Here it is! The multichapter oneshot epilogue/sequel to Sweet Nothings(one-shot story).
I don't think you have to read Sweet Nothings to get an idea of the story here, but a BRIEF SYNOPSIS: In Sweet Nothings, Violet meets a charming, kind young man at a cafe whom she later finds out is not only a vampire, but also a serial killer. He claims her for his own, and promises not to harm her.
. x .
Remember to live.
. x .
His eyes fluttered open, the blackness of his room stared back at him. Laurence brought his hand over his face, he could still see very well, so well he could make out the lines on his palm and tiny pores that existed there. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had whenever he expected an onslaught of a headache.
It never came.
The springs of the bed creaked when he dropped his hand back to his side. He stilled, letting himself be utterly motionless so at that precise moment all the sounds from the world outside his window seemed to seep into the cracks of his walls. He could hear them with perfect clarity: the hum of relentless cars passing by, the gears turning engines and wheels, the friction of rubber on asphalt, the soft hiss of steam rising from the lidless manholes, the footsteps on sidewalks, and the people making them. He took precedent over their lulling heartbeats above anything else. It brought about memories of his lips brushing against pulses, and the taste of euphoria that followed when his teeth broke through their skin.
Laurence sighed. Voices beyond his plaster walls penetrated his mind, thoughts that were anything but his own. If he were to let himself be vulnerable to the musings of others, he wouldn't know the difference between his own and theirs. He felt such contempt for the gifts he was bestowed that were, at times, a burden to him in death as it could have been in his mortal life if he had possessed it then.
Turning himself on his side, Laurence lay facing the standard double-hung window of his apartment flat. He watched the florescent lights of the rooms from across his building, and the passing glare of car head lights as they drove by. It gave his room a soft ambient glow that calmed the restlessness he had been trying to ignore. His muscles tightened, tensing at the memory of a girl with auburn hair and green eyes, smelling of blossoming violets in springtime.
Violet. She bore the name of a flower that was said to ward off evil, a shy and modest blossom that hid amongst the grass waiting to be noticed.
She brushed passed him in the midst of a swarm of people rushing by. It was a slight nudge on his arm and for an instant, her presence, the sound of her heart beating muted out all distractions. The scent of violets remained more than just a lingering aroma in the passing breeze. The inclination to follow her, to snake into the walking masses just to toy with the temptation of having her pulse beat against his lips had never been so engraved in his mind as it was that moment.
Laurence was satisfied in just watching her from a proximity, not quite too far, but not close enough for her to take notice of him. At a glance, she looked terribly ordinary to him, the type who never quite stood out. Her beauty, like a roadside blossom could be easily left unnoticed.
There was something endearing about her mannerisms. She had a meticulous nature, taking in everything with careful inspection. At times, he found her behaviors almost comical to the extent in which she carried them. He noticed, she loved order as much as she loathed its opposite. Yet, of all places, Laurence would always find her tucked away in a corner of a lively café, lost in a world she had conjured from the books she so greedily devoured.
It pleased him when she finally did take notice of him. She was a curious precious thing. His chest swelled with pride when she disclosed his own nature to him--that he was a son of Hades, a child of Night, the creature she had read so much about.
His sweet Violet handled the matter quite well--better than what he had expected from anyone else.
Laurence vividly remembered the softness of her skin when he held her face. She had a fragility to her, making him think she would crumble under his touch if he wasn't careful. He didn't quite understand the need he had for her, but there was no doubt, no uncertainty about it. He felt it inside of him, like strings tugging on his organs--his whole being hummed in her presence. Violet, whether she realized it or not, had charmed him from the moment his fingers brushed the side of her face. She had reminded him of what he once was, what he was now, and that he had forever to live on.
He frowned at the image of him fawning over her like an adolescent youth. Yet, he took enjoyment of diving into a place he had been avoiding for so long. He felt comforted at her knowing of him, of his true nature. Monsters, they say, wore masks to hide the blackness of their soul. He was no different. He refused to deny himself that little bit of hope that perhaps, she was the one to accept all that was in him, all the monsters he had tucked away in his being.