Maybe a shot or two will help. A shot or two might turn into a bottle and that will definitely stop the thoughts from coming. But even as I think that, I bring the bottle to my lips and can't stomach the first swig.

I hate my perpetual state of sulking. I go to class (occasionally), go on patrol, come home, eat pizza, and sulk. I find myself listening to songs sung by bands with raspy voices, chugging guitar solos, and way too much dark eyeliner.

The girl that is ruining my life has tried to call me night after long, fruitless night. Everytime I see her number show up on the ID, I send it to voicemail. She never leaves me a message. I want more than anything to speak to her, but I can't. I like her a lot. Maybe even more than like. And this wouldn't be so bad for most people, but here's my problem with all this: she's about to be married.

Not just married, but married to her eternally betrothed. From the moment of her conception, she had been promised to her vampire brother and any chance that I thought I might have at happiness disappeared the day he decided to claim what he felt his bloodline had promised him. I watched her transformation with piercing dread as she became the thing I hated the most and had sworn my life to destroy.

Nights like this are when my mind rewinds through what I now understand as years of repressed sexual tension and a misunderstood confession in an empty shower stall while we committed an act most deplorable. A long-time infatuation that she thought I would never return, now consumes my every thought.

Other women and unreasonable amounts of alcohol are my weapons of choice against the agony she puts me through. They provide a welcome, albeit temporary, distraction. But as soon as they are gone, I'm back to sulking with my usual partners-A pizza, the couch, and some booze.

That bottle that I initially refused to begin is empty now, and I leave it spinning on the linoleum as I allow my stupor to swallow me whole into numb, dreamless sleep. The same thoughts swirling through my mind as I slipped away: I hate you, Yuuki Cross. I hate what you have done to me.

Sunlight claws its way between my blackout curtains to stab at my eyes as an incessant ringing blares over my head. The doorbell, I realize with a groan. The sun is up and from the looks of it, it's long past lunchtime and hot as hell.

The door bucks at the chainlock when I throw it open. Long, dark hair, pale skin, blood red eyes. My thoughts coalesce into one clear statement: Yuuki should not be standing in my doorway.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The look of drunken, rumpled self-loathing I wear isn't new to her and hasn't been for a long time. Her smile is soft, almost nostalgic, and tinged with just a little concern. I regret sniping at her, suddenly feeling very tired and dizzy. The door becomes my crutch. She shifts her weight uneasily, "You don't look so good."

"Tch."

"Can I come in?"

I step aside, feeling like someone else is pulling my strings and admit her in. It's disconcerting and I resist, my panic rising. Trying to complete the movements to lift my arms and push her back out the door are like trying to lift a car. My arms, my hands, my legs won't comply. Yuuki glances back at me and it's in that moment I realize that the lack of control is actually compulsion. Compulsion coupled with overwhelming hunger. My body practically singing knowing her blood is so close.

She ignores me, throwing open cupboards to find my mugs and coffee filters. She's too short to reach the coffee shelf. (Why do I put it up that high anyway?) She arches up on tiptoe, fingertips barely brushing a filter that is peeking over the edge. She would be almost elegant in this pose if she didn't peep her tongue out of her mouth to illustrate how much she's straining toward her goal. Did I mention that the length of this stretch exposes just a bit of her midriff and just how low her low riding jeans actually are? (Oh, right. That's why I put it up there.) I pull the necessaries down for her, stifling a return smile as she beams at me thankfully.

Once I regain control of my body, and more specifically, my face, I force it into an expression of extreme annoyance. I remind myself that she's ruining my life and I hate her for it. The coffee machine bubbles to life as I collapse to the couch, throwing my arms over my eyes to block out the midday light and hopefully her curious face.

I can feel her standing over me without looking up. She sets a mug for me on the table, waiting for me to make space for her on the couch. "Yuuki, I didn't take your calls for a reason."

"Why?"

At this, I unhide myself and glare darkly, "You know why."

My dark look lingers for emphasis before I recover in the safety of my forearms. Her mug clunks softly as she sets it down on the side table, the couch sinks as she sits down, and she effortlessly lifts my head to rest in her lap. We say nothing as she untangles my arms, then gently combs her fingers through my bedstrewn hair. The effect cascades down my spine. The knot in my eyebrows relaxes, the tension in my shoulders ebbs, I unclench my fists. The roiling in my stomach simmers, then cools.

She brushes her lips across mine and my nerves surge into fire. I'm burning up in a cold sweat when I can't stop myself from returning her sweetness with a kiss that might be a little too passionate, my heart soaring and breaking when she finally pulls away.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Haven't I?" I grab the back of her head, pulling her in for a rougher kiss. I roll to the top position, pinning her in place to keep her from disappearing. Her body welcomes my pressure, the aged couch beneath us groans in jealous protest.

"You still think of me, yet you won't answer my calls?" she persists between kisses.

"I don't just think of you," She rolls us off the couch to the floor, switching our positions to where she can pin me. I feel a cold hand snake up my shirt, fingernails dragging blissfully slow over my bare skin. Her nails are sharp and I can feel the smallest beads of blood bubble up from the thin cuts she leaves on my chest. Her other hand is wrapped around the back of my neck before both hands are fumbling with the button at my collar.

One more roll and I'm fooled into thinking that I'm back in control of myself and our actions. I can't believe I'm trying to stop her from ripping my clothes off. Compulsion, hunger, even lust lose their power over me when words neither of us ever expected completely juke my mental filter and fly out of my mouth: "I love you, Yuuki."

The air goes out of the room. I can't breathe. What the fuck did I just say? We are as still as deer after the hunter snaps an unnoticed twig in his path. Her lips disengage from mine and I'm praying that's not horror I'm seeing register on her face as those words sink in.

Slowly, movement returns to her fingers. They trace my features as she contemplates what to say in response. Instinctively, I kissed her fingertips as they touch my lips. I pause before pressing my cheek into her palm, closing my eyes to prepare for rejection.

"Zero..." Her voice says my name so tenderly, but it might as well be a gunshot to the chest. I do my damnest to keep my face from contorting into a wince before kissing her deeply again. That was all I need to hear. At least for now. I don't stop kissing her until we fall asleep in my bed long after the sun goes down.

Outside, the shadows have deepened into the darkest night when I regain consciousness. The sun is hours from breaking over the city skyline. Whatever remained of my hangover is non-existent. I find her against the footboard, awake and wrapped in a corner of the bedsheet. She doesn't notice me at first because she's too enthralled with the activity of the street below at such an early hour. My fingers caress the top of her foot before I kiss a path up to her inner thigh. She stops me at her knee.

Yuuki's newborn vampire eyes that are so bright red they glow in the darkness. She plays with my hair again, moving it behind my ears only to have it fall back into place, smiling gently as she looks back toward the street. She's thinking about going back to Kuran Mansion. That she's overstayed what was prudent and how at any minute, her darling betrothed could appear at my windowsill to whisk her away again.

All these things and more, I'm sure. All worries that should be put away for later. I pull her towards me, delighting in her squeal of surprise. We become a tangle of sighs, hushed cries, and bedsheets once more.

When sunrise breaks the horizon hours later, it feels like only moments have passed since I closed my eyes. I fell asleep with the feeling of her tucked against my chest, her head on my shoulder. The blankets around me are uncomfortably cold with the heat of only one body. My mood begins to curdle and spoil when I find there is sweet blood on my breath and fresh, bitter coffee in the pot, but nothing else to prove she was ever here.