Chloé climbed the stairs, holding her cloak tight to her body as every step brought her closer to the outside. When she exited the stone walls into the dark at the top of the keep, the wind blew her hair into her face forcefully. She brushed it aside and frowned at the young man resting his arms on the battlements.

"Jean-Jacques, so you were out here."

Jean-Jacques turned his head to look over his shoulder but Chloé was already right next to him, leaning against his side.

"The view's nice," she said conversationally.

"I was just thinking the opposite."

Chloé shifted her gaze upwards to meet his eyes, though he didn't look back. "Are you tired of it?"

"Yes." He didn't bother lying. "I used to love it because it reminded me of the day we met. Now…"

Chloé looked to the cold, cloudy grey extending as far as the eye could see. It made the sky seem closer to earth. From their vantage it seemed if you jumped high enough you could probably manage to touch it.

"You've been coming out here for days. Why's that?"

"I was thinking about how much I miss the stars. If I keep coming out and watching then, eventually..."

"Jean-Jacques," she sighed, letting her head fall against his shoulder and closing her eyes, "You don't have to stay here. This is my curse and it only extends so far, if you wanted to you could probably find a way to leave."

"I promised I'd stay by your side forever."

"You know I don't expect you to keep that promise."

"Would you leave me behind?"

"That's not the point."

"Would you?"

"No. Of course I wouldn't."

"Then please don't ever ask me to leave you again. I'm not keeping my promise to you out of guilt, I want to remain with you."

"You won’t be seeing any stars here.”

"It was a pretty silly idea, coming out here, wasn’t it? In that case, we'll see them together some day. When all of this is over. If I have seeing them with you to look forward to I won’t miss them so much."

“Jean-Jacques, I-” Chloé bit her tongue, burying her head further into his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you see them.”

“Chloé? Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “Just cold. Let’s go inside, Jean-Jacques.”

He put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Chloé. I’ll start a fire to help you warm up.”

Together they went inside and, as promised, Jean-Jacques started a fire for them. They ended up huddled close together on the couch nearest to the fire, sharing their warmth as well as the warmth of the flames. It was so comfortable that they both fell asleep right there, Chloé first and Jean-Jacques following not long after.  

They both woke up sore and regretful, the big room having lost all warmth during the night after the fire burned out, and their lack of foresight in leaving the curtains open causing them to wake much earlier than usual.

Chloé groaned. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep here. Really, I should be more sensible than this at my age.”

“I feel the same about myself,” Jean-Jacques replied, rubbing his neck.

Chloé exhaled a laugh. “At your age you’re under no obligation to be sensible.”

Jean-Jacques’s expression shifted indignantly, before he quickly schooled his features again.  “It’s a little early but shall we get breakfast?”

***

Jean-Jacques trudged through the snow, the cold familiarly, almost comfortingly, biting. As the castle rose into view he spotted Chloé leaning in the doorway, waiting for him.

"I was about to go looking for you. You took your time today," she complained as he entered earshot.

"Sorry, Chloé, one of them ran away and I had to chase him down."

"Come inside out of the cold." She reached up to thoughtlessly brush some snow from his hair.

He still wasn't used to that - her having to reach up to touch his head. He'd had a substantial growth spurt and they were the same height now. Although, because Chloé's heels were higher than his, he was technically taller. Chloé had vocally lamented the change, but he thought she seemed quietly pleased that he was growing up.

His gaze lingered on her hand as it returned to her side and she started walking ahead of him. Her fingers were short and slender, and her nails were pointed and neat. He wanted to reach out and hold it, knowing that unlike in the past his would be the one that enveloped hers. His hand remained stalwartly at his side. He wasn’t young enough to need Chloé leading him by the hand anymore. His eyes drifted away from the hand and up to the sleeve of her dress. It was starting to get old now and the fabric was fraying at the edges.

Abruptly, without really thinking about it, Jean-Jacques said, “Can I make a dress for you, Chloé?”

“Pardon?” She looked over her shoulder at him, seeming equal parts amused and confused.

He fumbled, “Well I, uh, I’ve been making my own clothes for a while now and I’m getting better at it so I thought, maybe…”

“I’d be more than happy to accept such a generous offer from you, Jean-Jacques.”

***

Chloé was stripped down to nothing but her stockings and a shift in order for him to measure her. She was perfectly unaffected, meanwhile Jean-Jacques was regretting it with every passing second. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen Chloé in similar states of undress before. They shared a room, slept in the same bed, and often changed clothes at the same time. They weren't awkward with one another in any sense of the word. That was normal for them, and even getting older, those things hadn’t ever become strange. He’d never focused on Chloé’s body though, he wouldn’t dare, and being forced to look at her in a context he himself had engineered was alarming.

He was making things awful for her and she didn’t even know. His eyes might linger a little too long or improper thoughts would come unbidden to his imagination. Thoughts he didn't have her permission to be having. His love for her was pure, or it was supposed to be, so why was he attracted to her?

“Is something the matter?”

“Huh?” Jean-Jacques flinched, finding Chloé looking at him inquisitively, her face entirely too close. “No, I was just… just thinking about the dress.”

