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He’s getting closer to death, isn’t he? My perception on the length of a human’s life is still skewed, I remember when the average age to live until were the forties, or so. It’s around 80 now, right?
I don’t really have to worry, then. Julius is only sixty, and healthy for his age even with some problems. But I do worry. I have my father’s curse, of being immortal, and I worry that I share his curse of only being able to die by a Belmont’s hand.
Julius hasn’t had children. In these last few years that I’ve been with him again, I’ve come to learn quickly that this fact bothers him more than he lets on. It bothers me as well, for a similar reason.
I despise myself when the thought gets into my head. That if I’m not killed before Julius dies, I may never get the chance to die again... what then? I might become so bored with this life that I become like my father and grow careless for the Earth.
Another idea I have alongside that one is something that used to curdle my blood. It still does, but much to my own guilt, I’ve found I’ve warmed-up to the idea of turning someone I love and having them be with me in my eternity.
These two ideas have battled in my head for decades, even before I knew Julius was still alive. I was so fearful in the early 2000′s, my relief at having Dracula dead was overtaken completely by my worries that I would never rest. When I saw Julius again, I didn’t make it entirely obvious how relieved I was to see him. Part of that relief was completely selfish; I’d believed I’d gotten my ticket back to death.
Recently these thoughts have been eating me up. I occasionally see Julius, and in the past year I’ve become very aware of how his hair is turning predominantly gray and his voice is getting gravelly. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t fascinated by that. The passing of time for humans is far more obvious than it is for me.
Seeing him affected by his years like that was enough to get me worrying again, until this night when I stormed out of my apartment in a sudden anxiety-induced decision to visit the old Belmont... and my old friend. It would be wrong of me to pretend he wasn’t.
I stood on the step outside of his door, the home had barely changed in this last few years of his residing there, and I didn’t expect any changes this time.
I knew he would be awake even before I saw the light on in the window of his bedroom. It was midnight, and Julius’ worrying mind kept him up until one or two. I was expecting him to be tired-- hoping for it, at least. Yet at the same time, I wanted him to be aware of everything I was planning. I was going to keep up my stony facade, and I wanted him to know something was wrong when he looked in my eyes.
The handle of the door turned after I’d knocked. My heart stilled, and I suddenly felt like escaping... but the door was open before I could entertain the thought much further. Julius chastised me for visiting when it was so late, and I quickly realised that the Julius I’d gotten now was the tired one. I gave a short apology and asked to come in, and he paused... only to yawn. He invited me into his home like it was nothing. Like I wasn’t some predator who preyed on unsuspecting humans like him.
He didn’t stay at the door for long, leaving me to come in and close the entryway behind myself while he went to get drinks. I took my shoes off and got situated on the couch, hands folded in my lap. I could see him ducking behind the island in his kitchen to grab glasses, but I was soon staring at the floor with a melancholic reservedness. I kept trying to make sense of the reason I came here, going over it again and again in my head. I managed to snap out of my thoughts before Julius could realise. I heard him slide shut the door to the liquor cabinet and he was walking over before long to sit on the couch beside me, wine and whiskey in either hand.
He insisted on pouring us both drinks before he settled back and finally asked me what my reason for being there was. I didn’t even have an answer to that myself, so I told him I’d come to discuss some things, but that I would save them for later. He agreed, completely missing the lost look in my eyes as he sipped from his glass.
We spoke for some time about whatever was going on in our lives recently. Idle talk with silences between topics that lulled more heavily in some instances more than others. But we fell into easy chatting after a few minutes passed, and we rambled about anything. He even laughed at some points, and I felt myself smile faintly at others.
Our relaxed, happy moment trailed-off an hour later once Julius noted how he’d be getting to bed soon, and I was forced to remember every fear I’d had before coming here. This time, he noticed the panic in my eyes.
That panic was me realising that I didn’t want to be alone again. The drinks had helped us both loosen-up, but I enjoyed Julius’ company regardless and would rather we just talk forever than have to move on.
