Chapter 5: Vampires suck
"Cool. Now it is your chance."
I stated, a genuine smile spread across my face, bringing a strange sense of relief and comfort. It was an absolute breath of fresh air to engage in a normal, effortless chat with someone. Finally, a conversation that didn't leave me feeling drained or anxious. Humans, with their piercing gazes and judgmental attitudes, always intimidated me. I often found myself stumbling over my words, desperately trying to impress or fit in. I realized that these creatures embraced authenticity, allowing me to express my thoughts and ideas without fear of scrutiny. The self-consciousness that had plagued me for years seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of liberation and acceptance.
"My chance for what?"
He looked at him with a mixture of amusement and confusion.
"Your chance to tell me about you."
As I casually dropped my suggestion, I noticed the immediate change that washed across his face. It was as if the air around us had grown thicker, and a flicker of unease danced in his eyes. His previously relaxed posture morphed into a timid shuffle, his body visibly squirming in his seat.
"You wouldn't want to know that."
I hopelessly wondered what had caused this instantaneous shift in his demeanor. Had I unintentionally struck a chord? The discomfort in his fidgeting was palpable, a physical manifestation of a storm brewing within. It was as if his mind was racing, searching for the right words or a way to divert the conversation entirely. My spirits fell quickly. He was so cheerful while asking me questions, and when it came to my chance, was he acting timid? Does he have social anxiety as well? But he sounded far away from it.
"I told you about myself, so it's only fair if you do the same."
I insisted, not wanting to be the only one who gave away personal information. As I stared at him, curiosity bubbled inside me like a simmering cauldron. Why on earth was he so wound up about a little self-talk? In a move that bordered on audacity, I placed my hand on his arm, offering a reassuring squeeze.
"Come on," I cajoled, "what's the big deal? We're just sharing a few harmless tidbits here, right?" Sid shifted uncomfortably, his lips now a battleground for his anxious teeth. Yet he didn't respond to me.
"Why are you getting so anxious? It's not like I will judge you or anything."
I said it with an air of disbelief, rolling my eyes and letting out a sigh of exasperation for dramatic effect. He stared back at me, mouth agape, as if I had just revealed some profound secret that threatened the very fabric of his existence.
"Can you see my facial expressions?"
What? Is he teasing me? Please tell me he is teasing me. My mind wandered to the hilarity of the situation: a grown man with a wide-eyed expression reminiscent of a child caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar. I half-expected him to burst into a fit of laughter or tell me how much of a fool I looked right now. But nope, nothing.
"Why would you even ask me that? It is understandable from your face, duh!"
My heart skipped a beat as I watched him leap off the floor, his sudden movement jolting me out of my drowsy stupor. With a burst of energy that seemed to defy gravity, he dashed towards the mammoth mirror hanging on the wall, his feet barely skimming the ground. My mind whirled with a flurry of questions, each one more intriguing than the last. I couldn't fathom why he was overreacting so much. I mean, it's not like his face had suddenly sprouted a third eye or grown a beard made of rainbow-colored hair. It looked perfectly normal to me.
In a comical frenzy, he continued to scrutinize his reflection, as if each passing second would reveal some unimaginable flaw. I couldn't resist teasing him a little, asking if he was auditioning for a role in a face-care commercial or perhaps testing a new mirror he had just bought. But his seriousness told me there was something deeper behind this bizarre behavior. Satisfied with his analysis, he turned to me.
"You just guessed it, right?"
Here I was, thinking I had finally stumbled upon someone who was normal enough and, for the first time, was genuinely enjoying the company of another. It seemed too good to be true, and guess what? It was. In fact, I think Adrian was more stable than him.
"Bro, are you even serious? Why should I guess it when I can see for myself?"
