Lost Melody

Love Is Pain

He bit his lip—a nervous gesture she'd never seen him do.

"What do you know about bloodlust?"

Camellia signed two names—Isaac and Jean.

"Then you don't know much." He looked, and sounded as though he were in immense pain.

'But you've taken three bottles!' She wildly gestured to the empty glass.

He looked almost rueful. "In cases such as these, only a specific person's blood can quench out thirst." His voice held a hint of self-deprecation.

'Whose?'

"Yours," he answered, not looking at her.

She grabbed his face, and forced him to look at her. She didn't even have to think twice before responding. 'Take it.'

His eyes widened. "You don't know what you're asking for." His breathing was almost ragged now, as if just having Camellia around was enough to drive him crazy. "Leave."

'No.'

For a second, he seemed to be fighting with himself, and Camellia could almost see the second reason lost. He pushed her against the wall, and she braced herself. "I warned you."

His fangs sank into her neck, and she let out a soundless scream, before the pain dissolved. And she couldn't even tell him to stop, not even when she could feel her consciousness fading.

Camellia woke up later in his room, and Mozart sat in a chair overlooking the bed, his eyes closed.

She took a closer look. He looked rather pretty sleeping like that.

"Keep staring," he muttered.

She jerked back as he opened his eyes. 'I thought you were asleep.'

"I could feel you staring," said Mozart, giving her a quick glance up and down. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. 'Not even a headache.'

He sighed in relief.

'What kind of bloodlust was that, though?'

He looked almost dumbfounded, before putting his head in his hands. "You're not very bright, are you?"

She glared at him, but stopped when she saw his expression. "Meine liebe." He stood up, and left, closing the door gently behind him.

That means 'my love,' does it not?

Pieces started falling into place, and she was left to finally confront the thoughts she'd buried deep inside. Could love lead to bloodlust?

Camellia knocked on Arthur's door a little past 3 am, wondering if he'd be awake at this ungodly hour of the day.

"Come in," he said. She walked in to see him at the table, writing away on his desk. He hadn't even looked back, and she took a seat on the couch, wondering what he'd have done if someone had come to murder him, and then remembered that he was a vampire, and then she worried about the poor murderer.

"Your expressions are entertaining," he said, not even looking back.

'How did you even see them?'

He gestured to the coffee cup, which showed a very mini form of Camellia. Arthur took off his horn-rimmed glasses, and put his pen down, taking a seat across from her.

"Well? You want to know about bloodlust?"

Her heart stopped in her throat, and Arthur smiled, as though that reaction was all the evidence he needed. 'How?'

He indicated his throat, and Camellia touched her own, feeling a slight sting. "You didn't even cover up."

Slightly flushed, she shifted her hair discreetly. She got straight to the point. 'If your bloodlust is because you love someone, then how long will it take for you to need their blood again?'

His eyes never left her hands, but he seemed relaxed, as though he'd memorized all the signs she'd used, and was now shuffling them through a database in his head. "You needn't worry. He won't need it for a while." He flashed Camellia a dark grin that sent shivers down her spine. "But let's stop talking about Wolfie. What were you thinking, walking into a man's room at this time of night?"

She gave him a disapproving look. 'As I remember it, you prefer your partners to be... vocal.'

He tilted his head and leaned back. "You're not wrong, but who said I wouldn't attack you?"

'You're a scoundrel, but not that much of a scoundrel.'

He laughed and stood up. "Don't hold back or anything."

He made his way back to his desk, and stopped with a hand on the back of his chair. "You can stay and rest, or you can head back."

'I'm leaving then. Thank you.'

He watched as she walked away.

Only when Camellia walked back into her room did she realize she'd never told Arthur she'd been talking about Mozart. Well, he probably saw evidence that she didn't.

✮✮✮

Mozart avoided Camellia all week. Now he was the one who dashed out of the music room when she entered.

"So he's the type to run away from his problems instead of face them, huh? laughed Kiara.

Arthur and Dazai poked their heads into the kitchen, where Kiara and Camellia had been doing the dishes. "You need to talk to Mozart?" asked Arthur, an odd sparkle in his eyes. "Come to the drawing room this eveing."

'Wait!'

But they had long since disappeared, and Kiara had started laughing again.

'I'm concerned.'

✮✮✮