A/N Same one-shot as before, now it just has the Margaret stamp of approval. Like I said in the previous AN it's slashy, don't like, don't read. Hope you like and review!

January 1, 1987

I have a feeling most don't celebrate their sixteenth birthday by sucking a few unlucky, wrong doers dry. It was just after two in the morning, and I heard the thoughts of a person a few streets down. I paused, listening for a few seconds. I still wasn't used to the cryptic nature of humans' thoughts. After a moment I surmised that he would be the perfect victim. He was celebrating the spoils of mugging a woman earlier tonight.

I picked up my pace slightly, not unreasonably since there were a few people scattered on the street. It wouldn't be a problem. He planned to stay put. I reached the alley where he sat like a lump, and surreptitiously checked for other people. None. I walked at an easy pace down the alley past him. I felt his eyes follow me. He prepared to speak.

"There ain't nothing down that way!" Drunk. I spun theatrically on my heel to look at him.

"Why, I believe you're correct," He snorted, and began laughing, the choked giggles intermingled with the occasional curse or gay slur. I moved quickly so I was behind him.

"What are you-"He was cut off by my teeth sliding into his throat, and he could only writhe, making strangled gurgling noises. Such an easy target was never as satisfying and his blood had the sour tinge of alcohol. Not even the heat of it could mask how subpar of a meal he was. Pity.

I snapped his neck a moment later, and tossed him away with a jerk of my arm. I wasn't hungry anymore. The walk to my apartment wasn't long, but I lingered. My home offered little by means of entertainment. A few streets away it began to snow. I hated the snow. It was the only thing that felt cold to me. Snow used to be a gift from high above, a natural remedy to my aching bruises and bones.

Now I valued warmth far more. The only heat I seemed to encounter was the coursing blood of my prey, and that was tainted by the guilt of a lost life. I sped up, grumbling to myself as I reached my building. My apartment was as tiny and cheap as I could find. It was on the ground floor of an old, shifty building in as shady a neighborhood as there was. I didn't have much by way of furniture. Just a couch the old lady had left here when her children had moved her to a nursing home. I'd snuck back into the place I had inhabited for the past fifteen years, and retrieved clothes and my CD collection.

It hadn't been much of an issue. He wasn't there at the time I came in. I don't know what I would have done if he had been. As far as he knew, I just disappeared one night, never to burden or serve as a punching bag to him again.

I put on music loudly, but not loud enough to warrant complaints from the human family next door. Gazing out the window, I was caught by the figure there. I sped to the window, hiding in the shadow of the corner. A boy, maybe twenties, was sleeping on bags of trash beneath my window sill. His dreams were chaotic, distorted images I couldn't fit into any scenario.

Two weeks later

I was late getting home from the job I had taken to stay in my apartment. I was a night cashier working from ten at night to four in the morning. He was there again. He was there every night. For a reason, unbeknownst to me, I had developed a certain fondness for him. Maybe fondness was the wrong word. Sympathy is more fitting, I suppose. Sadly, the mysterious boy who slept on my trash had become my main source of entertainment. His dreams were clearer than any of those inhabiting the minds of the people around me. And his thoughts when he was conscious helped to take away a little of the mystery. He was homeless (obviously), and was searching for a job.

One morning I had opened a window to air out the heinous smell from the herring the people above me felt the need to cook. I left it open the rest of the day, and faithfully, the boy returned to his chosen place of rest. The sun was still up and a slanting ray of light escaped into my place. For an instant the patch of skin on my neck and shoulder erupted into glittering crystals. The boy turned his head, and would have seen me if not for my quick reaction.

What the hell…

Hidden in the shadows of the corners, I was presented with my first opportunity to observe his face. He had a young smooth face, free of stubble. His hair was red and down past his ears. The thing that caught my attention most was his eyes. They were hazel with an alarming depth, beyond what I'd seen. His eyes roamed around the apparently empty apartment before he turned around, slinging a pack over his shoulder and walking away.

A week passed, and New York found itself in the coldest season in ten years (I have no clue if this is true or not. This is why they call it fiction). I felt great sympathy for the boy below my window. Every night he returned to the same pile of garbage bags, and I couldn't figure why. This area didn't offer any cover from anything- be it weather or crime.

I have to leave for my shift in twenty minutes and I'm not anxious to go outside. It must truly suck to be a human in this weather. At least I have impenetrable skin, and only feel the biting wind as a mere irritant. A thought occurred to me. I sat for several minutes pondering the idea.

I left my apartment. On my way out I stopped by the garbage pile, dropping a blanket that was of little use to me there. A note was pinned to it: For the boy with the curious eyes.

I didn't know what I'd done, or what the hell was making me do it.

He was gone. It had been weeks since I had left the blanket for him, and every night he still returned here. But tonight I returned at four in the morning to find the pile of bags unoccupied. It took me a moment to figure out why I cared. I decided it was just boredom that had brought me to such a fascination with the human.

Nine Months Later

I was wondering aimlessly. I suppose I would eat if the right opportunity presented itself. The streets were still somewhat congested, but not as bad as earlier today. It was the day after Thanksgiving and for some reason humans felt the need to crowd into stores. The crowd thinned even more as I turned down a side road that wasn't occupied by shops or department stores.

I'd gotten sick of the job I'd had, and the apartment. Now I just spent my days haunting the city. I stayed inside during the days, or underground in the subway.

The breeze picked up and a scent sweeter that those intermingled around me reached my nose. I followed it idly, knowing that nothing would become of it. It seemed terribly ironic to me, that the evilest people seemed to have the most repugnant blood. As I got closer his thoughts became clear to me. They were jumbled and confusing; the only clear thread within them was an underlying theme of misery. His heat beat sped up to a drumming pace. The scent thickened and I knew his blood was running fresh. I turned into the empty alley. The man was sitting staring at an apparently self inflicted wound from which blood ran thick. Tears ran down his face, which held deep lines hinting at middle age.

He heard my cautious steps, coming closer, but he didn't move, whether it was weakness because of the wound or just a lack of motivation.

"Why?" I asked, my voice monotone, with no hint of judgment.

"My family is dead," I made no response other than to stare at him, "I have nothing left."

He returned his attention to his wrist where the skin of his forearm had turned an angry red. The cut didn't look ragged or dirty though, it was clean and had no hesitation cuts above it. I could hear in his thought that tears were not just the sorrow of loss. He was in incredible pain. The steady thrum of his heart that had been so strong a few minutes ago was slowing slightly, but not at a rate that suggested a timely death.

