This is ramble-y and makes no sense and really needs to be edited into drabbleish form or something. But I really wanted to write something for Companions of the Night, and this is what I came up with. (Well, I really wanted to write Office fanfiction because I think I'm going to ship Ryan/Kelly for a while. Which is totally relevant in a vampire fanfiction. Not.) Anyways. This could end up being ok. Or more likely it is a piece of shit. I'm leaning towards the latter, you know?
Vampires are cool. Michel is hot. I don't own. Cool. Reviews are good. Tell me if it sucks. OH YEAH: there is some language. So if you don't want to feel corrupted by my lack of morals and tendency to use the word fuck... you might want to hit the back button.
Michel delights in utterly fucking up her life.
He started when she was sixteen. She's eighteen now. He's still older than her. Rather, he still appears to be older than her. By a few years. Maybe. He's at least twenty-two. (So her dad thinks he's too old for her anyways.)
Kerry is confused.
Because Michel is somewhat of a sadist, although a hot one, this makes him sort of pleased. Less pleased because it's her, but- well, it's Michel.
He's a jerk.
(Ian loves him. Ian is the only person Michel is genuinely kind to. Kerry wonders why, but she doesn't want to think about it.)
Kerry knows that she should get a normal boyfriend. She's at college. In New York. New York City. She's considering majoring in something that has to do with etymology, the history of languages at her college. Which is Columbia. Columbia University.
When she thinks about him, she always thinks in sentence fragments.
She's pathetic. And really screwed up, mentally.
She's in New York City. There are a huge amount of scruffy cute boys for her to sink her teeth into.
If he registers as a night student at Columbia, she's going to let him burn for real.
(But she'll never do that; because Michel acted soft when she saw him last. For a little bit. Then there was the thing.)
She's a pathetic idiot. In love. With a vampire.
She's a freaking cliché, that's what she is.
Last time he saw her, he had slipped into her dorm room. It was cold out, just a little too cold, and since it was fall the nights were longer and longer. Her roommate was with her boyfriend, the boyfriend's sexiled roommate had tried to hang around with Kerry until Michel showed up.
She wasn't entirely sure which him she was referring too.
They had actually danced, not entirely gracelessly, to Ella Fitzgerald, played scratchily and skipping on her old CD player she had accidentally dropped out of a window once.
She had tripped.
(It was an ugly CD player anyways.)
Michel had pressed her head, his mouth, to her neck, and she'd thought he was going to drink her blood. Drink her blood and then turn her into him.
Kerry doesn't want to be like him.
She opened her mouth to speak so she can say no, but he chuckled darkly, humorlessly- she felt the vibrations against her neck- and pulled away. Holding her at arms length, he had asked her if she was still scared of him.
Of course she was.
"I'll still give you the choice." He had murmured to her. Still against her neck. "When the time comes."
She's not sure if she wants the time to come, so- yeesh. Eep. ....god.
The worst part of it is that Michel is having fun doing this, and- no. No, no, no. No more.
She needs to find some cute hipster faux-rebel type boy. Go to a bar. Do something.
He hasn't done anything to her.
Kerry kind of thinks it might be better to get the fuck out while she still can.
Her last chance was when she was sixteen.)