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Colin was back. That was good. There's no place for a child in a house full of vampires (and a vampire-hunter-slash-bodyguard-slash-familiar, a djinn, and an undead human. Actually, he hadn't seen Mrs. the Relentless in a while. It wasn't a place for her, either). Everything was back to how it should be.
Laszlo laid awake and repeated that to himself like a mantra, forcing himself to believe it, accept it. He always had trouble going to sleep. The last year and a half he'd been living on less of it. Because Colin—
Because the Boy hardly slept at all most days. At first because of his energy, but later because of his activities. Sports in the day, performing at night. Laszlo drummed his fingers against his thigh to the beat of the Boy's favorite song. Before he hit his growth spurt, at least. Before—
Before things went back to normal, he reminded himself, and forced his fingers to stop drumming. His hands were itching to do something, anything, but he refused to let them. Thinking about not moving would keep him from thinking about Colin.
The Boy.
He began to hum instead.
Days passed. Maybe weeks, or months. Every day was the same. Sunrise, sunset. Never aging, never changing. It didn't matter what he did, or what anyone did. Nothing ever changes. Sunrise, sunset. It's all the same. It's all a blur.
He all but abandoned the love of his life, his darling, his good lady wife, for the baby he found in the basement. He fed him. Dressed him. Kept him safe and warm. Taught him. Played with him. Tried to solve any problems that arose. He didn't understand all of the Boy's interests, but he came to care about them nonetheless. He'd even found some musical theater he enjoyed. He cared about the Boy. He cared so much, he sent Nadja off with Guillermo by themselves.
And why did it matter?
What was even the point?
He wouldn't even have minded if the Boy had become an energy vampire in his own right. He didn't want it at first, but you can't stop the inevitable. You can't change anything.
Colin was back. His friend was back. His Boy was gone.
Gone, gone, gone. The memories, the race car bed, the toy guns and bricks and sports games. All gone.
He'd tried. He tried to be better than his own father, he tried to be flexible and accepting, he tried to understand that strange little creature, that darling little boy, and for what?
Sunrise, sunset. Laszlo didn't sleep a wink.
This. This is why he never tried. If you don't try, you don't put the effort in, you'll never be disappointed. You'll never feel hollow and hateful and tired all in one. It took so much effort just to get out of coffin every morning, even before all of this. Before being a vampire even. Nothing ever changes. So why try.
(It took no effort at all to take in the Boy. It was the easiest decision, the easiest action of his life, undead or otherwise. Raising him was hard, but keeping him was the easiest thing in the world.
So maybe he just shouldn't do anything at all. Sunrise, sunset. What's the point.)
He kept the pictures of the Boy on his bookshelf, next to his favorite pornography and his father's ashes. It didn't feel like the right place for it, but he wanted it publicly accessible. Maybe someday Colin would pick it up and remember.
Laszlo didn't need the pictures. 300 years of living and he didn't remember most of it. Most days he couldn't remember what he was saying as he was saying it. Only the strangest tidbits ever seemed to stay.
He hoped he'd forget the Boy, like everything else in his long life.
He knew he wouldn't. He didn't know everything about his Boy like Guillermo seemed too, but everything he did know, he remembered better than his own music.
He wanted to forget. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to hold his Boy. He wanted to forget. He wanted to remember. He wanted his son. Sunrise, sunset.
Colin is back. Colin is his friend. It was good to have him back.
Colin is gone. Colin was his son. A sweet, talented little boy. Gone just as he was reaching that awkward age. Laszlo barely remembered that time of his own life. It was the last thing he remembered of Colin's. He couldn't age in his memories.
He didn't know how long it had been. It didn't matter. Nadja is talking about destroying the club for money again. Nandor's into reading right now. Colin is bothering him about it. Who knew where Guillermo was. It didn't matter.
Sunrise, sunset.
Nothing changes. Why try?
He wants to sleep forever. He can't sleep at all. When he can, he dreams of his son. Smiling, singing, happy. His Boy.
He wasn't ready to be a father.
Maybe in a hundred years.