Kit gave him a sharp look. “I did. Back when I was human. I don’t have a family anymore.”
Quin took the chance to ask something that had been on his mind since he’d met Kit. “What about your creator?” He wanted to grasp any crumbs of Kit’s past.
“Dead,” Kit said, short and to the point.
Quin had fucked up again. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it was a poor offering of sympathy.
Kit’s gaze flicked to Quin. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because they were your creator. I thought they tended to be close to those they recreated. Most of the stories I’ve heard about vampires involve, uh, lovers.”
Kit laughed, cold and mirthless. “Lawrence wasn’t capable of love. Not how most people would understand it.”
“But you loved him?” Quin was desperate to understand why Kit reeked of sadness.
“No. I’m capable of as much love as he was.” Kit’s words cut harshly through the air, but they rang false to Quin’s ears.
“I think you have a lot of love, actually,” he said firmly.
Kit’s eyes went flinty. “Oh?”
“You love watching the waves. You love collecting sea glass. And you love giving Mabel treats behind my back when you assume I won’t notice. That’s all love.”
Kit was silent for a long moment, thumb going to his mouth where he chewed on the nail. Quin wanted to stop him from hurting himself, to rip his hand away and hold it tight instead. But Quin could barely shield Kit from the world, let alone from himself.
Noticing Quin watching him, Kit dropped his hand, hiding it conspicuously behind his back. “I suppose you might have some semblance of a point,” he said.
Quin let a satisfied smile spread across his face. “Course I do. Cup of tea at yours next time, then?”
Kit wore a considering expression. “Give me a few nights to prepare.”
“I look forward to it,” Quin said, trying to keep his excitement contained.
Kit was silent for another few moments. “Me too,” he said eventually, gifting Quin with a small smile. It was the sweetest thing Quin had ever been given.
When Quin checked his watch and saw that it had just gone nine in the evening, he knocked on the door to Kit’s flat and waited. He’d had to do a couple of loops around the area to waste some time, as he’d arrived far too early. The last few days had crawled by as his anticipation grew over the not-date, which was what Quin had taken to calling his visit to Kit’s. It would be too presumptuous to use the word date, even if it had some hallmarks of one. Besides, Quin wanted to do something a bit more special for their real first date.
The curtain at the tiny window next to Kit’s front door twitched. Quin caught the barest hint of a pale face peeking out at him. A second later, the front door opened.
“You’re early,” Kit said. He folded his arms over his chest, looking up at Quin with an annoyed expression marring his cute face.
Quin flashed his watch in Kit’s direction, careful not to drop the little pot he held. “It’s nine. You said to come at nine.”
Kit turned on his heel with an exaggerated sigh. “You know that you’re not actually supposed to turn up when people say to? That’s rude.”
“It would have been ruder to keep you waiting,” Quin reasoned, following Kit in. He hadn’t been told to come in, buthe figured Kit wouldn’t have opened the door at all if he didn’t want to have him there. Of the two of them, Quin wasn’t the one who required a spoken invitation.
“Everyone knows you give the host extra time to prepare,” Kit said as he strode through the hallway. Quin closed the front door. For someone complaining about social niceties, Kit sure wasn’t playing the role of a model host, but Quin found he didn’t mind. It was like how you were treated when you were so familiar with a place that you were no longer a guest.
“Well, I apologise for being on time, then.”
Kit turned and raised a haughty eyebrow. “Early.”
“Sure,” Quin agreed.
Kit disappeared into a doorway, Quin slipping in after him. The open-plan kitchen and living room were decorated identically to every other holiday rental along the coast; with a kitschy nautical theme dominated by whites, reds and blues. Ubiquitous sailboat and seaside paintings dotted the walls, and a little wooden seagull figurine sat next to a matching lighthouse on an end table.
“This is nice,” Quin said.
