AN: Hello, people. I shouldn't be doing this. I have a shit ton of school work and another story on this site that I haven't updated in a while for school reasons yet when I had this idea one day and sat down and began writing it by the time I finished a chapter I had the ending planned out in my head.

I can't promise to update regularly because I have a semester to pass. I hope you like this. Feedback is very welcomed.

Thank you for stopping by...

Jesse was whistling Heart and Soul while he roamed the suburbs of Barden. It was a warm fall night. The full moon and the street lamps were illuminating the way for him, not that he needed the light to see well.

"Here, Agatha." He tilted his head hearing the voice of a little girl calling for her cat. He followed the voice to find a small girl.

"Excuse me," she said spotting him.

"Yes?" He stopped in his tracks.

"Have you seen my cat?" she asked.

"What does it look like?" he wondered as he looked around them focusing so he could pick up the cat meowing from a distance.

"She's black." She shrugged not sure how to describe her pet.

"I didn't see any cat around here," he told her and watched her nod and continue to look for her cat.

He frowned then asked, "Do you live around here?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she said over her shoulders.

He smiled stuffing his hands in his khaki pants' pockets. "I think I hear your cat," he told her.

"I don't," she countered looking around her.

"It's coming from that way," he nodded towards the source which was quite far for her ears to hear. Looking back at her he grinned at the suspicious look in her eyes.

"I'll go get her for you," he said and began making his way towards a tree located in a dark area.

As soon as he was in the dark, he ran in full speed and reached the cat.

"I assume you're Agatha," he sighed picking the black cat. He patted its head then ran back to where he left the little girl.

"Good girl," he said to the cat while scratching its head for how well it handled the speed he ran in.

"Is this your cat?" he asked as he came out of the shadows.

"Agatha?" the little girl called to which the cat responded to with a simple meow.

"Thank you," she thanked Jesse as he handed her the cat.

"You're welcome," he smiled at her as he rested his palms on his knees and got on eye level with the small girl.

"Do you know how to get home?" he wondered, holding her gaze: he could tell they were a dark shade of blue and he liked looking at them.

Noting the frown that formed on her forehead as she looked around her he got his answer.

"I helped you find your cat, I'll help you find your way back home," he offered.

She thought about his offer for quite some time then nodded cautiously.

"Which way did you come from?" he asked and straightened up.

"That way," she pointed at the street on the right.

He nodded and they started walking towards it while he kept his guard up hoping to hear her parents look for her.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I turned seven today," she told him.

"What a coincidence, it's my birthday today, too!" he told her surprised with the coincidence.

"How old are today?" she asked a little excited about the one thing in common they had.

He smiled a little then said, "How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You can't be seven because you're too big."

"You're absolutely correct. I'm definitely not seven." He looked at her, amused with the conversation. "I'm twenty-eight," he told her.

"You're really old," she noted in a serious tone making him chuckle.

'You have no idea!' he thought to himself.

"Do your parents know you're out looking for Agatha?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"They could be worried about you," he told her.

"No, they aren't," she looked up.

"What makes you so sure?" He found himself smiling down at the careless look in her navy blue eyes.

"They're busy yelling at each other to notice I'm not home," she shrugged looking down to pat her cat.

Jesse nodded focusing his hearing sense looking for the sound of arguing and found one not far away.

"Do you live here?" she asked him as they walked.

"I just move here," he answered.

"Oh, where did you come from?"

"Chicago," he answered after a beat. "Do you know Chicago?" he wondered and was met with a nod.

"Mom and Dad lived there until I was born."

"So you were born there?" he asked.

She nodded.

He found himself wondering if he'd seen her the night she was born because he was at a hospital in Chicago the night she was born getting a few bags of blood. He dismissed the thought because the probability of that having happened was way too slim.

"Do you like Barden better than Chicago?"

"I actually do," he nodded. "It's quiet 'round here. It's refreshing." He sucked in a deep breath. "Do you like Barden?" he asked.

She shrugged. "This is our neighborhood," she told him recognizing the street.

Jesse nodded knowingly: he could hear a couple arguing.

He walked her to her house and felt a little bad hearing her sigh at the sound of her parents arguing.

