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Being alone and single had its perks, he admitted. Despite the obvious disadvantages...

He’d wake late in the evening with a cold heart in a cold, empty bed, but he could do as he pleased with no thoughts for anyone. He couldn’t bother them and they didn’t bother him.

To Myk, the main perk was the lengthy baths he could enjoy. The giant porcelain bathtub was perfect and beautiful and his. It had become something of a lifesaver, a relief, because he could just lean his head back and stretch out under soothing hot water and curl up, lightly dozing away without a care in the world.

So when Myk woke this time, he breathed deeply into his downy pillow and stretched his arm out as he always did, with some unconscious desire to feel a warm – or cold – body under his fingers, breathing steadily and sleeping like a child.

But there wasn’t.

Cold bed sheets left tingles in his fingertips and parched his luke-warm hand of heat. He drew it back under the covers to his chest, turning on his side and sighed thoughtfully. Oh well.

Myk moved to sit up and glance idly around his room. The sheets dressing the bed had pooled in his lap and made his lower half disappear into a sea of white. He’d gone on a decorating spree not too long ago, painting anything and everything white. And what he couldn’t paint, he replaced with its white replica. He wasn’t certain what had sparked this need to purify his suite, but he admired his surroundings now everything was bright and crisp.

Myk left the bed after a weary crawl across the mattress which sagged like a marshmallow and stepped down onto the cold floor, uncaring for his nakedness. It might have been a perk, to others, but Myk hardly cared if others saw him in his glory. He might have spent a grand portion of his life in the United Kingdom, but he hadn’t adopted their prudish mannerisms or the excessive loathing for own their bodies. To him, the body was a pure and beautiful thing and nakedness did not necessarily coincide with lewdness or depravity. Of course he had those traits in spades, but the point was, it wasn’t the reason he generally walked around in the nude.

Crossing the blank and vacant hallway to the bathroom, Myk smiled as his sights set upon his favourite blessing. He sat at the edge of the tub and turned on the faucet; steam immediately pouring out with boiling water. He watched it lazily, turning to look out the windows lining the upper walls, judging the light glistening in. He couldn’t pin-point the time, but knew that it must have been late – no doubt everyone was already out and about doing those things that sociable people do so well…

Myk sighed at the thought and gazed into the shallow bath. The clear liquid, like his heart and his suite and his life, appeared so empty. He felt the need to add bubble bath. He liked girly fruity bubbles, he liked the smell, he liked glitter floating in the currents like tiny jewels. It made him feel the slightest bit precious.

The hot water bubbled to life quickly, and Myk watched with tired eyes. The sound of running water made his heart slow to a calm he seldom ever had, and his fingers skimmed the water lightly to ripple easy patterns. When the bath was full, he wasted no time slipping in slowly, carefully, lovingly. With every cubic inch he immersed into, he took a little gasping breath, and when he was finally in, he let it all out slowly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

He could feel the burn of his wounds fade, and be replaced with a happy tingle of scented warm water. He felt his long white hair float around him smoothly, tips of strands tickling his shoulders, drawing out a sound that was better reserved for intimate moments. And when Myk was relaxed, his thoughts drifted, frustratingly, to the people who weren’t with him.

He thought of Ripper first, as he generally did. It wasn’t that they were particularly close, it wasn’t that Myk felt particularly comforted by the man, it was just that Ripper had a presence and a mind that impressed upon him. There were times when the man would say just the wrong, but right things and Myk would obsess over them. Ripper said that Myk seemed lonely. It was true and it was depressing, but it was entirely his own fault. He wouldn’t walk the extra mile to make connections, to sustain connections and eventually those connections would dissolve. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but his reasons were many and weren’t always admissible or even worth admitting.

After sending inspiring wishes in the Vampire’s direction, Myk’s thoughts turned to the Lady and then just as quickly turned to her husband. His cheeks burned. He sent them both warm, inspiring wishes and shifted his attention sharpish. Who else was there to bother with his prying? Who else was there to check on, ensure the welfare of? Who else, but Robert Pratt.

