a fan fiction written by Meeko Melodie
Meeko: First time writing a Silver Kiss fiction and planning to do some more. "The Silver Kiss" does not and will not belong to me, except if I buy it in a bookstore, but that's another story.
Summary: What if Simon decided to stay with Zoë after he took his revenge? Would there be a different ending then? A truly 'happily ever after' ending? They dated for a few months and as Christmas approached, Simon decided it was time to give her a gift, a gift that would last an eternity.
Chapter One: A Different Ending
There was a note on her bed, scribbled on a piece of paper torn from her notebook. Meet me in the park at 12. It was signed with a scrolling S.
... He'd cheated death, yes, but was forced to live a life he hated.
... She shuddered... but she felt different when he was there, when she could see the loneliness on his face. – The Silver Kiss
Zoë stared at the scribbled note, now tight in her hand as she pondered in her mind. 'Should I go?' She hesitated – quite a correct thing to do. 'But I have decided to trust him, have I not?' But she had a feeling that if she went, there was just this slight chance that he might disappear forever in front of her eyes.
'But isn't that what I want?'
In her mind, the picture of Christopher screaming with scorching pain in the pit, the foul smell of smoke rising from his dying and regenerating body once again captured in her brain and she was short in breaths. She didn't think she could stand it again. But if this was the last time she was going to see him...
She couldn't picture that any longer; crumpling the piece of paper, she flung it carelessly on the ground, hard with the action and threw herself onto her bed. Silence of the house once again haunted her being. Zoë didn't know how much time had passed, nor did she care the least bit but as she opened her eyes, all was dark. Even the streetlights outside of her bedroom window seemed to dim the slightest.
Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Zoë sat up, the bed creaking at her shifting weight. It sounded loud against the death of silence. From the sounds of things, or rather lack thereof, Zoë was certain that her father was not home yet. 'Is he still at work? Or perhaps, at the hospital with mom?' She shook her head aimlessly, trying to gain back some consciousness, her black locks flying every where as her head still ached from the conflicting thoughts a few hours before.
'I wonder if he is gone yet... ' Even at this slightest thought, it brought her indescribable pain within her chest. She sighed in frustration and punched the poor, innocent pillow that she was cradling on her lap.
A knock issued in the breakable stillness; Zoë froze. A second later, she was thinking in turbo speed, 'could it be the front door? Dad? No, the sound was too near to be downstairs. My door? Someone was standing outside, watching me? Simon?' All at once, the contemplation of able to see into his dark eyes once again intrigued her to ignore the danger that might lurked behind her door as she slowly, and gingerly approached, her hand shaking a little as she reached for the metal door knob.
She yanked the door open and what meet her eyes was...
She sighed, her heart still thumping hard against her chest, paining her.
'How could it be?' she almost laughed at her stupid thoughts, but instead, she grieved because of them, 'what are you thinking, Zoë?' She shut the door tentatively behind her back as she made her way towards the bed.
Except she never made it.
Standing behind her like a silhouette, a tall figure, motionless like a statue, suddenly sprang into life; he took one step forward and embraced her from behind.
Everything was stilled at that moment.
His embrace tightened around her waist, but not strong enough to hurt her; it was just enough to let her know that he was here and he cared. The warm scent of her shot up through his sensitive nostril and was reminded once more how he was somehow addicted to her natural fragrance, to her warmth, to her presence in only a short period of less than a week.
He had to admit: it was strange for him to feel this way – the need to attach to a human. He never had that problem before. On the other hand, this new feeling terrified him. 'Yes, 'terrify' would be a good word for it,' he thought, closing his eyes to relish the trembling in his strong arms. The trembling was not from fear, but from his sole existence, exclusively for him alone.
He couldn't help it but he let a slight smirk plaster on his lips; he thanked the darkness for veiling everything, well, almost everything.
