separating them - it was time. Time past, time present and time to come. Sorrow thought he had plenty of time - that both he and Vanity had time, but recent events had proven so differently.

Sorrow had made his choice. Having thought about where his loyalties lie, the vampire chose to be faithful to his family and to the responsibilities he had to his clan. The fault was on his part for not having contacted his lover, for having put a hold on their relationship and... his own personal happiness? Not that it mattered now, the selfish thought. Not while Misery was still locked up in her room, going through changes Sorrow could not begin to understand. Not with the Festival so close and- what? What was there to think about? Not now, not again, not yet, not that. Sorrow had put a pause on that before he came here. Now, he was supposed to be meeting Vanity. Deal with one matter, then proceed with another. And for Charna's sake, try not to mess it up.

The evening was warm, with that special feel of summer. The corner of the street where Sorrow stood abandoned, less for the vampire, quite unlike the street itself where families and couples were. Out on an evening walk, or going home after a delightful day. Families and couples, and just a few of those walking by themselves, the one or two that just had 'forever alone' written over their sad faces. And Sorrow, waiting. Not feeling the warmth, just the eternal cold.

Time affected everyone differently. Most were shaped and matured over time- Vanity, however, seemed to only regress to a younger self over the years. His hair, always having been unruly, seemed more untamed and jostled than any of his years in Hogwarts. His shoes were knock-off name brands, dirty and worn down with holes and his pants had torn hems, looking like they belonged to a no-worry teenager, not to a man who worked in the ministry. The only evidence of his aging were the dark rings that steadily deepened around his eyes.

He head through the alleyway, steps discombobulated and lacking a rhythm, while his overall body gestures looked like a puppet on strings. He hadn't accumulated any grace over the years, it seemed.

Vanity's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in an attempt to relieve himself from the horrid heat that constantly beat down, his tie had been loosened considerably, and his bangs had been pushed out of his face in an attempt to cool down his forehead. He looked pretty content overall, just relaxed and collected.

He turned a corner, peeking around in an attempt to find the man he'd be meeting up with. His gaze landed on the pale figure and he redirected his path towards him.

"Oy, Sunshine!" His lips spread into a broad grin, looking as if no time were lost between them. To a passerbyer it may have appeared that the two had seen each other earlier today and were greeting each other once again.

Sorrow knew it would be hard. Yet until that moment, when his eyes lay to rest on the young man before him, he had not the slightest idea of just how hard it would be. He certainly did not expect a rush of feelings he had to fight to hide behind the mask he had spent the past two years perfecting. And it would have been so easy, too, to ignore all rational thought and hold the one person that meant everything to him not so long ago. Someone he would have given his life for – still would – and who he wanted to be near to watch over and protect.

But he failed at that. He chose to protect his family. And with that smiling face, Vanity looked like he never needed much protection in the first place. He would go around doing his own thing, and if there was someone to remind him to eat and sleep, and welcome him home at the end of the day – well, all the better. Sorrow hoped Vanity would find that someone, someday. As much as he wanted to, Sorrow could not give him a clichéd happy ending, riding off into the sunset or flying away and over the rainbow.

“Vanity,” Sorrow began, his lips giving no indication of a returning smile. “My given name is Sorrow. I would much prefer if you used it instead of a silly nickname.” He did not mean to sound so cold. Honest. “Just – come on. I need to talk to you.”

The grin that had been so bright, so radiant, twitched, then disappeared. He didn't frown, bu his face look strained, like he was attempting to compose his features and not quite let on what he was feeling. He could feel his adams apple dip in his throat as he swallowed thickly, feeling a cold weight drop in his stomach weighing him down.

Something was going to happen next that he wouldn't like, he already knew it.

"A-Alright---" His lips thinned out and his hands made their way into the pockets of his slacks. He took a second to will away the nervous stutter that slipped into his voice. "Let's talk."

