“That handsome and feisty?” Amira questioned. “The vampire might win, but only in changing you. You would be a worthy addition to their undead army.” They saw each other so frequently, it took her a moment to realize they had never had a conversation, a moment, like this before. Just walking, being silly, only the two of them. Even when they were hanging out casually, it was with other people, inhibiting these kinds of random conversations and openness. “Promise me you’ll still be my friend even when you’re a vampire?” She asked, raising a pinky into the air.
Caelan was nothing like any guy Amira had dated before. At first, in those early stages of her crush, she had been able to use that to explain it away. He was a new friend and a new sort of person and she was curious - but that train of thought had not lasted long. The full weight of her feelings had crashed down on her soon enough and she had struggled beneath them ever since. She might not have been the romantic fool thinking she was already in love - but she couldn’t deny the amount of time spent with him on her mind, the amount of time spent wishing she could talk with him, questioning if she would look foolish for texting him for no other reason to see how his day was going.
“If you have to question whether I’d fight off a monster for you then I have failed you as a friend already.” She laughed softly. “You’re not the only one ready to do whatever they have to keep the other safe. Vampires, ghosts… throw in a werewolf even. I’ll fight him too, if it stood between you and a good day. Amira’s got you.”
“I would make a pretty good vampire,” Caelan thought aloud, “who could let such good genes go to waste?” That part was a joke. For the most part. Caelan was certain he wasn’t just delusional, but somewhat attractive. Maybe a little too certain. “Promise.” He wasted no time wrapping his own pinky around hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t let my head get big and forget who I am, I’ll have to make sure I still hang out with a few mortals. Or, you know, you could join the undead army too. We’d never die... or get old and wrinkly.”
His grin faltered slightly, as light as the topic was it got him thinking. “A friend,” he repeated, the question is that all I am to you? almost falling from his lips, but he pressed them together and didn’t let it pass through. What else would she call him? They had never done anything beyond flirting, usually when one was too buzzed to control what was coming out of their mouths. He had neither stated how he felt nor asked how she did, it didn’t change anything, he still had his reasons for the distance; but now he wondered. Was that how she looked at him? Did she genuinely see him as nothing more than a friend? The idea stung, more than it should have.
“You’d have it handled. A werewolf is basically a big puppy, anyway.” A small attempt to continue the conversation, but he was distracted. He’d continue to obsess over it until he asked. “Would I still be your friend if I wasn’t, you know,” Cae made a vague gesture in the air, “just generally a horrible person all around?” She’d heard more than anyone else, when he was forced to share in therapy. She wouldn’t know the extent of his issues, but she knew about his anger, his lack of self control, his graveyard of relationships and the string of broken hearts he’d left behind.
