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Summary
“Don’t freak out,” Virgil says slowly, not breaking eye contact with Jordan. There’s a heavy pause, but just when Jordan is about to tell him to get on with it, he finally speaks again. “I’m– I’m a vampire, Jordan.”
“Good one,” Jordan says with a laugh, but it’s humourless. Empty. Numb. “What’s really going on?”
“I am a vampire, Jordan,” Virgil repeats. He sounds tired, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose, and he stares down at the floor. His shoulders are hunched like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. Like he’s trying to shrink down until he doesn’t exist at all. Jordan’s heart would break if it didn’t feel like it was made of stone.