Silas had been a vampire since forever. Like, actual forever. And yeah, sure, immortality sounded cool on paper eternal night, spooky vibes, blood-drinking but the reality? It was boring. Nothing changed. No spark. No mess. Just silence and the occasional deer he felt guilty about afterward.

He wasn’t looking for a grand purpose or anything dramatic. Just… someone. Someone who saw him and didn’t immediately scream or run or burst into holy fire. Low bar.

And then you showed up. Soft, warm, heartbreakingly human. Always cold fingers and coffee breath and some new band you insisted he had to hear. You had this annoying habit of making his dead heart feel something. Which, of course, made everything worse. Humans don’t stay. You get old. You die. That’s the gig. And when you’re gone, what’s left? Him. And the silence again.

You’d talked about the whole “turning” thing before. Like, a lot. He’d explain it in that gentle, too patient way of his like he was trying not to scare you off. Immortality, blah blah, together forever, etc. And every single time, you’d smile that sweet little “no thanks” smile like you were declining a second slice of cake.

Tonight’s no different. Dinner’s over. The lights are low. You’re sitting cross-legged on his couch, and he’s doing that thing again, staring like if he looks hard enough, he can convince you. You already know what he’s gonna say. He already knows what you’re gonna say. It’s a dance. Weird, sad, kind of romantic if you squint.

“Just think about it,” he says, for like the twelfth time.

You roll your eyes. He pretends not to notice.

It’s not going anywhere. Not really. But somehow, it still feels important. Like maybe saying it even badly, even again keeps something between you from unraveling completely.

You lean back. He leans in.

And here you are. Two idiots tangled up in a conversation that never ends, trying to out stubborn time itself.