Hi everyone ! My first post here in english. Gosh, I'm nervous.
As you may have understood, english is not my first language, as I am originally french. But still, I don't think there are so many mistakes down there, or at least I hope so. But feel free to correct if you see anything too ugly !
About the fanfiction... well, I don't know what to say. I don't even really know what will come next, but I really wanted to write at least this passage, and surprise... it came out in english. (sometimes it happens. ) I won't say who those characters are (one of them is real, I mean, exists in True Blood), or what will happen to them. I'm not even sure. Just hope I'll get inspired to right the Chapter 1.
Anyway, hope you'll like it. And if you don't, well... That's probably because you're racist.
Arty'.
Prologue
Aby rapidly walked away, and he followed her ; as soon as he was by her side, he turned his look towards her, trying to catch her eyes – but she obstinately kept them on the ground.
Just like the hundreds of times he had watched her walk, speak, laugh or cry, he found her beautiful. No... actually, it was the first time this word was that right. Before that night, he had found her pretty. Then, her moves, her hair swinging on her back, her face frozen in a mask of stone... Every part of her expressed beauty. He wanted to touch her cheek, to feel her skin under his fingertips... But she remained that terribly far – centimeters away, but far too numerous.
She kept on walking ; and so did he. She'd said she wanted to speak, but obviously, she wasn't in a hurry. So be it : he could stay with her all night, silent, caring, watching, waiting for her to say what was on her mind.
He saw her close her eyes and frown ; then she finally stopped. He imitated her, and stood there, in front of her, ready to listen. For a second, he feared she might cry : her leds were still shut, her lips closed, her fingers shivering. But nothing would be more legetimate after what she had lived.
He could still guess the wounds under her bandages ; he could smell her blod, spicy as chili pepper. God, how he wished he could burn his throat with this blood one more time ; feel his teeth sting as if he was biting lava, fill his lungs with this fire. In a way, he finally understood the taste of humans for this mexican food that makes their eyes red and wet.
She eventually dared to look at his face. He was tall, compared to her, but somehow, he knew she liked feeling that small when they were close : she was then like shielded, like a wall protecting her from the wrecking waves of their lives.
He smiled at her ; she still hadn't spoken. Actually, he didn't really care about that anything she wanted to say. Nothing could me bigger, better than them, together and safe again, after all this time.
She opened her mouth, tried her voice with a harsh "I...", and started again :
"I'm leaving. "
He waited for what was next. But nothing came. She remained silent. Her eyes were filled up with tears, her lips trembling, just as she had just announced she was leaving him.
She was leaving him.
He realised he was not smiling anymore. She was still avoiding his eyes. Suddendly, she looked like a kid again, like the one she was when he discovered her existence. Something came up in his throat ; he firstly thought it was wrath, but when he let it out, he realised it was a laughter.
"You're leaving ? "
"Yeah."
"Like, now ? "
"Yeah. "
This last world was a whisper ; she swallowed hardly : he could tell she had to struggle not to cry.
"Bullshit. You don't want to go."
"I don't care about what I want. Or, no, actually I do : I don't want to stay."
"You don't know what you are saying."
"I want to feel normal. I want to hide who I am, I want to become a human again while I still can ! I want to be that kind of person who doesn't have to worry about being tortured to death when getting out of bed in the morning."
"You can't be normal, Abygaëlle ! Your life can't be normal ! Vampire are here, they're everywhere, even where you think you are going !"
He was furious ; but as usual, she didn't fear his wrath. Actually, the more angry he got, the calmer she was.
"I'll figure something out. Thousands of humans on this earth never spoke with a vampire. I can become one of them."
He prepared to say something awful, but he held the words back. He took a deep breath, and when he felt his rage fading into incomprehension, he calmly, simply said :
"Two years."
She looked away. She knew what he was going to say. She didn't want to hear it – but he wouldn't remain quiet.
"For two years, I'd thought you dead. This whole time, I have fancied miracles which would bring you back to me. I've dreamt of you being alive."
"For two years, she cut him, I have spent my days on a table feeling like the oinion I butchered in elementary school to observe on the microscope. I will leave this behind. I won't let anything remind me of this, not even you."
He couldn't help it : the anger was still there. It wouldn't go. Why, would she tell the fuck why ?
"You're a bloody coward !"
"You think so ? You can't know how I feel !"
"I sure can't : I've never been that fucking stupid !"
She winced. He had hurt her feelings. She turned around to walk away, but this time, he stood still. He silently observed her every step. Something hurt to each one she took. The heart, maybe. This thing that burnt a moment before, it was now turning into that directionless, insatiable and overwheling hatred he has tried to hold back the last time he lost her. Suddendly, he was craving for blood. A screaming bloody murdrer. His mouth opened without him wanting it to, but no scream, no sob came out : three worlds, more natural, more right than any reaction he could have had.
"Is this how you want us to say goodbye ?", she thought.
"I love you."
She immobilized. Then he realised he was empty ; he knew what he had just said, but no rage, no relief, no peace was filling his soul. Just a tremendous fear she might still go.
She turned around again. She looked at him. Her eyes overflowed with tears she was desesperately trying to hold back.
"How do you want me to leave, now ?" She cryed.
His lips opened again. He looked into her wheeling eyes, observed her inner turmoil.
"I don't, he said."
She did'nt came back to him. She didn't walk away. One step : it was all that it took. One step away, and everything would be over. One step closer, and he would be next to her in a breeth, holding her and never letting go.
One step closer, and he would be nothing else, nothing more and nothing less than hers.