"Thank you for helping me find Agatha," she thanked him. "And for walking me home."

"You take care of yourself, okay?" he said to her, running a hand over the cat.

"I will." She smiled at him then turned on her heels.

He watched her get inside the house and focused his hearing to listen better as he walked away. Hearing the little girl reassure her meowing cat, "They'll stop, don't worry," while walking up the stairs felt bittersweet.

He didn't think he'd come across the little girl again but her eyes were hard to miss. He stopped to make sure it's her. His memory never failed him. Same pale skin. Same navy blue eyes. She was little older but still small. If he did his math right she was fourteen.

He felt a little creepy staring at a teenager so he walked away. He wasn't at a hospital to creep on teenage girls. He was a hospital for a whole other reason.

Jesse had sneaked into the blood bank grabbed a bunch of blood bags, making sure not to take the O negative bags because he understood how important and rare they were and was making his way to the elevator, when he heard her say, "Excuse me." He tilted his head 'cause it felt directed to him and found her.

"Yes?" he replied meeting her gaze.

"My mom's serum bag is empty and I was told to get someone to check up on her once it's empty," she told him, pointing at the room behind her. "I can't find anyone, Doctor," she said thinking he was a doctor thanks to the white coat he was wearing.

Jesse blinked then walked towards into the room, grabbing her mother's patient chart once he reached the bed. He frowned at what he read and silently wondered how in the hell was the woman still alive with a number of fractures she had.

He glanced at the girl and wondered how in the hell she was holding up so well and wasn't weeping.

She was old enough to understand that her mother's condition was life threatening.

He smiled curtly at her when she looked at him feeling his gaze. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the small bottle he brought with him, containing his serum, which he used to help patients heal fastest with just a drop of it whenever he went to get some blood for himself from the hospital.

(He was taking blood, it felt only right to help people recover faster as a payment and satisfy his conscience.)

"You should be at school," he said as he stood by the bed and began injecting a few drops into the passed out woman's bloodstream—more than a couple of ounces would make the recovery miraculous, he just wanted her to heal fast.

"I don't have school today." She shrugged in response.

He knew she was lying but didn't see the need to point it out. If he were in her position, he'd definitely skip school to be next to his badly injured mother.

"Next time you need something push that button and a nurse will come," he told her nodding at a button near her mother's bed.

"Okay," she said spotting it.

He smiled at her when she looked back at him. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," she curtly replied.

"One more thing," he stopped at the doorway. She looked up. "Happy birthday," he said with a small smile.

She frowned. "How did you know it's my birthday?" she asked crossing her arms across her chest.

He shrugged in response and left the room.

Seven years later, he met her again.

Well, not met, heard.

Yeah, he heard her and followed her voice.

Her voice actually caught his attention, she was singing Enrique Iglesias's I Like It.

He didn't know it was her until he got to the source, a karaoke bar, and saw her. He instantly recognized her. She was definitely older.A little taller than the last time he'd seen her. He couldn't help but smile a little at how much fun she was having. She was intoxicated. He quickly figured she was celebrating her twenty-first birthday.

He walked to the bar and order a jack on the rock, that he wasn't planning on drinking, all the while thinking of how he had seen her on their shared birthday three times—maybe four, he wasn't sure if he'd seen her the night she was born— Once every seven years. He had to admit it was an odd coincidence.

He didn't plan to talk to her but when she approached him, he couldn't ignore her.

"Hi, excuse me," she grinned at him when he tilted his head at the tap on his shoulder.

"Yes?" he answered as he closely eyed her. Her makeup was a little smudged, her cheeks were flushed sign of her intoxication, and he could smell tequila and beer off her and her fucking sweat smelled nice. He didn't know what to think of that.

"This is gonna sound weird," she started to say. He nodded for her to keep going.

"It's my birthday and my friends made a list of things to do in celebration." She rolled her eyes. "It's stupid. But if I don't play along they'd nag me for weeks and I can't deal with them," she rambled.

"Okay?" he said not sure what she wanted from him.

"Do you have herpes?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Oral herpes," she gestured at her mouth. He shook his head.

"An infection in your mouth or something contagious?"

