to what do i owe (Varg x Lucette)

You've Made Up Your Mind.

"...I can't do this right now."

"..."

She looks up from the ground at him, and he meets her gaze unwaveringly. There's this kind of reservation in his eyes that she can't quite understand. He grins without humor, and the sharp upturn of his lips seems dangerous; like it hides teeth that are too sharp.

He uses those sharp teeth to bite his own tongue to stop everything he shouldn't say from passing his lips, and drowns out the lingering taste of her kiss that he can't seem to get out of his mind with the taste of blood.

Some sick, depraved side of him would rather that blood be hers. Though, he really doesn't have a sick side, does he? He is the sick side. He's the one that gets all the questions when his other half is far more questionable.

But no one sees that. Especially not her. How could she not see that Fritz was the one who was keeping secrets? Varg was the one telling her the truth. He was the one standing in front of her tonight when Fritz was too weak to show his face.

And still he takes the blame, because that's the only thing she gives.

It wasn't fair. 'Right now' is the only time they could do this; his time is running out.

But it wasn't his decision to make this time.

"I know."

...

There's a look in her eyes he can't quite pinpoint, though he's pretty sure he can never tell. Could be pity, could be pain. Pity and pain over someone that wasn't here, or someone who was always here, there was no telling anymore. The lines got more blurred each day, or perhaps they got more noticeable and they just chose to ignore it.

A gust of wind blows by them both in the silence, and the cold begins to creep in. He didn't mind the cold; there was already a chill in his chest that he couldn't rid himself of, so he was used to it by now.

When he walks closer, and then closer still, she doesn't run. Her expression doesn't change as he stands close – too close – and looks straight into her golden eyes.

There is nothing predatory in his contemplation as he takes in the curves of her face. One day he would never see it again. One day, sooner rather than later, he believed.

He's so close to her, but his distant expression tells Lucette that he's far enough away that she couldn't reach him if she tried. Even though she's standing right there, he's looking at her as if she's walking away from him. He's looking at her like he wishes she'd stay for just a second longer so that he could finally say the words that he failed to choke out before.

"...I know," he says, barely above a whisper. "You never will."

It wasn't bitter, it wasn't angry, it wasn't cruel. It was an exposure to the reality.

"You can't. Not while he's here." His breath fogs in the cold air along with Lucette's own.

He reaches up and pulls down his mask. He moves in slow deliberate movements until the mask falls from his face and down onto what little ground is left between them.

Maybe she will look at him and won't see the shadow of someone else crossing his face as she had many days before. It was a fragile hope, but he would prefer to delude himself for what time he had left.

Something about him looks different than before.

It's in the look of heartache in his eyes. It's in the way his features are so sharply cut by the moonlight. It's in the way he's looking at her like she's his whole world that he's just been denied.