My eyes flashed down to the knife held in his right hand and his eyes followed.

"I don't know if I can do it again," he looked up at me with pleading eyes, "I just want all the pain to end."

I offered my hand to pull him up. He took it shakily and with very little effort, I pulled him up to my level. He was weak and leaned on me.

"I don't have to cut you. I can kill you very quickly," he looked at me for a moment before nodding slowly. The tears on his face fell faster.

I'm going to join you, Annie. His wife.

I gently but firmly grasped his chin, and lifted his head to expose his throat. I heard a surprised intake of breath as I bit through into his skin. The sweet, thick blood gushed from the broken artery in his neck to fill my mouth, flowing down my throat. He slumped against me, and I supported his dying body as I finished. He was dead.

I gently placed him sitting up against a wall before turning quickly, aware of the presence of another human. I stopped, too astounded to react.

There standing a few feet away was the boy who had slept under my window. The boy with the curious eyes.

"What the hell did you do to him?" he stuttered. He didn't move farther away from me.

"It's none of your business. Leave and I won't hurt you, too," I responded. For some reason I could not muster the usual coldness that came so easily to me.

"No. What did you do to him?" he repeated, more firmly this time.

"He wanted to die. He was trying to kill himself." I said, not knowing why I was explaining myself to him. I could kill him before he knew I'd moved, or I could run. But if I ran he might tell someone and then the city would be on the alert for mysterious figures lurking in the night.

"You still haven't told me what you did to him," he moved closer to me, and if I was still a human he would have made a menacing picture.

He's tiny. I could take him if he tries to hurt me. I'm curious though. He made a mental promise to himself to get answers before he let me go or "turned me in to the police". Oh, please.

"You don't want to know," I turned and walked away, but I couldn't make myself run. Something inside me wanted him to catch me. He did. I felt him grab my arm and spin me around. I growled at him out of instinct when I realized how close he was.

"I do actually. Did you just growl? What are you?"

I sighed loudly. I couldn't lie to myself. I wanted to talk to him and know him. I could sense a few people who intended to turn down this street. Five minutes tops.

"Look, not here. There are people coming, and I have a feeling if you get caught near a body, you won't be able to get away," I said staring at him, a small grin on my lips.

He looked at me intensely for a moment before nodding. He turned around and began walking out of the alley. I could run right now and he couldn't do anything about it.

I followed him. I caught up to him quickly so I was walking next to him. He led me into one of the buildings that made up one of the sides of the alley, and up two flights of stairs before opening one of the doors. He closed and locked the door, before turning to look at me expectantly.

I considered briefly lying, but decided I didn't want to. I wanted him to know.

"I'm a vampire," he just looked at me. A grin formed on his face and he began to laugh.

"That is a fucking lie. Admirable though," he became serious again, "Truth now?"

"That is the truth. I drink people's blood and am immortal."

"Prove it," he smirked, confident I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing. Before he could register I was moving I was over by the window, then by a door, the couch, the kitchen, finally right in front of him. I raised an eyebrow, smiling at his astounded expression.


He reached out and touched my face before quickly retracting from the cold. He shook his head, his eyes now fearful.

"You don't have to be afraid. I have no reason to hurt you," I said, not needing to read his thoughts.

When he didn't respond, I shrugged and began toward the door.

"Stop. I want to know more."

He asked a lot of questions. Some were obvious (burned by the sun, sleep in coffins, no reflection), others more thoughtful (about the change, special abilities).

After, he just sat there staring at me thoughtful.

"What's your name?" he asked.


"No nickname?" he asked.

"No, just Alexander. You?"

"Anthony," It had taken me nearly a year but I finally knew his name. I began to consider telling him that he used to sleep outside my window.

I looked around the room for the first time. It was much larger than the one I'd had before. There was a small couch and chair in the room where we were now. Left in a pile on the chair was the blanket I'd left him.

Maybe another time. Speaking of time, it was already twelve thirty.

"It's late. You probably need to sleep," I stood up reluctantly, preparing to leave.

"I'll probably never see you again," Anthony said, his voice sad.

I thought about lying to him, to assure him. I started to, but for some reason couldn't bring myself to lie.

"Probably not."

"I want to see you again. You're…fascinating," Anthony said, his eyes pleading.

"That is my main goal. To fascinate," I sat back down. We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Are all vampires so inhumanly beautiful?" I snorted.

"I wouldn't know. The only vampire I've ever seen was the one who changed me, and I wasn't exactly in the position to admire his physical qualities."

Anthony looked down, embarrassed, his face turning slightly pink. I chuckled. I suppose now would be as good time as any.

"You have very curious eyes," I said. He lifted his head, at first curious, then understanding gripped him.

"You?" I nodded before explaining.

"It was my window you were sleeping under. I sympathized, and it was very, very cold."

"Oh…uh, well, thank you."

"Anytime," I replied. We continued to stare at each other. Then the weirdest thing happened.

He kissed me.

It was the first time anyone had kissed me. At first, I only noticed the most inconsequential things. Like the way my legs were awkwardly bent by the end of the couch when he had rolled onto me. Or how soft his shirt was against my hands on his back. Soon I began to register other things. His mouth was smooth and firm on mine. Anthony was so warm against my frigid body, and I relished in the heat he gave me.

I moved too suddenly and rolled us off of the couch. I reached out quickly and caught myself before I fell on top of him. Anthony chuckled softly before pulling my lips back down to meet his.

We didn't sleep together then, but we did a few weeks later. He gave me a reason to see him again.

It had been a few months and I spent most of my time with Anthony now. It was nice to have someone to be with, to not be alone. Since I essentially spent every night at his place, I'd gotten a job to pay some of the rent. It turned out he was an intern at a hospital and had been between med school and work when he was homeless.

Anthony had essentially gotten used to my not being human except for one thing. At first he tried, or at least pretended, to be okay with my diet. After a while I decided to just give up. I promised him I would only drink from animals.

That didn't last long. I didn't drink from humans, but he got fed up with how cranky I was.


I was sitting on the couch attempting to read Anthony's copy of Gray's Anatomy, and was failing. I was miserable. It sounds terrible, but I just wasn't good at resisting the everyday temptation of human blood. I also found that I had to feed a lot more often than when I drank from humans.