"No, I'm fine." He frowned.

"Good," she smiled. "Do you mind if I kissed you? You see the list says I have to kiss a stranger. Nothing big, just a small peck would be enough to get them off my back."

"Why me?" he asked.

Compared to him, she was a child and it felt highly inappropriate to kiss her and very wrong.

"I didn't see a wedding band," she nodded at his left hand while running her fingers over it. "And I like the shape of your lips," she shrugged looking up, anxiously biting her bottom lip.

Her gesture made him feel funny. He closed his eyes for a second because he could very clearly remember her at the age of seven and knew the funny feeling was attraction, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Wait, you're not gay, are you?" she asked as she drew circles on his hand.

"No, I'm not," he shook his head.

Technically he stopped aging at Twenty-eight so it wouldn't be so strange to be kissing a twenty-one-year-old girl.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm making you uncomfortable." She chuckled humorlessly.

And his attraction was physical and physically speaking he was young.

"Took me a little by surprise." He sat up. "I don't mind," he decided, shutting the voice in his head that told him it's wrong. Because he couldn't pass out on an opportunity to experience something he hadn't experienced in a long time.

She grinned and leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder. The moment she pressed her lips against his he felt like he had just tasted life. He knew it wasn't just him that felt it because she squeezed his shoulder and pulled away instantly.

She blinked then looked back at him. "I thought I was gonna get sick or something… Can we kiss again?" she asked.

He nodded and braced himself, this time placing a hand on her hip.

He didn't know how to describe the feel of her lips against his. He was overwhelmed. She was warm and was an excellent kisser.

Usually, he avoided foods and drinks that humans consumed, they overwhelmed his tasting sense and were too much. So, he avoided them all together since he didn't need them for survival: but the alcohol she was drinking tasted fine, it didn't bother him in the slightest.

Any thought of wrongfulness disappeared.

In his years of 'living', he had never felt so alive doing anything as they melted into a kiss.

And when she moved her hand up and placed it on his neck, he felt as if he were touched by an angel, as corny as that might sound. But he couldn't bare her touch any long despite how amazing she felt because it made him want her so he pulled away.

She looked at him in a confusion that he felt as well.

"Happy birthday," he softly said and offering her the glass of jack.

"Thank you," she thanked him nonchalantly accepting the drink and bringing it to her lips before she walked away. He felt intense withdrawal when she removed her hand from his neck and he knew he had to go and take care of it.

"We said kiss a stranger not drape yourself all over a stranger," Chloe snickered.

"Yeah, Beca, what was that? You looked like you were going to shag him right there right then," Amy pointed out as she sipped her beer.

"Is he that good of a kisser?" Stacie wondered glancing at the bar and frowning when she didn't see Jesse at the bar.

"From earth to Beca," Cynthia Rose shook Beca's shoulder.

"What?" Beca looked snapping out of her confused thoughts.

"You look like he penetrated you with his aura," Stacie said as she eyed her teammate.

"Not a good enough reason to use the word penetrate," Amy said in slight disgust.

"What is going on here?" Donald asked in a raspy voice while rubbing his eyes, as he stood in the last step of the staircase in the basement.

"What do you mean?" Jesse asked as grabbed his fourth blood bag.

"You usually avoid spending unnecessary energy yet Benji tells me you ran down here at full speed. And you also don't feed more than once a week yet it looks like you're throwing yourself a feast. So, what's going on here?" He wore his hipster glasses.

"Nothing," Jesse shrugged mumbling as he sucked on a blood bag.

"Whatever, man," Donald shrugged. "Just slow down with the feeding."

"I can't. But don't worry about it. Everything is all right." He gave Donald thumbs up.

He realized after a gallon and a half, the equivalent of the blood inside the human body, that it wasn't going to make the craving go away so he decided to go for a walk.

And somehow ended up in the cemetery. He didn't think he'd have company there so he let his guard down and think a little clearly of what happened and think of a reasonable explanation.

However, his train of thoughts was interrupted when he heard her hum Dream A Little Dream of Me under her breath. And, unlike earlier that night, he didn't pick it up from a distance. It was near. Tilting his head he saw her and wondered what she was doing in the middle of the night on her birthday in the fucking graveyard.