In that moment, frustration consumed me like a raging inferno, and I couldn't help but let out an exclamation of exasperation. I flung my arms in the air, as if trying to physically release the pent-up irritation that had been building up inside me. As I glanced at him through narrowed eyes, he raised an eyebrow and stared back at me with a look that could curdle milk. It was as if I had instantly transformed into a pesky bug that had dared to disturb his peaceful existence. But there was something oddly familiar about his demeanor, something that tugged at the corners of my memory. And then it hit me like a bolt from the blue—he reminded me of my math teacher from high school. That same stern expression, the hands planted squarely on his hips in a stance of authority, was all too reminiscent of those torturous days spent trying to decipher the mysteries of algebra and trigonometry.
"Tell me what my face looks like now."
I rolled my eyes, bewildered by the absurdity of the situation. I mean, seriously? He wanted me to read his face? Like, I had some sort of supernatural power to see beyond what was visible to everyone else? It was almost comical how he seemed to think he had this invisible persona. Well, newsflash, buddy, I may not have X-ray vision, but I sure as heck can read people better than an open book. But then, just as I was about to dismiss his request as a mere figment of his overactive imagination, something caught my eye. There was a fleeting vulnerability, a flicker of uncertainty, in his gaze that I hadn't noticed before.
"You are triple apprehensive and somewhat irritated."
Once the words slipped through my lips, his reaction was nothing short of a full-blown panic mode, like a startled squirrel being chased by a pack of rogue acorns. It was almost as if my soft reply had triggered an explosion of irrational fears and wild theatrics within him, causing his eyes to widen with the intensity of a fireworks display. Needless to say, the situation took an unexpected turn towards the tumultuous, leaving me feeling both bemused and slightly concerned about the fragility of my friend's sanity.
"What? Is something wrong? Why are you sweating?"
Shit. Should I shout for help? I quickly sprang up from my seat, my heart pounding with uncertainty. With tentative strides, I cautiously advanced towards the source of my unrest, a mix of concern and fear gripping me tightly.
"Hodducm."
"Excuse me? It'll be helpful if you talk in English."
Completely perplexed by his incoherent words, I found myself staring blankly at Sid, utterly unable to decipher the gibberish that had just escaped his mouth.
"I am talking in English, and I asked how you could see my facial expressions."
And the award for the best question of the year goes to this particular one.
"Since I have eyes, and don't shout at me."
I warned him in a stern tone. Vampires or humans, they all try to dominate others by raising their voice, and I hate it. Besides, there was no need for him to yell. With a gentle murmur of "sorry", he cast a glance into my narrow eyes, his breath lingering heavily in the air. A few moments passed, marked by his deep inhalations and exhalations, until his composure was restored. Once the tempest within had subsided, he turned his gaze towards me, his countenance tinged with an indescribable emotion that teetered on the edge of sorrow.
"Look, no one can see my emotions. According to others, I am always serious, even when I am sad or happy."
Alright. I think that's my cue to call a psychological hospital. If they have one, that is.
"I know you don't believe me, but that's the truth. I have a curse on me, and it says that others won't be able to see my sentiments."
I stared in astonishment, my mouth agape, anticipating the eruption of laughter or the playful punchline of an April Fool's joke. Yet, to my surprise, the room remained eerily silent. I blinked, my mind scrambling to make sense of his unyielding expression.
"You are correct. I don't trust you."
I said this and strolled ahead, my sights set on the exit. However, his crumpled expression, with a mixture of hurt and despair, restrained every limb from taking a single step beyond that threshold. The weight of his emotions seemed to manifest physically as he collapsed onto the sofa, burying his distraught face in his massive hands.
"You know what? Vampires suck. Now tell me about this hell of a curse."
I uttered and gracefully settled onto the plush couch, my presence drawing his attention away from whatever thoughts were occupying his mind. As his hands slowly withdrew from their previous position, the corners of his mouth curved downward, revealing a subtle pout that hinted at both longing and disappointment, silently beckoning me closer to understand the unspoken words behind his gaze.
"Will you trust me if I say everything?"
While honesty can sometimes be a tough pill to swallow, maintaining sincerity cultivates a foundation of trust and authenticity in any relationship. Hence, I decided to tell him the truth.
"I don't know. Let's try."
He sighed but leaned in before biting his lips.
"Do you believe in witches?"
