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It had been three days, and Howleen was still talking about Edweird versus Alucard.
Twyla had really expected the topic to have passed by now, especially after the grand reveal of their shared identity by Ghoulia. There really wasn’t anything to be discussed anymore; Twyla had almost felt relieved when she had overheard Toralei and Howleen reluctantly accepting the attractiveness of both chiselled chins and dazzling dimples.
But somehow the names lingered in their conversations.
“They might be the same monster, but they aren’t in my heart,” Howleen said.
“Howleen, doesn’t this just come back to personality? They look identical.”
“You just have to look a little closer!”
Howleen started waving around her iCoffin, zooming into low-definition images of cheeks and jawlines, and diving into the “obvious” differences that Twyla had heard her explain a million times before. Twyla had always made it a point to listen to every word Howleen said, but there were only so many times she could look at a photo of a manster and stay entertained.
They were on one of their usual creepovers at Howleen’s den, sitting cross-legged, side by side on the pile of blankets Howleen always kept nestled on her bed. It wasn’t rare for one of them to look up from over their scarrots in the creepeteria and suggest an impromptu creepover, no matter what exams or assignments they had scheduled for the next day. Lending pyjamas and toothbrushes was a consequent given.
Twyla fiddled with her sleeve—one of Howleen’s countless loungewear hoodies—and glanced around Howleen’s cluttered room.
The walls were covered in posters, fanged celebrities smiling down at them from behind flashy guitars, and furred casketball players reaching for nets emblazoned with their signatures. Shining sports medals hung in rows across one wall, a cascade of silvers and golds, and reflected tiny flickers of light onto Howleen’s vanity. A worn soccer ball sat in a dusty corner, keeping a parade of stuffed animals company, and straps of studded belts lay scattered amongst piles of clothes.
It might have seemed like a mess to anybody else, but Twyla liked feeling cocooned in Howleen’s life. It was better than the dark and gloomy corners of the Boogey Mansion—no matter what Howleen said about the peace and quiet it held in comparison to the ruckus of a werewolf family.
Twyla tuned back into the conversation—Howleen had finally put down her phone—and grimaced when she realized Howleen had landed on debating which of the two vampires would be more likely to date a werewolf.
“I think it’s Alucard. I hope it’s Alucard,” Howleen sighed.
She was sitting hunched over now, one elbow propped up on her knee, and the weight of her head placed on the hand by her cheek. Twyla was leaning back, her hands planted behind herself on the mattress.
“I don’t know why you’re so fixated on them. Most mansters look the same anyway,” Twyla said disparagingly.
“Oh Twyla, you just don’t get it. When was the last time you found anyone attractive?”
Twyla shrugged. She had never had the same all-consuming obsession other ghouls seemed to have with mansters.
“Oh, c’mon. If we’re really talking about attractive, then Veronica Von Vamp is right there,” Twyla argued.
“Well—yeah,” Howleen responded lamely, “but that doesn’t count. Everyone thinks she’s pretty.”
Twyla chose not to press the issue and hummed indifferently.
Suddenly, Howleen collapsed backwards onto her bed, dramatically throwing her arm over her eyes.
“I wish I could be as pretty as Veronica Von Vamp. Then guys would actually pay some attention to me!”
Twyla huffed out an amused sigh, shaking her head. She gently leaned back and joined Howleen by her side, propping herself up with her elbow.
“Howleen, you can’t set your standards that high.”
“You’re right, I don’t have to! I can just look past my locker and compare myself to Cleo down the hall.”
Twyla pressed her hand against Howleen’s shoulder in a weak shove. Howleen barely moved.
“You’re way prettier than anyone else at school,” Twyla murmured.
“You always say things like that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then why are you the only one saying it?”
Howleen’s eyebrows pinched together as she said this, and Twyla immediately recognized that this went far deeper than Howleen was making it out to be.
“It’s okay if I’m the only one saying it because my opinion is the only one that matters,” Twyla said firmly, taking Howleen’s hand and pulling until they laid facing each other, huddled side by side.
Twyla then scooched even closer, locking her eyes right onto Howleen’s.
