Chapter Two

An Unlikely Hero

Arthur found the only thing he could do was stupidly gape at the supposed vampire in front of him.

Alfred, oblivious as he was, noticed this response as a negative one and immediately looked offended. "Hey, what's with the face?" he asked angrily. "Is this how all humans act? Or are you just dumb?"

Snapping out of his astonishment, Arthur glared just as heatedly back at Alfred. "I'm not stupid." he simply stated. Calmly, Arthur walked towards the little iron table at his bed's side where his candle was, lit it with the ball of light (he had somehow managed to maintain it throughout all the commotion), and faced Alfred once again. "However..." he drawled, lifting the candle by it's handle and making his way back to his guest. "You can't possibly be a vampire. Much less a pure-blood." Arthur's eyes were scanning every part of Alfred's body, practically boring right through him.

"I thought we settled this already." Alfred heaved. "You summoned me and here I—"

Arthur wasn't listening. He placed himself right in front of Alfred, still going on with his explanantion, and set his candle down on a stack of books next to them that was as tall as his shoulders, absently thinking for a moment how impressive they were for surviving the earlier scuffle.

"—so being the hero I was, I came for y— graaah!" Arthur had stuck his fingers in Alfred's mouth and began stretching it wide open at the corners of his lips.

He tip-toed steadily to get a better look, and let his hands prod at Alfred's teeth. "...You have fangs..." Arthur said aloud, almost to himself. "...but they're actually rather small..." His left hand was still holding Alfred's mouth open by the edges while his right fingers grazed along his upper teeth. Slowly, Arthur's hands gently trailed from Alfred's fangs to under his front teeth, examining everything thoroughly by light touches.

That was a mistake, however, since Alfred took that as an opportunity to lock two of Arthur's fingers between his teeth with a considerably painful grip.

"Fucking hell!" Arthur cursed, tugging his fingers uselessly. Even though it was Alfred's most middle teeth that had barred him, he wouldn't consider this situation any better than getting bitten by Alfred's fangs.

He opened his mouth to chant an offensive spell, but Alfred spit his fingers back out, almost disgustedly.

Now grimacing, Alfred used the back of his palms to wipe little trails of drool that made its way out of his mouth from Arthur's exploration. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you want me to suck your blood." Looking none to pleased about that prospect, Alfred crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Arthur, who was busy wrapping his now-free fingers in his cloak to dry it and stop any bleeding.

"I most certainly do not!" Arthur quickly shot back. He went quiet though to think for a moment. "However, you're quite free to bite the other humans in the area." He smiled deviously, thinking of his neighbor, Francis, who wouldn't be expecting to be mauled and attacked by a vampire anytime, especially at this instant.

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, but out of what looked like confusion and slight surprise. "Nah, that's all right. I had a bite before I got here." Instead of looking at Arthur though, his eyes were surveying the room he was in.

It had gotten considerably brighter. The sky outside was no longer a damp blue, soft streams of early morning light were oozing their way into the dark room. It had gotten easier to see where they had gotten into that scuffle when Alfred first arrived, and the many old books and journals Arthur had thrown were open, scattered all over his room.

He found it much easier to define Alfred's appearance too.

Even in light, Alfred's eyes seemed to glow a dazzling sapphire. Although Arthur briskly dismissed that just as another part of his feature as a vampire. That's one thing the books got right, he thought irritably. Still examining his face, Arthur trailed his eyes at Alfred's hair and how it could be considered a golden blond— albeit it was quite messy and he had a peculiar bit of it standing up-right at the right side of his hairline where his hair parted. His body, Arthur quickly recognized, was clothing as such from the 1700s (he had met at least two spirits from that time period that all too gladly explained to him the politics and fashionable garments of the time they were still alive). It was a simple outfit— a plain white long-sleeved shirt, with a trail of buttons coming down the middle and sleeves rolled below his elbows. He wore tan breeches and large boots that reached just right under his knees. He was also dirtied with dust and light spots of dirt in some places. Arthur wasn't sure if it was his own doing or if Alfred had came here that way.

When he traced his eyes back to Alfred's face, it was then he noticed that Alfred had just been analyzing him intently as well. He was looking at Arthur very curiously, but said nothing. Suddenly feeling very embarrassed and insecure, Arthur's cheeks pinked and his eyes directed their way to an old book shelf to the left, facing his head away from Alfred's prying eyes. "Er..." he voiced loud enough to hear. It didn't feel like he was being eyed as food by some gruesome monster. Alfred resembled a normal human— in more ways than one— so much that Arthur's incredibly awful social skills began kicking in and he felt like he should be talking to him about something like the weather or what he did over summer break instead to ease the uncomfortable silence .

"...Yes?" Alfred finally responded. He tilted his head a bit to show that he was listening even though he was still dragging his eyes all over Arthur.

Not wanting to maintain that awful silence, Arthur, head still turned away, looked at Alfred and finally said what has been on his mind the whole time. "You're not what I expected." Still feeling uneasy, his right hand clasped his left elbow.

