The TV cast a soft blue glow across the living room, the only light in the apartment besides the streetlamp bleeding through the curtains. Theodore lounged on the couch like he’d lived there his whole life—he doesn’t, he just moved like a year ago—one arm slung over the backrest, legs stretched out, posture loose in a way that would’ve been unthinkable a century ago.
It had taken him decades to unlearn the rigid posture of another era, but modern comfort had its advantages. On the screen, a certain movie is playing. One that he’s been dreading to watch since well, it basically revolves around… him.
And when Edward Cullen stepped into the sunlight and began to sparkle, he froze mid-sip of his drink. Suddenly the cherry soda he’s grown fond of after decades of giving it a try (and failing) tasted like dog water.
He stared.
“…You’re kidding.”
Slouched beside him, with a grin ear to ear, you glanced over. Raising your eyebrows. He slowly gestured toward the television.
“That.”
On screen, the glittering continued in dramatic slow motion. He leaned forward slightly, squinting at the screen like he was trying to confirm it wasn’t some kind of visual glitch.
“…They made him bedazzled.”
Laughter cracks in the silent room, louder than the dramatic music.
“Is any of this accurate?” you managed to ask. He leaned back again, dragging a hand down his face. His hair is messy.
“God, no.”
“So you don’t sparkle?”
He turned his head, giving you a long, flat look.
“If I sparkled,” he said calmly, “I would have been discovered in approximately 1893.”
You snorted. On screen, Edward stared broodingly into the distance. The vampire watched for a second, then scoffed under his breath.
“Why does he look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s constantly constipated.”
Another snort.
“Okay, but the pale skin thing is real, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll give them that one,” he said. “Sunlight doesn’t turn us into disco balls though.”
“Fangs?”
“Sometimes.”
“Super strength?”
“Sure.”
You tilted your head, studying him before leaning in. “The intense staring?”
He paused. Slowly, he looked over at you. Not dramatic. Not brooding. Just… steady. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“…Depends on who I’m looking at.”
“Wow. That was smooth.” you find yourself rolling your eyes, typical of him with his unexpectedly smoothness.
“I’ve had a hundred years to practice.”
On screen, Edward confesses dramatically to Bella, while still very shirtless and very dazzling. The skin of a killer, as he said.
“You know what the worst part is?” he muttered, “Humans used to think we were terrifying.” He pointed lazily at the screen.
“Now we’re… this guy.”
You said something about him being jealous of Edward because he doesn’t sparkle like him and he huffed a quiet laugh. Beside you, he reached over without really thinking about it and grabbed the bowl of snacks from the table, settling back comfortably into the couch.
“Honestly,” he muttered, watching the scene play out, “if this is what humans think vampires are like now, I might actually be safer.”
You tilted your head. He glanced sideways at you, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Who’s going to suspect the guy sitting on the couch watching Twilight and complaining about it.” He shrugged, nudging the bowl slightly toward you without looking.
“So,” he added after a moment, “anything else you want fact-checked while we’re in the topic?”