CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
OLD HABITS

"Old habits die screaming."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Henrik was humming the next morning to a song Francis was playing as he took a shower, the tune stuck in his head. He'd slept wonderfully after he came back from his walk the previous night, and his mind was blissfully clear. He wondered vaguely if Roman's body had been found yet, but that was all the energy he gave toward the vampire he had killed last night. Henrik just dismissed him entirely from his mind and got to work getting ready for the day. He'd already showered, having woken before Francis did, and he was dressed. He was picking out rings to wear from his impressive collection when the shower shut off inside of the bathroom. Henrik slipped a ring on his pointer finger, then glanced up when the bathroom door opened, watching as Francis came out surrounded by steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was rubbing at his wet hair with another towel. Henrik watched him get dressed through the mirror, then turned around to watch him more blatantly, leaning back against his dresser and crossing his arms over his chest. Francis didn't seem to notice until he was pulling a t-shirt on, his choice of clothing for the day more casual than he normally dressed.

"Stop ogling," Francis said, proving that he, in fact, had noticed Henrik staring. Henrik arched an eyebrow and did no such thing. Francis glanced at him, a small smile forming on his lips, and then he glanced around the room with a frown. "Do you know where my hoodie is? I thought I put it on the chair."

"It's in the hamper," Henrik said, nodding toward where their laundry hamper was pressed into a corner of the room. "I couldn't sleep last night and went for a walk, took it with me. Sorry about that. You can wear one of mine." Francis rummaged through Henrik's clothes until he came across a leather jacket. Henrik smiled at the sight of it on him, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. "Have I mentioned how much I like seeing you in my clothes?"

"There you go, ogling again," Francis murmured. "What did you do to my hoodie, anyway? I washed it yesterday." Henrik didn't respond. He didn't think Francis would have a problem with Henrik killing anyone—he'd probably approve, actually—but Henrik didn't particularly want to explain himself. Francis noticed his silence, frowning as he turned to study Henrik's face. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again with. "You know I can smell the blood, right?" Henrik raised his eyebrows, then shrugged and glanced away. Francis sighed.

"If you knew then why did you ask?" Henrik asked, his voice flat. Francis gave him an equally flat look.

"I asked what you did, not what made my hoodie dirty. Should I be concerned?"

"No. Stop asking questions. I'm ogling." Henrik made a point to scan Francis up and down, and it worked momentarily to distract Francis as he laughed. There was still a worried little wrinkle between his eyebrows, but he didn't seem inclined to continue the investigation over his hoodie. Henrik pushed away from the dresser to approach him, pressing a hand flat against Francis's abdomen. He spread his fingers wide as he pushed it beneath Francis's shirt, feeling the dampness from the shower, then leaned in to claim a kiss. Francis kissed him back, but it was only brief, and then he was pulling away to frown at Henrik. The worried dent was still between his eyebrows, so Henrik reached up to smooth it out with his thumb. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Aside from the blood on my hoodie?" Francis drawled. Henrik just stared at him until Francis sighed and averted his gaze. Francis worked at his jaw for a moment, and only released the tension there when Henrik reached up and traced the line of his jaw softly with his finger. Francis relaxed, only slightly, then brought his gaze back to Henrik's face, though Henrik noticed Francis avoided meeting his eyes. "I can't help but feel like you forgave me too easily yesterday." Henrik blinked, tapped at Francis's jaw a few more times, then dropped his hand.

"Well, I did almost die," Henrik said, attempting to steer this conversation into a more lighthearted direction. He was in too good of a mood to discuss what Francis had said to him in that Chambre de Chasse. Henrik was ready to move on from it. The hurt had primarily gone away, and perhaps he had forgiven Francis too easily, but there were more important things to focus on. Besides, the last thing he needed to do was wallow in hurt and anger when he had just practiced Expression for the first time in centuries. "That usually puts things in perspective for me." Francis frowned at him, then shook his head silently, as if he couldn't understand Henrik's logic. Henrik sighed and curled one of his hands over Francis's shoulder. The other cupped the side of Francis's neck. "I forgave you yesterday because you were sincere when you apologized, and because I know why you were so angry. I shouldn't have pushed you inside of that Chambre—"

"Don't do that," Francis cut in, reaching up to wrap his hand around Henrik's wrist, though he didn't remove his touch from his neck. Francis's thumb just rubbed gentle circles into Henrik's skin, ducking beneath the bracelet Henrik was wearing there. "Don't act like what I said was your fault. It wasn't. I was just being an asshole."

"Yeah, you were," Henrik agreed, though he eased the admission with a smile, just to be clear he was joking. Francis didn't seem very amused about any of it, but there was nothing Henrik could really do about his ever-present guilt. No matter how much Henrik reassured him, Francis would wallow in his guilt for days. He would have to get past it on his own. "I've said some pretty ugly things to you, too, you know. We always work it out. If you could refrain from letting guilt eat you alive today, that would be fantastic." Francis shook his head again. He didn't even crack a smile. Henrik released another sigh, then squeezed the nape of Francis's neck. "Francis. Do you promise to go to Klaus instead of me next time?"

"Yes," Francis said immediately. He said it so quickly that Henrik was a bit amused. That was how Henrik knew he was being sincere. No one would willingly spend time with Klaus as an ultimatum unless they meant it.

"Then the problem is solved, isn't it?" Henrik asked. He tugged at a strand of his hair, still wet from the shower. "Why do you want me to stay angry? You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Finally, Henrik got a small smile and an eye roll, and it made something warm and soft unfurl in his chest. Francis finally pulled away from him, but he didn't move to finish getting dressed. He just sat down at the foot of the bed and eyed Henrik curiously. Henrik stayed close enough to touch. When it was clear he was deep in thought, Henrik turned and gathered the rest of Francis's things. By the time he brought over his socks and shoes, and even picked out a few rings and a necklace, Francis looked present again. Francis watched him set the things down, but when Henrik moved to step away, he reached out and grabbed Henrik's hips. With a tug, he brought Henrik in between his legs.

"You were right," Francis said softly, "when you accused me of forcing you to see Elijah." Henrik frowned at him, attempting to pull back, his mouth opening. He wasn't sure what he planned on saying, but it didn't matter. Nothing came out, and Francis kept him in place standing between his knees, his thumb dipping beneath Henrik's shirt to rub circles into his hip bones. "I didn't think of it that way. I just knew that you missed him, and I just thought it would be a nice surprise for you. I didn't think..."