Anthony got home a few minutes later. I looked up briefly to greet him, before returning to deciphering his book. He stepped right in front of me and dropped the bag he was carrying into my lap on top of my book. I looked up in irritation, but stopped when I smelled the contents of the bag . I opened the pouch and carefully pulled out one of the bags inside it. Blood. Human blood.

"We have a surplus of O negative and they think some of them may have mad cow. I didn't think that would matter much to you."

I just kept staring at him. Anthony smiled, and ruffled my hair before turning to leave the room.

"Also, I was getting annoyed with your mood swings."

End Flashback

With that settled, it was a lot calmer now. We found a solution to this proverbial elephant in the room of our relationship; only now we both realized how little we knew about each other. I suppose a lot of that is my fault though. I had carefully kept from him the age difference. Despite my vampirism he was still five years older than me. Also he didn't know about my special ability to read his thoughts. I'll tell him though…soon.

Anthony ran his hand through my hair, playfully twirling it around his finger. It was the middle of the night, and we were lying in bed.

"Is your hair naturally black?" he asked, brushing a few stray locks away from face.

"No. It was brown, but I dyed it shortly before I was changed," I sighed, snuggling closer to him. I still took a guilty pleasure in how warm he was, "I want to know more about you."


"What was your childhood like?" I tilted my head to look up at him.

"Mixed, I suppose. My family was wealthy. Mom and Dad were lawyers. I have an older sister, Sasha. We were close sometimes, usually only when we united in our rebellion against our parents. They were never terribly affectionate, and clearly not satisfied with the children they had. They were the kind of people who probably shouldn't have had kids," he said bluntly.

"Well, I'm happy they did."

"Hmmm," he grumbled before continuing, "Sasha and I had very different ways of rebelling. I tried very hard to ignore the criticism my parent constantly hurled at me, and did exactly what they didn't want me to. Sasha rebelled by being a bit of a whore. She dated a lot, and most of her boyfriends were carefully selected for the sole purpose of pissing off my parents."

"When did you figure out you were gay?" I asked, deciding not to put up pretenses.

"Well, I guess I had the first notion when I was about fourteen. My mom was always bugging me to be more social, and take girls to dances. At first when I felt no need to, I just put it on my natural instinct to go against my parents. But after a little while I realized I just wasn't interested. I knew for sure when I was sixteen. It was actually Sasha's boyfriend that made me realize."

"Ouch. How did she take that?"

"Oh, I didn't like him. He just made me figure it out. I was sixteen, so Sasha was nineteen. She was at Columbia and had brought her boyfriend of the time, and later husband, Jack, home for the weekend. He was the kind of guy my parents hated. Really artsy, a scholarship kid, smoked like a chimney, and had an earring. I'd left dinner earlier and was sitting on the balcony. He came out for a smoke and was talking to me about how he really did like Sasha. Then he asked whether I'd gotten laid yet," at this point I burst out laughing, but quickly stopped when Anthony hit me.

"Sorry, it just sounds exactly like in those awful teen movies. Keep going."

"Ha ha ha, you are just a riot. I said no, and he asked if I'd dated any girls. I said no. Then he asked if I was gay. I said I didn't know. Then he kissed me. He patted me on the back and told me that might help. Then he left."

"I bet your parents loved that," I snorted, and kissed his shoulder.

"They didn't find out until the night I graduated from high school. I told Sasha when I was really sure, not about how I figured it out though, because she would have been pissed. She was cool with it especially since my parents were such bigots. She thought it was hilarious. Sasha told him that she and Jack were engaged. They were furious and were talking about how she had jumped into it and how they wouldn't finish paying for Columbia. Sasha got really angry and started yelling at them about how they couldn't except anyone, and she must have gone partially mad because she told them I was gay."

"Let me guess," I said, putting on a big, sarcastic smile, "They congratulated you and told you how proud they were?"

"Not exactly. They kicked me out. I was suppose to go to NYU for pre med, but they refused to pay for it. It was too late for scholarships and the financial aid deadline had ended so I wouldn't even have been able to get that when I emancipated. I lived with Sasha and Jack for the summer and got a job. I took out loans for my first year. Then I got scholarships my last three,"

"I got into med school and got some financial aid. I ended my third year buried in loans and trying to get a job to start chipping away at the mountain of debt. Then my dad died."


"Heart attack. He was always under a lot of stress and always drank. It was the first time I talked to my mom since they kicked me out. She felt really guilty, mostly because she said my dad had died really regretting he had pushed both of his kids away. I got a lot of money from an inheritance from my dad, and my mom offered to pay my last year of med school. I ended debt free."

"Can I ask why you were sleeping on a pile of garbage if you were so well off?"

"After the proud glow of having a doctor in the family wore off, my mom asked if I had met any nice girls at school. I told her no. She'd been trying to set me up with girls for a little while, and hadn't quite gotten the message that I still didn't like girls. I told her that, and she hated me again. She was hoping it was a stage."

We were quite for a little while. I shifted up slightly so I could kiss him. A few moments later, he pulled back smiling.

"Do I get to hear your life story now?"

I paused and quickly thought of an excuse, "Tomorrow. It's late. You need to sleep."

He grumbled, but shifted on to his side and wrapped his arms around me pulling me close. Anthony was asleep within minutes, but before he drifted off he mumbled something in my ear.

"Don't bet on my forgetting about that."


And he didn't. The next night we were both in very good spirits. Anthony had just gotten paid, and I had just fed. He got home and ate dinner quickly. I knew he felt awkward eating when I didn't. It was only six o clock and Anthony shoved me onto the couch and put in a movie. Twenty minutes in we were both very bored. He stopped the movie and pulled me up into a long kiss. We went to bed early.

I lay on my side next to him, running my hand over his chest.

"So," he said, keeping his eyes closed, "What was your childhood like?"

I laughed and responded.

"Pretty terrible actually. My dad beat the shit out of me and my mom every night," his eyes popped open.

"Yeah, that's how I felt. My mom was amazing though. She always snuck me out to go places. She took me to my first concert when I was eight. It became a ritual with us. We would wait until he was going to be working late, and my mom and I would go out. We must have made an odd picture, must have looked very out of place."

"What happened to her?" he could hear the grim tone of my voice.

"One night we got home, and he had come home earlier. He got really pissed off. And he killed her. I was ten. No one even suspected he did it, and so it was just me and dear old dad for the rest of my life. Things went back to normal only worse because I was his only target."