“Every day I get to see the prettiest ghoul at Monster High laughing into my shoulder, complaining about clawculus, and whispering into my ear like everything is our little secret. I think that makes me the luckiest ghoul in school,” Twyla whispered.
Howleen frowned, the tips of her canines poking out against her lips. She was nervous, Twyla could tell. Whenever she got antsy, Howleen started worrying at the skin of her lips with her teeth.
“Do you really think all that?” Howleen asked weakly.
Twyla rolled her eyes, making it clear that it was a ridiculous question to ask.
“Howleen, when you smile, your eyes do this thing where they curve into these happy little crescent moons, and your dimples poke out right—” Twyla placed a finger on Howleen’s cheek, “—here, and I don’t know how anyone could ever compare when all you have to do is smile to melt a heart.”
Howleen opened her mouth, then promptly closed it, averting her gaze.
That might have been a bit much. Too forward for someone like Howleen.
But Twyla decided to lean forward and raise her hand towards Howleen’s hair, gently tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Howleen almost jumped in alarm when Twyla closed the already limited distance between them, and she let out an awkward laugh.
“I almost thought you were going to kiss me,” she said uneasily.
Twyla didn’t really know if that was what she had meant to do or if their proximity was just as much of a joke as Howleen had just tried to make it out to be.
“Would you have stopped me?” Twyla asked.
There was a long bout of silence, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes, mouths close enough that Twyla could feel Howleen’s breath stutter against her lips.
“I… would have kissed you back,” Howleen finally breathed.
Twyla’s gaze flicked to Howleen’s lips, just for a moment, before she bridged the gap between them and offered a first gentle kiss.
It barely lasted a second or two, just a soft press of their lips—Twyla’s mind couldn’t help but snag on the thought of Howleen’s, they were so soft; lip-glossed and delicate, fur brushing along the edges and tickling the corners of Twyla’s cheeks—but the two of them were already left short-breathed and timid.
Twyla could see the slits of Howleen’s eyes dilating, and it almost made her feel like the moon.
She pressed forward again, and this time, Howleen met her halfway, their lips meeting in a longer kiss. Twyla’s fingers travelled to the back of Howleen’s head, scratching and sliding through the locks of her hair before resting behind one of her pointed ears.
While her tongue traced along the seam of Howleen’s lips, catching on the sharp ends of her fangs, she slid her hand along the length of Howleen’s ears. When Twyla reached the tips, curling her fingers around the ends, Howleen locked up with a small wolf-like whimper. Twyla drew her hand back immediately.
“I’m sorry, did that hurt?”
“No! Keep—”
Howleen cut herself off and grabbed Twyla’s hand, moving it back herself. Their faces drawn close, lips brushing, Twyla began to fiddle with the pointed ends.
“Feels good, huh?” Twyla said with a smile.
The low rumble of a growl built up in the back of Howleen’s throat, and Twyla hummed contentedly from the vibrations of it.
A moment later, Twyla let out a raspy moan as Howleen tucked her face into her shoulder, burrowing her nose into the crook of Twyla’s neck so as to restrain the little twitches that travelled from her ears. The fur of Howleen’s snout brushed against the sensitive inner skin of Twyla’s throat, and she couldn't help but swallow harshly when Howleen’s wet lips left a gentle streak of spit.
“I'm going to smell like you now, aren't I?” Twyla laughed.
Howleen pulled back and presented her own neck.
“Then let's get even.”
Twyla hesitated before biting down lightly on the exposed expanse of skin. She licked a long stripe against Howleen’s fur and drew back to stare at the sight of it, shiny and slicked back. She felt a bit strange about it—she was by no means a werewolf—but looking at the pleased expression on Howleen’s face was enough to feel satisfied.
“Howleen, you don’t have to be Veronica Von Vamp trying to get an Alucard. I’ll always be here to tell you that you’re pretty.”
“That's so cheesy!” Howleen groaned, and Twyla giggled as she was pushed back with a good-natured shove.
She had a feeling that Edweird and Alucard wouldn't be coming up again.