Myk had yet to come up with a new nickname for him. Robert had disapproved of being called Mr Pratt, which was a little annoying, but Myk was sure he’d come up with something just as cute.

First of all, Myk assessed the man’s situation: incorporeal. This meant the man was still in the Dark Place. Myk drew out of his telepathy with a heavy sigh, dispersing a cloud of bubbles that had floated across his chest. He couldn’t understand why Robert lingered there when others were quick to shed the darkness and return to blight the world. Paranoia had risen in Myk’s evaluation of the subject, but he brushed the bothersome feeling aside. As sweet and caring as Robert was, he figured the man would have the balls to tell him when to take a hike. But paranoia had stepped into that evaluation too, citing past incidents of unrequited telepathy. Myk brushed it off again. Even if it were true, if Robert found him so... irritating, confusing, despicable, crazy… If Robert couldn’t bring himself to be honest with Myk, Myk felt no need to spare the man of his overbearing attention.

Besides, he could be wrong about this whole thing and Robert was kind. He didn’t deserve to feel loneliness.

Myk closed his eyes again, inhaling the gentle scent of vanilla and papaya milk as his mind pressed into the thoughts of the other.

“Hello. How are you?”

Since he didn’t expect a response right away, he carried on with his bathing. Despite the casual voices he often heard whispering out of the ether, the only other sounds were the rare drop of water from the faucet, the fizzing of bubbles and the slight undulation of the water from his twitching movements. Idly, Myk’s thoughts returned to Robert once again, pressing his concerns a little too forcefully into the other’s mind though because he was quickly confronted with a rich, albeit, striking and familiar voice which pounded into the centre of his forehead.

“Sorry - I was hiding from a beastie! I think..... it might be..... shhhhhhhh!”

Myk lost his calm and his seating, plunging his face into the rosy water. He was up again in seconds, choking and spluttering as if he was about to die and wearing a hood of sparkling bubbles. His legs kicked, his pewter eyes wide and flabbergasted. All in all, he looked like a drowned cat, and his discomfort didn’t ease as the voice came again with urgency.

“Problem. Email from Belle and I need your help. Can you go and find her at Solace? Look after Bert for me until I can escape? Belle will give you all you need. But you need to go tonight. Please Myk. I need you. You`re the only one I can trust.”

A hundred questions hurtled into his mind.

Who was Bert? Who was Belle? What had happened to them? Was Robert insane for thinking Myk could actually help? And, more importantly, did this mean that Robert thought Myk was a friend?

Myk sat up straight in the tub, brushing bubbles into melting foam across his skin and hair as he focused on returning a message to Robert. He was determined to help – well, he was pretty much obliged to, wasn’t he. It wasn’t as if he could tell the man to go **** a rubber duck because this was bath time… Not that he really wanted to. As pleasurable as bath time was, it didn’t hold a candle to the overwhelming joy Myk felt when he thought he was being useful to others. Besides, he could do with a friend and the water felt balmy now.

Myk got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist and sprinted across the hallway to his wardrobe. The furniture, the walls, the floor and the ceiling might have all been white, but his clothes were an assortment of bright colours and fanciful textures, the boldness of which came spilling out of the cupboard like riches as he pulled open the doors. He grabbed what felt vaguely like a pair of trousers and a top and began to dress, but as he attempted to pull the top over his head and thread his arms through the holes, he quickly realised that he’d made a serious error in judgement. There simply weren’t enough body holes in this garment and in a moment of complete, child-like naivety, he still tried to insert his both arms into the one other hole before he was secure enough to accept that this top was actually a pair of shorts.