"I know," Henrik blurted out, because he couldn't stand to see the guilty look on Francis's face any longer. He had never meant to throw Elijah into his face, had never planned on even addressing it. "I know you meant well, love. That's why I never brought it up. I wasn't...saving it." Henrik grimaced then. He had forgotten what Francis had accused him of inside of that Chambre de Chasse, but it came flooding back to him now. How Francis accused him of burying things that upset him, locking them into a box in his mind until he could pull them out to use in an argument. Henrik hadn't done that, not consciously at least, but it was eating away at him. "I don't do that. I don't save things to use against you. Not on purpose, anyway. You do know that, don't you?"

"I do," Francis said softly. He tugged Henrik closer, as close as Henrik could get, and then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Henrik's abdomen. Henrik let his hand fall to Francis's hair, patting at the damp strands. When Francis continued to speak, his voice was muffled against Henrik's shirt. "I don't even know where that came from."

"Like I said. We say the worst things when we're angry. It doesn't mean we mean it." Henrik patted at his hair one more time, then pulled out of Francis's gasp and reached down to take Francis's chin in his hand, tilting his head up. "Stop looking so pathetic. It's beneath you, and it definitely doesn't suit you." Francis frowned up at him, then his expression cracked, and laughter burst out of his mouth. Henrik was so relieved to hear it that he couldn't even bring himself to join in.

"Oh, fuck you," Francis said good-naturally, leaning forward once again to press a loud kiss against Henrik's abdomen, over his shirt. A moment later, Francis was standing, and Henrik had to take a small step back so as not to lose his balance. He couldn't go far. Francis still had a tight grip on his hips. "I'm apologetic, and you call me pathetic? You're so mean to me."

"You like it," Henrik said with a grin, and Francis responded by kissing him. It was harder than the one Henrik had given him, but Henrik didn't mind. They usually kissed every day, so going a few days without even a peck made both of them a bit desperate. Henrik cupped his cheek to kiss him again, but Francis pulled back to kiss his temple instead. Then he sat back down at the end of the bed and started putting on his shoes and the jewelry Henrik had picked out for him.

"So," Francis said in a more conversational tone, "are you going to tell me where you went last night?" Henrik raised an eyebrow as Francis glanced up at him, his hair falling into his eyes.

"I already told you," Henrik said with a wave of his hands, looking around for his phone. He hadn't taken it with him last night on his impromptu walk, so it was still connected to the charger by the nightstand. He went to unplug it and saw he had a few missed calls and even more missed messages. Most of them were from Cassandra and Louis, telling him they were arriving at the airport soon, and the others were from an unknown number. One glance at them showed they were from Hayley. She had managed to get her hands on a new phone. Henrik idly wondered why they hadn't traveled with Hope's sired hybrids to New Orleans, but then figured the hybrids hadn't really told them where they were going. He was grateful Rebekah had decided to go fetch them. "I just went for a walk. Didn't even leave the neighborhood, actually." He typed a few responses, then pocketed his phone and looked around for his wallet. He turned just in time to see Francis pull his wallet out of one of his leather jacket pockets. Smiling, Henrik took it from him and pocketed it as well.

"Alright. You went for a walk. Care to share how you got blood on my hoodie?"

"It'll come out with a bit of vinegar, I've heard. It was only a little bit." Francis didn't look impressed by Henrik's response, and Henrik sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Fine, fine. It was that waste of space Hope wanted to kill but couldn't. Roman." Francis blinked slightly at that, looking surprised. Henrik couldn't help scowling. "You got your pound of flesh. So did everyone else, including Hope last night. Am I not allowed the same just because I'm not a wolf or a vampire?"

"I'm just worried," Francis said quickly, before Henrik could really get into the double standards about vengeance and witches. Somehow, witches were held to different, higher standards. As if witches weren't the most violent out of either species when they truly wanted to be. "What if Antoinette decides to take up her mother's cause out of grief?" Henrik waved his free hand through the air dismissively, the other patting down his pockets to make sure he had everything. He had his phone and wallet, he wouldn't need his keys since his car was in an entirely different country, and he had smoked his last cigarette last night.

"She won't," Henrik said confidently. He was fairly sure that, if Antoniette was that kind of person, she would've joined the cause when her adoptive parents had died. "And if she does, we'll deal with it. Hope killed all of her mother's followers last night, and you've taken care of all the ones back home, didn't you? Aside from the one Hayley is possessing, that is."

"What about Hope?" Francis asked. "Didn't she like that vampire boy?"

"Yes, but that was before he helped kidnap her." Henrik paused, then shrugged. "If she asks, I'll tell her the truth. If she hates me for it, so be it. At least he won't come back to haunt her later." Francis's mouth twitched, as if he found that response amusing but didn't want to admit it.

"And the magic you used last night?" Francis asked, a bit hesitantly. "That had nothing to do with your need to spill blood?" Henrik went still and gave him a curious look. Francis shrugged back at him and simply said, "I had questions. Your family didn't spare me the darker details from the last time you dipped your hands into Expression. Again, should I be worried?" Henrik chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment.

"It did have me on edge last night, yes," Henrik admitted, words coming out slower than they normally would as he organized his thoughts. Keeping secrets had never helped their relationship before, and Henrik was tired of repeating past mistakes over and over again. He would be honest now and hope Francis wasn't too overbearing about it. "I think it was adrenaline more than dark, evil urges—" Francis rolled his eyes at that, and Henrik grinned. "—but I couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk to settle my nerves. That was when I stumbled across Roman. He was standing beneath Hope's bedroom window, by the way. Staring up at it. There was no Hollow-like voice in my head telling me to kill him. I had complete control over myself when I did it. I mean, sure, the Expression magic enjoyed it, but it didn't make me do it, if that's what you're worried about." Francis tilted his head to the side in thought. He looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but was stopping himself. "It's risky magic, it's true, but I have it under control. You don't need to worry."

"I will, though," Francis said, cracking a small smile. Henrik smiled back, then held out his hand wordlessly and wriggled his fingers in invitation. Francis came over to take it in his own, and Henrik leaned in to kiss the worry out of his expression. Francis hummed when he did and wrapped his arms around Henrik's waist, pulling him against his chest. They stood there for a moment, Francis nuzzled against Henrik's cheek. Henrik tried to get a good look at his face, but Francis just held him tighter. Once again, Henrik found his hand on the back of Francis's neck, and this time it was his turn to rub soothing circles against his skin with his thumb.

