For several hours, Henry stared at his blank screen. You're a writer. He noted. You're supposed to write! His itty bitty cursor slowly blinked as if it were looking at him with lazy eyes saying, "Come on, think of something you lousy tramp."

He couldn't focus with Edward's sleazy words contained in that paper ball sitting on the ledge of the window. It rocked back and forth in the subtle wind. Several times, Henry got up from his seat to read the note again, this time all the way through, feeling his legs itch. He crumpled the paper back up and left it on the windowsill.

At one point, he got up, unfurled the note, read the first sentence and babbled the rest in his mind since he had it memorized, crumpled the paper back up and left it on the windowsill. The wind took the paper right from its spot. Gasping, Henry reached out for it and cursed. He watched as it tumbled across the walkway.

Stop please stop please stop!

He pleaded with the paper.

It tumbled into a pile of leaves in the gutter.

"I have another article for you to look over, Hen—ry." Angela came through the door but was stopped by the sight of him hanging out the window. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Nothing, nothing." Henry crawled back to his office space, stood in front of Angela for a brief moment, and turned to pull the window closed. Angela clicked her tongue in a matter of fact way, and handed him the stack of papers, placing them harshly on top of others he hadn't gotten to yet.

"You should get to that stack of papers before you have to stay late again." She hurried out the door, swinging it wide and fast so it slammed with a resonant clink of the latch.

Henry leaned against the window, pressing his face to the glass, and stared at the little ball of paper twitching in the wind. The sky darkened and greyed, and then it began to rain. At first, small droplets of water stuck to the window, and then the whole sky opened to Noah's flood.

He also kept an eye on the clock, watching the hands slowly move in place. How long is time going to go on for? He sighed, frustrated, time never felt longer than this moment. When twelve hit on the dot, Henry left from his spot at the window, grabbed his coat, and announced he was off to lunch.

Some of the writers at their desk looked to each other with confused glossy eyes. Why did he have to tell us?  With his coat, Henry pushed past the glass doors at the bottom floor and rushed to the edge of the street, he scanned the gutter, tilting his head until he came across his crumpled paper. He picked it up with care but fast, unfurled it and sighed at the sight of Edward's handwriting.

He clutched the paper to his chest, covering it with his coat, and wandered back into the building. Since his whole morning had been taken up by his fixation on Edward's letter, work piled up high. Usually, Henry finished his work in a timely matter, but today he was backlogged with several essays and articles that were outrageously unedited and cutthroat.

Henry moaned in pain.

Dimly, the sun watched from afar as he fell behind the horizon, replaced by his soft and effeminate counterpart shining its full rays on Henry through the window. How soft the moons lighting is, he sang to himself as he read.

A knock at the door announced his entry, and Henry expected Angela to come through, so he was surprised when Edward had poked his head in.

"I'd like to see you in my office." He said with a strict tone.

Henry looked to the clock and saw how late it was. He must be angry. The thought scared him to death.

The emptiness of the office didn't help ease the fright from Henry since everything looked dismal. The grey office turned a deep mahogany as he ventured across the hallway to a cozy waiting room outside Edward's office. He took note of the reading light that sat at the desk for the absent receptionist.

Henry almost imagined himself sitting there, working on editorials and directing anybody to Edward's office if they so pleased to see him. If they wanted to see Edward, they'd have to speak to him first.

The thought pleased him.

Henry knocked at the door and walked in quietly, hesitating at the doorway in a feared manner. The room was darkened by the mood with yellow lamplights for reading deathly still.

"Edward?" Henry walked up to the empty desk.

"Don't move."

Edward's voice resonated from somewhere behind him, and as Henry instinctively moved to turn around, he disrespected his orders.

"I said not to move!" Edward hissed.

"Okay." He posed it as a question yet he stood still.

From behind, Edward, as quiet as possible, came inches from Henry's back and imitated biting him. He wound his arms to hover over the backside of Henry's neck and imagined how warm it would feel if he were the vampire.

"Did you get my note?"

Henry jumped slightly at the sound of Edward's voice so close and in his ear.

"Shhhh." Edward rushed his hands to Henry's shoulders. He gripped them tightly.
Henry let out a tense sigh of relief. "Did you read it?" Edward began to rub his hands on his shoulders, massaging him.

"I—uh—yes." Henry's eyes wandered.

"Did you like it?" Edward's hands ran down Henry's back and then up and down his chest. Henry reached up to grab them.

"I—I think you're an astute writer." He said nonchalant.

Edward followed Henry's hands to face in front of him. "What of its contents?" He held his nose up to peer down it.

"I'm not going to turn you."

"I wasn't suggesting that you did."

Henry squinted his eyes, "What is it that you want from me?"

Edward didn't answer—he pulled him into a kiss and Henry didn't pull away. Gasping, Edward tilted his head back and spoke, "It had been a long weekend with you constantly on my mind."

"I know." Henry ran his nose the length of Edward's neck, kissing and bruising his skin. When he saw what he did, he let go.

"Wait—" Edward grabbed him and drew him near. "Think about it: I've known you for a lot longer than I have in this lifetime, and you me, so I know you and you know me. Why—why can't we at least—"

"It's still possible to turn you even if I didn't want to, it's not like it's controllable. Besides," Henry motioned to the bruises that were forming on Edward's skin. "I'm hurting you."

Edward reached a fast hand to his neck and rubbed the welts. "That doesn't matter," but before he could put his hand back on him, Henry bent to sit down on the couch.

"You'd risk your humanity just to be with me?" Henry leaned further into the couch letting the cushions open up and suck him in.

"It's not a risk, it's just life." Edward plainly said as he collapsed into the space beside Henry. He fell down the side of the cushion into Henry's lap.

Tense, Henry lifted his arm to cover Edward and relaxed his aching nerves. "I can't tell if you're using me or not."

Edward's tired eyes ill focused on the wall across from him—sleep engulfed his consciousness. "Using you? For what? You mean playing with your emotions just for the hell of it? Why would I risk my reputation for something so childish?" He yawned and continued to mumble on about manipulation and childish things.

He fell asleep in Henry's arms.