Myk threw the shorts aside and reached back into his wardrobe, hooking a baggy white t-shirt with the words I sell sex for money scrawled tastelessly in black on the front. As luck would have it, he’d managed to combine the worst pair of trousers with the top too: a pair of skin-tight, leather-effect jeans with leather stitching running down the outside of each leg. All he was missing was the shocking red lipstick and heavy mascara to complete the whore-look, but since he was pressed for time, he had to neglect the make-up and accessories. He wrestled with his three-inch-heel combat boots to get them on his feet and laced up around his trousers, then made his way to The Sanctuary.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Myk rapped his knuckles against the door and waited. He supposed that was an odd thing to do considering the nature of the place. Robert spoke as though people came and went as they pleased; they didn’t need an invitation and they certainly didn’t need to stand on the doorstep, knocking and waiting for someone to answer the door. Myk couldn’t help himself even if he was expected. He waited for a good five minutes, knocking and ringing the doorbell intermittently in case no one had heard the one or the other, until eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was on a mission after all, Robert had seemed so desperate and Myk couldn’t afford to let his aged manners get in the way. He gave the solid door a bit of a push and crept inside the gap; his combats squeaking and scuffing as he tried to be as small and inconspicuous as a mouse.

With just a few steps into the grand entranceway, however, Myk fell to his knees, clutching his head and seething. He was having a serious Obi Wan Kenobi moment – as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, only they wouldn’t be silenced. He had no idea how loud he was being with his curses and groans and hisses, with how his shoes yelped against the polished floor as he kicked out in pain. He also had no idea that everyone within earshot had stopped what they were doing to look at this crazy man on the floor. Myk couldn't hear anything over the noise in his head and his eyes were closed so tight that it felt like they’d seal together or inverse – both of which were rather scary scenarios, making him panic more. His head felt like he’d been impaled through the ears, as if he’d stepped on a switch and a bear trap had closed around his skull. He snarled like said animal, baring fangs, but since his chin was at his chest and his hair was covering his face, nobody had seen.

The voices, and subsequently the pain, only dulled when Myk became aware of a presence beside him. He felt the arm around his shoulders, wrapping him in a warm hug, the hand on his balled fist, petting it gently and coaxing it to relax. He breathed in her soft, sweet perfume like marigolds and jasmine and cookie dough, inhaled the uniquely human scents of stress and just being alive. He opened his pewter eyes to a round face with two big brown orbs watching over him like he’d been transformed into a tiny rabbit. Myk watched her lips move and felt the breath on his cheek, but it took some time before all the sensations broke through his skull and he could finally hear her speak above the high-pitched squeal in his ears.

“Come on now,” she cooed at him. “You’re okay. See, you’re just fine.”

Was this Robert’s mother? Myk didn’t have any words for her immediately.

“My name’s Belle,” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Belle…”

“Yes, sugar. That’s my name. Now, what’s your name?”

“I’m looking for you!” he said cheerily, slipping from beneath her arm to stand, towering above her.

“For me?”

Myk nodded and smiled, offering her a hand and pulling her up surprisingly gently despite his jolly attitude. It was some feat – controlling his strength – sure he didn’t have a lot of it, but it was still a lot more than the average human, which he often forgot about when he was in a particularly bad or good mood. When Belle was up on her feet, she didn’t look a whole lot taller; Myk was almost convinced that she was sitting or kneeling still. With his 5’10” frame and the three inch boost of his heels, he was a whole foot taller than her and then some.

“So why were you looking for me, sweetie?”

“My name’s Myk… I’m… a friend of Robert’s. He said I was to come help you, and… Bert.”

“A friend of Robert’s, you say?”

She was highly ecstatic about the notion and threw her arms around him again. Myk sucked in a lungful of air as the woman squished him in a hug. She could probably wrap her arms around him three times given their width difference, which was just a thought that crossed his mind as she held him there. He didn’t mind hugs, even when he didn’t know they were coming, though her head was somewhere between his chest and navel and that made him a little uncomfortable.

“Well welcome to The Sanctuary, love. It’s so good to have you here,” she said, finally releasing him. “But you tell Robert not to worry about me and old Bert, we’re fine. That one is always so over-protective.”

Myk sighed a little relieved, though there was a small blush in his cheeks. “Well I am glad you are both… well.”

“Oh yes, we’re quite fine! A little lonely, but we are well. Bert’s lonelier than I, I must say! I am always so busy with the people here and Bert – well, Bert is rather selective with who he likes.”

“I see.”

“But, if Robert’s sent you here, he must think you’ll make a great playmate for Bert. Why don’t we go see him? And if you’d like, you can stay for dinner.”

