It's hard to keep up with fanfiction when you're in school! That's all the excuse I can give...my sincere apologies to all those who have been kept waiting!

Anyway, this is from Kaname's POV, a one shot sequel to Night and Fire, which is from Aido's POV.

Whatever I do, wherever I go, I will ever have Aido's wholehearted support and undivided loyalty, as surely as flowers bloom in spring. He seeks nothing in return, neither recognition nor reward, unlike the many others that hound me day and night – discreetly, yes, but they hound me just the same.

Aido is the opposite. Being the third son of his father, he has never learnt to master himself fully. Impulsive acquiesce to flights of fancies mark his passing, and his aura is always, always palpable.

Today, for instance.

It is the season for strawberries, and his intense delight in eating fresh strawberries centers heavily in his mind, such that the image of a ripe, succulent strawberry precedes his arrival into my presence.

It is a bright, blustery dusk in June, and I enjoy the beginning of summer vacation with the other members of Night Class from Cross Academy. It is meant to be a bonding trip, another of chairman Cross's novelties. I myself rather liked the idea. Seclusion and indulgence, for the resort is large and self sufficient.

Aido remains silent where he stands, a few feet from me, awaiting my acknowledgement. I keep my eyes closed for awhile, marveling drily at his rare quietness. Aido is not, shall we say, of a solemn nature – yet there he stands, drawing the fresh air through his nose – I hear his inhalation – and exhaling with a gratifying patience.

I open my eyes, and observe the subtle changes on his face. His eyes light up immediately, and for a fraction of a second his mouth twitches, but barely. He wants to smile, and show me his joy; he doesn't want to smile, to show me that he has matured. He clutches a basket, laid with a silken cloth – and laden with strawberries.

Fresh, sweet, succulent strawberries, which glimmer a luscious rose red in the setting sun. There is a moment of transience, such as is seen in a typical romance movie; there is the last explosive brilliance of light before the sun disappears entirely below the mountain range, the air sparkles with the anticipation of night and darkness and mystery. The strawberries glisten wetly for a moment, and then for an instance I see nothing except the radiant azure sparkle of Aido's eyes, and the heartbeat of love and laughter in them.

Our eyes adjust, and our pupils dilate. We see everything clearly now, the grass blades and flower buds beneath our feet. Each other's faces illuminated by the silver sliver of crescent.

Aido is beautiful. Such beauty as should be the gift of females, Aido displays with a frightful ease. Never has the line of Hanabusa – or anyone, for that matter, produced an such an heir that blurs the boundary between the genders. Aido has none of the Kurans' dark indolence, none of the Kains' fiery pride, nor the Souens' exquisite delicacy, no.

He is golden, an angel-child.

And I want him.

My eyes glow red now, and he sees it. He surely knows my thoughts, yet he presents the basket and announces, as though I lacked sight and scent,

"Strawberries!"

There is an indecent glee in his voice, one which I have come to suspect when trouble arises. Yet I nod and pat the grass beside me, inviting his company to enjoy the fruits of his labour.

"I picked them myself," he says proudly as I put one into my mouth. Rather like warm human flesh, with a different sort of sweetness in the blood and a velvet softness to its texture.

I compliment his ability, and he grins in delight. He chatters at length about his life, and I keep an open ear. For his years of service, he only hopes for my happiness.

To hear Aido speak, one would never imagine he even attended school. Aido, Hanabusa, was a lord amongst the ladies, a prince of the damsels. He woos girls, and they throw themselves at his feet. He puts up with a dour and objectionable sidekick, one Kain Akatsuki of stoic and stony disposition. He is the live and soul of his land, wherever that is, and his marvelous deeds are praised by his people, whoever they are.

Ichijou would have chuckled, Yuki would have doubled over in laughter, and Kain would have snorted. That sort of thing is unseen in the Kurans, and for good reason. I remain silent and approving, and Aido continues embellishing his perfect paradise with details and anecdotes.

