#and it turned into a short novel by accident BSJSIZ9DNSI

[as-above-rp]

Roland's heart ached for Butch. He was so hard on himself--much like Roland was with his self, too. Of course he was special! How many people could say that they had been alive for hundreds of years, hopping in and out of a magical book? Roland couldn't so much relate to that, but he could relate to being and old soul in the modern era, feeling lost and out of touch at times. And it wasn't just his circumstances that made Butch special; his soul was fiery and wild, engulfing a wounded heart that just wanted to love and be loved in return. He was kind and passionate, he was a menace who made Roland laugh. He was wonderful...he was beautiful, to him.

His cheeks were a little more warm knowing that Butch had also thought about things escalating between them, both emotionally and sexually. Roland wasn't shy about sex or anything, far from it! But there was something about sex with intimacy specifically, that flustered him. Once feelings got involved, Roland all but forgot how to be smooth and in control, and was reduced to a shy schoolboy's level of confidence once again. Not that he was going to tell Butch that! He knew that the cowboy would latch onto any chance to playfully hold something over him, and he was going to push that off for as long as he could.

Roland was so caught up in what Butch was saying, he nearly missed the pot of water starting to boil on the stove! He quickly turned the heat down a little and grabbed some uncooked spaghetti noodles to gently sit inside. Butch was giving him a lot of food for thought, puns where the reader wants them. Him? Out of Butch's league? Roland didn't think so--he came from nothing, living in near-poverty until he enlisted as a nurse in the war. He died in that war, and came back as a new beast with a second lease on life. Roland never saw him and Butch as two people from different worlds or social classes; they were both people out of place, out of their time, trying to make sense of a world that was moving on with or without them. The only difference he ever saw in the two of them...was Roland's biggest concern about pursuing anything more with Butch, or anyone for that matter.

"Well...first of all, I am not out of your league." Roland reassured him. "Don't mistake my home and my business as goalposts you need to reach in order to be my friend, or anything else. We're really not that different, at the heart of things..."

A lump formed in his throat. It was going to be a hard topic for Roland to bring up. The last time didn't go so well...but, Butch was a totally different person. It could be different, this time. And after everything he had said, he deserved the full truth from Roland. Sighing out his anxieties and reservations through his nose, he kept prepping dinner and explained himself;

"When I was turned...I was on the brink of death. No matter what anyone could have done, I was going to die. My friend offered to save me, but at a cost, of course. At the time, I didn't realize what I was getting into, and I didn't care--I just knew I didn't want to die out there. And, obviously I didn't." He chuckled bitterly again.

"The first decade or so after the war was rough...really rough. It's way easier to be a vampire on the battlefield than it is in society. I was having to navigate a new affliction, a new identity, and living as my 'true self' all at once. I won't bore you with all the details. It was...the long term consequences that I didn't consider that were the most difficult."

He gently placed his hand on top of the one Butch has set on his shoulder.

"....do you know how long you'll be alive, Butch? If nothing were to cut your life short prematurely, how old do you think you'd live to be? Whatever answer you can come up with, I'm almost certain I would naturally live three times that long. That doesn't seem very fair now, does it?"

Butch skims through the note once more… Roland had bared his soul to him, opened up about his desires and seemingly what he felt he didn’t deserve, or so that’s how Butch interpreted it. It was a confession and yet, there was still some longing in there. The cowboy hadn’t quite misread it… it felt more like Roland had told him what he wanted before deciding how things were was for the best. Well—-who was he to decide? And to leave it at that? That didn’t sit right with Butch. He couldn’t just… pick up this letter and re-read it at his own leisure, relishing in the feeling that someone so close to him felt this way… and to throw it out when he got bored of it? What kind of person did Roland take him for?

“I, uh… well—maybe y’didn’t pour yer whole heart int’ it…” He holds the crumpled paper to his chest, peering off to the side a bit embarrassed. He had just let himself in. Perhaps that was a bit presumptuous of him, but then Roland confirms it was indeed a confession.

“I, er… picked up on that…I jus’… wanna know…” Words are hard. His shoulders slump as he ponders how to phrase it and his voice is much quieter when words finally come out. “…Why y’think y’can’t have somethin’ like that… with me.” He’s no longer looking directly at Roland.

“I ain’t nothin’ special, an’ that ain’t me wantin’ ya t’tell me that I am. ‘Cause I think… yer special, Roland.” Come on, Butch, garner some of that bravery and say it with your chest, he has to urge himself. “T’me… ah, I’m gonna be honest with ya, Ro. I’ve thought ‘bout this kinda stuff too… heh. A lot. Not jus’ ‘bout th’ beddin’ stuff either, but it does sound nice…”

No, Roland wasn’t the type of fella he could only find physical intimacy in. Roland was much too classy for that. Far too intelligent and kind… he was one of the very few who understood his situation, even if only to a certain extent. He wasn’t exactly sure how Roland had been turned into a vampire but he’s sure it rocked his world when he realized it had happened… what he was becoming, and the adapting that came with it. Much like his current situation. Roland was a badass, who could handle a bigger gun than him with ease—he had seen may things throughout life, including war, and Butch… found comfort in how they could relate to the violence they had both been exposed to. Their transformation.

Even now, having essentially broke in, Roland was willing to make him a meal. He steps a bit closer to Roland, deciding he no longer wants to act like a shy school girl hiding his face behind that piece of paper. He folds it up and puts it in his chest pocket beneath his vest this time, resting a palm upon the counters edge as he leans his hip into just next to where Roland is standing as he prepares the food.

“I think yer amazin’, Roland.” Butch says honestly, ignoring the heat in his face. It’s not easy for him to talk about how he feels. “Y’deserve so much more than ya know… an’ it breaks my lil’ ol’ heart that y’think any different. Really, yer so far out’f my league an’ y’still…” He trails off, not sure what else to say just yet. It’s the feeling he’s trying to convey that’s seemingly impossible to put into words. A gentle hand moves to rest upon Roland’s shoulder, the lightest of reassuring squeezes following.