Forsaken

I admit to watching the boy nights before our encounter.

At first, I saw him as just a beautiful, young lad whom I would later lure back to my abode, and of course, feed from him. I was sure his blood would be sweeter than no other I’ve had in quite a while.

Then my mind changed. I’d feed, but I’d let him live. I’d do it as he slept.

But then, for an odd reason, I let myself decide to allow the boy to go on with his normal life.

There was something about him. Maybe it was his lanky figure, his stunning hazel eyes, or the pink flush of his cheeks. Whatever it was, it appealed to the part of me that longed for humanity. The very, very small bit of me that I thought had been locked away after centuries of immortality.

His smile was genuine, and his laughter was rich. He was intelligent and witty, and had charm. He never noticed that I happened to be in many of the same places as he. Unsurprised, I continued for a week of my little interest in the boy.

I learned his name was Mikey. Mikey Way.

Something about his name, and how it suit him, brought a smile—no, a grin—to my lips.

Another, rather interesting, fact I discovered was that the boy was rather naïve and still had his innocence. He joked with friends about sex and getting some, but there was a conspicuous hesitation to carry on with the subject, or any related to it, which was hidden in his expression.

I finally left him on his own for a day, leaving my place as his unknown shadow.

The lights in the streets were welcome with a smirk, knowing I could pick and choose whomever I wanted and bring them home. Dominance was something scarcely anyone was given over me. I am the rejecter, not the person getting rejected.

The club I entered was like any other; the music pounding in my ears, the beat giving my immortal body a pulse, and the scent of alcohol reeked off of everyone’s breaths. I slipped through the throng of dancing people, and found a seat at the bar.

After ordering a drink, I took a swig, feeling the alcohol leave a tingling sensation down my throat after swallowing, and scanned the room. There were some who caught my interest, but not enough to motivate me to get out of my seat and pursue the hunt.

Then, my attention was focused on a rather pleasant surprise.

Mikey was here tonight. And, he seemed to be alone. Perhaps his friends left him for the chance to get a good fuck.

I seized the opportunity and beckoned the bartender over with the gesture of my finger.

“Give him a drink; it’s on me,” I told the tattooed man, motioning over to Mikey. He nodded and went over to the boy. Words were exchanged, and Mikey glanced over at me with curious eyes, then nodded, and the bartender mixed a drink for him.

He took the bait; excellent.

He began to take small mouthfuls of the concoction, stealing looks at me, and I doing the same to him. Eventually, when I wanted more than just looking at the boy, I walked over, and took a seat next to him.

For a moment, we were both quiet, and only looked at each other awkwardly. I wondered what he would do, which was why I kept silent.

Finally, he spoke.

“So..do you, er, come here often?” Mikey asked, stumbling over his own words.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you really using that old line on me?”

He furrowed his brow, and looking at the drink I bought him, the blood rushing up to his cheeks, making me want to reach out and caress the smooth-looking, warm skin. “Yeah, I..I suppose I am.”

I smirked, amused, and finding the boy more adorable when he spoke. “Well, to answer your question, not really.” I wasn’t about to let the conversation die just because he got a little embarrassed. I then cupped my chin in my hand, propping myself up on my elbow. “Do you?”

He gave me a dazzling smile, and stuttered, “N-No, this is my first time in here.”

I nodded, and although I knew already, I went ahead and asked, “So, do you have a name or should I just call you ‘pretty boy’?”

He laughed and answered, “Mikey.” He paused, then asked, “What about you?”

“Frank,” I replied, tipping an imaginary hat off my head, making him giggle.

A moment of silence passed, and before any more could slip by, I asked him, “Would you care to dance?”

He looked shocked that I asked, and it took him a moment to answer, “S-Sure.”

Grinning, I grabbed his hand and dragged the boy onto the dance floor.