"Are you doing alright?" Henrik asked quietly, passing his thumb through the hair at the base of his neck. "Being back in this city?" Francis hadn't hid his disdain for New Orleans, and her certainly hadn't hidden that he had nightmares about it sometimes, too. Most of the time, Francis didn't want to talk about it, dismissing it as nothing before he went on a very long run. But sometimes, he'd mutter about enclosed spaces making him nauseous before he opened all the windows in their apartment, and then he'd abandon his normal run in favor of curled around Henrik and not letting go.

"I'm fine, darling, no need to worry," Francis murmured, kissing Henrik's temple again. "It's the cemetery I hate, and I don't plan on going near there anytime soon." Henrik hummed in thought and pulled back.

"Have you seen Marcel?" Henrik asked. "Talked to him?"

"Nope." Francis raised an eyebrow. "Should I have?"

"I saw him yesterday and it made me wonder. I know you two are talking again, mainly for news and such, but I know seeing him in person is different," Henrik explained. Francis hadn't been shy asking Marcel for endless favors once Marcel got in contact with him years ago, claiming he wanted to apologize. It was a bit too late for apologies, in Henrik's opinion, but Francis had heard him out in stony silence before claiming Marcel could repay Francis in actions, not in words. Ever since, Francis had been using Marcel's contacts and habit of obtaining information to his benefit. Francis hadn't offered forgiveness yet, but Marcel hadn't asked for it, and now they had a very odd but useful dynamic.

"You can talk to him, you know," Francis said, bringing Henrik out of his thoughts. He had pulled away from Henrik completely while Henrik had disappeared into his own thoughts, and now he was adjusting the leather jacket he was wearing. He found Henrik's lighter as he did, and quickly tucked it into one of the front pockets of Henrik's jeans. "You don't have to keep Marcel at arm's length just for me."

"It's not just for you," Henrik said immediately, his turn to frown deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he even socialized with Marcel in a normal way. Outside of communicating with him when absolutely necessary, Henrik avoided him completely. Every time he thought about Marcel for too long, a hurt from deep within him crept up, still stinging even after years. He had trusted Marcel completely as the one family member who would never do anything to hurt him, and Marcel had broken that trust irreparably. Henrik might have forgiven him eventually if it had just been Henrik who had been hurt, but it wasn't. Henrik didn't think he would ever forgive anyone who hurt Francis. Francis could forgive Marcel in time if he wanted to, that was his right, but Henrik wasn't that forgiving when it came to his loved ones. Henrik didn't explain any of that, though. He knew how Francis would respond; he'd scold Henrik for caring less about himself. He didn't need to hear that again.

"Want to elaborate?" Francis asked with a smile. Henrik shrugged.

"No." Henrik turned away and headed for the bedroom door. Francis let out a small laugh behind him, but Henrik ignored it in favor of opening the door. He paused when he saw Elijah on the other side, his fist raised to knock on the wood. Both of them froze when they saw each other, and then Elijah lowered his hand.

"Rebekah is back, and your friends are downstairs," Elijah announced. He made no mention of Hayley, though Henrik was sure he knew she was down there as well. Normally Elijah would be the first to greet guests, to show them to their rooms and offer refreshments, but he was at Henrik's door instead. Putting the job in Henrik's hands.

"Alright," Henrik said quietly, and then blinked in surprise when Elijah turned and started walking away. Henrik rushed after him, hand curling around the sleeve of his tailored jacket. He tugged once, and though Elijah could've easily shaken him off, he turned to face Henrik instead. Henrik was silent for a moment as he searched for what to say, then he settled on bluntly saying, "You've barely spoken to me. I want to know how you're doing."

"That is a very difficult question to answer, Henrik," Elijah said, a stiffness to his shoulders that Henrik wasn't used to seeing.

"I know," Henrik said. He kept his voice soft and kind. He had spent the last five years regretting his treatment of Elijah, so he made a conscious effort to be better now. "I'm asking anyway. If this situation was reversed, you'd check on me." Elijah pressed his lips together, but he didn't look away from Henrik. He just worked at his jaw for a moment, debating whether to give an honest answer. Desperate just to hear Elijah speak, Henrik added, "It's not just Rebekah that's come home. Hayley is—"

"Go welcome your guests, Henrik," Elijah ordered, though his voice was soft when he interrupted Henrik's words. "It's rude to keep them waiting."

"Lijah—"

"Henrik," Elijah said, even more tense than before, his voice strained. "Please." Henrik snapped his mouth shut. He had to fight the urge to continue, knowing it would only do more harm to Elijah than good. Elijah wasn't ready to face Hayley yet, and Henrik wouldn't force that on him. Not unless Hayley herself wished it, and even then, he would take himself out of the equation. He studied Elijah's expression, saw the wariness there, and his shoulders slumped.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. He cleared his throat. "Alright. I'll, um...I won't get involved, I promise." This time, it was Elijah's turn to slump his shoulders.

"Thank you," Elijah sighed, relieved as he turned to leave. He paused a few steps away from Henrik, then turned swiftly and came back to him. Henrik couldn't even react before Elijah placed a hand on the nape of his neck and brought him in for an embrace, Elijah's mouth pressing a firm kiss to Henrik's forehead. It happened so quickly that Henrik didn't even have time to reciprocate the hug. "I will see her," Elijah promised him quietly. "Just not at this moment. But thank you. For checking in." Henrik nodded mutely, then watched helplessly as Elijah quickly walked away. It looked alarmingly like fleeing. His eyes followed Elijah until he couldn't see him anymore, and then he kept staring until Francis appeared at his side and pressed a warm hand against his lower back.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Francis promised in a quiet voice, low enough that Elijah likely wouldn't hear. Henrik turned to stare at him, both hopeful and full of worry. "I'll follow him and try to keep him occupied."

"He might escape you," Henrik forced out. Francis shrugged, then kissed his cheek, close to the corner of Henrik's mouth.

"I have my ways," Francis declared. It made Henrik snort in amusement. Francis pressed a quick peck to Henrik's mouth. "Leave him to me. You just get to work on the Hollow. Don't worry about anything else." Henrik bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out not worrying was impossible, since he was sure Francis already knew that. He just offered a nod, watched Francis follow Elijah's trail across the mezzanine, and then turned to walk down the steps to the courtyard. Rebekah was nowhere to be seen, likely off to get freshened up, but his friends had all arrived in one piece. Louis was practically asleep on his feet, Hayley was looking around the compound like something was new about it, and Cassandra was fidgeting with Violet on her hip. She was also talking to someone, and it took Henrik a moment to realize it was Klaus. He sped up his walking, just a bit, and it earned a curious look from Klaus.