"Oh, Ander," he said, pity coloring his words. Anthony realized a second later what he had called me. He'd taken to calling me that in his thoughts, and I didn't mind.

"Then I was out one night. It was New Years Eve and I was going to meet someone," I paused briefly before continuing, "I was going to have my dad killed."

Anthony looked shocked for a moment, but quickly covered it up, "That's understandable."

I laughed shortly, before my face turned serious again, "I was down in the subway tunnels and suddenly I wasn't alone. There was a vampire out hunting who'd smelled easy prey. He bit me, but didn't kill me. I crawled into a nook below the stairs and after three of the most painful days of my life, I woke up a vampire. The End."

"Wow. I thought I had it bad. You should have said something half way through my little pity party yesterday."

"It wasn't a pity party. We both had shitty childhoods," we lapsed into silence for a few minutes and I thought he might go to sleep. I cuddled closer, breathing deeply. He smelled very nice.

"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" so Anthony wasn't sleeping. It was about time I suppose.

"Physically? I'm fifteen."

"What?" he stuttered. "Fifteen? But…you're really a lot older right? You're a vampire so you're like a thousand years old?"

"Not quite. Today is the twentieth of December right?"


"Then I'm almost seventeen."

He was silent for a moment. After a few minutes I looked up to make sure he was okay.

Anthony's eyes were a little angry, but mostly scared.

"What's wrong?"

"You do realize I could be arrested right? I'm twenty-two. I'm five years older than you! This is statutory!"

"Anthony, relax. You aren't going to get arrested. As far as the government is concerned I've been dead for two years. Besides I'm a vampire. Human law doesn't apply to me," I grinned at him. Anthony looked me, blankly. He sat up and dropped his head into his hands. I sat up, too, turning to face him.

"I'm sorry, Anthony. I should have told you."

"Damn right you should have," he turned his head to look at me, "That would have been something to tell me before I slept with you, maybe."

"It didn't occur to me until later."

"Occur to you?" he was laughing now. Possibly a good sign? "Generally the law should be one of the first things to occur to you in a situation. "Gee, if I do this will I be putting myself or someone else in the danger of going to prison?" It so…don't do it."

Anthony lay back down, and I followed suit, staying a few feet away in case he was still angry. A minute later he reached out his arm and pulled me back to his side.

"I really am sorry."

"I know. Just be quiet. I should go to sleep before you also tell me that you are a felon I've been giving refuge to."

A few days later it was Christmas Eve. We had an unspoken agreement not to exchange gifts. But I suppose we did go on what one would call our "first date". During the day, it wouldn't necessarily be considered auspicious of me to go outside unless the path to wherever we were going included a lot of cloud cover and/or shade. Anthony usually worked from the morning until late at night, so that also ruled out most of the day. The point is we don't go out much.

But tonight he got off work early and came to the coffee shop where I work. It's one near the NYU campus so it caters to the procrastinating students who start their papers at three in the morning. Anthony sat and waited for about an hour until I finished my shift, and I used my employee discount to get him a coffee. We sat and talked for a little while until the snow outside wasn't as heavy.

We walked to a park and sat on a bench, scrunched close together. Anthony wrapped his arm around me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. After the fourth, disapproving look, I scootch over and take off my jacket. I scrunch it into a ball between us and grasp on to his hand underneath the coat.

I missed the warmth of him, pressed against me.

We stood up after the park had cleared out. I shrugged back into my coat and took hold of his hand as we began to walk home. We got into the building and up the stairs, where Mrs. Jenkins was spraying the wreath on her front door. I quickly let go of Anthony's hand, as she turned around.

"Merry Christmas," she said, squinting hard to look at us. Mrs. Jenkins is very old, very senile, and very close to being blind. As we walked by she said to herself, "Such nice to see brothers who are so close."

We had a feeling brothers was the safest explanation for the neighbors. Especially since poor Mrs. Jenkins would have a heart attack if she found out. Anthony unlocked the door to the apartment and we walked in. He walked into the kitchen declaring he was thirsty and then accidentally asking if I wanted anything.

"I don't think that would be a smart idea," I said following him. I walked up behind Anthony, wrapping my arms around his waist. He leaned his head back against my shoulder, taking slow sips of his water.

"What time is it?" he whispered, his eyes closed.

I checked the clock. "11:30."

"Okay," he turned around so he was facing me, and put one hand on my shoulder and intertwined the other in my hair. I felt crackles of warmth spread through me as he pulled my lips down to meet his. We moved awkwardly, laughing as we maneuvered around the apartment toward the couch. Anthony collapsed down on the couch, pulling me into his lap.

We sat there for hours, talking a little, kissing, and just holding each other. Eventually he fell asleep, and I lay there in Anthony's arms, listening to his breathing and sharing his dreams.

Three Months Later

The door to the apartment slammed. I'd heard Anthony's anger since the third floor. I heard him throw his bag on the couch, and storm into the kitchen.


"What did you do?" Anthony walked over so he was standing toe to toe with me.

"You'll have to be more specific."

"Can you be fucking serious for once?" he yelled, holding up a folded newspaper.

"What's that?" I asked, trying to decipher his panicked thoughts.

"You tell me," Anthony shoved the paper against my chest and started pacing.

I quickly scanned the article. Three people were found dead last night of mysterious causes. All of them in dark, secluded places. Several resistance wounds, including broken bones and bruises. Each of them drained of blood, left in natural looking positions.

I shook my head, looking up at him, "I didn't do this."

"I don't believe you. I knew you weren't happy drinking animals. I tried to understand! Damn it, I stole from a frickin hospital for you."

"I know that," I struggled to remain calm, "And I appreciate it because it's worked fine. That's why I didn't kill those people."

"Bullshit. I know you've been hungry lately. You're eyes have been black for a week and a half."

"That's because I'm with you every day. Besides I have a witness. You were with me last night, remember?"

"I didn't get home until nearly one last night. You would have had plenty of time."

"You're talking like I had some kind of evil plan. All I did last night was alphabetize my CDs again. And I'm not the only vampire in the world, you know? It's just another vampire."

"Yeah? Remember the first night I met you? You'd just killed a man, and had left sitting up against a wall."

"Anthony, what do you want me to say? I haven't drunk from a human since the night you caught me five months ago."

I want to believe him.

"Then believe me!" I cried, anger breaking through my careful façade.


Shit. What did I do?