“There’s no reason to be worried, I’ll be happy with anything. You’re the one making it after all.”

Jean-Jacques laughed awkwardly, forcing himself to pay attention to the task at hand. He did want to make a dress for her, and he wasn’t going to let any invasive thoughts ruin that. So what if he thought she was pretty? That wasn’t new and it wasn’t going to change anything. He wouldn’t let it. Their life was perfect the way it was, he didn’t need anything else from her. He had seen relationships that were tainted by desire, how the selfishness of people caused nothing but unhappiness. He wouldn’t wish for anything from Chloé for something as corrupt as his own gratification.

He put all his concentration into remembering the numbers on the measuring tape. He ignored the feeling of his hands against Chloé’s soft skin or the thin fabric of her shift and how absolutely comfortable she was with him.

Before he knew it he had taken all the measurements he needed and Chloé was redressing herself. It hadn’t been so difficult or world-shattering as it seemed in the moment. Stability was restored so casually he was almost frustrated.

“What do you think?” Chloé twirled, dress flaring.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Come on, Jean-Jacques, humour me?”

The dress was dark brown and simple. It wasn’t nearly as extravagant as what Chloé would normally wear; Jean-Jacques simply did not have the skill to create all the embellishments he wanted to. Regardless, it was far more glamorous than anything the women in his village had ever worn, made for appearances just as much, if not more, than functionality. He’d also tried to make it warm, covering Chloé from the neck down to her ankles.

“I wish I was skilled enough to make it prettier,” he said honestly.

“You’re no fun. Personally, this is my favourite dress I’ve ever had.”

“Now I know you’re lying.” He raised an eyebrow, though she probably couldn’t see it under his hair. “Chloé, I’ve seen your other dresses.”

“You might like them better, but I don’t. As the one who has to wear it I’m telling you it’s comfortable and, yes, it’s pretty. I am proud of your work.”

“Even knowing that I can’t say I’m perfectly happy with the outcome.”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “If you’re truly dissatisfied then keep working and make me another some time.”

“Really?”

Jean-Jacques had planned to at most mend her clothes from that point on, already feeling as though he was overstepping. Now Chloé was offering to let him make more for her and he couldn’t help wanting to take her up on it. She was giving him control of what she wore, that show of trust and that responsibility made him shaky.

“Only if you want to,” Chloé said. “Though next time I don’t want to hear you complaining about my dress not being pretty enough.”

“Right. Sorry, Chloé, I’ll do my best.”

“Good boy.”

***

“I’m so tired,” Jean-Jacques grumbled. “Making me study all those extra hours, was it really necessary?”

Chloé pushed open the door to their bedroom, side-eyeing him. “It is absolutely necessary. Complain too much and I might consider giving you more work to do.”

“Please don’t!” Jean-Jacques exclaimed.

“So you do still have some energy I see. You did well today, Jean-Jacques, even if I don’t appreciate your grousing. Do you want me to get you anything to eat or drink if studying really has drained you as much as you say?”

There were plenty of things he might want. The list that Chloé could provide was quite a bit shorter, seeing as she hadn’t made anything at all in the kitchen in the last few years, deferring that responsibility entirely to him.

“Your blood?” He said unthinkingly, panic immediately rushing through every vein as he realised he had said it out loud.

"You want to drink my blood?" Chloé repeated blankly.

"Um... well..." He averted his gaze, a dark blush of shame blooming on his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to say it. He really hadn’t. "It smells good... and, and I've never had blood before, but you're also a vampire so I thought it would be all right if it was you. I- I'm sorry for asking, I shouldn't have."

Chloé pursed her lips, staring at something beyond him for a moment. She took a deep breath.

"Don't apologise. There's nothing wrong with it. Yes, I will give you my blood."

"R-really?" Jean-Jacques eyes immediately blazed to crimson life without his permission.

"Of course," Chloé said. "Just... give me a moment to prepare."

She left him briefly before returning to the room with a cup. She passed it to him and his eyes widened minutely when he saw the red liquid it contained. He hesitated, glancing first to her face then he noticed her still-bleeding arm, before focusing on the vessel she'd given him. Chloé rubbed the right side of her neck as she watched him finally take a first hesitant sip. Once it hit his tongue, sweetness exploding with an intensity he hadn’t known was possible, he couldn’t help the instinct to gulp down the rest without his lips leaving the rim of the cup once.

It wasn't what he was expecting. Chloé had given him a piece of herself and he was grateful, yet he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. The taste was as good as anything he'd ever drunk and it wasn't enough. He still wanted more. And he wanted it directly from the veins. All he could smell was her blood, his eyes were fixated on the red trickle flowing from Chloé’s sleeve down to her hand, and the sound of droplets occasionally hitting the floor was ringing in his ears. He didn’t ask for more.

“Thank you. It was… really good. I’ll, uh, take this to the scullery and clean it up.” Jean-Jacques held the cup up for emphasis.

Chloé nodded, eyes narrowed, observing him in a way that made him uneasy. He was quick to escape the room, breaking into a run for a reason he wasn’t even sure of when he was far enough away that Chloé wouldn’t see. When he skidded into the scullery he leaned against the wall, panting, sweat running down his face despite the cold. He screwed his eyes shut, knocking his head against the wall behind him once, twice, three times. He opened his eyes again and exhaled shakily.