Turning away, Sorrow said no more, though the gesture was mostly to hide the pained expression that found itself present on the vampire's features. He willed it away quickly, moving down the street and towards the Leaky Cauldron. Judging from the other's expression, Sorrow was coming to terms that he might end up hurting him whatever his next move was - and he just wasn't able to do so without sitting down and having at least one- fuck, what? Cup of Coffee?

Now that was a fun fact Sorrow doubted anyone knew.

Having entered the inn, the vampire took place at an empty table for two, set in the far corner of the room. The bartender, eager to serve the little customers they had, appeared by their table soon enough. Sorrow's gaze rested on Vanity, letting him order first if he so wished.

Vanity took a seat, joints cracking at the move, avoiding eye contact with the vampire. "Er, chocolate milk, I s'pose." Some things never changed. His hands moved down to his lap, palms rubbing together and fingers nervously linking. His eyebrows were furrowed into a look of concentration, anxiety steadily increasing. Finally, after a few seconds, he let out a small lungful of air and looked up to the man, lips pulling into a subtle, warm smile.

"Just-" Sorrow paused, changed his mind, spoke again. "Tea, please." He watched Vanity carefully, thinking something over in his head. Yes, the decision had been final, and there was no point in attempting to avoid the consequences. The vampire did not speak until the bartender came back, set the cups down and took his leave again, all the while his eyes not leaving the young man before him.

Then his gaze faltered. He looked away, going straight to the point. Leaving no space for emotion in his voice as he spoke. "I cannot do this any more."

His elbow sat on the table and his hand moved flat, chin resting comfortably on his palm. His eyes flickered back and forth between the other's, the gentle smile still there, looking as if he were mulling something over in his head. "I know." He finally spoke, closing his eyes momentarily, then opening them again.

His freehand moved down, fingering the rim of the cup, not drinking it just yet. He finally broke eye contact to look down at the brown milk, head nodding slowly. "I know." He repeated, taking a hold of the glass and taking a small sip, not really tasting anything, too caught up in his thoughts.

For once he didn't have anything to say, his mind had just kind of...blanked on him, and he had a strange flurry of foreign emotions.
So he just smiled.

"Good, that is... good," Sorrow let out a breath slowly, poking around his own cup, but not feeling quite up to the taste of his drink. Should have asked for coffee. "You seem... relieved. That's good."

He brought up the cup, burning his lips and tongue as the tasteless liquid slid down his throat. The vampire had not more to say. As far as he was concerned, this was going far better than he expected. It was good that Vanity understood, and asked not for explanations Sorrow could not offer.

Silence drew over them slowly, readily knitting a tight net. If this was it, Sorrow should have stood already and taken his leave. But not yet, he could not. He needed to stay still for just a bit longer.

( Sorry for disappearing, there was something wrong with the internet cable coming into the house )

"I'm not." He replied honestly, the smile fading a bit, though his lips continued to stay tugged up around the edge. His fingers drummed mutely against the side of the glass, eyes flickering over the edge of the water, watching ripples form over the surface of the brown drink. "I, uh... We will... You...You still want to be my friend, right?" There was that first flicker of emotion that managed to breach the steady smile.
His eyebrows twitched and a hollow appeared in his neck. He knew this day was coming, they had become distant, not talking, not speaking- hell, even when they were close Vanity had always been kind of a... terrible boyfriend. He wasn't too affectionate and always acted like a brat.
He knew it was coming-- but the actual idea of losing Sorrow. That hurt. A lot. He could live with Sorrow and him not being together. He could even get used to the idea of Sorrow dating someone else over time, as well.

But the idea of him being gone forever.

Vanity didn't think he could live with that.

