Later that evening I sat in the room I avoided for two months already. There was a time when two people slept on the wide bed in the corner, and the time when it was only my dad. Then, even he wasn’t there anymore.
In his place slept—or tried to—someone absolutely different.
I studied him from my seat next to the bed. JJ laid on his back on top of the covers, his fingers intertwined on his stomach. The strawberry-blond curls of his hair spread on the pillow like a halo. Instead of the normal assortment of light shirts and dark pants, he dressed down in a T-shirt and pyjama pants borrowed from my dad’s closet.
It was weird to see him like that, but no clothes could diminish JJ’s natural beauty. Just like no illness could. He was handsome and charming when half-starved and right out of the coffin and he was still all that when I could almost physically feel weariness coming from his bones.
“Are you sure you are comfortable, JJ?” I asked. With a smartphone full of insomnia- and psychology-related articles in my hands and a ‘patient’ on a bed next to me, I felt like a parody on a psychotherapist. God, this had potential for so many jokes.
“It shouldn’t be that important, ma chèrie. The sleep of my kind isn’t like that of humans, but yes, I’m comfortable.”
“Well,” I checked the bullet-list on my phone. “So, according to the articles, if the insomnia is stress-induced, the idea is basically to get rid of stress. If it’s some kind of anxiety, they recommend to analyse it, write about it in a journal or just talk about it, whatever you prefer. Or you might want to distract yourself instead, think about something relaxing.”
JJ hummed thoughtfully. “This is a hard choice.”
“I think you should just talk about anything for a start and then see how it goes. I will listen,” I said, tapping my fingers on my leg. The next words came out of me with a lot of effort, but I felt like I owed JJ some of the honesty he showed me. “I like to listen to your voice.”
A small burst of laughter, low and smooth, was my reward. JJ’s eyes shone with amusement and something else when he looked up at me. “Oh, so is this entire setup,” he gestured at himself, “just a ploy to make me talk? You should’ve just asked. I wonder what do you like to hear most. Is it love poems? Or do you, maybe, like to talk dirty? You don’t seem like the type, but in still waters…”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
I coughed and looked away to hide my embarrassment. “Well, wouldn’t it be more interesting for you to guess by yourself? And anyway, this is not for me, it’s for you! To distract and relax and all that shit.”
JJ laughed again. “You are distracting me just fine, ma chèrie. But you are right.” His eyes narrowed and his smile turned predatory. “I will guess on my own. Though, I think I already have an answer in mind…”
I looked at him questioningly, but JJ only stared at the ceiling in silent contemplation. Previous flirtatious mood fell from his face. I opened my mouth to ask about it, but thought better and just waited. I felt like JJ was going to talk about something important.
“For my kind, sleep is often an escape,” he repeated his words from earlier. “When a vampire tires from life, they sometimes wouldn’t wake up on their own. It is as if their subconscious mind pushes them away from the reality they grew weary of and into the nothingness of the small death.”
“Other times, it’s circumstances that push a person to avoid waking. Normally we would fall asleep at day so sunset awakes us. Even with no disturbances, a vampire in sound mind would wake up, eventually. But if they knew that there’s nothing on the outside to wake up for… Like I knew that staying awake would be much, much worse than staying asleep… Then they might sleep for centuries while their body slowly withers without sustenance.”
I swallowed. This is what happened to him. To be put in a box with no escape and with the knowledge that the best thing you can do in this situation is to sleep until someone opens it… No, wait, that was wrong.
I remembered clearly the day I woke him up. He banged on the coffin’s lid before I opened it, though it wasn’t immediately after I touched it, which turned off the seal. It began after I scratched my finger. JJ woke up because of my blood.
“It’s a strange feeling. Vampires don’t have dreams, and my sleep was just a moment of darkness between the periods of lucidity, but it felt like more. Like that single moment stretched and stretched for years… For decades.” JJ chuckled. “Which it did, really. Now I feel like if I ever were to dip my legs in that dark ocean again, it will suck me in and never let go.”
“I will wake you up,” I said without thinking. JJ’s eyes snapped to mine, and I gave him a determined nod. “I will wake you if you don’t do it on your own, so you will be alright.”
A puff of air left JJ’s lips, wrung into a bitter smile. “I wonder if I will forever be afraid of that darkness from now on.” Then that smile turned sly. “I wonder, ma chèrie, if you will wake me up with a kiss.”
I knew things weren’t so bad when JJ was outrageously flirting. “I’m not your Prince Charming, gah!” I shook my fist in indignation, but there was a grin on my face. “If you keep up with this, I will wake you up with a glass of cold water in your face!”
“Are you sure, ma chèrie, that you aren’t a prince? I find you positively charming.”
I was torn between continuing with indignation or thanking him for the compliment when JJ closed his eyes.
“I think I can brave this abyss now. Thank you, Diana.”