"I know you believe me. You don't think I really did this."

Anthony shook his head slowly, taking a step closer to me, "No, that's not it. You knew what I was thinking. It's happened before. How?"

I closed my eyes, throwing my head back.

"I'll tell you. But… just know, I didn't kill those people."

"Yeah, I believe you. Now tell me how the hell you knew what I was thinking?"

"I can read minds."

Anthony stared at me for a minute, then started laughing.

"You can… no…you can't read minds. That's impossible."

"I'm a vampire, Anthony."

"Alexander, so these past months you could hear everything I was thinking?"

"No. I try not to," I said, averting my eyes from his.

"Well, thank you for that," Anthony said sarcastically. He rubbed a hand over his face before beginning to pace across the floor, "And you never thought to tell me this?"

"It only could have made things worse."

"How? How could not lying to me have made things worse?" he asked. At least he wasn't yelling anymore.

"Technically I didn't lie. I never said 'I can't read minds'-"

Anthony turned, glaring at me.

"How would you have felt? You would have felt like you couldn't think freely. And there's nothing I can or could've done!" I said.

"Why? You're a fucking vampire! I thought you could do anything!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

"I can't stop hearing thoughts, Anthony. No matter how hard I try, it's always there. Everywhere I go, I'm never alone. Everyone, everything they think. Always," I said, pleading with him, my voice full of agony.

Anthony looked at me for a moment, staring at my face. He took a step closer to me and wrapped his arms around my neck. He stood up onto his toes and kissed me.

I forgive youTwo Weeks Later

The phone rang. I moved to answer it, but Anthony just groaned and tightened his grip around me. I looked at the clock. Quarter to one. Our phone never rings. It rang and rang until it finally went to the answering machine.

"Anthony. I know you're awake. Pick up the phone." It was a woman's voice.

"Shit," Anthony cursed as he reached over me to pick up the phone.

"What the hell, Sasha? And I was asleep, in case you were wondering," Sasha? Oh, his sister.

"Well, this is more important than sleeping. It's Mom. She called me yesterday." I tallied this to the very small list of "Good Things" about being a vampire. Super-hearing.

"What's wrong with her? Is she sick?"

"No. Worse. She wants to see you. Well, she wants to see both of us, but I think the only reason I'm invited is because she didn't have your number."

He sat up in bed, pulling me with him. "Why does she want to see me?"

"I don't know! The only reason I can think of is that she wants to make you straight again." I snorted, barely containing a guffaw of laughter.

"How's that working out for you?" I whispered. Anthony punched me in the shoulder, laughing softly, and wrapped an arm around me.

"Who's that? Are you with someone?" Sasha asked, laughing.

"It doesn't matter. When does Mom want to see me?"

"I don't know," she said still laughing, "I gave her your number. I don't think she's going to call you until tomorrow, but I wanted to warn you."

"Well, thanks for that. I guess I'll see you soon."

"I guess you will. Bye little brother. Bye little brother's lover!"

"Bye, Sasha." He reached back across me and hung up the phone.

"Guessing you heard all of that?" Anthony said, kissing my cheek.

"Yep. I like your sister. So… your mom?"

"Oh yeah. This can't be good."

"But until she calls, you might as well go to sleep," I said, sliding down and pulling him with me.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I snuggled into him, taking a deep breath, filling my lungs with his scent.

"Listen to me. I'm an older, more experienced vampire."

The Next Day

I was sitting on the couch reading an article about The Ramones. Anthony was sitting on the couch staring at the phone. Just like he had for the past two and a half hours.

"How much longer are you going to do that?" I asked, looking up from the magazine.

"Until that awful bitch calls me."

"I never thought I would meet someone who has an even worse relationship with their parents than I did," I said, although I knew I was mostly talking to myself.

Twenty minutes later the phone rang. Anthony reached for it the second it started ringing. I snatched out my hand faster than his eyes could see and grasped his wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, trying to break free of the iron grasp.

"Do you want to seem eager?"

He paused. Three rings later he picked it up.


"Anthony? Is that you?" the voice was anxious, but also cold and stern.

"Yes. Who is this?"

There was a heavy sigh. "This is your mother. Although I'm sure you already knew that. I assume that Sasha called you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mom. What do you want?" he asked impatiently.

"What do I want? I'm your mother."

"My mother who I haven't talked to for nearly a year," he said, running a hand back through his hair. I reached up and grabbed his hand, holding it in my lap. Anthony turned his face to me a smiled.

"Fine. I want to have dinner with you and Sasha. Tonight at 6 o'clock. Our- my house."

"You're just telling me now?"

"Yes, Anthony," she sounded much older now, "Please?"

"Okay mom. I'll be there," I squeezed his hand. He looked at me and paused for a moment, thinking.

Oh no.

"Hey, mom? I'm bringing someone with me, okay?" I shook my head violently, motioning hanging myself.

"Yes," she sounded much happier. She paused suddenly. Then she asked suspiciously, "What's her name?"

Anthony looked at me and smiled, squeezing my hand, "Alex."

"I can't believe you're making me do this," I said as I buttoned up my shirt. It's the only nice shirt I own, and it's black. Anthony walked out of the bathroom, his hair wet. He pulled me close to him and kissed me, before pulling away. He moved his hands from my waist to unbutton the first two buttons of my shirt.

"Now?" I asked, laughing.

"Nah. My mom will just truly loathe it. She hates it when men don't button their shirts to their throat," Anthony turned and sat onto the bed to tie his shoes, before standing up to dig for a belt in his drawer.

"Well, that is certainly a lot less fun," I said, walking out of the room.

"Put your hair in a pony tail," he called after me, "That's the only thing she hates more than long hair."

"You do realize traditionally I am supposed to be trying to get your mother to like me right?" I said as Anthony came out of the bedroom. He walked over to me and patted me on the cheek.

"Sorry, to tell you any chance of my mother liking you went out the window when you were born with a penis."

"Good to know," I said, as we walked out the door, locking it behind me.

When we got to his house, I was surprised. It sounds like a stereotypical-city thing to say, but I don't think I've ever actually seen a building, in person, so big, devoted to the residence of one person.

We walked up to the door and rang the bell. I reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly before the door opened. The girl standing at the door was about Anthony's height, only in heels. She was wearing a short black dress, and had enough piercings to set off a metal detector.

"Hey Sasha," Anthony said, smiling weakly. Sasha grinned back at him, her dark painted lips parting over a cat-like smile.

