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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 6 months ago

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Shun the Light - Ch 21 - Second Chances

Masterlist

Author's Notes: this one got long! I guess Dante had a lot to say.

Content Warnings: werewolf whump, vampire whump, beaten, bruises, broken bones, thirst, hunger, exhaustion, poisoned, fever, stomach ache, drinking blood, angst, emotional whump, survivor's guilt

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They stagger into the house moments before the sun appears on the horizon. Knowing they won't make it upstairs, Dante guides Matteo to the living room, where they collapse onto the couch side by side.

Dante's muscles burn from so much exertion after years of little use. His bruised face and ribs ache so badly. His mouth is swollen from pulling his fang out. He's never been so tired or so thirsty.

Well...maybe not never.

Beside him Matteo struggles to catch his breath. He looks awful, malnourished and worn down. Dante can't believe he's here, that he found him, that he was never that far away all this time.

It hurts a little to think that he was so close but didn't return. Would he rather be out in the woods alone than here? At the same time, Dante feels a stab of guilt for not looking harder for him, or trying harder to stop him in the first place. No wonder Matteo felt like a burden.

Matteo opens his eyes and catches Dante staring at him. He gives a weak little smile.

"We made it."

Dante relaxes a little. "Thank you. I don't think I could have walked all that way on my own."

Before you found me, I don't know if I would have cared.

Matteo turns towards him. "Can I take a look?"

Dante nods and lets Matteo unbutton his shirt. Matteo draws in a sharp breath as he takes in the dark bruising coating the lower half of Dante's torso, which took the brunt of the beating.

"That looks bad..."

"I think something is broken." Dante groans. "When I move I can feel it."

Matteo tilts Dante's chin up and leans close to take in the damage to his face, then examines his arms, which he used to try to shield himself. Dante lays still and savors the touch.

"What do I do?" Matteo asks. "Do you still have any medicine? Can you even take medicine?"

Dante sighs and shakes his head. "I can't. It doesn't do anything. I just...need to get something to drink..." He starts to stand.

Matteo gently stops him. He pulls off his hoodie, just a tank top underneath, and offers his arm.

"Here. Take mine."

The pulse lightly drumming beneath Matteo's skin beckons Dante closer. He trembles, trying to maintain control despite his gnawing hunger.

"I - I can't. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," Matteo insists. "You need it bad."

Dante takes his arm and strokes his thumb up and down over the veins of his inner wrist, but still resists biting. "When is the last time you ate?"

"...few days ago. I haven't had much of an appetite, that's all. I'll eat tomorrow. Promise."

There was no real point resisting. Dante does need this, and Matteo needs to sleep, and he can give him that.

It's a little difficult with just one fang, but Dante bites down and takes a tentative sip, not wanting to overdo it. He's about to take another, when the taste first hits him.

Dante quickly pulls away and spits Matteo's blood onto the floor. "Ugh!" He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and spits out more.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's bitter." Dante licks his lips and makes a face. "Something is wrong."

Matteo is much worse off than he has been letting on. Dante felt it early on but there was so much else to worry about that he tucked it away. But now it's so obvious - the flushed skin, the strained breathing, the way he rubs his stomach when he thinks Dante isn't looking. Not eating for days, when he has money for food now.

Before Matteo can argue, Dante presses a hand to his forehead. Whatever Matteo was about to say falls away on a sigh as he leans his face into the touch.

His skin is feverishly warm. Dante's hand trails down to cup his cheek. When he starts to pull away Matteo grasps his arm and keeps him there.

With his other hand Dante brushes some damp curls from Matteo's face.

"You're not well," he says softly.

Matteo closes his eyes. "The wolf, it...ate something. Some kind of berry. I got r-really sick for a while there."

"You still are."

"I'm fine." Matteo finally releases Dante's arm and stands, shaky on his feet. "You need blood. Is there some in the fridge?"

"Yes, but I can get it - "

Dante tries to stand too but pain shoots through his ribs and he drops back to the couch with a ragged cry.

"Let me," Matteo insists. He pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over Dante's lap as if it will pin him down and Dante has no choice but to give in.

While Matteo slowly makes his way to the kitchen, leaning on the wall for support, Dante leans back and gingerly feels over his side to assess the damage. He hopes he has enough blood in stock to heal this...

"Here."