His voice was just above a whisper, and I realized that he was testing the waters before going in.
"Yeah, if vampires can exist, then why can't witches exist too?"
He gave me a satisfied grin and nodded his head in gratitude.
"Good, because the person who cursed me is a witch."
I felt like I was in a fantasy novel, but I was genuinely intrigued.
"What did you do to it?"
I asked enthusiastically. He smirked slightly and wagged his forefinger back and forth.
"It's 'her', not it. The reason was quite stupid, actually, but it took a great toll on me."
I inclined closer to him, indicating that I needed to hear it all.
"It's not a fairy tale, you know."
He muttered, not liking my eagerness to hear about his dark past. I just shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.
"Okay, then. A few centuries back..."
I gasped.
"Centuries? HOW OLD ARE YOU?"
I am literally screaming right now.
"I am 700 years old, but only 18 by looks."
He said as though we were talking about the weather today. Of course, the weather is lovely. How could it not be when I was actually talking with somebody who was 681 years older than me?
"Holy shit!"
I shouted and slapped my knees with my palms in excitement. His eyebrows scrunched up in embarrassment, and he stood up from the couch in exasperation.
"Oh, come on, you want to hear the story or what?"
In a state of utter astonishment, my heart racing with a curious mix of disbelief and anticipation, I found myself eagerly yearning to soak in every single word that was about to grace my ears. Determination surged through me like a wave, compelling me to seize his arm and gently guide him downward until he was comfortably settled in his seat.
"I am listening, great great great great great great grandpa."
With an exaggerated eye roll that conveyed both amusement and displeasure in equal measure, he barely contained his playful grin before resuming his narrative. It was as if he couldn't resist teasing me before delving further into a fascinating tale that held me captive.
"I was a normal vampire before, or rather, a bit more normal. I was known for my looks and charming smile...."
"Showw offfff."
I yawned, and he got up from his chair again and was going to leave when I stopped him.
"Okay, sorry, sorry. Please carry on."
He sighed, defeated, and went back to his seat.
"Don't even dare to open that big mouth of yours, young lady. Or else I am done with it."
I bobbed my head up and down like a kindergartener, and he smiled.
"So many girls were attracted to me, and as I had many choices, I gave them all a chance. Equality, you see."
Damn, no one else can make a playboy sound so honorable.
"There was one girl named Helena. Unlike others, she didn't have much interest in me, which affected my pride. If others can fall for me, then why can't she? I started to pursue her and all that. Everyone told me it was a bad idea because she's a witch. They really have major anger issues. But I, being a moron, didn't pay any attention. After continuous meetings and letters, I finally won. She fell deeply in love with me. But after a few months, I gave someone else the chance. Helena didn't like the charity work as much as I did. We had a huge fight later. She was furious and cursed me to go all serious on others so that my looks could no longer deceive someone else. When you saw my emotion, I thought the curse had lifted. Only Ryan could see me before. Now you too."
I was biting my nails, totally immersed in his words. It was so complicated. The entire thing should be released as a fantasy drama, and the viewers would still be confused.
"The story's great, and what can I say? You deserved it. You were playing with women's feelings."
I didn't want to sugarcoat things by telling him that the witch was a bitch. Wow, it rhymed.
"I know, but after that, I changed into a good boy. I accept only those who wish to take risks. No flirty talks, no meetings, nothing. And it's pretty hard to date someone when his emotions are always serious."
He mumbled the last sentence. In spite of the fact that he got what he asked for, a sense of compassion welled up within me for him.
We sat side by side, the comfortable silence enveloping us, and I used the time to go through everything he had just said.
"Who is Ryan?"
Nice name there. Hearing it instantly brings a warm and friendly feeling to my heart. Weird!
"Oh, he is the guy who just told me you wouldn't need company."
So Mr. Perfect's name is Ryan.
"What's his full name?"
Why should I even ask that? Maybe to keep a safe distance from him in the future. He didn't look sociable anyway. Sid smirked faintly and winked at me.
"Ryan 'O' Donnels."
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