What was it with people inviting him to eat around here? Myk smirked at the thought. “I wouldn’t want to impose—”

Belle grabbed him by the arm and began to carry him off into the inner sanctum. Myk froze, but did as he was compelled. To be honest, he wasn’t certain if he could overpower her even if he wanted to; she’d really transformed him into a rabbit.

“Oh don’t be silly, dearie,” Belle said as they marched through a labyrinth of doors and hallways. “It’s no trouble at all! You’re our guest here. Better yet, you’re Robert’s friend! Come meet Bert. We’ll talk about supper later.”

After a few more twists and turns, the pair arrived at a room and Belle finally let go of his arm. She walked ahead to open the door, her head swivelling around and ducking slightly as though she was expecting something to come swooping at her. Myk watched her with abstract amazement before he found himself staring into the room beyond her hunched shoulders. The room looked like it had been decorated to suit the amazon, with vines and tree branches hanging at several levels. Myk suspected now that Bert wasn’t human, perhaps reptilian or fowl or bat. Belle stepped into the room, still searching and Myk followed in her shadow.

“Bert,” she called. “Where are you? You’ve got a visitor!”

There wasn’t any chirping, Myk noticed. If it was a bird, it was the quiet type and that seemed rather unlikely. In fact, he rather hoped it wasn’t a bird – especially parrots and cockatoos. He’d had bad experiences with those feathered bastards and probably would have shrieked like a woman and pegged it if Bert came swooping at him, white quills blazing, beak snapping. Sorry, Robert, he thought.

“Uh, Belle…” he murmured over her shoulder, ducking actually beside her ear. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Well, Bert, of course. Robert did tell you about Bert, didn’t he?”

“Not so much… He just told me to come here and take care of you both.”

“Oh that man,” Belle said with a cheery dismissal, turning to Myk and forcing him to back up and straighten up. “He really does mean well, but he forgets sometimes that not everyone’s on his level.”

Myk smiled gently. “I know the feeling.”

Belle eyed him a little suspiciously, her eyes naturally scanning downward. For one of the first times in his life, Myk actually felt insecurity stabbing at him. She read his t-shirt and then tutted, laughing a bit to herself. Myk assumed that she’d probably heard a ton of stories given her line of work, that nothing would faze this woman, which meant that he was probably being tarred with a brush that suited his exterior and her expectations. He began to chew on the flesh of his bottom lip as Belle’s big brown eyes looked to his face again. He felt compelled to give her an explanation, but resolved to keep his trap shut. Honestly, what good would come of it? He wasn’t ashamed of his choice of attire in general, neither was he ashamed of his sexuality or appetite usually, but even though this woman had probably seen and heard people get up to horrible things, worse things than he was even aware of, he still felt as though any explanation he could give her wouldn’t satisfy. It was as though he was worried about disappointing her, like the way he’d felt toward his parents when he was younger and didn’t know any better.

“Well anyhow,” Belle said, turning back to the vines and branches. “Bert is a little green menace with big, swivelling eyes and a long tongue. He lives in the trees and is very good at hide and seek.”

“Bert’s a chameleon?”

Belle turned to him with a praising smile. “Why yes he is.”

Myk grinned. “How peculiar. Well, I suppose people will keep any kind of animal as a pet these days.”

“Oh it’s not quite as simple as any other kind of pet though. You have to get his environment just right or the poor thing will perish.”

Myk peered into the humid room and drew a straight face. “Well, I suppose you would, huh. They live in the rainforest, no? Simulating the environment must be difficult…” Myk stepped back a little nervously then. “With plenty of UV bulbs, no?”

Belle almost leapt into the air as Myk’s grave tone struck a chord of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s right! Why don’t you wait outside. I will find Bert and bring him to you. Go on, hurry,” she said, all-but pushing him out of the room and closing the door in his face.

Myk stood startled for a moment and then turned his back against the wall to wait for Belle. This certainly was an interesting turn of events. Belle was a sweet old lady and possibly Robert’s mother, while Bert – which Myk was sure was a shortened version of Robert – was a menacing chameleon. More importantly, however, neither Belle nor Bert was in any danger like Robert had suggested, and Myk had to wonder why he was really here.