"Simon?" her voice shivered as she stayed quite still, and quite content in his arms. She was not sure what this feeling swirling around her heated soul was. 'Is it excitement, because of the fact that Simon is right next to me? Or rather, behind me.' Or was it fear, because he might force her into something she couldn't even imagine?
Zoë stopped her thoughts right there and then. 'He would never do that.'
"What is it, Zoë?" his voice was as deep and silky as ever. She thought she could just drown herself right there in his arms and not give a shit about it. She could; but she controlled herself, like she was supposed to. Then the real question came out – the question that had led him here in the first place, "why didn't you come?"
He added, "I was worried."
It would've been quite a sweet thing to say if the situation hadn't been so... well, tense, at least, on Zoë's part. She glanced at the digital clock that sat on her bedside table; it read 3:37 in the morning. "I..." she didn't know how to start, or whether she should start at all.
"You didn't plan on coming to the park tonight, at all, did you, Zoë?" his hold on her waist loosened and his voice was suddenly void of any emotions. Zoë couldn't tell which the real Simon was anymore; is he the cold, hungry, child of the night, or is he just a gentle, but lost boy who needs company? These questions all muddled together and it was starting to give her a headache all over again. "Why?" There was no word to describe the agony that was significantly gaining in his non beating heart as he voiced out his question.
Zoë took a small step away from the figure that just held on to her so tightly, like a life line; she turned to face him, her cheeks heating up as she imagined what she should, and would, say. She tried not to look into his eyes, those black, liquid orbs like cold marble that could send warmth that seeped into her soul but she failed miserably.
Like all those times they met, she lost into his wondering irises, dark and mystifying.
"Do you really want to know why, Simon?" she knew the answer but she asked him anyway; she was afraid of her own reply.
"Yes." Her eyes were all over his.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered, almost too soft for Simon to hear but with his acute hearing, there was no escaping, "I know this is selfish of me and I know after avenging your parents' death, there should be nothing to tie you down on this earth any longer. I understand all that! But... it's just..." She could no longer continue; she hated herself so much this instant she wished she could just disappear.
Warm fingers caressed her cheek, brushing her tear streaks that now fell down from her eyes. 'This is all an illusion,' she told herself, 'there was no real warmth in his body. He's dead! He's suppose to be dead years ago! We shouldn't even have this conversation right now, or any other, in fact.' She was telling herself this but her body was betraying her; her heart and soul were both betraying her.
"I'm sorry," her voice cracked from the tears, "I shouldn't be saying all this but it just rushed out and I can't stop it." She pushed his caring hand away, not harshly, and brushed the tears with the back of her hands; tear stains glistened on her glowing skin. "You can just ignore what I've said and move on," she continued more calmly, "go on, don't let me stop you. I've just said some bullshit so don't let those meaningless words stop you."
"They're not meaningless, and they're certainly not, as you put it, 'bullshit'," Simon said, stepped up to close the distance between he and the girl again. All this time, Zoë had lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. Now as she looked up again, all she could see in his eyes was gentleness and... Could it be... understanding?
"I know what you're trying to tell me, Zoë, and I appreciate that," Simon told her kindly; he put his hands on both her shoulders and continued, "the reason that I asked you to come out earlier. Do you wish to know what it is?"
"You have to leave, don't you?" Zoë asked, "that was what you were planning to tell me, wasn't it?" Simon shook his head, his silver locks glistened as the moon's pastel beams hit them at a right angle.
"The truth is," Simon began, his palms began to sweat and he seriously wondered why – why he was nervous to admit the truth, "I want to tell you that I cannot leave, not willingly anyway, and I don't wish to leave because there is something else I haven't done yet."
"Which is...?" she was curious, as well as happy that he wasn't leaving yet. Somehow, that fact relieved her sorrow by the smallest amount.
"I need to tell you that I..." he was staring into her gray irises, staring right into her and through her, "I am in love with you."
Meeko: Woah! Intense. Yes? No? Tell me! Now! Thanks.