Don't ask.

After pudding, a kiss

As I swing open the door to my home that night, coming home after visiting a dear friend, I know it has happened again. I hear myself sigh as I remove my shoes and place them neatly by my other pairs of shoes, all expensive and hand-made. The scent of chocolate fills my nostrils until I think I might become nauseous from it. Chocolate, again. Has he not yet learned from the past happenings?

As quietly as always I cross the wooden floor of the hallway and enter the large sitting room. In the kitchen I feel the strong presence of a heartbeat, now growing more rapid and irregular by the second. He must have realised I have returned, I think absently, and try to find the words for another scolding. At first, none come. But as I stand in the doorway, scanning the clean, white kitchen I mutter a curse under my breath and sigh again.

“Daniel, there is no use in hiding from me. You know that now,” I tell him and walk over to the kitchen table, all while frowning deeply. He's left the bowl with the remaining pudding and vanilla sauce on the table- too busy hiding to remember hiding that too, undoubtely.

Were my scoldings that harsh?

No, I know for certain that I have been far too gentle with him, gone far too easy on him. But that matters not. Even without turning around I can tell that he has come out of his hiding place and is now standing over by the window, still covered by the thick, blue curtain. His scent makes my nostrils flare, and for a moment I take in the mixed scent of chocolate, sweat and slight fear. Ah, and of course, the always present innocence.

I turn to him, seeing that look of fear displayed in his green eyes, though he is trying so hard to hide it from me. He never can though. I am older by far too many years for him to shield his emotions. I am frowning still as I speak.

“Did I not tell you to stop this nonsense? That pudding of yours will only make you sick again. Our bodies do not require such nutrition. Though, I am certain it's not a very healthy thing to shove down your throat,” I scold him in a dry tone and go to pick up the bowl. He dares not look me in the face while I empty the contents of the bowl into the trash and wash it carefully afterwards. After drying it and putting it back I turn to him again.

He is looking at his own naked feet, clearly ashamed and guiltily over what he has done. My resolve fades. To stay angry with this boy is impossible. Swiftly I cross the kitchen in long strides and draw him close to myself in a hug. He feels stiff and tense in my arms. I lavish the top of his head, his ears and his forehead with kisses, whispering a soft apology for being so strict, when I in fact know I am always being the oposite with him.

Moments later he relaxes in my arms, and his own arms wind themselves around my torso in a desperate hug. I let him hold me in return for a little while before I withdraw and place a hand on his shoulder. He looks like a forlorn and utterly lost little puppy. I kiss his forehead again with a smile.

“Now, don't look so sad. I am not angry with you, Daniel. But you know how I worry when you eat human stuff like that, hm?”

He nods and pulls completely away from me, heading for his bedroom next to the downstairs bathroom. I shake my head and go to turn on the television. Fridays are interesting.

It is almost four in the morning when Daniel returns to my side. He sits down next to me on the couch, his shoulder barely touching my arm. I don't acknowledge his presence as I wait for him to speak up first. After a couple of minutes with nothing but the buzzing sound of the television and the voices coming from it, it happens.

“Why can't we eat the same things that humans eat?”

I expected him to ask a question of that sort. I look down at his innocent face and smile.

“Our digestion system can't quite handle anything but liquid food. It's one of the things that separate us from them,” I explain. He mutters a quiet “oh”, but doesn't seem quite satisfied yet. More questions are coming. Explaining things to a ten year old boy is not always easy.

“I know it makes me sick, I felt so bad last time. But the pudding tastes so good! It's so much better than our normal...food.”

I can see why he hesitates to call blood food. It's more like a very nutritional drink, really. I place an arm around him and pull him closer, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric of our clothes. He looks unhappy.

“It may seem that way to you now, but you will understand when you grow older. Blood is a necessity, yes, but also a thrill when you learn to savour it.”

He looks up at me with confusion swimming in those clear, green eyes. I chuckle and ruffle his hair, telling him that he will surely understand one day. I, too, had felt the same way, many years ago. Until I reached adulthood, drinking blood was such a tedious and dreary thing, even if it meant staying alive. He'll come to understand.

“Switch the channel, I want to watch that action show.”

I arch an eyebrow, but do as he asks of me. I don't mention that he should be brushing his teeth right now, or that he is at least five years too young for such a program. He curls up at my side, watching the screen with keen interest.