"This is your little band of witches, I take it," Klaus said as a greeting, because he just couldn't say good morning like a normal person. Cassandra frowned at Klaus as Violet wriggled, trying to get out of her mother's grip.

"I don't like your tone," Cassandra said. It made Klaus smirk.

"Be nice, Nik, they don't have to help us," Henrik said, even as he reached out to Hayley, who was standing closest to him. Immediately, she fell into his arms for a hug, and Henrik could see Klaus straighten slightly, a stricken look appearing on his face. He must not have realized the vampire body was housing Hayley until that moment, and it struck him momentarily silent. Henrik took that opportunity to introduce everyone. "Nik, you know Hayley. This is Cassandra and Louis, and Cassandra's daughter, Violet." Klaus didn't spare the witches another glance. His eyes were glued to Hayley, who stared back at him with a flat look. He looked over her body once, twice, and then he gave Henrik a grimace of distaste. Henrik scowled at him. "Don't give me that look. It was a rush job and I was in short supply of bodies."

"Speaking of bodies," Hayley said loudly, planting her hands on her hips as she turned her body toward Henrik. "Is mine ready or not? Louis and Cassandra said they sent my ashes back here again." Henrik, startled, looked around Hayley at Louis and Cassandra for confirmation. When they nodded, he felt a flash of panic. He certainly hadn't received any magical delivery of ashes, not that he was looking for any. Before he could respond to Hayley's question, however, rushed footsteps distracted them. Freya had finally arrived, and she was a bit breathless.

"I have them," she breathed out as she brushed past Henrik. "They're in my office. Oh, Hayley, thank god." Freya threw her arms around Hayley's neck, and Hayley clutched back at her just as tightly, her eyes squeezing shut. Henrik waited until they pulled apart to speak, not wanting to ruin their reunion.

"Right, well," Henrik said, clearing his throat. "Hayley, as you might have guessed, I haven't exactly remade your body yet. I would rather take care of the Hollow first. Hope needs it out of her as soon as possible." Hayley stared at Henrik long and hard, and Henrik realized with slight alarm that she had no idea what he was talking about. Henrik blinked rapidly, shared a disbelieving look with Freya—who looked just as dumbfounded—and then Henrik blurted out, "Did Rebekah tell you nothing? Son of bitch, I'm gonna kill her. Hope took all the pieces of the Hollow back into herself, excluding the one I handled." Hayley's face went pale, and she rounded on Klaus in accusation.

"You didn't stop her?" Hayley demanded, her voice rising slightly in frustration. Klaus didn't seem bothered by it. He just arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I was a bit busy," Klaus said, bored, "being trapped inside of a dreamscape of her creation."

"If it's any consolation, she's a fantastic witch," Henrik said dryly. His compliment was not appreciated, judging from Hayley's glare and Klaus's exasperated look. Thankfully, Freya stepped in before two very protective parents could turn on Henrik, though he was helping as best as he could.

"Actually, Henrik, I was thinking," Freya said with a small, hesitant smile. Henrik hadn't seen that smile on her since they had first started growing close. She had been afraid to cross his invisible boundaries then, scared she'd overstep. It made him focus on her instead of Hayley and Klaus, who had continued to bicker back and forth, though their banter was now lighthearted. He heard Klaus make fun of her new body, and Hayley actually laughed. It made something inside of him settle. He turned his focus on Freya just as she said, "We could split the work."

"Oh?" Henrik asked, curious. Freya nodded and reached up to play with her necklace. It was a replica of her old Mikaelson pendant, though smaller.

"You handle the Hollow. You seem to have a solid plan in place already, and you've been successful dealing with it before. As you deal with that, I'll resurrect Hayley." Freya glanced over her shoulder at the woman in question, who was laughing freely now, her happiness evident. Henrik couldn't even decipher the expression on Klaus's face as he watched her, and he didn't try to. "I have much more experience with resurrection than you do."

"Are you sure?" Henrik asked with a frown, though in truth, he felt a huge wave of relief sweep through him. Freya taking half of his workload was a huge relief, and a huge bit of stress melted away just as her suggesting it.

"Of course," Freya said with a soft smile, her earlier hesitance gone. Henrik could understand her hesitance a bit better now. If there was anything Henrik was protective of, it was his magic. This time, he simply needed the help. "The only reason I couldn't resurrect her before was because I didn't know where her soul was. I had assumed she'd found peace. Now, it's just the same as if her soul was in my old pendant. I have her ashes, and I've brought back others from much less. Let me handle it." Henrik opened his mouth to agree, then stopped himself and turned toward Hayley instead. It was her resurrection, her body, so he wouldn't shove bringing her back onto anyone else. Luckily, she'd been listening in even as she spoke to Klaus, and she turned as soon as she noticed Henrik was looking at her.

"I trust both of you," Hayley declared, her expression growing serious. "Freya can bring me back, and I trust her to bring me back right. I want all your focus on Hope. Do whatever you have to."

"Always," Henrik promised. Confident now that Freya was taking care of Hayley, Henrik turned toward Cassandra and Louis, who were both waiting in silence for instructions. Cassandra must've done something to Louis while Henrik was talking with his family, because he no longer looked dead on his feet. That was a relief, because he would need both of them today. Henrik glanced around them, took in Klaus—who was glancing up at Hope's closed bedroom door and growing more and more anxious as they continued chatting—and then looked at Violet still fussing on Cassandra's hip. "Nik can take Violet, if that's okay with you, Cass." Cassandra blinked in surprise, while Klaus scowled at him in irritation.

"I'm staying with Hope," Klaus declared.

"No, you're not," Henrik told him, unimpressed by the harsh glare Klaus threw his way. "I don't need you breathing down our necks, or interrupting the spell if she's in pain. You'll just be in the way and it won't help anyone." Klaus opened his mouth to argue, but they had no time for it. "I'll take care of her, Nik. You know that. Just take the toddler—with Cass's permission—and chill the fuck out for a few hours. Take her to your studio, give her some paint, and wait for us to come back." Klaus glared hatefully at him for a moment. Henrik stared back, bored. Cassandra glanced between them both, then cleared her throat.

