Barnabas sat in the dim light of the room, the flickering candles casting playful shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and the faint perfume of lavender that Spocks_Boy had used to freshen the space. He glanced sideways at them, nestled comfortably beside him on the wide, unused bed.

Though he didn’t sleep, he found himself craving these moments—a strange desire for connection that had bloomed like a forgotten flower in the dark. The evening had unfolded simply, with casual conversation over a modest dinner, their laughter echoing softly in the quiet of Collinwood. It was a contrast to his usual existence, filled with shadows and secrets.

“Tell me,” Barnabas began, his voice a low murmur, laced with curiosity, “what do you think of this place? Do you see the beauty beneath the dust?” He leaned a little closer, his blue eyes studying Spocks_Boy with a mix of intensity and tenderness, as if he could unravel their thoughts just by looking.

As they spoke, he felt a warmth spreading through him—something he hadn’t experienced in centuries. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. He wanted to know everything about Spocks_Boy, to wrap them in his world, even as he kept his own darkness at bay.

“Tonight feels different,” he continued, his tone softening. “As if the walls themselves are listening.” He reached out, brushing a lock of hair behind Spocks_Boy’s ear, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary before suddenly running his fingers through their hair carefully. “You have brought a light into this ancient house, a light I dare not extinguish.”

With a sigh that was almost a whisper, he settled back against the pillows, inviting them to snuggle closer. “Stay with me, if only for a while. The night is long, and I find solace in your presence.” His voice held a hint of vulnerability, a rare glimpse into the man beneath the vampire facade, as they embraced the quiet together.