"Hello, little brother. I haven't seen you in forever," she stepped forward and hugged him. She stepped back and looked at me from head to toe, "I suppose you're the Alex mom is expecting? I have to warn you, I think she was hoping you'd be wearing a dress."

"Sorry to disappoint," I responded.

"Ha. You're funny."

"Come on Sasha. I think it's time for me to reunite with Mommy dearest," Anthony grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. His palms were sweating. Anthony let go of my hand just before we entered the living room.

"I see four years of medical school didn't teach you to read time, Anthony," his mother said before looking up from the drink she was pouring. She stopped, frozen.

"Hello, Mom. This is Alexander," Anthony said, abandoning his nerves to sarcastically patronize his mother.

"Alex…ander," her voice shook with suppressed fury.

What nerve! My son is a fucking faggot and he has the disrespect to flaunt it.

My jaw clenched. A long moment of silence followed as Anthony and I sat on the couch next to Sasha. A man walked in and sat next to Sasha, he picked up the glass on the coffee table taking a long swig. Presumable Sasha's husband.

He reached out his hand to me and shook my hand, "I'm Jack."

"I'm Alexander."

"And you're Anthony's boyfriend?"

"Yes, he is," Anthony replied, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. Huh. I suppose I am. That's the first time I thought of it that way.

Oh dear God. What spawn have I brought to this world?

"Mom, I think dinner is ready," Sasha said, barely containing a laugh.

Their mother's teeth clenched, and she nodded jerkily.

Dinner was terrible. Not just because this is the first time I've attempted to eat food since becoming a vampire. And God, it was awful. The only thing that happened, was that Anthony and Sasha's mother managed to never stop looking repulsed. Mostly she quizzed Sasha and Jack on their marital life and when the hell he was going to get her pregnant.

"Anthony," Anthony's mother said sternly (she never told me what her name was. I think she's afraid she'll go to hell if a gay even utters her name), "What are doing now?"

"I intern at a hospital, Mom," he responded.


"In New York. Near where I went to school."


"And you, Alexander. Where do you work?" she asked, looking critical.

"I work at a coffee shop near the NYU campus."

"Huh. Not very ambitious, I see?"

"Mom," Anthony warned.

"Actually," I said, quickly making up a story, "I'm saving up to go to college."

"Oh, well that's nice. What part of New York do you live in?"

"He lives near NYU, like I do," Anthony said, baiting her.

"Hmmm. Alexander, how old are you?" she asked. Probably shouldn't tell her I'm seventeen.

"I'm nineteen."

"Nineteen? How old are you now, Anthony? Should I prepare for police to barge in and arrest you for statutory rape?"

"Mother, that is completely inappropriate. And I'm twenty-two."

"Hmmm, well it's very close," she said. I truly dislike her.

Luckily, Sasha started talking about her job, and that directed the judgment away from Anthony and me. I reached under the table that gently squeezed his hand. He looked at me, pure misery in his eyes. I smiled at him sarcastically, and he returned it weakly.

Soon however she turned her attention back to Anthony, but seemed determined to forget I was here.

"So, do you think your job is going anywhere?"

"Yes, actually. Unless I fail the boards, which I won't, I will continue to move up in the hospital I'm at," Anthony said, his voice cold, "You know, doctors are actually rather well regarded and generally it is respected as a career path."

"Yes, I know, Anthony," she seemed less condescending now, and more hopeful.

I should talk to him about that soon.

Soon, a woman came in and took away the plates. A maid? These people have too much money. A moment later she came back with coffee. I heard Anthony's mother considering making a comment about me being too young to drink coffee, but decided she wanted Anthony in a good mood. For what?

"Anthony, will you come with me? I have something to discuss with you," she said, standing up. Anthony glanced at me, before standing slowly and following her out of the room.

Pay attention in case she pulls a knife on me. He warned with his thoughts. I snickered inwardly.

"Hopefully, Anthony has told you that I'm nothing like my mother," Sasha said, refilling her glass. I nodded, "Why didn't you eat, Alex?"

"I have a stomach disease. I don't eat much. I actually prefer Alexander," I tried to hear what they were talking about.

As you know, when your father died five years ago, he left quite a sum of money to you and Sasha.

"It's okay," Jack said, leaning back in his chair, "When I first came here I was vegan. I swear the woman nearly had an aneurysm."

Anthony's voice was cautious. Yes…

"No she nearly had an aneurysm when she found out your parents weren't rolling in money and mentioning I'd married you would get her absolutely no new privileges," Sasha said, chuckling, "Quite frankly, I'm surprised she hasn't asked about your parents yet, Alexander. Usually the first thing she does is check your bloodline."

Well, recently his lawyer informed me that your father instructed him to give us another will, five years after his death. He always planned ahead your father, he wanted to make sure we all were well off. Well, you and Sasha are slated to get a little bit more than you did last time, but it also says that if I see fit I can give it to you in smaller increments over time.

Anthony spoke. Because dad didn't trust Sasha and me with money.

No. Her voice was stern and cold. He was concerned that if anything should happen to him when you were still too young to manage money.

"She must have figured they'd already disowned me if I'm gay," I responded, realizing I'd let the conversation drop. I picked up the cup in front of me that was filled with coffee. I swirled it around, but stopped quickly at the heinous odor it permeated the air with.

Why are you bringing this up now? I'm twenty-two years old Mom, I can handle money.

To be frank, I'm not happy with the phase you're currently going through. I want the best for you Anthony.

"I take it you had a normal childhood? Without disgustingly pretentious parents?"

So, you're saying you are going to withhold the money? Because you're angry I'm gay.

His mother responded calmly. No. I'm angry that you are still allowing your need to rebel against me to control your life.

"I suppose you could say that," I said blankly, distracted, "My mom is dead and I don't know where my dad is."

This isn't my need to rebel, Mother. And it's not a phase. This is what makes me happy. And if you really want the best for me, you will accept that.

They were silent for a moment, before Jack spoke, "I think he wins, Sash."

"Yes, he does. Although that's an interesting definition of "winning"" she replied before changing the topic, "I wonder what they're talking about."

Huh. If you continue to hold that view, then I'm afraid the money in that will may take a very long time to reach you.

I could see Anthony shaking his head angrily in his mother's mind. Fine, Mom. I don't need money. And with that he left whatever room they were in, ending the conversation.

