Vincent could not recall the last time he had seen the sunrise. Curling his fingers around the curtains, he knew opening them would be unwise.

Night had fled on the wings of angels. During a brief slumber, Vincent had dreamed of Kylo. He was woken by a peculiar noise buzzing around his ear, something between a cackle and the sound a choking man makes. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but the darkness which eternally lay in his room.

Outside, the sun shone, Vincent was certain for he felt the heat when he placed his open palm on the material. It was nothing more than sad desperation to steal a sliver of that warmth away. "I have forgotten you," he whispered, "the feel of you on my skin." Pulling back his hand, he turned it over and stared at his palm as if trying to find any shards of light that may have dared crack through the curtain and fallen into his grip.

With a sigh, the lord turned from the window and headed back to his bed. The large canopy was similar to Kylo's yet where his angel's bore the carvings of roses on it, his was carved in feral beasts with toothy grins and sharp claws. The tips of wood poking through the canopy were not simple points like Kylo's were. His were the heads of gargoyles that looked down at whoever slumbered among them.

Vincent drew his silken robe around him. His bare feet made no sound as he inched onto the bed and lay on top of his covers. He looked at the bland nothingness of the underside of the canopy. Not even shadows were up this early. Covering his eyes with his arm, Vincent wished himself back asleep. The dream he had been having felt real. It was not often Vincent dreamed anymore but there was something about Venice and Kylo that made him do so. He and Kylo had been in a garden, one similar to his rose garden back in Germany. Yet this one bore a multitude of flowers. Lilies and gardenia gave off a strong perfume that twined with the more delicate scent of the roses. Forget-me-nots and freesias were peeking from under the larger flowers. In the distance, music played as it had on the night of his ball. Kylo and he were both dressed in black. A long cape on Vincent's shoulders was held closed by a thick velvet ribbon. On his head was a pair of horns, not like the ones he wore at the ball – these were his own, the horns that sprouted from his head when his true form came. Kylo's attire was delicate, the lace shirt he wore looked like calligraphy on his skin. Vincent remembered reaching for the bow in Kylo's hair and pulling it out so that strands fell over his back. His fingers raked through and brought Kylo's long hair over his shoulders. When he pulled Kylo close, Vincent felt his heart beating both in his dream and in his sleep. Just as he leaned in to kiss his angel, he heard that damned sound.

Sliding his arm off his face, Vincent cast his head to the side and looked at the door. He reached out with his fingers stretched towards Kylo's room. "I dreamed of you," he uttered, "I know this reality I have brought you in will be your destruction and I am frightened. Losing you terrifies me." Letting out a small cry, Vincent felt an immense guilt wash over him. "I should have not brought you to Venice, to this place full of whispers and blood-soaked alleys. What have I done?"

From atop the canopy came a chuckle and a voice stating matter-of-factly, "You have brought him to hell, little brother."