Disclaimer: I don't own Wuthering Heights or Vampire Academy.
This one-shot is from Adrian's POV and I'm not too sure about his characterization on this, so tell me how I did. I was kind of going for one of his Spirit-induced moods.
His new source of trouble sprang from the not anticipated misfortune of Isabella Linton evincing a sudden and irresistible attraction towards the tolerated guest
~Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights~
It turned out that Sydney's dates with Trey were a regular thing.
Which is just great, of course. Sage doesn't have very many friends outside of us, after all. And we were vampires (dun dun dun) and the Alchemists only tolerated us for the "good of humanity," so whatever.
I don't care about Sage's personal life anyway. I mean, why should I? It's not like I care about her or anything. That would be stupid. Especially when I think of Rose every time the word 'love' comes up in a conversation.
Rose.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Who needs her anyway? Not me, I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Dimitri is the one who seems so fucking depressed when someone brings up the fact that he's a bajillion miles away from her. That's why Belikov flies back and forth between the Court and Palm Springs every other weekend. American Airlines workers adore him.
Which is just what he needs—a bunch of flight attendants drooling all over him.
Kind of like Trey Whatever-the-fuck-his-last-name-is. Ever since me and Sage busted Keith's vampire-blood-tattoo scheme, he's been starting quarterback at every single football game. And all of the girls—except Laurel and those very hot (stupid) girls Sage hangs out with—are all over him. I mean, what the hell? I'm ten times sexier and all-around better than he is!
I hope.
I can hear that voice in the back of my head saying no you're not, over and over again until that's all I can think of.
That I wasn't good enough for Rose, and now I'm not good enough for Sydney Sage.
Apparently, none of the time we spent together meant anything at all. She doesn't even seem to remember what she clearly sees as a mistake—and she dwells on mistakes like nobody else I know.
You're a vampire, and she hates you for it. She thinks you're unnatural—wrong even. You're just a sidekick to her, someone to help her if she gets into trouble. She probably doesn't even like your artwork. And she just wants you in those classes so you'll keep your demonic asshole-ness away from her.
You're just an assignment to her.
And that's what puts me over the edge.
The fact that I don't matter to anyone, and though I'm sure someone will tell me that's a stupid thing to think, it makes perfect sense to me.
Who wants to hang around a mentally fucked-up addict?
Sure, Jailbait is still unbelievably nice to me, but I'm driving her insane, too. I saw it happen with Rose and Lissa and I can't deny that it's happening now. I'm ruining a perfectly innocent girl—and I only wanted to save her. There's Castile, too. I'm "Just Adrian," to him. A loser who keeps screwing things up, no matter how easy people make it for me. Sage... I thought she believed in me, I really did, but she spending to much time with Trey to even spare me a single thought.
I'm worthless (stupid. insane. unwanted. patronized. demonic. a monster.)
The list goes on an on and on... and simple words turn into knives that cut into flesh and doubts turn into shadows too dark for me to look past.
I start to reach for the glass of wine I poured for myself earlier, and stop short.
Reminding myself that Jailbait probably doesn't want to be hungover tomorrow, I head over to the easel and tell myself that I need to express myself in a "positive way."
I try to think of something "positive." The only things I can come up with are smiley faces and hearts and that blonde chick from the Twilight movies, (and she's the only reason I went to see them, no matter what Eddie says.)
Finally, I get a spark of inspiration.
I begin painting, hoping that I'll get a lecture from Sage for this, something to let me know I'm not completely forgotten.