She didn't seem to notice his presence so he leaned against a tree in the dark and watched her, feeling like a certified creep.

She stood in front a grave and sighed. "I know I'm a little late this year. I got held up by the girls. And I'm a little drunk, so there's that."

Hearing her talk to whoever laid in the grave before her, he felt like shit for invading her privacy so he decided to leave.

"Shit," Jesse murmured when he stepped on dried and it caught her attention.

"I think I'm gonna cut this short. I should have come earlier. I think there's a raccoon." He heard her say. "I love you and miss you so fucking much. I promise I'll come tomorrow and complain about my headache." He was chuckling at her deadpan tone. He watched her walk away and waited until she was far enough she wouldn't be able to see him before he walked over to the grave.

Reading the gravestone, he frowned.

'In Memory of

Jane S. Mitchell

May 7, 1961

October 7, 2003'

'Weird,' he thought to himself, crossing his arms across his chest.

10/7/2003 was exactly 7 years ago.

He remembered the name he read on the patient chart that very day: it was the name on the gravestone.

It didn't make sense that her mother would pass away when he had injected her with his blood.

His blood should have cured her.

That thought kept messing with his head and he had to know why.

Being a little obsessive, he got consumed by it.

He went to the hospital and went through the records of the deceased woman and saw that her death was due to the shit ton of fractures she had suffered from ie. his blood didn't cure her.

He couldn't understand why it didn't. It had never happened before. His blood wasn't flawed. It could cure any human illness.

"Hey, Benji did you get me that book I asked for?" Jesse asked his housemate over the phone.

"What book?" Benji asked in confusion.

Jesse rolled his eyes and said, "The Gaelic mythology book?"

"Right," Benji paused. "I have it but I have class now. I'll bring it over when I get home later."

"I'm actually on campus right now, where are you?" Jesse asked as he looked around for friend through his dark shades that were barely protecting his sensitive eyes.

"The quad," Benji's answer came fast.

"I see you," Jesse said spotting his friend then made his way to him.

"Are you okay?" Benji asked cautiously. "You don't usually walk around during the day."

"Yeah," Jesse shrugged.

Sunlight bothered him to no end but unlike what was common knowledge his kind didn't burst into flames once exposed to the sun.

"It's been a week and you're still acting weird."

"Donald is overreacting," Jesse casually said.

"You finish all the blood," Benji told him as he pulled the book from his back bag and handed it to Jesse. "I checked."

He wasn't in the slightest worried that Jesse would hurt anyone but he was a little worried about Jesse.

"You can stop looking at me like that, I won't rob the town's blood bank," Jesse said in a bored tone and sat down near his friend under a tree hiding from the sun and opened the book.

"Well, I better head to class," Benji announced.

"I'll see you later then." Jesse leaned against the tree.

The book was of no help and it frustrated him a little. It was the same old fairy tale that had some truth to it but wasn't close to the truth either. He didn't expect it to have all the answers, he just assumed it would offer him something he could dig into.

He looked up and sighed as he looked around him.

"You must remember this," he mumbled reading the title of the book that a ginger girl was holding in her hand while she laid on a towel on the quad reading near him. He smiled recalling a song that began with the same line. "You must remember this. A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply. As time goes by," he recited the lyrics from the song As Time Goes By and caught the girl's attention.

"Do you know the song?" he asked her watching her rest her weight on her elbows.

"Yeah, I've heard it before. It's a nice song," she nodded.

"Is the novel any good?" he asked when she put a bookmark.

"It's all right," she answered with a shrug.

"What's it about?" he wondered.

"A fifteen-year-old girl that falls in love with her thirty-year-old uncle," she informed him. "What's the song called?" she asked. "I hear my friend sing it sometimes but I never learned the name."

"As Time Goes By it's from the Broadway musical Everybody's Welcome but was made famous when Dooley Wilson sang it in Casablanca," he told her.

"Cool," she briefly said and looked away from him to grab her phone and laid back as she typed a text.

He looked back at the book he was holding and looked through it.

"Bec, your dad is making us read a depressing and very controversial novel." He heard the ginger whined five minutes later.

