Chapter 6: A child once loved

Sorry for the late upload, I had a really bad day yesterday, so please forgive me and have fun reading

TW: PTSD, Childhood trauma

"Now, now..." Velor slumped onto the couch beside Zach, head lolling back. His jaw worked, wrestling with the aftertaste of Mable's brew.

"Damn, that's strong stuff," Zach gasped, slapping his damp cheeks. 

"Don't mortals need a sleep? Isn't it late?" His voice dripped with its usual sarcasm, but lacked any real malice. Almost... friendly, despite the obvious power imbalance.

His eyes flicked to the vampire sharing the worn sofa. Velor's gaze met his, those vivid blue eyes catching Zach's attention as never before. Up close, he could see the faint whorls of indigo in the striking azure - depths that he'd completely missed.

An unexpected flicker of attraction surfaced in Zach, drawn by the almost hypnotic quality of Velor's gaze. Those eyes weren't just flat colours. They held nuanced layers and shifting hues, creating a subtle, hypnotic effect.

Zach felt an unusual lightness settle over him as he held Velor's gaze, surprised at how quickly his guard dropped. Until now, every interaction had carried an underlying threat, the knowledge that one wrong move could be disastrous.

But in this moment, as he studied Velor's exotic gaze - the thick, long eyelashes, the molten whorls of colour - Zach's defences became strangely lax. An illicit pang of aesthetic appreciation blossomed in his chest.

He knew better than to read too much into a fleeting attraction. Velor was still the undead nightstalker. Yet Zach couldn't help but be drawn in by the allure of those hypnotic blues.

For a brief moment, existential hell raged elsewhere. In the surreal calm of their locked gazes, Zach felt something startlingly close to... comfort? Relief? A simple, grounding respite from the anxious morass of his battered psyche.

"Are you going to keep looking at me like that?" Velor's voice, soft as velvet, broke the silence.

Zach snorted, shaking his head a little as he rested his head back against the couch 

"It's a bit hard to sleep after chugging something that vile. Pretty sure it violates the Geneva Conventions."

His gaze followed the cracks in the ceiling plaster. 

"Fair point." Velor's smooth tone cut through the pounding in Zach's ears. "But it'll wear off eventually. Just give it time."

"I hope so," Zach muttered, grimacing as another tremor coursed through him.

"So you aren't busy today, I suppose?" Zach said, looking at Velor, who was already watching him.

"Are you going to kick me out? It's cold outside," Velor said with a playful lilt.

"Do you think I'm that cruel? I might look like a bit of an ass, but at least I'm not as rude as you were when we first met," Zach said with a huff.

"You're still bitter about that? I thought you'd forgotten," Velor turned to the side, fixing Zach with a gaze.

"Of course I still do. Did you ever apologise? No, you didn't," Zach said, frowning at Velor.

"I mean, even Mable said you were a bird turd," Zach added, unable to resist a dig.

"Well, she knows me better than I know myself, but yeah, I might be," Velor said, locking eyes with Zach.

"At least saying sorry wouldn't kill you," Zach prodded.

"I'm sorry," Velor said, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"Huh?" Zach sputtered, his confused expression mirrored in Velor's eyes.

"What?" Velor asked.

"I didn't expect you to say it that fast, I mean... for someone like you," Zach said, still frowning.

"What do you mean someone like me? You barely know me, smart guy," Velor giggled, the sound unexpectedly light and airy.

"Yeah, it might be better to keep it that way," Zach said, a hint of unease creeping into his smile.

"Why?" Velor asked, tilting his head slightly.

"You know why. You're a vampire, and vampires drink blood from humans. And I am a human. Simple as that," Zach chuckled nervously.

"It's not that bad knowing a human, though. I've known plenty of humans from every decade. They seem to like me too," Velor smiled, a touch of smugness in his tone.

"So you're plotting to add me to your 21st-century collection?" Zach's voice was dry tinder.

"Come on, knowing me isn't that bad. I know you could use a friend," Velor said softly. The corner of his mouth curved into a sly smile.

Zach felt his defences waver as warmth spread through his chest. Goddamn that disarming smile. Despite his best efforts, his lips twitched in a fleeting answering grin before he caught himself.

He clamped it down, hackles rising.

"How'd you know?" A prickle of suspicion crawled up his arms.

Velor's gaze lingered on the squalor. "Just look at the way you talk to people, and well...your lifestyle. It's obvious."

