Beauty and the Beast

I found it hard to write anything when he was in the room. Like he... he was just so... distracting!

Gerard sat there, perfectly still and calm, scribbling away on paper without a care in the world. He was intensely focusd, and it was nice just to watch him not be so tense and angry. He was focused only on his writing. I was only focused on him.

Idly, I let my mind wander where-ever it so pleased. I started at his soft, toussled black hair, how lovely it looked how -- how lovely he looked -- and found myself curious as to how they all became how they were. How did this vampirism work? Were they all changed together? Or did they find each other?

I then wondered on their age and families. Could they go in sunlight? What did they eat?

It occurred to me how breakable I was. In my heart, I didn't want to leave this place. I was steadily becoming quite attached to these boys, but... it was impossible to keep this. Sooner or later, I, the human girl, would die.

And they wouldn't.

"If you think any harder, my love, your head will shatter and you'll never wake up."

I gasped without meaning to, hand going to metaphorically still my heart. Gerard sat there, languidly, smiling with entertainment.

"So what were you thinking of?" he queried, eyes smoldering delicately. I was already more than comfortable with him, and I found myself leaning in just a little as I responded, "You."

He bit his lip, gently, and his smile softened into something a bit wary, but curious.

"What about little ol' me?"

"A lot of questions."

"I can take it. Fire at will."

It all came out in one breath.

"How old are you? And everyone else? How did you get changed, or are you born like this? How did you meet each other? Do you have families? Can you go in sunlight? What do you eat? Are those vampire myths true?"

He snickered a little at my flurry of questions, and crossed his legs Indian style, turning to face me properly. Articulately, he replied.

"I'm nineteen, and I have been nineteen for a good ninety years. Same as Mikey, but he's actually sixteen. Bob is the oldest; he's about two hundred, three hundred -- Edwardian era. Ray is a bit younger than that, from more... Colonial times. Frankie is an adorable thirty-fourtyish."

I absorbed all the information with awe, and nodded, longing for him to continue. He watched my reaction very, very.. carefully.

"I'd been with Mikey the whole time. We were changed together. We met Bob in passing, and then ran into him a few more times... eventually we just decided to stick together. We were hunting in these woods together when we found the manor, and lo and behold, Ray was a lonely man, living here all by his lonesome. We only meant to stay for a few days, but we just sort of never left."

"And Frankie?" I piped up. He grinned at my interest.

"Frank Iero was the sort of kid who was always in the wrong place at the wrong time," he began solemnly, before his eyes averted. "We're not all nice, April. He was doing whatever drugs in the woods here with friends... he was meant to be a meal. The friends died. He barely hung on, and it was just enough to change him. The kid was on a rampage -- there were several murders in the area before we got a hold of him and sorta took him in under our pretty bat wings."

I frowned, kind of not sure if that was a joke at the end or not. I finally realised how much closer Gerard and I were in proximity; we both leaned sharply towards the other, staring intensely. Warmth slowly filled my cheeks, and I held my position, entranced.

His lips quirked at a corner a bit, and I stayed perfectly still. His hand that had been idly tracing shapes on the floor, ever so slightly neared mine, which were bundled in my lap.

"We do drink blood. We need to feed maybe once or twice a week; I don't know what happens if we don't. I presume if we were held against our will, we would eventually just reach some kind of undead state, or a coma, until we were given sustenance again. A lot of us vampires feed on animals, but a lot feed on people, too. Just depends on the person. But see, with people, we can change them. Our blood, our saliva, semen, digestive tract... it's all changed, and it's mostly venom now. Vampire enzymes, basically. If it were to get in your bloodstream..." His voice trailed, leaving the rest to my imagination. "Now, if it were only the smallest, smallest bit, then you could fight it off. But this is almost never the case. It poisons you; it fills your entire body up and eats and changes everything until you're like us."

My mind was slowly wrapping around all of the information he fed me. He seemed rather pleased that I was lapping all this up, rather than being fearful of him. The only things he had not answered were about family, and myths.