"Did you ask me to come over here so you could complain about my father? I have to be at work in thirty minutes, you know?" He looked up hearing the second voice because it was her.

"Ow," she exclaimed over exaggerating when her friend kicked her in the shin then nodded towards him.

He looked down at the book when the brunette looked at him. He focused his hearing and could hear the ginger whisper, "It's him, isn't it?"

"Uh-Huh."

"Go talk to him." He heard another kick.

"No."

"Jesus, Beca," the ginger dramatically sighed. "Excuse me," she said in a loud voice. "As-Time-Goes-By-guy," she added. He looked up.

"This is my friend that sings the song," she told him.

He smiled at her. "I bet she sounds great singing classic jazz songs judging from how great she sounded singing that pop song— how does it go?"

"Baby I like it. The way you move on the floor. Baby, I like it. Come on and give me some more. Oh yes, I like it. Screaming like never before. Baby, I like it. I, I, I like it," Chloe sang suggestively and this time was the one to get kicked.

"I know you," he nodded at the brunette.

"No, you don't," she countered.

"Yeah, I do. We met at a bar on your birthday," he told her.

"Right, Becs. He's the guy you made out with," her friend backed him up.

"He shoved his tongue down my throat, doesn't mean he knows me," she shrugged.

"I shoved my tongue down your throat?" he arched an eyebrow. She nodded. "I remember things differently," he said in amusement.

"I was drunk, okay?" she sighed. "My memory from that night is all foggy and weird."

"I'm not judging you." He held his hands up. "I am, however, Jesse," he introduced himself.

"I'm Chloe," Chloe said when Beca didn't say anything back. "She's Beca." She nodded at her friend.

"Pleasure," Jesse politely nodded at them.

"Is that in Irish?" Beca asked when her eyes fell on the book he was holding.

"Yep," he nodded. "You speak Irish?"

"Yeah, I know a little Gaeilge," she told him, calling the Irish language by its native name.

"This one is in Goídelc, actually."

"That's Old Irish, right?" she checked. He nodded.

"Did you study Irish or something?" he was asking next.

"Not really. I speak a little that's all." She paused. "My grandma taught me. Well, it was either I spoke Irish or she wouldn't acknowledge me," she deadpanned.

"She seems like a lot of fun," Jesse said as he eyed her up and down grateful for the sunglasses he was wearing that allowed him to ogle. She was well put together, in adorable, formal clothes that showed her distinctive fashion sense.

"She was." She nodded.

"How do you know Irish, Jesse?" Chloe questioned when Beca went quiet as she openly stared at him, rolling over and resting her cheek against her palm and looking between her friend and the man sitting under a tree not far away from them.

"I studied it," he answered.

"The Irish Mythological cycle," Beca said, translating what she read on the cover.

"Yep," Jesse affirmed when she looked up to check if she got it right. "Did your grandma sneak some old Irish when she was teaching you Irish?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Grandma was a strange woman, I wouldn't be surprised if she taught me a dead language." She pulled her phone from her pocket when it chimed with a text.

"I'm gonna get going," Beca said to Chloe.

"Don't forget to wear something nice for hood night," Chloe said. "Show off your boobs," she whispered and Jesse had to pretend he didn't hear her.

"Why?" Beca frowned.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You gonna have to at least and try to look cute and approachable if you want anyone to view you as girlfriend material."

"That's my cue to leave," Beca deadpanned. She waved briefly at Jesse while she smiled curtly at him before she turned on her heels.

"I won't go with you to adopt a cat when you're lonely and pushing thirty," Chloe hollered watching Beca walk away and laughed when Beca flipped her off.

She tilted her head to look at Jesse who went quiet after small interaction and found him looking at Beca. "four-o-four, five-five-five, o-three-one-one," she said loud enough for him to hear. "Don't call, she hates speaking over the phone. And don't spam her with texts messages, she'll think you're creepy." She watched him tilt his head towards her.

"Wouldn't she mind that I have her phone number without her permission?" he said when she grabbed her novel planning to resume reading it.

She shrugged in response. "Get into a monolog about Old Irish since she's clearly into it: that might help."