He looked down at the cup gripped tightly in his hand, traces of Chloé’s blood still around the rim. It made his stomach turn. Eventually, when his breathing and his heartbeat had relaxed a little, he started to actually clean the cup as he had told Chloé he would. His hands slipped in the water, unsteady and uncoordinated in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

When he was sure he’d wiped every trace of blood clean he placed the cup aside to dry. Catching sight of movement from the corner of his eye, Jean-Jacques turned quickly, only to realise there was nothing there, merely his own reflection in the shining cross hanging on the wall. He stared at it. He’d never noticed it, certainly hadn’t polished it, though it looked as though it had been piously attended to somehow. In its burnished surface he saw a distorted impression of a boy with dark hair and red eyes.

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped by several degrees.  Shadowy fingers drummed playfully against his shoulder.

“Hello, Jean-Jacques.” She stretched out the syllables in his name impishly.

“You prefer Chloé’s company, don’t you?” He couldn’t stop a little bitterness leaking into his voice, though he knew Chloé seemed better off after its taking an interest in her. “What do you want with me?”

“Chloé is more entertaining usually,” She admitted carelessly. “You seem upset though, and Chloé seems worried for you.”

“You’ve spoken to Chloé about me?”

“Who’s to say?” She shrugged - as much as an apparition like Her could shrug. “Now, why’re you sulking down here?”

“I’m not sulking. I was only cleaning up, uh-”

“Blood?”

Jean-Jacques winced. “How did you know that?”

“I can smell it on you. And your eyes are red.”

“Ah!” He covered his face instinctively. “Yes, I’ve been drinking blood, okay?”

“What’s the matter? Did her blood not taste as good as usual?”

Jean-Jacques was so taken aback by the question all he did was stare wide-eyed at her.

“Huh? Oh. Ooooh!” She cackled, twirling in the air. “You’ve never had her blood before, have you?” She twisted, looking at Jean-Jacques upside down. “That’s hysterical! I thought you two were closer than that!”

“We are close!” Jean-Jacques retorted.

“Certainly. Not as close as you would like though, isn’t that right?”

“Sh-shut up, what do you know?”

“I know your sweet Chloé. Maybe better than you do. I have known her longer after all. If you want something from her all you have to do is ask. I’m sure if it’s you she’ll give in.”

“I don’t want her to ‘give in’ to what I want! I don’t want to want anything from her at all! Everything is… fine the way it is.”

“You sound awfully convincing, really, but, I think you should listen to my advice.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Boring,” She huffed. “If you’re satisfied with the way things are you better hurry back to Chloé or I’ll go keep her company instead.”

Jean-Jacques watched Her for a moment before taking quick strides out of the room, anxious to leave the conversation behind and return to Chloé’s side. Where he belonged. When he entered their bedroom he thought for a moment that Chloé had left, the room was pitch dark. The curtains were drawn and no candles or astermite lamps were lit. Chloé was there, in the dark, sitting on the floor for some reason.

“Ah, Jean-Jacques!” She beamed. “Come here. Oh, and close the door.”

Jean-Jacques closed the door and tentatively took a few careful steps towards Chloé, letting his eyes light up red so he could see a little better. “What, uh, what are you doing?”

“Sit here.” She patted the spot next to her.

Jean-Jacques, still feeling tense, did as she asked.

“I have something for you.”

“Something for me? Chloé, why?”

“You can think of it as me repaying you for this beautiful dress if that helps. Although, truth is, I didn’t have any special reason for making it.” Chloé picked up a small, black object Jean-Jacques hadn’t noticed in the darkness.

“What is it?”

‘It will be easier to show you to answer that question.”

Chloé placed the object in front of them and flipped a switch on its side. The astermite inside burst into life, scattering blue light around the room. It took a moment for Jean-Jacques to register what it was and he nearly felt himself start to cry when it clicked. Sprinkled across the walls and ceiling were blue stars, gradually revolving as the little machine Chloé built whirred softly.

“It’s beautiful.” He leaned back to see the full scope of the ceiling.

Chloé curled up a little, hugging her knees to her chest as she observed Jean-Jacques. “I made it rather quickly so unfortunately it’s not astronomically accurate. I could build another later if you like.”

“No, Chloé, I don’t care about that,” Jean-Jacques said warmly. “It’s perfect the way you made it. I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway.”

“Then maybe I ought to teach you some astronomy.”

“Aren’t you teaching me enough already?” Jean-Jacques protested.

“You can never know too much, Jean-Jacques.” Chloé pet his head. “I’ll try not to force too much on you at once. I’m aware I have a few centuries over you.”

Jean-Jacques closed his eyes momentarily. He was just some dull planet drawn into her orbit, fooling himself into thinking they weren't lightyears apart. He'd been satisfied just bathing in her light for the longest time, and that was how things were supposed to be. He wanted that feeling back, from before he'd started saying and thinking foolish things.

“A few centuries, huh?” He murmured.