"Shall I keep going?" he asked, with only a hint of unsureness. I smiled wryly, head cocking to the side.

"Please don't stop," I said sincerely. For a split second, his eyes widened, turning almost yellowy, but it was so fast I wasn't even sure if I'd seen it correctly. He did seem just a little bit... pink, though.

He continued, a little quickly, "The myths have some grounds to them, I guess. The basic stuff... sunlight, it doesn't hurt us at all. It's just very bright, and uncomfortable to be in. Just a hassle. The stake thing is a lie, garlic simply makes blood unappetising... Red eyes? Eh. If we've just fed, then our eyes grow a tad darker, because of the red tinge. Our eyes actually will vary with our moods, though not too intensely. Am I missing anything?"

"Can you eat or drink or sleep?" I blurted out, looking down embarrassedly afterwards. He grinned widely.

"Food tastes bad to us, for one. And secondly, if we did eat, it would be best to just regurgitate it -- if not, it takes literally like two months to digest a basic meal. It's disgusting, makes us feel bloated, won't do any good for us. Same with drinking. Sleeping... no, we can't. We can space out, kind of 'turn off', but no sleeping. It's more like an intense meditation."

"And your family?"

Gerard's eyes lowered. He gazed with a far-off look at the papers on the ground, how scattered and perfect they were, and I followed his sight all the way to my hands.

Idly, his cool, soft hands took mine in there, squeezing minutely. His smile was faint, but there.

"That, Miss April," he crooned, "is a story for another day." His hazel eyes flicked back up, capturing mine.

It felt like the whole room was made of glass, even the air. I was afraid to breathe too deeply, afraid to move an inch or look anywhere else, for fear the place may shatter and send him running.

"What are you thinking of?" he mumured so softly I almost missed it. His voice made the glasslikeness of the room waver gently.

"I'm going to miss you so much," my voice carried through the entire area surrounding us. The glass trembled, my dry, human voice so plain and indelicate compared to his glissade.

Glass cracked. His eyes turned more teal than green, like blue had begun to creep in them, and he looked anguished in his oculars.

"Miss me? Why would you miss me?"

"It's impossible to make this last," I whispered volumelessly. My heart beat hard against my ribcage, almost painful. "I'm mortal. I have to die. Would you keep me around even when I'm old and fruitless to you? Or would I make a feast for you?"

"Never," his voice was low. Crack crack crack! "Don't think that ever again, never. You are not my supper, you're my..."

His hands held mine so tightly I barely felt my own, and in a beautiful shower of diamonds, the glass shattered and tinkled to the ground. His eyes were grey-green, and he was scowling almost unnoticeably. He was trying to maintain composure, I could tell.

Hurrying to try to put bandaids on the atmosphere, I said quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just an option. I don't think you would. I mean, it'd be a nice way to go, but--"

"April don't say that to me again."

He was upset. Beautifully irate. He rose fluidly to his feet, but without letting go of one of my hands.

"C'mon. Up," he muttered. I followed suit, swallowing nervously. What on Earth could I do? He was so damn complicated and I couldn't think fast enough to keep up with him. Words were failing me, turning against me...

Insert metaphorical lightbulb.

My heart flipped and jumped to my throat, and before my courage failed me, I looked him dead in the eye, filled with determination. Actions speak louder than words. He seemed taken aback, and froze as my hand left his and instead went towards him. Both hands. They wrapped slowly, cautiously, as if I was reaching towards a brushfire, around his torso, and I unsurely leaned against him in a small hug.

He sighed. I was afraid to look at him. He wasn't hugging me back, was he? Fuck, fuck, fuck, God April. This was worse. I should've just shut up; I shouldn't have said a word at all to begin with. I buried my face deep into his chest out of shame.

Lean, wiry arms wrapped around me in a way that made security melt into my bones.

"You're so stupid," I heard him say under his breath.

I cracked a smile, and pleaded with God to let this be real.

Please, please... not another glass dream.