Chapter 5: Talk
The garage was a cathedral of neglect. Cold, damp air clung to Leo’s skin, carrying the tang of rust, stale water, and something sweetly chemical from a spilled paint can. Their footsteps echoed off the stained concrete, a lonely percussion in the vast, shadowy space. Graffiti covered the support columns in frenzied bursts of color and cryptic tags, illuminated in jagged slices by the afternoon light bleeding through broken windows high above.
Symphony moved through the gloom like she owned it, her boots clicking a confident rhythm. She’d traded his hoodie for a sheer black mesh top under a leather corset, the bruise on her neck displayed like a pendant against her skin. It had deepened to a furious palette of plum and burgundy.
“They’re here,” she said, her voice bouncing off the walls.
A small group was clustered around a metal drum where a fire crackled, painting their faces in flickering orange. Leo recognized Mina first—pink hair, a nose ring, currently sketching in a battered notebook. Two guys he vaguely knew from the art college lounged on moth-eaten couches salvaged from the street.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Mina said, not looking up from her sketch. “Or should I say, bit.”
Symphony laughed, a rich sound that swallowed the echo. She slid onto the arm of the couch next to Mina, deliberately tilting her head. The firelight danced over the mark. “Good, right? The composition is impeccable.”
One of the guys, Javier, leaned forward, squinting. “Damn, Symphony. You get into a fight with a vampire?”
“Something like that.” She reached back, her fingers finding Leo’s wrist where he hovered at the edge of the circle. She pulled him gently forward. “Leo’s got a hidden talent.”
All eyes shifted to him. He felt the heat of the fire, and the heavier heat of their stares. He gave a slight, awkward nod.
Mina finally looked up, her gaze analytical, moving from Symphony’s throat to Leo’s face. “Huh. Didn’t peg you as the biting type.”
“There’s a lot you didn’t peg,” Symphony said smoothly, pulling Leo down to sit on the couch arm beside her. Her hand stayed on his knee, a possessive weight. “He’s full of surprises. Young, but… precocious.”
The word hung in the air. Javier chuckled. “How young are we talking?”
Leo stiffened. Symphony just smiled, tracing idle circles on Leo’s knee with her thumb. “Nineteen. A baby.” She said it with a purr, not a jab. “You should see him try to cook. It’s tragic. But other things…” She let the implication linger, sipping from a can of something bitter-smelling someone handed her. “Other things he’s a natural at. Doesn’t need experience. Just the right… inspiration.”
Mina watched Symphony, a faint smile on her lips. “You’re embarrassing him.”
“Am I?” Symphony turned to look at Leo, her face inches from his. Her eyes were dark pools reflecting the fire. “Are you embarrassed?”
He was. A hot, prickling shame mixed with a stubborn thread of pride. She was parading him, reducing whatever had happened between them—the violence, the surrender, the quiet understanding over coffee—to gossip fodder. But she was also claiming him, boldly, in front of her people. The contradiction was maddening.
“He’s shy,” Symphony announced to the group, as if diagnosing him. She leaned her head against his arm. “And he hates that I’m taller in these boots. Don’t you, baby?” She stretched a leg out, showcasing the thick platform sole.
Javier snorted. “You’re a menace.”
“I’m honest,” Symphony corrected. She nuzzled against Leo’s sleeve, her voice dropping to a murmur just for him, though everyone could still hear. “You don’t mind, do you? I just think you’re remarkable. I want them to know what I have.”
It was the ‘what,’ not ‘who,’ that struck him. A possession. Her tone was warm, even affectionate, but the framing was deliberate. He was her fascinating, younger, savage pet. The guy who left marks.
He looked down at her, at the spectacular evidence of his passion displayed so openly. He remembered the sound she’d made when his teeth broke skin—a sharp, gratified gasp. This was all part of that same transaction. Her pride was the other side of his mark.
Instead of pulling away, or shrinking further into himself, he felt a calm settle over him. He met Mina’s watching eyes, then Javier’s. He didn’t smile.
“The boots are fine,” he said, his voice quieter than the crackling fire but clear in the echoing space. He placed his hand over hers where it rested on his knee, his fingers covering hers completely. A simple, deliberate act of reclamation. “You should wear them more often.”
Symphony went very still beside him. He felt the minute shift in her posture, the sudden, focused attention. The playful provocateur facade softened, just for a second, into something like genuine surprise. Then she melted against him, her laugh softer now, more real.