"Violet does love to paint," she said lightly, and then she stomped forward and promptly dumped the toddler into Klaus's arms. He had no choice but to catch her, otherwise she would've fallen. Henrik was impressed and even more shocked that she let Klaus have Violet so willingly. "She took a nap on the plane, so you should be very busy. She already had breakfast, but if she wants a snack, any fruit is good. I assume you know how to change a diaper. She's not exactly potty-trained yet."

The expression on Klaus's face nearly made Henrik burst into laughter. He tried the best he could to hold it in, but when Violet tugged at his necklace and Klaus grew even more bewildered, it came pouring out of him. Klaus scowled harder, muttered an insult his way, then took Violet and headed toward his art studio. Henrik watched him go in amusement, then turned to watch Freya and Hayley walk toward Freya's office, both of them giggling. It left Henrik with Cassandra and Louis, who both looked shocked.

"What?" Henrik asked, amused.

"I just..." Cassandra shook her head. "I dated you and I don't think I ever saw you laugh like that."

"I'm starting to realize I've never seen him laugh at all," Louis said, raising his eyebrows. Cassandra snorted. Henrik was mildly offended.

"Oh, you two suck," he declared, clicking his tongue. "Can we focus, please?"

"Right. Where are we doing this?" Louis asked, hefting his duffel higher up on his shoulder. It must've been what was carrying all the Dark Objects and supplies. "There's not a body of water in here, I'm guessing?"

"You guess right. I need to call my friend Vincent first. He's very familiar with the Hollow and we now have to separate it again. He's separated it before, so we'll need his help." Henrik tilted his head in thought. He had originally planned to use Haewon and Abella's pool again, calling his siblings to him one at a time, but that was no longer an option. The closest bodies of water were public pools, the river—also too public—and the lake by the wolf encampment. Henrik would've preferred not to have an audience for this. "We might have to do it in the cemetery. It's not as good as a body of water, but the spirits that reside there should make the Hollow a little weaker. They hate it more than we do." Turning, he faced Hope's still-closed bedroom door and raised his voice into a shout. "Hope! Get your ass down here!"

"Glad to know your personality is still intact," Cassandra said, amused, as they waited for Hope to come downstairs. Henrik couldn't hear if she was up or not, but surely Klaus had gone to wake her before he'd come down to greet their guests. "After you and Francis collapsed, we kinda had a theory that the Nightwalkers got revenge and put you both in different bodies." Henrik rolled his eyes at her fondly, and she grinned back, while Louis shifted on his feet and studied the courtyard around him.

"Speaking of the devil, where is Francis? I would've thought he'd be attached to your side after the Chambre stuff," Louis murmured. He wasn't nearly as comfortable inside of the Abattoir as Cassandra was, but that was to be expected. Louis still didn't trust vampires all that much, and this compound was crawling with them, though they were all off somewhere else.

"He's tailing my brother, Elijah," Henrik said. He didn't realize just how insane it sounded until Cassandra and Louis both sent him bemused looks. "Elijah is going through something right now, and Francis offered to keep an eye on him. The rest is personal, not to mention..." Henrik waved his hand in the air. "...complicated."

"Ah, the infamous complicated excuse," Cassandra said with a serious nod. "I really hate that word, you know. How does Francis deal with it?" Henrik grimaced at her, though there was humor in it. Henrik was lucky, really, that he and Cassandra had ended things mutually before it got too serious, or anyone got too hurt. He hadn't been in a good place.

"He's just as complicated," Henrik revealed. Cassandra just nodded very seriously again, then straightened, her eyes flickering up to the second-floor mezzanine. Henrik turned to see Hope coming out of her bedroom in a rush, her hair in a messy ponytail. She was still wearing her pajama bottoms, though at least she'd thrown on a hoodie and shoes before coming down. She practically leaped down the stairs.

"Is my mom here?" Hope asked, breathless as she hurried over to them. Henrik placed a hand on top of her head to make her pause, but she batted it away and circled around him. "Where is she? I need to see her. I need to say I'm sorry—"

"Later," Henrik said, quickly stepping in front of her, blocking her path once again. The last thing he needed was Hope getting into an emotional reunion with Hayley. The Hollow would feast on the emotions that would follow, and that was extremely dangerous, especially since Henrik could still see dark veins crawling across her hands. "Let me look at you." Henrik placed one hand on her shoulder, briefly thanked whatever gods existed that she wasn't a triggered werewolf or a vampire yet, and then cupped her chin with his other hand, tilting her head up so their eyes could meet. Once he was sure her eyes weren't blue, he dropped her chin and grabbed her arm, pushing her hoodie up. The veins had grown darker. He grimaced. "The veins have grown."

"I don't care," Hope said impatiently, jerking her arm free and pulling her sleeve back down. "I want to see my mom."

"Well, I care, and more importantly, so does your mother," Henrik said, though he had to once again step in her way. "She wants me to get that thing out of you as soon as possible, which means your reunion can wait." Henrik rolled his eyes and planted his hands more firmly on her shoulders. "God, you're so stubborn. Stop it. Hayley is busy right now, anyway, and I'm sure you want to reunite with her in her original body, don't you? Resurrection is very stressful. Let Freya handle it, and let me save you, you ridiculous child." Hope finally went still then, her constant fidgeting slowing. Her eyes met his, and they were full of fear and worry.

"She won't..." Hope swallowed thickly. "I mean, she'll be okay right? It won't be like..." Henrik raised an eyebrow.

"Like me?" he said lightly. Hope winced slightly, but Henrik just chuckled and squeezed her shoulders. "No, sweetheart. She'll be fine. Freya knows what she's doing, and your grandmother did not." At that, Hope pulled a disgusted face.

"I don't like hearing her be referred to as my grandmother," she admitted, and it made Henrik laugh louder. He tugged her forward and tucked her under his arm, turning them both toward Louis and Cassandra. With his other hand, he pulled his phone free and went to Vincent's number.

"Come on," he ordered, tilting his head at Cassandra and Louis, silently ordering them to lead the way out of the compound. "Let's get that thing out of you."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Henrik recognized where Vincent had told them to meet him all too well. He would never forget the gray stones, the overgrown pathway, the cracked crypts and tombs. The tomb where Francis had been held for five years had been left alone. The place where the slab was broken by Henrik's magic was even still there, and Henrik had to stop and take a very deep breath at the sight of it. For a moment, he was overwhelmed with memories. The sight of Francis's desiccated body. Henrik checking that the daylight ring was still on his finger. Henrik pressing his bloody wrist against Francis's lips, willing to let Francis drain him completely. He certainly wouldn't have stopped him, though he had never told Francis that.

