“Aaaaaaah, that’s the stuff.”

I lay, slumped on Bell’s couch - wait - maybe it’s my couch now too? I’m not sure how long the offer to stay at his house was for though, so I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.

But anyways, I lay slumped on this couch - the owners of which is to be decided - drinking a much lighter and crisper beer than I’ve ever had before.

Crisper? Crispier? More crisp? Ugh you get the point.

Wow my thought process is going wild today. Indecisiveness abound!

I guess this is what alcohol does to you though, nice stuff. This is the first time I haven’t had automatic recovery getting rid of the poison before I can even get intoxicated.

I understand the appeal.

Life has just been stressor to stressor since I’ve got here.

Finding this home, even though maybe temporary, has been nice.

Bell lives in a fairly dingey, small, single room apartment on the second floor of a complex. It’s not much, but it’s got everything you’d need to survive in it and in a way it sort of reminds me of the dark inn rooms I would stay in overnight during a visit to a local town.

For such a small room, it sure does have a lot of stuff in it though. Multiple rectangular and square shaped panels used for entertainment that Bell calls “computers” among other similar devices scattered everywhere.

Where I am now, the couch, is my living quarters - it’s so perfect. I don’t even need to move, and I can exist comfortably. I guess I can count myself lucky that Bell lets me say here.

This is the life, no worrying about food I need to collect and then having the gravity of my actions weigh down on me like a ton of bricks. There is a nice simplicity to this existence; although I know from being outside for a day, that this is not the reality that most of the inhabitants of this world find themselves in.

Take Bell for instance, he works all day almost every single day of the week at a business centre – an entire building dedicated to multiple different large businesses that work on different floors of the goliath.

Not going to lie, I don’t really understand what he does for a living – something to do with the most notable difference in our worlds. Everyone carries around little computers and little devices, glued to them as if they were a precious stone worth coveting.

Whatever he does, it has something to do with those things and making the content that those devices display.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Speaking of Bell, now is about the time he should be home.

I look up at the small, white clock on the wall; possibly one of the only things in this entire apartment that seems to work exactly as I remember from my own world.

It looks increasingly more modern than anything I am used to, but unlike most of the other things here – the function is the same.

I hear the jangling of metal objects, promptly followed by the opening of the front door.

“I’m home!”

Bell’s jovial tone sounds throughout the house, adding something key to the atmosphere it contains. There is a warmth that has been added to what was originally just a room with a drunk ex-vampire in it.

“Are you drunk again, Hiro?” He laughs as he notices the amount of beer bottles I have accumulated on the small, brown coffee table in front of the couch.

“I will have you know, good sir, that I do not get drunk – I am merely appreciating the taste of this brew.” I ramble on as I get up from the couch in response to him walking through the small hallway into the living room.

Plonk.

The second I get up to my feet, it is as if my entire body is doing somersaults internally. Suddenly my face is parallel to the floor as warm drool starts emanating from my mouth.

I didn’t feel this drunk when I was just on the couch doing nothing. What gives?

“Okay, maybe a tiny bit.” I grumble, disappointment audible in my breath as I lift my arm, motioning my thumb and index finger together to signal the amount to which I am inebriated.

I can hear Bell’s footsteps getting louder as they come towards me; unable to lift myself up, I roll myself onto my back in order to greet him properly.

“You’re on the floor.”

I stare into his eyes and blink.

“Yes, that does seem to be the situation.”

A smile erupts on his face.

“You better have left some for me you know.” He says as he walks off towards the kitchen.

Wait? Is he leaving me here?

I mean, it’s not like I need help or anything – but common courtesy you know! I roll my head back and forth on the carpeted floor.

Hey, this actually feels kinda nice. Who would’ve thought? It’s like I’m being cushioned and stroked like a cat – maybe this is why they like it so much.

Then it hits me, Bell is heading towards the fridge.

My body jumps up as if all this nights antics have faded away in a moment and I am back in action.

I did leave some beer for him right? I know I did, I would never be that thoughtless; so much of me is unsure about it though.

My eyes dart over to him in anxiety, I can feel my heartbeat rising at an unhealthy pace.

Bell opens the fridge, then promptly closes it and looks at me with a face I have never seen before.

Across the open-plan kitchen bench, and straight into my eyes.

“I’m sorr-“ I start to apologize, knowing that whatever this look means can’t be good.

“You’re funny, you know that?”

I’m funny? That is a word no one in thousands of years of existence has ever described me as.

That same giddy smile paints his face, as if he’s trying his hardest not to burst out into laughter.

He holds up a bottle of beer; something about it is peculiar though – it’s as if it has some sort of note on it.

I walk up closer to get a better look, it’s a yellow, square piece of paper stuck to the side of the bottle. Large black letters form on the note as I get closer, but before I can make out the words I hear Bell’s voice.

“Don’t drink this one you stupid vampire, you’re saving this one for Bell – he’s been hard at work all day and if you drink it, you’ll regret it.”

Um, excuse me? Stupid vampire? I beg your pardon?

I am a very smart vampire I believe.

Then it hits me.

Huh.

People really do the weirdest things when they’re drunk.