After a few moments, Belle came out from the room with a small lime green lizard and Myk approached the pair happily. Bert didn’t look particularly happy, but Belle did her best to accommodate him. She let Bert stand across the length of her arm like it was a fleshy branch; Myk leaned in, tilting his head and smiled at the chameleon’s adorable little feet that seemed to hold onto this alien world with little effort or concern at all. As far as lizards went, at least chameleons were interesting-looking. Myk watched Bert’s eyes swivel on the spot, each one working independently to scope out its new surroundings for any possibility of lunch or escape as his scales began to darken. Myk suspected that poor old Bert’s chances of escape were probably slim to none, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; he would probably stay here all night if he could have.

“Do you want to try holding him?” Belle asked.

Myk had to step back and think about that. From what he knew about lizards, they lost heat quickly, which wasn’t particularly a problem when they were being held by warm-blooded creatures, but since Myk was practically as cold as Bert, if not more so, he didn’t think holding Bert was such a great idea. Belle obviously sensed Myk’s concern because her brown eyes were looking at him like she was about to hug him again. Myk forced a weak smile onto his face.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to, really—”

“You won’t hurt him you know,” Belle chirped. “But how about we have a nice cup of tea and talk about it, hmm?”

Myk nodded and against his better wishes, followed Belle down the labyrinth of corridors again. He had to wonder how Robert lived in this place, or rather, if Robert lived here. He worked here of course and even though there seemed to be plenty of room, there was no real reason to assume that Robert lived here. Knowing the man, he’d probably need a more secure abode, a place that not many people knew about. Myk didn’t know why, but it upset him a little to realise that he didn’t know all that much about this person he called his friend. Though, he couldn’t help that could he. It was Myk’s nature to live in the shadows and never be a burden to anyone, never push people for answers unless it was absolutely necessary. It was no surprise why Myk failed to form deep relationships with others; his approach could seem purely nonchalant and who would be interested in keeping a person around that didn’t seem to care?

Belle led Myk into a warm, cosy room with plenty of seating, and Myk stared at the old-timey décor before finally taking a seat on one of the floral couches. After closing the door behind them – probably for Bert’s safety and their own privacy – Belle then sat to Myk’s left in a dark sage armchair, making sure to not trap any part of Bert as she did so. When they were seated, a calm settled into the warm air and Bert was quick to take advantage of his new environment – quick for a chameleon anyway.

“Are you feeling any better, dear?” Belle asked.

Myk assumed she was talking about his sudden fit when he’d entered the building at first, but she could have been asking him about anything. Either way, his answer was a simple nod.

“That’s good,” she said, but paused. Although she seemed genuine, she certainly had him sitting on the edge. “You seem like a nice young man. How old are you?”

“25.”

“Oh what an age. I remember being that young, we had the whole world at our feet and could be anything we wanted. Those were some wonderful years.”

Myk smiled lightly, as was the appropriate thing to do. He did, however, feel like he was being interviewed and was entirely unsure of what position he was supposed to be filling. Was Robert’s mother making sure that he wasn’t getting in with the wrong crowd? Myk had to bite his own tongue to stop from smirking.

“And what do you do for a living, are you in work?”

Myk frowned, searching the wall for answers. “Urm, well… Sort of. I do work for a Salon…”

“Oh! That sounds lovely, what do you do there?”

“Make-up mostly,” he said with a shrug.

“But is it something you feel passionately about?”

Myk looked sideways at her. “Some days. Others, not so much. I am rather… catholic though.”

“Catholic, you say? Why, what else interests you?”

Myk breathed a frustrated sigh – he didn’t intend to be rude, but he rather hated this spotlight she had him under. “Too many to list for a life time,” he stated simply. Despite his tone, Belle smiled.

“You don’t talk very much,” she mused. “You’d rather not talk about yourself, am I right?”

“It’s a boring subject.”

“Hardly,” Belle said, chasing after Bert as he tracked the vertical climb of the armchair’s back and seemed ready to dive-bomb over the edge. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful person.”