I shrugged. Sasha lost interest in that quickly and returned to questioning me, "How long have you and Anthony been dating?"

"Um, I don't know. I guess about eight months," I said, quickly counting in my head, still distracted by the conversation I just heard. It was very concerning.

"Do you guys live together?"

"Yeah. I was surprised your mom didn't catch onto that. Anthony was practically spelling it out for her," she nodded and Jack chuckled. We exchanged a bit more small talk, nothing particularly meaningful, before Anthony reentered looking stressed and angry. He had stopped briefly in his old room to punch a few things.

I can't believe her.

"What did she want?" Sasha asked eager.

He just shook his head, angry, and sat down. Anthony dropped his head into his hands. I hesitated slightly before gently rubbing my hand across his back.

"I'm so sorry, Ander. I shouldn't have brought you here. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay. You're only a human. You haven't learned yet."

That's odd. Sasha and Jack were confused by that they didn't say anything.

He laughed grimly, and sat up, "Thank you, Ander. You know just how to make someone feel better."

"But in her defense, we are hopeless sinners. What can be expected?" Anthony only laughed in response and drained his glass of wine.

"So Anthony, as much as I've enjoyed meeting you Alexander, what possibly possessed you to bring him tonight? What did you think Mom would do?"

"I thought she would be really pissed off. It was kind of just like a really big 'Fuck you'. Unfortunately I forgot that she would take all her fury off on him, so that was where the plan went wrong," he laughed darkly as he refilled his glass and took a long drink.

"I thought so."

A minute later the same maid as before walked in and announced that Mrs. Church (so that's her name!) would not be returning and that she thanked everyone for coming.

"God, I hate her," Anthony said, as he stood up. He wobbled slightly, grasping my shoulder for support.

"Tipsy, little brother?" Sasha laughed as she and Jack walked out of the dining room. I wrapped my arm around his waist and supported nearly all of his weight easily, and we left the house.

"Do you guys want a ride back into the city? We can only take you as far as union station, but you can get a train from there right?" Jack asked. I considered it for a moment. I could just run us back, but that could look suspicious.

"Yeah, that would be great. Thank you," I opened the backseat for Anthony and propped him up in the car. I got in after him and he leaned on me, his eyes closed. By the time we got to union station he was asleep. I woke him up and managed to get him back to the apartment without anyone seeing us.

Wow, that's another addition to the list of good things about being a vampire. That list is growing at an unprecedented rate. There was no one in the building that was awake, and if they were they weren't planning on coming out of their apartment anytime soon. I scooped Anthony up into my arms and carried him up into our apartment. He woke up in the juggle to unlock the door.

Anthony was still very drunk.

After mumbling about how strong I was, he started talking about how he wished he was a turtle because "turtle parents have the sense to fucking leave their kids alone right from the start". I opened the door to the bedroom. I set him down on the bed and he attempted to take his shirt off, which is apparently quite difficult when you are seeing triples. Eventually I got his shirt off and I changed quickly.

Anthony was still mumbling incoherently about me when he finally fell asleep.

In the morning Anthony was hung over. Clearly the conversation from last night wasn't helping his headache. I was content to sit, immersed in both his thoughts and my own.

"I take it you heard everything last night?" he said, finally breaking the silence around noon.

I nodded deftly.

"I don't understand how she had children. You would think a heart that cold would just kill anything that tried to live there."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"What do you mean? I'm going to continue not talking to her."

"What about the money? You need it. Your father wanted you to have it," I replied.

"No he didn't. My father wanted me to have that money…and share it with my wife or girlfriend. He knew I was gay when he died, that clause was clearly added later. That clause was code for "This money is for my son, Anthony, but only if he's changed his disgraceful ways"."

"But you have to get that money," he started to interrupt me, "Yes, I understand you don't need it, but having it would give you security later in life."

For some reason, he stopped after the last comment. He hid whatever he was thinking quickly though and continued.

"I don't want that money. I don't care if it gives me security. My mother won't show me a penny of it until I'm married, possibly even with children. Money isn't worth that," Anthony said, angry.

"Even if she just thought you had a girlfriend…"

"No. I don't want the money and I'm not doing anything to get it."

Drop it, Alexander.

Guilt. I was guilty. This wouldn't have happened if not for me. And I have a feeling Anthony wasn't just angry about the money. I think I said something wrong. He, unfortunately, has learned how to block his thoughts, so that leaves me nothing.

Damn. This sucks.

Anthony's POV

I wasn't angry about the money thing. I didn't really care. Hell, I didn't think money would even be an issue much longer.

"…give you security later in life."

This comment seems to imply I will have a life much longer than I expected.

Yeah, I was naïve enough to think, Alexander was planning to turn me into a vampire. Apparently not. So what? Was the plan to just stay with me as I grow old and turn to dust? Or was he planning on leaving soon anyway? I don't think I know which one would be worse.

A hacking cough attacked me, and I paused in my thoughts. I was sick all the time lately. It just stood as a terrible reminder at how human I was, compared to the ever unchanging state Ander was in. Even after months, I still expect to wake up every now and then and notice something different. Finding myself expecting him to have stubble, or his hair to be a little longer, or something, anything. But his face is always the same. His eyes black, sometimes red if he's just fed, but that never lasts long, framed by thick, dark lashes. Face chalky pale, with the smattering of freckles across his nose and the occasional dark spot, in bass relief to the rest of his face. The black hair around his face always stays the same length, and never losing any of its inky blackness. And he's always so thin. Sometimes looking at him is like an optical illusion, like there should be more of him. But he's always so painfully small. I asked him once, and he just mumbled about being really tall.

I have a headache now from trying to block all of my thoughts from Ander. I have no idea if it even works, but I do it anyway just in case.

"I feel shitty. I'm going to sleep," I stood up walking out of the room. The familiar presence of him behind me makes me consider telling him not to follow, but the idea of his coldness on my head sounds really good.

Apparently, once a year at the hospital I work at we get health tests. I suppose that's good. They don't want their doctors looking like hypocrites who don't practice what they preach. I went at the end of the day to do mine. I was the last person.

An hour later I walked out, stunned. Apparently I should have talked to a doctor about my frequent illnesses awhile ago. Apparently I don't just have a knack for getting bugs. Apparently there's something very, very wrong with me.


I'm dying.