(Do not worry about it~)

The vampire's eyes locked on the young man once more, darkened, clouded. Sorrow had forgotten about that possibility, as if everything about him and Vanity had to come to a complete stop and - no, he reminded himself. No, not 'as if'. It did. Sorrow had to stay away from Vanity. Besides, having avoided him up until now, Sorrow would not make a good friend anyway. No, even if that were a possibility-

"No," Sorrow spoke, somehow managing to keep a straight face when inside he was screaming the exact opposite. It hurt, it did. Sorrow never quite understood how one's heart could shatter, but now he could feel his own heart, his very soul splitting open and bleeding. How does a man do that, hurt both himself and the one he loves? What kind of a monster does he have to be? "No, I do not. I have no desire to continue our friendship."

(FFFUUU- Sorrow, Y U SO morose?)

( ...I was so bored ;-; )

The look on his face was nothing short of a deer caught in headlights. "...Oh." He felt...physically in pain. Like his chest was being squeezed in and his breath was forcefully sucked out of him. He could feel his eyes begin to burn and a film of water cloud his vision and the only thought that ran through his mind was what did I do wrong?
"O-" His voice cracked, unable to finish how what he was going to say-- though he hadn't actually had anything in mind.

Was it something he said? Had he missed a special holiday? ...or had Sorrow just finally grown sick of him?
"I'm sorry."

Sorrow had his lips pressed in a tight line, unable to say more. To Vanity, he hoped he looked as if that was it, he had nothing more to say and cared not much whether the other was sorry or not, or why. It took a moment or so for him to calm his mind, his heart, before he could speak again.

"To be honest, I am not. N-not really," damn Charna, what was that stutter? Sorrow fixed an expression of calmness, glancing away as if bored. Vanity would not notice, probably. "Well, that is all. You need not stay any longer. Everything I needed to say I said to you."

He opened his mouth, attempting to make a light-hearted joke, something to ease the situation- about strippers, no doubt, but all that came out was a choked noise and the well of tears finally broke. He felt physically ill, like he just wanted to throw up, curl up, then proceed to die.
But he did the more socially acceptable thing.
He swallowed thickly through his tears, dropped some money on the table and turned, walking off without another word.

The bartender appeared by the table in the corner almost immediately after Vanity's departure. He picked up the coins, turned his head to look at the door of the inn. He said something, a comment Sorrow did not hear. The vampire sat completely frozen, still staring at some dirty spot on the wall. He was not blinking, not breathing. Only when the bartender spoke again - "Sir, are you quite all right?" - did he lean towards the table, head dropping onto his arm, his forehead resting on his palm. There were not many people in besides him and the bartender, yet Sorrow could feel eyes burning through him.

"Coffee. Bring me coffee. Black. Strong. Leave me." Sorrow attempted a meditation, trying desperately to calm himself. When that failed, he asked for the coffee. The bartender brought the desired liquid, then retreated at Sorrow's request. The vampire shook in his seat, his vain attempts to control his breathing showing. His palm now covered his eyes, pressing hard to stop the hot tears from sliding down his pale cold cheeks.

At some point, Sorrow reached out towards the cup of coffee. He grasped it; it felt warm and comforting between his palms. His tea lay forgotten, cold as Sorrow's skin.
The vampire brought the cup up to his lips, letting the smooth slow-roasted flavour roll over his tongue. The effects felt soon after, his heart slamming like a caged thing against the meatwall of his chest, rendering him quite unable to breathe for several seconds. Almost as moments before, only more intense.

Sorrow would have killed himself quick and neat with a single dose of a socially acceptable drug used by billions of people without a second thought every day of their lives. If only he could. But his lungs hitched and he was able to suck in a shallow, agonizing breath, then another. His heart was still beating, his limbs trembling, his vision throbbing. In time, it would all pass. It was a comforting thought, a reminder of pain that would pass. But Sorrow would not drink that much coffee, not when he had yet things to do. Not when he had already done the thing that hurt him in order to do those things.

He had been sitting there long enough, honestly. Sorrow could not waste time crying. It was time to move again and so he did. Swiftly, before he thought to hesitate.