He didn’t say anything to me about my reaction, though, and I’d covered it up quickly. We spoke a little more, with less momentum than our conversation beforehand. Then I moved a little closer to him. I took stock of the outfit he was wearing-- obviously something he’d tossed-on after hearing the knock at his door. Or maybe he'd already been wearing it. A button-down shirt and jeans, with nothing special about them. In typical Julius fashion, he’d kept the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and his neck was unobscured by anything.
I realised as I checked him out just what this might look like to him, and I was reminded of it when I saw his eyebrows raise curiously. He leaned a little away from me, but didn’t move elsewise... not that he could, he was right against the arm of the couch. I didn’t let much time pass before we were sitting right beside each other and I was turned a little further towards him. He’d relaxed at this point, the arm he wasn’t using to hold onto his glass was set on the couch’s armrest. He didn’t make any comment on our position, now, simply trying to carry on our conversation, which I was quickly losing interest in. I felt that fear again, and I trailed off without much of a response to one of his questions.
We stared each other in the eye and I moved forward, taking his drink from his hand and setting his glass on the coffee table beside mine. He watched me the whole time, and I felt terribly for him. I felt ashamed of myself for tricking him now, for even beginning to attempt what I wanted to do here... but I was already in the process of it, and I was too prideful and afraid to simply back away now.
Afraid of simply going home and leaving Julius without answers. Going home and being alone again and continuing to fret aimlessly.
The both of us exchanged no words as I moved to get even closer into his space. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but his gaze was set on my face. I moved in closer and closer.
Once my hand was on his neck and I felt his pulse, he must’ve seen the sudden flash of hunger in my eyes. Maybe my body was trying to give myself away so I couldn’t go through with this heinous plan. I didn’t want to steal this man’s humanity, I didn’t want to rob him of a peaceful death, but my head couldn’t stop itself from lowering to his neck. My thumb pressed into his skin, a sharp nail cutting at it. My heart leapt.
But my fangs never found their destination. He’d put his hand firmly on my shoulder and pressed himself against the armrest like it would put much more distance between the two of us. I knew Julius could throw me into a wall, if he wanted to, and I braced for it, but he only pushed me back to hold me at arm’s-length. I saw something in his eyes. Flashes of different emotions. Anger, fear, betrayal... I couldn’t help the tears that started to fall from my eyes as he yelled exasperatedly, asking what I thought I was trying to do to him. I felt like a demon.
Blood from the one puncture of my monstrous claw stained his shirt, but I no longer felt the need to drink it. I was so afraid and ashamed, I suddenly had to admit out loud what I’d been thinking about for years.
Only, before I did so, I pleaded with Julius. I asked him to kill me. I would’ve stayed further-away from him if he didn’t keep his iron grip on my shoulders.
He could only stare, hurt and horrified as I wept openly and begged him to end my life. He was paralysed, and I only realised why after he questioned me a few more times, incredulously. It hurt him to see me hurt, I knew, but after what I’d just done, I didn’t expect him to bring me closer. He held me by the sides of my arms, rising off of the couch to meet me face-to-face. He asked me again, more quietly this time, what was wrong with me and I couldn’t say anything.
Then he pulled me into a tight hug, turning me onto an angle so my face could be pressed into his shoulder, the furthest area away from his neck. I noticed, and I couldn’t blame him for taking the precaution.
I was limp in his arms, the only thing I put effort into doing was grabbing his bicep weakly after a few quiet moments.
When had I last been embraced like this? And the way he hugged me... He cared about me even after it became apparent I’d tried to kill him. His arms were firm, and I eventually gave-up trying to plead with him and just fell silent against his shoulder. My tears stained his shirt, it reminded me of when I was young and would be comforted by either of my parents only to stain their clothes with tears, as well.
The both of us didn’t say anything for a long time. It was only when I nearly started drifting off on him that I jolted awake and sat back as he released me. I noticed the blood on his neck had gotten smudged, and I could see the red stain on my hair, but that was no one’s fault but my own. If he noticed, he didn’t care. All of his sleepiness from before was replaced with the neutral frown he usually wore when training or on a mission.
I got up and left before long, and he didn’t say a word to me as I escaped.