"Henrik?" Henrik blinked, coming out his memories abruptly, and turned. Hope and Cassandra had gone ahead, where Vincent was waiting in front of a crypt. Candles were littered along the ground. Louis had paused beside Henrik, and there was a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Henrik said, clearing his throat. Suddenly, he was very aware of his own skin. It felt like it had the night before, before he had taken it out on Roman, like his skin was crawling. He rubbed at his arm for a moment, grimacing at the feeling, before he shook his head. "Yeah, I'm good. I just don't have a lot of good memories of this place. Come on. Let's get this over with." He motioned for Louis to go ahead, then followed more slowly, trying to get the crawling sensation off of his skin. He distracted himself from the feeling by smiling at Vincent when he got close enough. "Hey, Vincent. Thanks so much for coming. How's Ivy?"

"Great, thanks to you," Vincent said with a friendly smile, reaching to squeeze Henrik on his shoulder in greeting. He had already introduced himself to Cassandra and Louis, it seemed, because they were busy make a circle of salt and surrounding it with half-melted candles. Louis's duffel was already open, and the empty Dark Objects were already on the ground. Henrik noticed that the snow globe holding his own piece of the Hollow wasn't there. That was smart of them. It made the Hollow weaker, even if it was only by a little. "She's helping the wolves rebuild their float today." Vincent looked at Hope then, and his smile widened. "I heard you took out the Nightwalkers. You have my thanks."

"Yeah, um..." Hope stuttered for a moment, tugging at the ends of her hoodie sleeves self-consciously. "It was...nothing, really." She ducked her head, and Henrik noticed with slight alarm that she looked pale, distraught. Henrik and Vincent shared confused expressions, but neither spoke of it. Henrik thought it was better to change the subject. Hope was probably just nervous about having the Hollow removed.

"I brought everything we need," Henrik said, motioning toward the duffel of Dark Objects, before he tugged at the small bag he'd grabbed before leaving the compound and opening it. From inside, he took out rusted, metal shackles. "Even brought the anti-magic handcuffs, just in case. Figured it couldn't hurt. You can separate the Hollow again, right?" Vincent nodded, taking the cuffs from him. Hope was watching Cassandra and Louis prep for the spell, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously.

"I know how, but I won't lie to you, it'll be harder," Vincent explained, studying the circle of salt with a critical eye. "Hope is much more powerful now than she was when she was seven years old. Even with a piece of it missing, the Hollow will fight harder to hold on. I'll need you to do the spell with me." Henrik nodded, waving his hand through the air to show Vincent he thought that was obvious. Hope glanced over at them with a frown.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, slightly hopeful.

"You, sweetheart, can put these on and then get into the salt circle," Henrik said, taking the cuffs back from Vincent and opening them. He held them out to Hope, leaving her the choice on whether to wear them or not. Henrik would understand completely if she didn't want to. She'd been fully possessed by the Hollow the last time they'd been on her body, so she hadn't been present to experience the way the cuffs had dampened her magic. Just holding them made Henrik's own skin crawl, more than it already was. Hope didn't seem as bothered by them, though. She just studied them for a moment before she stuck her hands forward. Henrik put them on her, making sure they weren't clasped too tight, and then he steered her toward the circle. Cassandra and Louis were done perfecting it, chalk marks on the ground so ensure the salt couldn't be moved by wind or kicking limbs.

"Where do you want us?" Cassandra asked, her hands clasped in front of her. Henrik helped Hope kneel on the ground, then knelt down to join her, not quite ready to get out of her orbit quite yet. He felt a sudden wave of protectiveness. He wished he could stay in the circle with her, just like Hayley had done when she was seven, but that wasn't an option. He needed to help Vincent outside of the circle.

"Stand outside of the circle on either side of Hope," Vincent ordered. He was already pressing the Dark Objects evenly around the circle of salt, preparing them. "I'll need you both to reinforce the barrier as we remove it so the Hollow can't escape." As they finished up with the last of the preparations, Henrik dug into his bag once again and brought out a small silver flask. He unscrewed the top and handed it over to Hope, telling her silently to drink. She took it, took a sip, then made a strong face of disgust.

"What is this?" she gasped, shaking her head as if it could remove the taste from her mouth. Henrik smiled at her in amusement.

"My own homemade pain reliever. Drink all of it," Henrik added when Hope moved to set it aside. "It'll help." Hope paused at that, studying Henrik's face. Her own face went pale a moment later.

"Will this...hurt?" she asked, her voice small. Henrik didn't respond for a long time. He just nodded down at the flask and waited for her to finish it all, one disgusting sip after the next. He probably could've made it more appetizing, but in his defense, it had been a last-minute brew. When Hope was finished, he took the flask back, screwed it shut, then dumped it back into his bag.

"Maybe," he admitted at last. "It hurt a bit for me, but it was over quick. But you have more of the Hollow than I did. I made it for you just in case." Hope took in a shaky, fearful breath. Henrik immediately reached for her, cupping her face briefly before he did something that was familiar to her. He plopped his hand once again on top of her head. She usually found it annoying, especially in the past few days, but she just looked at him now. "You're gonna be okay, kid. I won't let anything happen to you." Hope nodded slowly, but when Henrik removed his hand and started to rise to his feet, she grabbed desperately at his wrist. She tugged him back down, and he went easily.

"When's the next full moon?" she asked in a rush. Henrik blinked at her in surprise. That certainly wasn't the question he was expecting.

"In about two weeks, give or take," Henrik said immediately, frowning. There was only one reason why someone with an untriggered werewolf curse would ask that question, and his frown deepened. "Killing vampires shouldn't have triggered your curse, Hope. You don't need to worry about that."

"There were people in the back of the church. Two humans," Hope explained. Henrik felt his stomach drop. "Dad saved one of them, but the other was under collapsed debris. He didn't make it. You...can't sense it?" Hope looked a bit hopeful then, like Henrik not sensing her curse was triggered was a sign that it hadn't been. Henrik reached out tentatively, letting his magic touch her just a little bit. He'd been hesitant to reach out with his magic to anyone after using Expression, afraid it would cling to them, too. He didn't have to use much to sense the wolf inside of her now, awake and snarling. He grimaced and pulled his magic back, and Hope's hopeful expression dropped.