Jaw clenched, Zach tensed. "The first night you seemed like a grade-A asshole. You really think that a smile can change things so easily?"

Velor's serpentine smile widened. "I'm incredibly adaptable. Depends on the situation." He inched closer, looming presence thickening the air with menace. "Is my charm working its magic yet?"

Zach swallowed hard, gut churning. He couldn't let that twisted charisma disarm him, not completely.

"I mean, I don't quite like your word choice," he said slowly. "But...well, a friend couldn't be that bad, I guess."

The tension evaporated as a hesitant smile played across Zach's lips. For a fleeting moment, Velor's cool exterior cracked, warmth flickering in those piercing eyes as he returned the grin. Zach looked away, acutely aware that his behaviour lately had been erratic, swinging like a Viking in a theme park. But maybe, despite the whole vampire business, this was a good sign. After meeting the trio, his routine had certainly been shaken up. His life was now undeniably more colourful, even if tinged with a shade of red and he seems to like it

"Now it seems like Mable's elixir might be wearing off, judging by the aftertaste," Velor said, standing up and stretching. A genuine smile, revealing a flash of fang, spread across his face.

"I think I should let you get some sleep," Velor said, the smile softening slightly.

"We'll meet again soon. Don't miss me too much while I'm gone," he added, a playful glint returning to his eyes.

"Please, why would I?" Zach retorted, unable to suppress a smirk of his own as he walked behind Velor to the front door. Just as Zach was about to close the door, Velor grabbed it, peeking through the crack with a wink.

"And don't forget to drink that rotten juice," he said with a mischievous grin, fangs gleaming in the moonlight, before disappearing into the night

Zach closed the door, made a way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then walked to the bed where he'd planned to sleep what felt like hours ago. He dropped onto the familiar mattress and let out a heavy sigh. A smile tugged at his lips as he thought of Velor and their earlier exchange. The vampire had seemed almost... dreamlike. For a man like himself, Velor's appearance was undeniably majestic. He closed his eyes and sleep though the land of dream

The morning arrived with the jarring ring of his phone. Zach fumbled to find the device, buried somewhere in his blankets. He picked it up, but the caller's voice jolted him wide awake, causing him to sit up with an aggressive swipe to end the call before the phone could ring again. And when it did, he hung up again without hesitation. Then the buzz of messages came in like a thunderclap.

Don't ignore me.

You better know your place, son.

You should respect me.

Don't be a dog that bites its owner.

He flung his phone back into the blanket, pulling at his hair as sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart pounded like a crazed drummer, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The panic attack had seized him once again, its icy grip squeezing the air from his lungs.

He lay back down on the bed and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, seeking solace in its warmth. The soft embrace seemed to soothe him, easing the frantic rhythm of his heart and the raggedness of his breath. For a moment, the storm within him subsided, replaced by a fragile calm. His eyes once closed now from the heavy moment, he went back to sleep

The dream led him to a place he hadn't experienced in a while. The same house where he'd spent half his life. The faces of people he'd once shared laughter and tears with. The soft voices that used to soothe him after nightmares. It should have been a sweet dream, a comforting return to the past. But for Zach, it was a torment, a twisted echo of what once was.

"Son, wake up now. The sun is up," the voice echoed in his head.

"Isn't it the day you've been waiting for?" the voice continued, its tone insistent.

In his dream, Zach was small, a little child with a white blanket dotted with red squares pulled up to his chin. He looked up at the disembodied voices as if they controlled him.

"Now get up and get ready," the voice commanded, and the scene shifted to the living room, a place he had once loved for watching telly and reading books.

"Now sit," the voice said, pushing Zach into a tiny chair.

"Are you happy?" another voice chimed in, and a shadowy figure smiled down at him. Zach tried to answer, but no sound came out.

"Why don't you answer?" the voice pressed.

"Are you ignoring your father?" The figure grew larger, looming over him with anger. Zach tried to speak, but the words remained trapped in his throat. His younger self started to cry, further upsetting the figure.

"YOU ARE FILTHY! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER BROUGHT YOU ALL THE WAY HERE!" the voice thundered in his head.

Zach's eyes snapped open, his body drenched in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the night's humidity. The tendrils of a nightmare still clung to him, their ghostly fingers tracing the contours of his fear. He reached for his phone, a lifeline in the darkness, only to be bombarded by a barrage of texts from his father. The words burned into his brain, each one a barb designed to puncture his fragile peace.

He couldn't breathe. He had to get out.

