Sierra PoV

My attempt at verbally confessing my attraction towards him was fruitless. Although, whilst I listened to him, the relaxing tingles rushing through my scalp seemed to assuage the disquieted anxiety I felt and continue to experience. I don't want him to go back up there, not with all the foreboding bereavements that have a high probability of emerging the moment Max enters this house. I stand as he arises from the tattered couch, giving a smile as he leaves and giggling slightly at his joke.

"Thank you by the way. I mean, for that conversation" I express my gratitude in both words and smile. I watch as he leaves, biting my lip as I know there is something I must do. Something my attraction towards him enforces with clement emancipation.

I have a tendency to jostle those away who wish to care for me. Not because I'm not appreciative for their desire to help, but because it infringes the nature I have been conditioned to obey. In my household, I am the adult, the mother of two brothers because the biological one is engrossed in an abating marriage that persists to force maltreatment upon her each and every day she is embroiled within those vows she articulated in 1964. No matter how many times myself, Aunt Madeline, or even her estranged sister, Amara, implored her to file for a divorce, with each person willing to make a financial contribution, she wouldn't leave, passing the wouldn't off as a couldn't instead, as if he has her shackled to the marriage.

I don't want to be like that with Michael. I don't want to alienate him when he tries to help. Somehow, I haven't lost any friends over it as they appreciate it is my nature. With Michael, I want him to stay. No way am I messing this one up. He goes to the door. I don't want him to exit that door without knowing one thing. All the courage I have constructs together inside of me as my footstep motions forwards. He could die up there. Even if he isn't in the mood to die, that won't be an immediate excusal slip for Max not to slaughter him. Now is the time I really need to get over my damn pride. I open my mouth to speak.

"Hey, Michael, wait up!" I shout and stride hurriedly over to him, not running as the vertigo of a tropical storm is arriving once again.

I feel like I'm in a romance movie, without the cliché gusts of mellow wind spontaneously engulfing the scene just in time for the exchange of affection between the two characters. My pulse races at the speed of light; I can't believe I'm actually going to perform this, something I would never do. That is, unless I'm deeply attracted to someone. I think of the features of a great kiss I read in a passé teen magazine that I read sometimes to laugh at more than educe advice from it. Great breath, I had mint-flavoured mouthwash earlier and thoroughly brushed my teeth earlier. Moist lips, well, I was applying lip balm with a vanilla essence as if I foreshadowed myself doing this.

I reach him, and just after seeing the glint in his virtuous eyes that have captivated me, I tilt my head and lean in. Before I can even realise that I've accomplished my objective of informing him of my affection for him, our lips are caressing each other gently. It's official to say that is quite possibly the bravest thing I've achieved. It is out of my comfort zone, trespassing from my nature. But somehow, I feel overwhelmed by this advent respite, the compassion mutual between Michael and I. I can certify, this won't be the last time we see each other.

After a few seconds, I steady myself back onto the balls of my heels, smiling at him with satisfaction. On the inside, my teenage subconscious self is exhilarated in an energized haven, congratulating me whilst squealing over that little piece of courage that broke the introvert glass surface, and triumphed.

"You could say I kinda needed to do that" I laugh, completely absorbing the euphoria. Melancholy soon incompletely infests me as I realise Michael could die up there at Max's hands. Though he is physically strong, as a newborn vampire, from what David told me, they are not robust in other matters. With my thumb fondling his stubbly cheek, I continue to smile at him, not allowing any of the sadness I feel to appear. "Take care of yourself, okay? I'll be down here afterwards. Even if I'm asleep or whatever, wake me up when it's over. I wanna know that you're okay"

Mike PoV

As much as I do not want to leave Sierra, I have to. David's in my mind telling me I have to be up there ready before Max's on his way. I try not to think of the fact that it might be my last night alive, or whatever I am currently, but that's not so easy, but I won't show this worry to Sierra and especially Sam. I may say I'll be back down here when it's over, but I think we all know that it's probably not going to happen.

At Sierra's words, I pause on the steps and look back at her, returning a smile. It was good to see her giggle, instead of looking so serious.

Sierra catches me by surprise as she runs up and kisses me on the mouth. She was a little withdrawn and shy before, so this had been very unexpected, but I return her kiss, which doesn't last long enough in my opinion.

"I'll be back and wake you, when it's over." I grab her hand and cup it in mine. It was almost a promise to come back. "Hey, one way or another, I swear I'll be back for you." I lean in and give her a small kiss before turning and running up the stairs.

:: Had your goodbyes?:: David's thoughts question me.

"Whatever." I remark, which gets the four of them to chuckle.

Now the waiting game shall start. We have no idea how this will end, but we're going to try and make sure Max is the one a pile of ashes, not us.

Sierra PoV

He's coming back for me. Abstaining myself from rejoicing like a thirteen year old girl would when she discovers yet another aspect of growing up through a first kiss, I just smile at him, watching as he leaves, that vow 'I swear I'll be back for you' affixed to my memories, even in this silently lustrous reverie. The kiss on my lips still avidly shivers, the fervent warmth waiting until he comes back.

Subsequent to locking the door behind me, a form of supplementary protection from Max as I can feel the fire dwindling, I stagger back over to the dilapidated couch, slumping onto it and commence searching through my bag for something more comfortable to attire. Feeling the supple fibres with my fingertips, I know I have located my cherished Aztec print sweater which my cousin owned in the 70's before she decided to lend it to me, which soon converted into gifting considering I helped her pass an English re-take two years ago. Removing the jumpsuit, I soon change into the woollen sweater that swamps on me, but nevertheless insulates my body from the vampire's imposing frostiness.

All I can do now is pray that Michael and everyone else sacrificing their lives up there will subsist. It's all I can do in my mind currently until Michael comes back to me like he assured me he would do romantically. I grab The Great Gatsby and turn to a random page, the words crumbling as I attempt to read them. Before I can even try to do anything else, the electric lights begin to recede, and its then I know, I won't be conscious for much longer...