"I've been distracted," Henrik said softly, apologetic. He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He should've sensed her wolf sooner. It was so obvious now that he knew it was there, right under her skin. Her first turn on the full moon would be very fast, he could sense that, at least. Her wolf was very eager to come out. The knowledge that she wouldn't suffer very long was the only consolation for him. "But you'll be alright then, too. I can give you something to ease the pain, and Klaus and Hayley will be right there with you. They'll even turn, too, so you won't be alone."

"So you can't stop it?" Hope asked. "Reverse it?"

"No, sweetheart," Henrik said, keeping his voice kind. "I'm sorry."

"Henrik," Vincent said then, clearing his throat. "We're ready." Henrik glanced over at Vincent, then nodded and got to his feet. Hope didn't stop him this time. He dropped his hand to her head and ruffled her already-messy hair once before stepping out of the circle. Vincent offered Henrik his hand, and Henrik clasped it, grateful to actually do something useful. Louis and Cassandra were in their places, hands raised to the circle's barrier, and Hope even shifted so she was lying flat on the ground. Henrik glanced one time over the whole set up, nodded to himself, then glanced at Vincent, waiting for him to start. Vincent eyed him curiously. "You know the spell?" Vincent double-checked. Henrik gave him a flat look.

"I'm older than you, you know," Henrik pointed out. Vincent rolled his eyes.

"Smartass," he muttered under his breath. He raised his voice a moment later. "Everyone ready?" They all nodded, and Vincent nodded as well. He closed his eyes, and Henrik followed suit, letting the magic of New Orleans settle over his skin. It didn't do much to stop his skin from crawling with that uncomfortable energy from last night, but it did settle some of his nerves. It was easy to fall into chanting alongside Vincent, the words as familiar to him as his native language. It was only towards the end, when he saw hints of blue glowing brightly behind his closed eyelids, that he tasted it. The dark, smoky taste filling his mouth, telling him to take it in, to drain, drain, drain. Henrik's eyes flew open in a panic, afraid he'd brought some of the Hollow's magic inside of himself on instinct, just in time to see the Hollow's pieces dive into the Dark Objects. Henrik pulled his hand from Vincent's and crouched to the ancient syringe closest to him. With a touch, he felt the piece of the Hollow inside, as secure as it ever could be.

"Is she okay?' Cassandra asked. Henrik plucked the syringe off the ground, then glanced up to see his three companions crouched around Hope. She was unconscious, which was to be expected. He stood and twirled the syringe around his fingers, unable to keep from fidgeting.

"She'll be okay, she just needs rest," Henrik told them, finally breaking the circle of salt by scuffing the chalk. He kicked the salt a moment later and knelt by his niece. With a pass of his hand across her brow, he confirmed she was healthy, and then he looked up at Vincent with a relieved smile. "Thank you, Vincent." Vincent nodded.

"No need to thank me, man. Just glad to see her finally safe from this thing," Vincent said. Without being asked, he bent and retrieved Hope, lifting her up into his arms. "I'll get her to my car, and I'll drive all of you back. Cassandra, can you come with me and open the door?" Cassandra nodded, and off they went, talking in low voices. Henrik was left with Louis to clean up the remnants of the spell. They carefully placed each of the Dark Objects back into the duffel, placing each one in separate compartments or pockets just to avoid them touching each other.

If a bit of black seeped into the veins in Henrik's hand before he released the syringe, there wasn't a witness aside from Henrik himself.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hours later, Henrik was still slightly on edge, unable to sit still. He was fidgeting nonstop, had even dug out special herbs he could smoke just to dull his senses, but nothing had worked. The herbs hadn't dulled anything, and flicking his lighter on and off didn't do anything, either. He eventually settled with pacing around the compound. Cassandra and Louis were both asleep in their guest bedrooms, Violet was asleep with Cassandra, and Klaus had been with Hope ever since they arrived back home. Freya and Hayley were still locked away in Freya's office, as far as he knew, and Rebekah was nowhere to be seen. Even Francis and Elijah were still gone. Being alone was the last thing Henrik needed to be, especially since he had siphoned a bit of magic out of that syringe before he had put it away. He hadn't been able to help it, and now he wanted more. With that thought, Henrik turned on his heel and headed for Hope's room. Checking on her was better than doing nothing.

As he'd expected, Klaus was in Hope's room, sitting on the edge of Hope's bed as he watched her sleep. Hope was practically dead to the world, and Henrik would've been worried if he didn't see her chest rising and falling evenly. The dark veins on her arms were gone. If there were any remnants of the Hollow left inside of her, Henrik couldn't sense it, and that was a relief. He slid deeper into her room, keeping the door open behind him, and paused when he saw someone sitting on the other side of Hope. Klaus's body had been hiding her before. He saw brown hair and pale skin, and his breath rushed out of him.

"Hayley," he breathed, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. He had known, of course, that she was theoretically alright. He had known her soul was in another body; he had been talking to her for days. But that was different from seeing her in her original body, back as she once was. When she turned to look at him, her smile was blinding, and she was on her feet a second later. The speed with which she got to him was unnatural, proof she came back as she had been, but Henrik reached into her with his magic as she wrapped him into a hug, searching. Freya had gone above and beyond, it seemed. Freya had broken the hybrid curse placed on Hayley before her death on top of resurrecting her. Hayley was back to being a regular hybrid again. "God, it's so good to see you." He squeezed her around her waist, and she squeezed him back just as hard around his neck.

"Thank you, Henrik," Hayley said against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"I didn't do much," Henrik said lightly, and then he laughed when Hayley pulled back and hit him playfully on his shoulder.

"Oh, shut up," she ordered, scoffing. Klaus had turned away from Hope to watch them with a small smile, but his hand was still holding Hope's own. "Between you and Freya, this family would be dead a thousand times over by now."

"True," Henrik admitted with a shrug. He nodded toward Hope. "How's she doing?"

"Seems to just be sleeping. Francis mentioned that was normal when I called to ask. Said you slept most of the day away," Klaus answered, turning back to his daughter. Hayley left Henrik to go back to them, her hand pressing against Klaus's shoulder as they both stared down at her. Henrik circled around the bed to get to Hayley's previous spot, sitting down and reaching for Hope's free hand. She felt the same as the last time he checked. Henrik sighed and dropped her hand, then felt Klaus's gaze on him. Klaus waited until Henrik was looking at him to ask, "Will this put strain on her body? The next full moon is soon."