He must have dozed off for a moment because suddenly Matteo is there again, holding out a jar of blood. A second one sits on the coffee table.

"Thank you." Dante takes the jar and drinks slowly.

Matteo drops down beside him, out of breath again. But at least he poured himself some water, which he chugs down in the blink of an eye then slumps against the cushions panting.

"So...is that why you were going to come back?" Dante asks between sips. "Because you were sick?"

Beside him Matteo gets a little tense. He must know what Dante is really asking: is that the only reason you were going to come back?

"That was part of it. But even before that, I really regretted leaving. Not just because living in a tent sucks. I got a tent, by the way. But it's not just any of that. I - I missed you."

Dante pauses mid-sip. He sets the glass down and turns to Matteo. "You did?"

"Well yeah. I like you, Dante. You know that, right?"

Dante's silence answers for him. Matteo frowns.

"I wouldn't be here if i didn't like you. I know we haven't known each other that long, but...really, you know me better than anyone back home. You know the worst thing about me and didn't reject me."

"You did the same for me," Dante reminds him.

Matteo smiles sheepishly. "Being a vampire isn't even close to the worst thing about you," he jokes. "You play chess and watch QVC. You're like my grandpa."

"I'm old enough to be your grandpa."

"Well you look great for your age." The tension has dissipated and Matteo is relaxed, curled up on his side with his head against the back of the couch, looking at Dante warmly.

Dante clears his throat. He picks up his jar and takes a few more sips of blood before speaking again.

"So you want to stay."

"Yeah. If...if that's okay."

"It is. I'd like that. I'm just...afraid."

Matteo's face falls. "Of me?"

"No! No. Not at all." He could laugh at the idea of being afraid of Matteo. The wolf, sure, but Matteo himself? Never. "I've, um. Been here alone for so long. It's weird having someone else here. I don't really know how to act sometimes. Or what to say. But I like it. And I'm afraid to get used to it."

"Me too," Matteo says. The warmth has returned to his expression, along with understanding. "I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe you'll get sick of me. Maybe the wolf will do something terrible, or get me killed. I don't know. I just know that...I was happier here with you than I have been in a long time. And someone once told me that happiness is in short supply, and we should stock up whenever we can. Or, it was something like that - "

Matteo trails off. Dante is left speechless.

Hearing his father's words echoed back to him from anyone else would feel blasphemous. But from Matteo it is as if for a moment his dad is speaking through him, telling Dante it's okay. It's okay to have something good. It's okay to be happy. Your mother and I gave everything for you to be happy.

All these years he has hated himself for surviving when everyone who ever loved him was gone. He searched for meaning in it and found nothing but pain. And then he stopped searching, or hoping, for anything.

Well if the universe won't offer up an answer, he can decide for himself. Maybe he survived so that this house would be empty and waiting for Matteo to find shelter. What would have become of him if it wasn't?

"Can I - can I just..."

He reaches for Matteo, who doesn't recoil or ask what he wants. Dante pulls him into a loose embrace and he sinks into it willingly, eagerly even. One of his warm hands comes to rest on the small of Dante's back, the other on his hip. He smiles into Dante's shoulder.

"Thank you," Dante whispers.

After a long moment he reluctantly lets go. Matteo obediently pulls away too, blinking drowsily. He covers a big yawn with his arm.

"Come on, let's get to bed."

"Bed," Matteo sighs. "That sounds amazing. Do you think we can get up the stairs though?"

"I think so. The drink is already helping - see?" He opens his shirt. There is still considerable bruising, but the broken bones are healing. The swelling around his eye has gone down and he opens his mouth to show Matteo the start of a new little fang poking through.

Matteo is visibly relieved. "Good. Take the rest up with you."

"And you bring more water. And a box of cookies."

Drinks and snacks in hand, the two trudge up the steps, using the railing for support. Matteo reaches the top first and opens the door to the spare room - his room. He takes it in with a look of pure gratitude.

Dante stands at the door to his own room and watches him. Just the day before he thought he would never see Matteo again. Now here he is, and they have another chance to see if they can be happy despite what they are.

Matteo turns and gives him a tired smile. "Goodnight. And...thanks. Again. I'm just going to keep thanking you, so get ready for that."

"Goodnight, Matteo." Dante leans against the door frame, his mouth turning up at the corners just a little. "I'll see you tonight."

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