Sometime later the strawberries finish, and I lie back on my elbows. Aido is still talking, hugging his knees and declaring his exploits to the stars.

"Would you like to lie down, Kaname-sama?" he asks at one point. I make no reply, but he moves slightly and I move slightly so I can pillow my head on his calves.

"So anyway, as I was saying, Rima appears with a bottle of something called ketchup, and she squirts it into Shiki's hair! It was absolutely foul smelling, humans have the most terrible concoctions. He took ages to get the ketchup off… Did you know Shiki has at least seven strands of hair growing out of every follicle on his head? Rima told me, she's counted. She claimed she once cursed all his hair off, but it shot out again like wires in a few days. How much of that is true, I wonder?..."

He continues. His fingers stroke my hair and tangle in them, his voice is clear and light as a flute, and the strawberries sit sweetly in my belly. I must admit I am rather steeped in comfort and appreciation.

Night wears on, and something else stirs in me – blood lust. Aido is near, and his constant contact is making me hungry. He must have sensed the change in my bloodscent too, for his voice lulls into silence.

"Kaname-sama, if you want, I am always – that is, to say, I am forever …"

He trails off in an embarrassed huff.

I sit up and lean in, and kiss him on his lips. They are soft and tart with the aftertaste of strawberry juice. This close to him, I can feel desire is hurrying through his bloodscent, mixed with delight and a trace of bewilderment. He is very willing, and obviously so. If I were to take his blood, enter his body and mark him as mine, he would cheerfully submit. It tempts me, this offer so freely given.

Every line of vampires has a unique bloodscent. Ruka Souen, who's blood I have tasted, is a feminine mix of soft floral scents. Kain's and Ichijou's I am also familiar with – the former, a snappy bite of fire and the latter, the mellow sweetness of wine. Aido's is cool and icy to the feel, a testament his freezing powers. There is a sort of refreshing abrasion in his presence.

Too late my teeth have lengthened and stroked the skin of his collar bones. Aido flinches a little, not from disagreement but from slight fear, and I pull him close harshly.

He is mine, after all.

I hold him still, poise to attack…then I change my bite to a kiss.

It is a long, passionate, weakness inducing tribute to the smooth curve of his neck. His back is taut with the muscle, and his hair is as soft as starlight.

Aido sighs when I finally pull away. I can feel the sudden war within him, gladness and sadness at the same time. There is an absurd period of time in which he gives two dry, shuddering sobs, and quickly brushes the tears from his eyes.

There are so many layers of meaning in my refusal of his offer. The first, it being my right to take and his honour to give, my rejection implies that he is not worthy, not good enough yet. He needs to be better, and both he and I know it. I want only work of the highest quality.

The second, that I everything I have worked for, thus far, concerning the human species, depends on my ability to control my bloodlust. Drinking from Aido would have undermined months of effort.

The last, and perhaps the deepest, is the weakness of a human value I have come to acknowledge and appreciate. Friendship, the unconditional love between people, whereby friends are not to be subject to one's every whim and fancy, however agreeable they are. I am a fool not to sate myself on him, but there you have it. Because every time I drink from him, he loses a little of himself to me…friendship has its price, albeit one I can afford to pay.

I tilt my head back and look at Aido coolly while he collects himself. We say nothing, for language is transient and unnecessary for emotions as profound in this. He and I, we understand each other perfectly. He is replete with acceptance, and I, with…

"Next time, Kaname-sama, I will bring you strawberries dipped in blood," Aido murmurs. That way, I won't have to pierce him directly.

Aido is replete with acceptance. I wonder how I feel about this, because it requires an unshackled spontaneity of thought that I cannot perform. We purebloods know how to examine, analyze and evaluate. Grief and joy have been bred out of us, for practical reasons.

Seeing Aido rock himself back into contentment, humming a light tune to the stars and sending tiny spirals of icy dust twirling through the air, perhaps I am glad for my lack of emotion.

After all, emotion only brings with it the burden of baggage.

How did you guys like it? I have a one week break! Hopefully I can update more. Don't forget to review!