"My body ached for about a week," Henrik admitted with a shrug, "but I'm not a werewolf. It didn't stop me from doing anything, it just felt like I had gone on a long workout. She's a wolf. She healed fast even before she triggered her curse, so I imagine she'll be bouncing off the walls by tomorrow. It shouldn't complicate her first turn." Henrik paused, glancing between the two of them curiously. "I told her that you would both turn with her. Hope that's not a problem." They gave him flat looks then, and they were so identical that he had to swallow a laugh. "I think her turn will be fast, if that helps. I'll make her something for the pain either way. Don't worry about it too much."

"Thanks," Hayley whispered. She paused, then hesitantly asked, "Do you think she'll be able to control it? When she turns?"

"Probably," Henrik said with a shrug. "I think it'll be a fifty-fifty guess. Nik can, but she's also more wolf than anything else, especially since she hasn't triggered her vampire side yet. I don't think I've met a witch-werewolf hybrid before, but if the curse overrides witch magic, she might be stuck turning when the moon calls. But that's not a problem," Henrik rushed to say, when Klaus and Hayley shared alarmed looks. His tendency to ramble about things, especially magic-related, was making him get off topic. "I can make her a moonlight ring easily if that's the case. Besides, at the end of the day, she's a tribrid. I'm sure she can turn whenever she wants."

"You could've just said that," Klaus muttered, exasperated. Henrik gave him a sheepish shrug.

"You know I like to theorize," Henrik argued. He was idly aware he was fidgeting again, his finger tap-tap-tapping away on his knee. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to. Klaus, of course, noticed, and he frowned deeply at Henrik's nonstop movement, a bit of rare concern flitting across his face. Henrik saw it all and said calmly, "I'm fine. Just a little on edge. I've consumed pretty much nothing but coffee all day. I'm running on nothing but caffeine."

"Go eat something," a new voice ordered from the doorway. They all turned to see Freya coming into the room, eyes fixed on Hope now. It was her turn to hover, her turn to use her magic to heal if need be. She waved Henrik off the edge of the bed just to take his place, and Henrik rolled his eyes fondly. "Francis is heating up leftovers in the kitchen. He's giving you space right now, Hayley, but be prepared. When I called to tell him you're officially back, he started talking in a completely different language. I didn't catch most of it. Something about a promise."

"What did you promise him?" Henrik demanded, remembering that detail with a start. He had never managed to pry it out of Francis, what promises they had between them, and he didn't seem inclined to pry it from Hayley, either. Her expression was suddenly far too innocent. Henrik huffed in fake annoyance and turned away. "You two are impossible. Be that way." He left the room to her smug laughter. He couldn't get the promise out of his head as he made his way back downstairs and toward the kitchen. Fortunately, his mind quieted a bit when he saw Francis making up a couple of plates. He'd also made a pot of coffee, not that Henrik needed it. He felt too wired as it was. He reached for a plate instead, which Francis slid his way as soon as he noticed Henrik entering the room.

"Do I want to know what Elijah was up to today?" Henrik asked as a greeting, digging into his sandwich immediately after. He was starving, and he and Francis had been together long enough that he didn't bother with decorum.

"Well, first of all, he noticed me following him immediately. He threatened me and I ignored him," Francis said a bit too cheerfully, pouring Henrik a glass of ice water to drink and sliding that across the marble island as well. Henrik hummed, not at all surprised that Francis was caught quickly. He was good at tailing people, it was true, but his siblings were Originals. They would always notice being followed. "After that, I kind of just kept up with him and talked his ear off. I think he was so annoyed he forgot to be miserable."

"What could you have possibly talked to him about?" Henrik asked, amused.

"Well, you, obviously," Francis said with a roll of his eyes, abandoning his own food to circle around the island. "I had five years of things to catch him up on, and then I went into Freya, then everyone else I could think of."

"You're so annoying," Henrik said with a laugh, swallowing the rest of his food and washing it down with water before turning toward Francis. He curled his arm around Francis's neck and tugged him down. Francis bent to kiss him, bracing his hand against the island. Henrik hummed happily when they pulled apart. The crawling sensation on his skin eased slightly after the kiss. "Thank you for keeping an eye on him. I know you probably would've preferred doing anything else."

"It gave me something to do today, so I don't mind," Francis said, kissing Henrik's mouth again. Once again, more of that crawling sensation eased, and Henrik leaned forward to get another one, and another one. Francis laughed eventually and pulled back to add, "I might even do it again the next time you're busy. Passes the time. How's Hope? Klaus texted to ask if sleeping so much was normal, but I didn't get much from him after that."

"She's alright. Safe upstairs, sleeping it off. The Hollow's been separated. I'm going to take a few days to rest before I attempt to destroy any of them." Francis nodded, then laughed again, though it was muffled by Henrik's mouth. Henrik couldn't seem to stop kissing him. He had missed it that morning, but he hadn't thought kissing him would offer so much relief. The longer he kissed Francis, the more comfortable he became in his own skin. Henrik stood from his chair a moment later and cradled Francis's face between his hands, kissing him harder. Francis let out a small sound and fell back, taking Henrik with him as he stumbled against the refrigerator. Francis laughed again, just a small huff of breath, and Henrik sucked it in. He could taste smoke on his tongue, and something else, something sweet and light. It was addictive, and he sucked in more of it, kissing and kissing until Francis let out another sound.

This sound was different. It was not a laugh. It was startled. Henrik had enough of his mind left to pull away, confused, and he didn't stop Francis from pushing him away with a hand against his chest. He didn't know what was wrong, but he wasn't going to stay in Francis's space if Francis didn't want him to.

"What's wro—" Henrik started, alarmed, only to freeze when he noticed Francis pressing a hand over his mouth. Francis's eyes were wide, and there, right along both sides of his face, was blue, dry veins slowly sinking back into his skin. It looked like he had been desiccating where he stood. Henrik stared in confusion, met Francis's wide eyes, and suddenly his entire body went cold. He remembered the taste on his tongue. It had been smoky, but it hadn't been dark, not in a way he would've recognized. Francis dropped his hand from his mouth then, and Henrik watched as the color slowly returned back to his lips. His lips. The odd desiccation had started at his lips. Like Henrik had been kissing the life right out of him.

"Oh my god," Henrik choked out, stumbling back hard enough to hit the island. It dug painfully into his lower back, sent sparks of pain up his spine, but he had no reaction to it. Francis was staring at him in stunned silence, frozen, and Henrik couldn't breathe. Panic was seizing quickly at his chest, making him dizzy. Dots were appearing in front of his eyes. "I didn't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Abruptly, Henrik turned and fled from the room, as fast as he could go. Francis didn't run after him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

AUTHOR'S NOTE: :D