Ander took it really badly. He was really angry, although I think it was mostly at himself for not using vampire magic to know I had cancer.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" he asked, desperate. I shook my head. (Quick AN I have no idea if they had chemo or radiation therapy in the 80s so…let's just say they didn't for the purposes of this story)

"There's nothing. All we can do is wait for me to get even sicker and then…well die," Ander dropped his head into his hands, and I heard him snarl angrily. I suppose now is as good a time as any, "Or…"

His head shot up, "Or?"

"You could…bite me. Make me…like you," I spoke quietly. He stared at me blankly.

"I didn't think…I thought we had more time…" I shook my head.

"You don't even have to decide. Whatever higher power there is made it for you," his face was stony as he stared blankly at the carpet.

"There's no other option?" Ander asked, quietly.

"You don't want me to be a vampire, do you? You don't want to be stuck with me."

"You know that's bullshit, Anthony. Believe it or not, this whole vampire thing, yeah, it sucks. Okay, I'm invincible now, but you know what changing into a vampire is like? It takes three days. Three fucking days. And it hurts. A lot. Then when it's all over, you can't go in the sun, you're a bloody monster. You have to be a souless monster to not spend every moment drowning in guilt. The only way you survive is by killing other people. And you know what? It doesn't end. It goes on…forever. So you can see why I'm a tad reluctant," he was standing now, and almost shouting. I swallowed hard, and shook my head.

"I don't care."

Alexander's POV

I shake my head, cooling off slightly, "You…don't care?"

"Is this honestly the first time you've thought of this? It never occurred to you that I'm going to get older? That even without this I was going to die?" Anthony looked less angry now. More sad.

"I didn't want to. I mean, before you…this whole vampire thing, I can't describe to you how much it honestly sucks. It just fucking sucks."

"But it'll all be better if I'm a vampire. We'll have each other, just like now," he smiled at me, clearly thinking he'd won. I don't have any other choice. Anthony sat down on the couch, and I sat next to him, snuggling to his side. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and picked up the test results to look at them. They didn't make any sense to me, but clearly they meant something to him.

"Did he say…how much time you have?" I asked, shakily.

"Not long. Three months tops, depending on whether I keep getting sick like this." How did I not notice how sick he was? But would that have done anything? I sighed, frustrated.

"I figure a month, six weeks and then you can change me and we'll disapp-" he stopped, seeing the look on my face, "Or we could just talk about it tomorrow."

"I like that idea better."

"I still don't understand why we have to go all the way out here."

"Well, living in an apartment building with, oh about a hundred people who are easily in listening distance to hear you screaming, I figured it would be better if we get out of the city," I replied, dodging trees as I ran. After much complaining, and shameful waffling, Anthony had finally agreed that the only way to get where we needed to go for me to change him is for me to run with him on my back.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"It's a house. We're not far now, a few minutes. I thinks it's about fifty miles away, maybe? It's been abandoned for years," I responded, moving faster.

"Fifty miles? In a few minutes? You are ridiculous, Ander," Anthony said.

"And soon you will be just as ridiculous as me," I replied. I'd basically gotten used to the idea of him being a vampire. It definitely took a little while, but I am almost a little… happy? I don't know what to call it. Like a big weight is being lifted off my shoulders.

As I predicted we were there in about ten minutes. I made him carry a backpack with a blanket and food for himself for today. I was planning to change Anthony tonight, so his change would be complete at night. I wanted to give him a little time to enjoy the fun of being a vampire (the speed and the strength) before he realized what happened when he was in the sun. It will be incredibly humorous.

I'm not going to say what we did all day, although it probably is somewhat obvious. I'll miss his warmth.

That night, we stood in the middle of the one room, perfectly still.

"You don't have to do this…"

"Ander, I'll die," I nodded, and stepped forward into his arms. We kissed, long and slow until Anthony pulled away.

"So, I don't know, just relax. And you're going to get really weak really quickly and you won't be able to stand. It will hurt a lot, but I mean, it'll end…in like three days."

"Stop stalling," Anthony said, smiling. I smiled back weakly. I wrapped one arm around his waist to support him, and supported his head with my other hand.

"Ready?" I whispered in his ear. His hair brushed against the side of my face as a he nodded.

I swallowed a rush of venom as I moved down Anthony's neck to where his pulse was thrumming. His heart was slamming against my chest. I gently placed my mouth to his neck, giving him time to stop me. He didn't. My teeth slid easily through Anthony's skin, and his blood rushed into my mouth. Its aroma and taste surrounded me. I haven't fed from a human in nearly a year. He moaned desperately as I sucked at the wound. Anthony began to go limp, falling into me. I have to stop before I kill him.

With a great amount of effort I pull away from Anthony, and nearly let him fall. Scooping him up, I sit against a wall with him across my knees. Should I bite his wrists to put more venom in him? Or will I just take more of his blood and kill him? Probably shouldn't risk it.

He was thrashing now, and groaning in pain as the fire spread through him. I held Anthony tighter, hoping the cold would help. He still shook violently, and I noticed his eyes were open slightly. I could tell he hasn't seeing anything.

It was a long three days. I could feel him changing as I held him. Feel him losing his warmth and softness, feel it become harder and harder to restrain him from seizing. A few times when he would jolt without warning, he hit me. It was the first time anything physically hurt in years. He is definitely going to be much stronger than I am.

Finally it was the morning of the third day. I whispered to him, reassuringly. Anthony had stilled almost completely by late afternoon and I knew the change was almost complete.

And suddenly he wasn't moving. Anthony's eyes flickered open, a deep crimson color. He looked around quickly, and jumped so he was standing. I wasn't used to other people moving so fast. I stood too and he seemed to notice me for the first time. His eyes were different than before, not just the color.

"How are you?" I asked, keeping a safe distance, just in case.

"I'm okay, I guess," Anthony looked down at his hands, examining the solid structure of it. I examined his face for the first time and discovered what he'd meant when he'd asked me if all vampires were inhumanly beautiful. He was just…perfect.

He looked up at me sharply, looking me up and down, like an opponent.

"Who are you?"

My heart was broken. It had dead before, but now there is just nothing there.

It's been two weeks and Anthony still doesn't remember anything. Nothing I did or said made him remember. I could tell that Anthony wanted to remember, but he just couldn't. I know this new Anthony doesn't like me. He didn't tell me to leave, but I can still hear his thoughts. I taught him to hunt, and anything else he would need to know.

Anthony doesn't need me or want me anymore.

But all I want is him.