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Izzy gasps awake, cold, wet, and confused. His long black hair sticking to his forehead. He couldn’t see a thing, and the only thing he could feel was a deep aching pain in his abdomen. Letting out a pained groan, he attempts to rise, but the muscles in his torso are screaming. Giving up, Izzy collapses back on the floor in a ball. He reaches up to swipe at his own face, managing to brush away a small towel soaked in cold water, the source of his lack of vision.
The light came flooding in as Izzy squinted up from where he lied prone on the unforgiving hardwood floor of their living room, managing to make out a blur of blonde hair and watery blue eyes staring down at him. Duff is fretting over him, asking him over and over what happened but he doesn’t know.
“Did you eat today?”
Izzy winces, Duff’s voice always so clear in his ears, it was a talent, truly.
“What do you want?” Izzy instinctively curls up tighter and moans some more.
“When’s the last time you ate or drank anything?” Duff’s voice is accusatory and concerned at the same time.
“Dunno. Can’t remember.”
Duff lifts Izzy into his arms and carries him to the couch, propping him against some pillows. “I’m making you toast, and you’re going to eat all of it.” There’s harsh emphasis on the end of Duff’s sentence and Izzy finds himself wincing again.
“No, I don’t want to. I’m fine. Food is just a social construct created and perpetuated by large-scale agricultural interests anyways.” Izzy’s eyes are rolling in his head as he struggles to maintain consciousness.
Duff let out a forced laugh. “Ladies and gentleman, the king of conspiracies!” He joked, sounding strained. The annoyance is palpable, and Izzy rolls his eyes in defiance.
Duff comes back with two pieces of toast and a glass of water. He almost needs to pry Izzy’s mouth open to get him to take a bite. “You know that you’ve got to eat a lot more often now that you’re mortal again, Izzy, what were you thinking? You do realize you could die, right?” Duff’s arm movements and gestures would have been downright hilarious to Izzy is he wasn’t currently trying with every fiber of his being to keep his food down.
“If I have to eat food, then why is it so fucking unappetizing?”
“That’s just the adaptation period, man. You’ll be able to eat and drink stuff and function like the rest of the world in a couple months or so. It’s only been like three weeks since I turned ya back.”
“But the thirst isn’t even near as bad as what it was when I was a vampire. How was I supposed to know I would pass out? I could go two whole weeks without drinking back then! I could even do three if I needed to. This body is disgracefully weak.” Izzy’s face is frozen in a look of pure hatred mixed with disgust.
Generally, Duff doesn’t take in the vampires he changes back. He never even stays long enough to watch the transition. He figures that once he’s done the good deed of turning monster to human, his job is done, but this one was different.
This vampire was stronger, and he was aware of what was happening. Through the entire process Izzy looked like he was in so much agony. When Izzy’s eyes met his, Duff faltered in his step, taken aback by the pain and emotion displayed in them and it made his heart ache. So Duff packed Izzy into the back of his car and drove him home and has been helping him since. Which has proven to be quite the undertaking.
Often, instead of bathing or eating, Izzy will resort to napping in lieu of taking care of his body. More than once, Duff has had to force Izzy into the shower. What’s truly ridiculous is once he’s in the tub, he never wants to leave. It’s exhausting, but Izzy has grown on him. Duff doesn’t think he could handle losing him. Which is why he must try so hard to keep him alive.
“Do you really hate being human that much?” Duff’s voice is so full of emotion that Izzy’s immediate response is halted in its tracks. For some reason, this matters to the blonde man.
“It’s not the human part I hate. There’s plenty about being mortal to fawn over. But I can’t focus on that when I’m in constant agonizing pain, and the only solution is to shove textured hot garbage down my fucking throat-hole.” The words are bitter and biting, but Izzy’s face has softened. He doesn’t mean to be so ungrateful. Being a vampire was great for the first few centuries.
However, finding purpose to keep going was getting fewer and further between and it’s honestly a miracle that Duff found him when he did. Izzy wasn’t hiding very well either to be honest. He wasn’t covering his tracks. He was walking the streets almost every night, practically begging a vampire hunter to come find him in this sick game of tag-suicide. But it wasn’t suicide. He’s alive now, really and truly alive.
“You only gotta deal with this ‘garbage’ for a little longer. When you start to develop tastes for things, I’ll buy you anything you want, man. Like I don’t know, Oreos and peanut butter or those tiny little pizza-roll things.” He laughs the last part out. “But ya gotta do one thing for me until then, okay?” Duff’s volume has decreased tremendously. He’s staring at the floor and his words are soft and choaked, almost as if he’s about to cry.
“…What do you need me to do?” Izzy asks, forcing Duff to meet his eyes.
“Stay alive for me. You’ve got to keep yourself fed, please Izzy.”
Izzy makes a choked-off sound deep in his throat. Never in hundreds of years did his heartbeat sound this deafening. There’s too much emotion, he doesn’t know what to do. “I think I can do that.”