“See?” she said to the group, her gaze locked on Leo’s profile. “Full of surprises.”
The conversation drifted to an upcoming noise show at a warehouse, to a scandal in the philosophy department. Leo stayed quiet, but he kept his hand on hers. The bite mark on her neck throbbed in the firelight, a shared secret that was no longer a secret at all. He had crossed a line last night, and she had just dragged him across another one today, in public. The lines were blurring, and he was no longer trying to find his way back to where he’d been before. The air in the garage was cold, but the heat where their skin met was a specific, anchoring point. He was starting to understand the game. It wasn't about hiding what he was. It was about deciding, moment by moment, which version of himself to be. And right now, the version who calmly held his ground while she showed off his bruises felt like the real one.
Mina’s eyes hadn’t left them. She closed her sketchbook with a soft snap. “So, Leo,” she began, her tone deceptively light. “You a biter in general, or was that a special occasion?” The fire popped, sending a spiral of embers upward.
Leo felt Symphony’s fingers tense slightly under his. He kept his grip relaxed. “It was a moment,” he said, the words measured. He didn’t elaborate.
“A moment,” Mina repeated, nodding slowly. She took a sip from her drink. “And the wardrobe? Symphony mentioned something about a wardrobe.” She arched a pink eyebrow. “You two redecorating?”
A laugh escaped Javier, sharp and knowing. Symphony shifted, sitting up straighter. Her playful demeanor cooled a degree, her gaze turning watchful. She hadn’t expected the cross-examination to turn forensic. “We had a difference of opinion on its structural integrity,” she said, her voice smooth but tighter.
“It lost,” Leo added quietly.
The group fell silent for a beat. Mina just watched, a small, curious smile playing on her lips. She was piecing together a puzzle they hadn’t meant to display. “Interesting. So it’s not just a kink. It’s a… vibe.” She gestured vaguely with her can. “You’re quiet, but you break things. She’s loud, and she wears the breaks like jewelry. That about sum it up?”
“Mina,” Symphony warned, the single word a drop of ice.
“What? I’m asking.” Mina leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. Her focus was entirely on Leo now, bypassing Symphony’s defenses. “What’s your end of it, then? She gets a trophy. What do you get out of leaving a mark like that on someone?”
The question cut through the garage’s damp chill. Leo was aware of everyone waiting. He thought of the coffee, the quiet after. The terrifying rightness of his teeth in her skin. It wasn’t about owning her. It was about being seen by her, in that raw, unfiltered way.
“Clarity,” he said. The word felt too big, but it was the only one that fit.
Symphony’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. Her nails pressed faintly into his leg.
Mina leaned back, her expression unreadable. She gave a slow nod. “Okay. I can see that.” She took another drink, her eyes flicking to Symphony’s throat. “Just be careful with the canvas. She’s tougher than she looks, but she’s not indestructible.”
“I know,” Leo said. He did know. The understanding felt heavy and essential in his chest.
Symphony stood up abruptly, the motion fluid but charged. “We’re leaving.” She didn’t look at Mina. She pulled Leo up by the hand he still held. “This conversation has officially become less fun than watching paint peel.”
“Aw, did I hit a nerve?” Mina called after them, but her voice held no malice, only a strange note of approval.
“Fuck off, Mina,” Symphony replied without turning, a familiar affection buried in the curse.
She led him out of the circle of firelight, back into the cool, echoing shadows of the garage. Their footsteps were loud in the quiet. She didn’t speak until they reached the rusty staircase, the city’s grey light washing down from the exit above.
She stopped on the first step and turned to him. Her confident mask was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable, more urgent. The bruise on her neck seemed to pulse in the dimness. “Clarity?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.” He reached up, his thumb hovering just beside the mark, not touching it. “When I’m with you… everything gets too loud. And too quiet. It’s confusing.” He let his thumb graze the unmarked skin of her jaw. “That wasn’t confusing.”
She searched his face, her dark eyes wide. For a moment, she looked every bit of her twenty-two years, and younger. Then she surged forward, kissing him with a desperate, grateful intensity that tasted like smoke and bitter ale. She broke away, breathing hard. “No one’s ever… fuck.” She rested her forehead against his. “Don’t answer Mina’s questions. They’re for me. Only for me.”
He nodded, his nose brushing hers. “Okay.”
She kissed him again, softer this time. “Take me home. Your home. I want to be somewhere that isn’t mine.”