Alfred shrugged and put his hands in the pockets of his breeches. "Well, to be fair— you're not exactly what I imagined you'd be either," he said straightforwardly. It wasn't filled with any sourness or disappointment, nor relief.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked hostilely, no longer feeling insecure. "For your infor—"

"Do you think we can talk somewhere else?" Alfred interrupted. He swung his hands in front of his face. "It's really dusty in here."

Arthur really did want to argue that he didn't care and that it was his fault anyway, but he had only slept for at the least, two hours, and had been working vigorously hard earlier. Thus, he was already too exhausted to unnecessarily start another pointless squabble. "Fine. But we have to be careful. My brothers are upstairs and—"

Again he was interrupted by Alfred who shouted "Great!" and now had Arthur's hand in his. Alfred was leading them over the piles of books and strange wooden objects riddled all over the floor towards the wooden staircase that soon brought them into the kitchen.

"Wow..." Alfred gaped as he examined the various appliances and other kitchenware. Before he could ask what the toaster was, Arthur remembered that his brothers were shortly going to be awake, and with Alfred's hand still holding his, he clasped it back and led them outside into the backyard. He had grown some considerably large shrubs and ducked behind them, dragging Alfred with him.

"Ow! It pricked me! What is this?" Alfred said, rubbing his scratched arm.

Arthur gave Alfred an annoyed look, but answered. "They're barberries. I sometimes use them in my potions. And aren't you exaggerating? It's not like this can kill you."

Alfred pouted. "Well... yeah! But that doesn't stop it from hurting!"

Arthur thought quietly for a moment at that. He scooted away from the barberry bush to the softer shrub that was next to it and leaned against it. "You should be impervious to physically feeling anything besides objects like silver or holy objects though..."

"That's not true! I can feel tons of things— I mean, like, everything!" Alfred said defensively.

He was reminded of what Alfred had said earlier. "What did you mean... when you said I wasn't what you imagined me to be."

Alfred went quiet, then scooted towards Arthur until their shoulders were almost touching, and pressed his back against the soft shrub too. Only to get away from the thorny bushes, Arthur thought, unnecessarily justifying Alfred's sudden closeness. "Just... what you meant too when you said the same thing about me I guess." He even repeated the same shrug just as he had previously done the first time. But when Alfred listened to himself speak, he realized that that answer wasn't good enough and tried reconfirming to Arthur what he meant. "Like... Where I come from, humans are described as... Well, not like you!" He stretched out the last word, pointing his finger straight at Arthur.

Arthur's heart sank. The outcome of summoning a vampire was having the exact opposite effect he was hoping for. He was expecting to find a creature he could share his cynical feelings with and divulge him further into the occult. And here Alfred was throwing at him the same words he was trying to run away from everyday by his peers, his neighbors, and his family.

Noticing that he was not getting yelled at, Alfred once again realized that that probably wasn't exactly the best answer either. "Er— no! I mean— It's a good thing! A very good thing!" Apparently, he had also noticed Arthur's now watering eyes.

Keeping his eyes and head down, Arthur was still quiet, not bothering to listen to what Alfred was saying.

Urgently now, Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrists and lifted them up towards himself so Arthur would have no choice but to look at him now. Arthur's head had shot up at this in a panic.

Now that Arthur was looking at him with all of his attention and wide eyes, Alfred began once more. "Look, ugh, sorry... I'm no good with words, see..." He was being very sincere, Arthur noticed— painfully so since he wasn't used to being treated in such a heartfelt way, and he allowed Alfred to continue. "...But, yeah... Where I come from... We don't have humans. Only stories from the elders in the village, and they don't say nice things about you guys." He let out a light chuckle, and Arthur was slowly understanding what Alfred was trying to say. "Like how they said humans are weak— compared to our strength, that is— but you were throwing those books at me awfully hard..." Another chuckle. "Ah, and are naturally cruel and despicable! But you invited me here and showed me a bunch of interesting things! Like that strange light earlier! You still haven't shown me how you did that, by the way..." Arthur was still silent, not knowing exactly what to say. "They also mentioned how horribly ugly and haggish you all look... but... meeting you..." His eyes scanned Arthur once more. "That's not true either." Alfred had that thoughtful look he had when he was examining Arthur in his room, only this time his cheeks were dusted with a light pink.

Arthur couldn't help it when his cheeks did the same— and with much more color. He kept his eyes on Alfred, even as the other looked away and let their hands drop, and decided that maybe he liked this vampire better than the ones in his books.

Author's Note:

I'm so glad that people are actually reading and enjoying the story so far! ;u; Ah, and even though I spend about half a day on each chapter it looks as if I've only done a few hours work. Three pages on Google Docs doesn't seem like much on here, does it? But the story is progressing faster than I intended and I'll try making the chapters longer!

I had a sick day today and I've got a three-day weekend ahead of me so there should be a nice flow of updates!

Ah, and I knew I should have explained this in the first chapter, but here goes. Another definition for "stayer" is a person who has great endurance or perseverance. And having to deal with Alfred, who doesn't happen to be a typical vampire and the opposite of Arthur, Arthur needs as much endurance and tolerance as he can muster! I hope that clears things up a bit!