He fled his house. His feet, seemingly with a mind of their own, carried him to a forgotten corner of his past - a dilapidated playground where he'd sought refuge from his father's wrath as a child.

The old playground was now abandoned, surrounded by overgrown grass and dirt. The rusty swings creaked in the breeze, a mournful chorus to his own inner turmoil. The once vibrant colours of the jungle gym were faded and chipped, mirroring the worn edges of his own spirit. He sank onto a bench beside the stagnant pond, its murky surface reflecting the broken fragments of his life. With a weary sigh, he picked up a small stone and sent it skipping across the water, each hop a tiny echo of the chaos inside him.

Despite its close to his childhood home – a place filled with ghosts of his past – the familiar surroundings of the abandoned playground offered a strange solace. The echoes of his childhood laughter were still woven into the fabric of the place, a bittersweet reminder of simpler times. He was thankful for the distance that now separated him from his parents, a chasm he hoped would never be bridged.

Once again, Zach's phone buzzed, breaking the monotonous hum of the dreary afternoon. This time, it wasn't the caller who'd cast a shadow over his day. It was his friend, Eva. He answered with a weary,

"Yeah?"

"Your mother called, and..." Eva's voice held a mix of exasperation and pity.

"Hang up. They're not worth the trouble," Zach cut Eva off, his voice cold, his words sharp as knives.

"I know, but they just showed up at my front door," Eva said with a sigh.

"Why did they do that?" Zach asked, his anger rising like a mercury thermometer in the sun.

"They said they want to talk to you, but it seems like you didn't pick up," Eva explained.

"Want to talk, my arse! Do you know what my father just texted me? He said, 'Don't be a dog that bites its owner'," Zach's voice rose, the words spilling out in a bitter torrent.

"I guessed as much. I told them to go back for now, but they seem serious," Eva said cautiously.

"Nothing's serious to them except for money and how they can make me suffer," Zach spat out.

"I'll hang up if you don't have anything else to say," Zach said, his voice thick with anger and frustration.

"Alright, alright. Relax yourself, okay? If you want me to come over, just call," Eva said, her voice soothing and calm.

"Thanks, Eve," he said, using her nickname for the first time in a long while, before hanging up the phone.

He sat there, lost in thought, until the midday sun pierced through the clouds and warmed his face. The gentle embrace of sunlight, momentarily eclipsing the chill wind, served as a stark reminder. He was no longer a child who needed to hide.

He might still be haunted by the trauma of his past, but his parents had crossed a line. They had disturbed his friend, and that was something Zach couldn't forgive. He wouldn't allow them to continue inflicting pain on him or anyone else he cared about. It was time to put an end to this toxic cycle, once and for all.

Zach pulled out his phone, scrolling through the contact list until he found his father's number. He hesitated for what felt like an eternity before pressing the call button. The phone rang briefly before a gruff voice answered, "Finally."

"What do you want?" Zach asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Come see your parents. Where are you?" the voice demanded.

"I don't want to," Zach replied, his resolve hardening.

"How can you say that to your father?!" the voice boomed, rising in anger.

"Oh, please. Just tell me what you want already," Zach said, his patience wearing thin.

"Fine, meet me at the restaurant at 8:00 p.m. You know which one. If you don't, I'll turn the world upside down to find you." The line went dead, the dial tone a harsh echo of his father's threat.

Zach let out a heavy sigh and looked up at the sky until his eyes ached. He stood up and walked back towards home, his steps heavy with the weight of the impending confrontation. His house was in the opposite direction of both the abandoned playground and his childhood home, a symbolic distance he clung to.

As he opened the door to his house, the comforting scent of his own space washed over him. The familiar smell of old books, the lingering sweetness of candle wax, and the faint aroma of the incense he liked to burn, all mingled together to create a sense of belonging. But despite the familiar comforts, a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. His best friend was already caught in the crossfire, and he needed someone else to lean on. But the thought of burdening anyone else with his issues made him hesitate. 

He shook his head, determined to push away the dark thoughts. A shower might help alleviate the anxiety gnawing at him. He quickly shed his clothes and stepped into the bathroom, turning the dial until icy water cascaded down. Even the chill in the air couldn't deter him from the bracing cold.

He stood under the spray, letting the water rush over his skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tendrils of his nightmare. His mind drifted back to similar situations he'd faced before, the familiar sting of his father's words, the suffocating feeling of being trapped. But the icy water seemed to numb the pain, calming him more effectively than any other time he'd stepped under a shower.