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It's not this coffin in particular, is the thing. This is what he tells Nandor, at least, who is hovering behind him quite anxiously after watching his initial reaction of "Oh, Nandor, you got this just for me?" fizzle out abruptly the moment he has to get in it. And it really is gorgeous- intricate, swirling patterns blooming across the surface of the wood, shot through with gold leaf and lacquered a rich brown- which makes him all the more guilty of his current situation. The cold, clammy fear that grips his body when he grabs the edge is, admittedly, not a new feeling for him. Small enclosed spaces tend to have that effect on him nowadays, when all it reminds him of is a lid closing down on him, the hammering of nails right above it, the fruitless thump, thump, thump of his fists hitting the plush velvet over and over again, yelling until his voice gives out for someone, anyone to hear. So maybe he should be talking to a therapist about that. Or Nandor, for that matter. He doesn't realise how long he's just been standing there, frozen in place, until Nandor taps him timidly on the shoulder.
"Guillermo," he says quietly, sounding for all the world more like a kicked puppy than a ruthless, 750 year old warlord, "if you do not like the coffin, you could have just told me."
Guillermo laughs nervously, horrified when it comes out all broken and warbled, and resolutely removes his hands from the rim of the coffin.
"Nandor," he says, voice tinny and high, "I told you, it's not- it's not the coffin. Or, like, this one in particular. I think it's really pretty, actually! I just… Do you remember when Laszlo locked me in his coffin last year and shipped me off to England?" Nandor nods, his expression morphing into one of concern, "I think I've developed, like, severe claustrophobia from that incident. So. There's that."
Nandor's face smoothes over at that.
"Oh," he says, sounding relieved, "well, if that's all, we can continue sleeping in the big bed upstairs for the night."
"Oh," Guillermo gulps. "But, the coffin-?"
He takes Guillermo's hands in his and smiles softly down at the other man. "Do not worry about that, my love. I will figure something out for you tomorrow. Your comfort is my number one priority, after all." He leans down, long hair tickling Guillermo's chin, and kisses him gently, an unspoken plea of 'let me take care of you' pressed between their lips. Guillermo lets him, lets himself get hoisted up and princess carried off into the blue room and swaddled in blankets and cocooned into Nandor's large form, and he sleeps soundly there in that strong, cool embrace that he has grown to know so well.
The next day, Nandor arranges for the windows in the blue room to be bricked up so they won't have a problem with sunlight(or rather, he announces that he wants to arrange for it, then realises that he doesn't have the slightest clue of how to go about it and gets Guillermo to call the construction guys instead), and has a row with Nadja when she inevitably finds out and derides Guillermo for being a 'pathetic little pussy of a vampire' (Laszlo makes no comment, just looks away from the whole scene with an expression that Guillermo can almost make out to be guilt), and sweeps huffily away into the foyer to "console" a very amused Guillermo. They put paintings up over the weird blank patches of wall, most of which carry a not-insignificant amount of glitter on them, and Guillermo moves into the room for real this time with Nandor quickly following suit. Later, they will have to put their old coffins up for auction and clear Nandor's old room out, but as for now, Guillermo is just content to curl up beside his boyfriend and let himself succumb to the siren song of slumber without the threat of tight, squeezing walls and stale air to plague him.