She looked up, their eyes locking. In his haste for a reaction, he clutched his chest above where his heart should be, hoping that that would get him inside that house and perhaps into her loving arms, if he could love him.
Gasping, Francesca opened the door and stared at him. "Are you alright? What's wrong?" She led him inside, sitting him on one of her couches and smiling, though fear was in her eyes. "Please…tell me."
"…My name is Ivan." His voice cracked; returning to its undead tone. "I'm sorry…for calling you earlier. I thought you knew me."
Standing beside the couch, she smiled. "No. I have never met you before, but you seem to be a pretty…well…" She backed away, regretting what she was saying. She barely—no—didn't know him. He could be someone ridiculous and, well…a pervert. It made her cringe at the idea that he may have invited a pervert into her home, but she knew how to defend herself if need be.
"…I love you." He said, trying to change his voice to one that was more like the one he had had in the memory of Charles. "…I'm sorry." Speaking such words; what did he know of love or any other emotion? Zombies were forbidden from feeling anything; they cared solely for self-preservation. Or so the stereotype went.
"You…love me?" She stared, curious of why he had blurted such words out. "You don't know me. Are you sure you're alright?"
"No…" Ivan gasped, his heart now really hurting with the idea of being so close to the love of his unending life. All the time in the world and all the power he could ever want, but it was nothing without someone to spend it with. "I really…I've met you before. Believe me." He tried desperately to correct his voice now; perhaps it would make her care more for him.
Honestly believing him to be mentally ill, she felt pity for him. "Here, you can stay here for a while. If you'd like, I mean. You need help."
Nodding, Ivan laid his head back and smiled. "Thank you." He closed his eyes, trying to appear as though he were asleep. Zombies never slept, but he needed to make it seem like he could.
She smiled and handed him a blanket, covering his body with it. "You need sleep, do you? You just rest here; I'll keep you safe."
Ivan kept his eyes closed until he heard her leave the room. He then sat up, staring into space. There were so many things he wanted to say, and yet none could be said. He had tried, but she had taken him for a fool.
He rose from the couch, wandering around the house. He couldn't even call her name, for he needed to behave like a normal human who had never met her before, as was the part he was playing.
"Excuse me?" He asked as he approached the lovely Francesca from behind, worried that he may scare her. She was so kind; he would never wish to scare or hurt her in any way. It was in his nature; he was an undead being now. "What is your name? I feel as though I should know."
"My name is Francesca." She turned, smiling. "Is everything alright? I thought you were trying to sleep."
"No, I'm fine." His voice was raspy; trying to keep him without a voice. There was so much he needed to tell her, and fate was stealing that away. First he had been turned to a creature of death, then he had been struck with an arrow of love, and now his voice was disappearing. Would he be left with anything other than his destroyed body? "Francesca…I-I…I'm…I love you. And I'm…not crazy. I just…love you."
Francesca seemed to notice a difference in his tone, and she stared at him in horror, or so he registered it as. It could have been anything, but he was used to that adjective and expected it no matter what the situation. "Ivan, what's going on? Are you…alright?" The final word was hesitant; she was unsure of what to say to him. He had arrived without a reason except a need for help, and he seemed to be deteriorating at a rapid pace. What was wrong with him? Was he sick? Or was something more wrong with him?
"I'm just…losing my voice." He smiled a toothless smile, not wanting to scare her too much. She was so kind and gentle; Ivan was blessed to know her. And his teeth…they would send her running for the hills.
She smiled, nodding and touching his clothed arm. "You can stay here as long as you need to."
His cold skin crawled at the touch. A human female…touching him. It was blasphemy; unheard of. He anticipated the screams that would come forth when Francesca felt his temperature and saw his true face.
"I would…be happy to." He smiled more, none of his teeth yet visible. "Thank you, Francesca. You…you are a good person."
"I do try." She said oh so softly, his half-dead ears drinking in the nectar of her words. If she or he were to die, or if his ears were to finally fail…he wanted that voice implanted in his mind. There were just so many things…so many things he would miss if he were to finally leave this world. His time here was limited; soon all of the humans he could feed from easily would be gone. And then…then he would starve, or be forced to revert back to his primitive ways. If the hunger grew great enough, he would have to try and eat his own flesh. He had learned as a child that the human body could provide for itself if only you indulged in its natural production of flesh tissue.
He felt a certain sting in his eye socket that made him think perhaps if he were alive, they would be dried out. It had been some time since he had blinked for show; his eyes no longer really needed that kind of liquid moisture. It brought back flooding, fleeting memories he had gotten from his sisters, but they were just flashes and nothing more. No, real memories were reserved for the living. Undead creatures possessed no such things.
"Ivan? Are you alright?" She touched his face, sending a flurry of nerves rocketing through him. His body stiffened, for there was no heart rate to be sped up nor was there adrenaline that could be pushed through those empty veins.
"Yes…I am fine." His voice began to return; he could feel it shape in his throat. "Please do not touch my face. It…I'm rather sick right now and don't want you to catch it."
If she only knew. If she only could understand how sick he really was; how much he hoped she would not become like him. Even if it meant her dying and him living alone forever, so be it. She was too immaculate and worthy of Heaven to be bound to the dying world with him.
Nodding, she retracted her hand, albeit slowly and cautiously. He was just so…strange. So wary and afraid of everything, yet he appeared to be so strong and powerful.
The hunger ached at him, and he bit his rotting bottom lip. "Francesca, I have to go." He broke away from her, backing from the reaches of her spell. "I'm sorry."
She grabbed his hand, eyes begging for him to stay. "Why? Your chest…you're probably still hurt. Please…don't go."
Staring at her, Ivan swallowed. "I swear to you, I'll be back. Please...just release me."
Reluctantly, she loosened her grip to free him. "Alright. But please come back. I don't believe you're really fine."
Only barely hearing his words, Ivan ran from that place and chased his hunger, focusing on someone who would be absolutely helpless and pathetic, but wouldn't make too much noise while being devoured.