Arson and Claire - Vamp-peers

Chapter Five

I jolt when my alarm wakes me up, and I slap it across the room, slightly impressed but mostly irritated when it doesn't stop. I hear Aldon in the kitchen downstairs say,

"If you break another alarm clock, I won't buy you a replacement."

"Fine," I groan. Without opening my eyes, I reach for the lamp on my bedside table but lose my balance, falling out of bed onto the wooden floor with a thud. I groan, blinking; my room is dark, as always; it doesn't have any windows, which was my choice; I chose the only room in the house without them. I use the term "room" lightly, since it's more like a well-furnished attic. I feel around in the dark to pick my alarm up from the floor and silence it, before finally standing and turning the light on, illuminating my little hideaway. Posters line the walls, and trinkets and various art supplies littered the floor and tables. I turned to the mirror, seeing myself in all my drowsy glory - which was little to none.

With a sudden - and painful - realization, I realize I slept with the wrong side of my face against my pillow, and I pull my hair back to look at my scars. The small burn that crawls from my chin to cheekbone from the first time I messed with fire is looking okay, even if it is a little stiff and irritated - I rub at it gently with my fingertips, trying to relieve the tautness. My newest addition still hurts to touch, though - the cuts on my lip and eyebrow from a scuffle a couple months ago. He decided he needed to take my right fang out with him, which sucked, because as advanced as the vampiric medical field was, there was no way to get a replacement fang that would extend and shrink back like a natural one. I sighed, walking over to my closet and throwing it open. Hair, makeup and wardrobe had their work cut out for them today.

I came down the attic ladder just as Aldon was setting our breakfast on the table. He was dressed in just a tank-top and sweatpants; he didn't like to get his "nice" clothes dirty cooking. I found my eyes wandering from the cup in his hands to his arms, along the long claw marks that crawled from his wrists to the middle of his biceps. I dropped my eyes to my phone before he noticed me staring; He didn't like to talk about them, so I didn't bring it up. besides, after living for so long, I'm sure he got into fights with other vampires, even if he was a pacifist. We've both got our no-touch subjects. I sat at the table, eyeing my plate with a smile. My breakfast was the same as always - a small steak cutlet still dripping blood, warmed up just enough to not be off-puttingly cold. His was a mug of warmed deer's blood and a plate of sunny-side up eggs.

"I still don't see why you like that stuff," I gestured towards the runny yolk on his plate as I lifted my fork.

"I can enjoy the taste. You like some human food too,"

"It's not about the taste, it's the texture," I stick my tongue out and take a bite of my cutlet. Aldon smiles lightly, but doesn't respond; his attention is on his phone. I knew what he was reading based purely on the colors reflecting in his glasses; the news website for vampires he checked periodically throughout the day. Sometimes he came across other people he'd known for a long time, and when I say a long time, I mean it. Aldon had lived through it all; the Salem Witch Trials, the signing of the Declaration, the Civil and both World Wars, even the Black Plague... sometimes it was really hard being next to someone who outranked you in pretty much anything - he's a seven-hundred and thirty-one year old Bloodborne vampire, whose bloodline was pure vampire all the way back, and I'm just a scrawny little eighteen-year old Halfie. I finish off my steak, drawing my finger along the plate and licking the blood from my finger and stand, taking my plate to the sink.

"How do I look?" I did a quick turn to show off my clothes - pretty tame today, with a black hoodie, chains, and my favorite red, ripped jeans. Aldon looks up and sighs, despite the smirk tugging at his lips.

"Like a delinquent, but I hear that's in fashion these days." he sips his drink. "Want me to pick you up after detention, or do you want to walk home?"

I groaned and took his empty plate, taking it to the sink to wash so I'd have something to busy my hands with - and not punch anything. "Don't remind me. I have to sit through an hour with that prissy princess, and then go play nice with her parents? Oh, god, what if she has siblings?"