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May, 1983
It started as a lighthearted joke. Like a sweet strawberry-flavored nothing.
Mike’s mother sent a basket of fresh strawberries to the Byers family. It was a harmless gesture, like offering an olive branch, after Will’s mom had arranged for Mike to be taken home after elementary school for a whole week.
Mike loved spending time at the Byers’ house, even though Byers also refers to Lonnie. From time to time after the divorce, Lonnie would stay with the Byers, but the man was mostly innocuous and almost funny with his nonstop giggles. Sometimes his words could be harsh, but not that day, because Lonnie was sleeping on the couch, snoring loudly.
Spring was hot, especially that Friday, with the sun blazing down and the sidewalks steaming. It hadn’t rained for weeks; the ground was as rough as broken glass.
Mike had to struggle to keep his eyes open. Even though it was late afternoon, the air was dry and filled with golden dust, shimmering like an old photograph.
Just a while ago, he was playing with wooden swords in the garden with Will, but the yellowish grass was so prickly under their feet that they decided to lie down on the porch. It was the best idea after running for almost half an hour; Mike’s blue cape was heavy but perfect as an improvised blanket. Chester, the terrier, loved this idea too; he was lying there next to them, his purple tongue sticking out of his smelly mouth.
It was so cozy, like a dream, almost feverish.
Mike’s face shone with sweat, his cheeks flushed, his hair damp from running up and down the little hill, the driveway. His fingers sank into Chester’s fur; it was thick and smelled like mud. But it felt like home, a real home.
He watched his best friend sleeping soundly, clutching his dog’s fur. The sweat on Will’s face glistened, his lip trembled. His pointed purple hat slipped off, so Mike pulled it down gently, but then Will’s eyes flew open.
“Hey, Sorcerer,” said Mike softly.
“Paladin,” said Will shyly.
They were smiling and giggling as if they shared a secret with each other without saying a word.
Mike loved being here. He didn’t want to thank his mom’s flu for it, but this was his best week so far, always playing with Will the Wise after school.
“Your mom brought us strawberries.” After Will fell asleep, Joyce had set the table on the porch and pulled up two chairs so they could sit comfortably. “Chester can’t wait to taste them.”
It was a little white lie, because Chester was so sleepy underneath them, with only his tail twitching. Anyway, they raced to the spot closest to the bowl of strawberries. Of course, despite that, Chester was the winner. The first strawberry was his.
Mike watched his pink fingers digging into the bowl. It was like his next mission—something bloody and gory, to destroy all the strawberries.
Will might have thought the same way— his eyes were full of determination.
“Look, your lips are rosy from the strawberry juice!” Mike’s laugh was delightful. “It’s so pretty… I mean, pretty cool. Like you’re a vampire.”
Will had a certain magic around him, a sparkle in his eyes, some mysterious secrets that needed to be uncovered. Mike could feel it in his bones.
“It’s on your chin! Now on your white shirt,” Will chuckled.
“Oh no, my mother will kill me if she sees this!”
“It’s okay because you’re a vampire too. You’re already dead.”
“Immortal or not, she won’t care about that. I’m a goner…” Mike’s chair creaked. His eyelashes fluttered rapidly. He had to say it before his courage failed him. After all, he was Mike the Brave. “Anyway, do you want to try something out?”
“What?” Will smiled widely.
Mike was truly a good friend—no, more than that, a paladin—driven by a shining armored sense of justice. And he had a lot of questions—theoretical ones, of course. Like this one.
“What would it be like if a vampire kissed his beloved’s neck?” It was totally wrong. Mike jerked away. “I mean, it would be harmless, because this vampire is a count that only likes things that taste like strawberries. Count Berries. Count Merry-Berries. Always on the bright side of life.”
“Is this even possible? On the bright side… Technically, it would burn him.” Will was clutching a strawberry in his hand. It felt like a beating heart beneath his palm.
Mike took a big gulp. His hands were sweating.
He was twelve years old, almost an adult now, but his legs were shaking because his vivid imagination and his big mouth were running wild.
“He’s resistant to sunlight. He’s a sweet vampire, a sweet escape for ladies with his fruity-smelling breath.” This was getting worse.
“He’s a giant fruit bat.”
“Totally. So? What would you say to him?”
“What?”
“Kiss on the neck…?”
“Oh,” Will the Wise’s cheeks were as red as the strawberries. “I mean, why not? He’s harmless, isn’t he?”
“Sort of, no, yes. I mean yes—yes! He’s harmless.”
When Mike met with Will for the first time, he was sitting all alone at the back of the kindergarten, swinging. He looked almost like a tiny ghost. He was pale, but he was smiling nonetheless, as if his main responsibility was to make everyone around him happy. Mike felt a lump in his throat. This was his turning point. Will was different; he was a sensitive child with a lively imagination. And Mike? Like a shield protecting Will’s world.
And he was about to kiss his best friend on the neck.
For a moment, Mike thought that this was what it was like to be a vampire. Messy. Uncertain. And cheerful?
Will had a pleasant fruity scent; his skin was golden brown from always napping in the grass. His hair was wet from the warm sweat.
Mike leaned toward Will, closed his eyes, then took a brave first step, kissing his best friend’s neck with his rosy lips. It was fleeting, like a thought, vanishing in an instant. But the mark remained there, the reddish spot on Will’s skin. Mike’s face felt warm, and not because of the spring heat.
“So? What was your first vampire bite like?” Mike asked calmly.
“It wasn’t a bite, Mike.”
“Oh, then as a kiss?”
Will’s lips were nothing but a thin line. His cheeks turned dark pink.
“It was nice…” Will cleared his throat. “So, am I immortal as Count Merry-Berries?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Immortal together.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
Chester barked at them, demanding a few strawberries again. After that, Mike was quiet, as was Will, but it was pleasant, like sharing the silence.
Mike wanted a new story about Count Merry-Berries with the Sorcerer. Maybe Count Merry-Berries could be a paladin too.
So, here’s how the story goes…
Once upon a time there were two boys: one was a sorcerer, quiet and smart, the other, the paladin (vampire, aka Count Merry-Berries), was brave and kind-hearted. They were inseparable. They were innocence. They knew some secrets that adults could never have understood. Like a strawberry-flavored kiss on the neck.
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