Myk smirked and stood, walking over to the back of Belle’s chair to lift Bert away from an inevitable drop. Chameleons tended to stick to the trees, preferred high places to survey their environment. Rather like cats, Myk thought as he drew his long hair back and propped Bert onto his shoulder. He walked back into Belle’s line of sight, but didn’t sit down.

“Wonderful is a stretch,” he muttered, but he could see Belle’s eyes were alight.

“Well, Bert and I think you’re lovely and Robert must think so too if he asked you here.”

Myk looked to her awestruck before the blush set in and made him avert his gaze.

“So how did you two meet anyway?”

“I came looking for Robert,” he purred. “He made quite the impression.”

Belle raised her eyebrows, not that Myk was aware of it; he was busy watching Bert. The chameleon seemed to have one eye on his surroundings and one eye on the Vampire. For all their uncertainties about each other, they did seem to make a fairly comfortable pairing. Myk was growing fond of the way Bert’s eyes moved, and how his cute little legs stepped slowly and cautiously as if he testing for lava.

“And I suppose you two just hit it off and became friends?” Belle asked.

Myk hummed a positive note. “He’s nice to me… and… is always interesting to talk to.”

“Oh yes, Robert certainly has an interesting way of looking at things, and such a sense of humour too.”

Myk’s eyes turned to her, scrutinising her as she had done to him earlier. He couldn’t tell from the tone alone and even her smile left him a little puzzled as to her intentions, but just looking into those wide brown eyes left him secured that she genuinely meant well. Myk smiled in return.

“Yes, he does. I like listening to him speak… He’s very bright, very astute and has a … beurre noisette kind of voice…”

“I’m sorry, beret-what?” Belle asked causing Myk to smirk lightly.

“Right, sorry… Translated directly from French it means hazelnut butter. Rather, I think you’ll be more familiar with brown butter, no?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with brown butter. I’m still not sure how you attach that to a description of somebody’s voice though, dear.”

Myk shrugged his one shoulder lightly – the Bert-vacant shoulder. “It makes sense to me at least.”

At this point, Myk was used to people rolling their eyes, striking their tongue against the roof of their mouths, or simply calling him insane. Strangely, Belle did none of these things. She simply sat and smiled as her cheeks filled with a healthy rose colour and her eyes glazed ever so slightly. Myk couldn’t automatically identify the emotion so he disregarded it, letting his eyes wander over the 50’s style décor some more. Belle, however, continued to watch him.

“Are you from France, Myk?”

“My father is and I was born there – only, incidentally.”

“How do you mean?”

“My parents were staying there a while. In my father’s family home. Their stay ended up being longer than planned due to… well, me. So… I guess, I am…”

“And you grew up speaking French?”

“Sort of… My parents predominantly speak English so they can communicate with one another,” he laughed. “My mother is Italian, you see.”

“Oh really? And you say you’re boring.”

Myk frowned and muttered, “I’m not sure how interesting that knowledge is.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s very interesting. How did you parents ever meet with one from France and one from Italy?”

“Well the countries aren’t that a distance a part…” he continued to mumble. “My mother found my father in France. They planned to travel the globe together and ended up settling in England. They did travel though. Actually, we travelled quite a lot.”

“That must have been exciting.”

Myk shrugged the Bert-less shoulder once again and drew a nonchalant expression.

“And how did you end up here? Yet another family exploration?”

Myk’s expressions quickly soured. “No. Nothing of the sort.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked carefully.

“No. It’s better if we don’t.”

“Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t. It’s perfectly fine, dear.”

This was a refreshing change. Ordinarily he would be hounded for answers – that was his father’s method of extracting the truth out of him. The alternative of course was being reassured that he wouldn’t have to speak; a notion that was veiled under a hair-thin pretension of concern or respect for his privacy. With Belle, however, he felt she genuinely wanted to hear it as if she was of the philosophy that sharing was indeed caring or halving the problem. Myk never felt that talking helped and besides, he was of the opinion that sharing problems was the same as sharing burdens. Myk never wanted to be a burden to anyone.