The Original's Legacy (GxG)

Fourty-nine

I'm purposefully gonna be slow on updates for the foreseeable future. one of my original, non-fanfiction books has occupied my mind a bit more lately and I need to write it down before that inspiration flops. but worry not, I've already started the next chapter. I'm like, a quarter of the way done, maybe? depends on how long it'll be. just know it's a heavy chapter.

comment your guesses why that is after reading this chapter :3
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"

Mel

It didn't take long to find my brother. He was in the kitchen, sitting on the island counter, drinking blood from a glass. But if the lack of thickness of the blood wasn't enough to tell that wasn't the only thing in the glass, the opened bottle of vodka gave that away.

"That is so... backward," I scoffed, watching his little self down the last of what was in the cup.

Mark looked at me, almost sizing me up before turning back to fill it up again. "You look like you could use some." He hopped off the counter to retrieve a separate glass, as well as a blood bag from the fridge. Turning back, he slid them both towards Mr as I reached the counter, then picked up the vodka bottle as an offer.

I shook my head, gratefully taking the blood. "Nah, I'd rather not."

"You do realize you're a vampire now, right? It's okay to drink."

"One, you've clearly never met an alcoholic vampire. And two, one rebellious teen experience was enough to convince me it's not worth it."

"Prude."

I rolled my eyes and poured some of the blood into the glass and took a long, very much-needed sip. And my goodness, was it amazing. More than older, unused hospital blood bags specifically set aside for us were supposed to be. "Is this fresh?"

Mark shrugged guiltily, drinking more of his concoction. I gave him a look, cocking my head. "I only took a handful from a delivery truck. And besides, this certainly beats those shipments Saltzman gets," he defended.

"Markus, you can't just steal blood bags on a whim like that. There's a process for a reason."

"It was only a handful like I said. And besides, Sheriff Donovan will ease any suspecting humans in a heartbeat. Not that I didn't make sure to cover my tracks."

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief, then went back to drinking my own (apparently stolen) blood bag.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I glanced up at him as he hopped back onto the counter, swiveling to sit criss-cross on it fully. "About?"

"The reason you look like shit."

"I– wow. Way to ease into it."

"I'm just saying. Something's wrong with you, and it's written all over your face," he said. He pursed his lips and tilted his head. "Something with the ancestors?"

I sighed very, very loudly because you-know-who's just popped up in my head, which is now racing. Because why? Why'd she kiss me?

I mean, I know why someone would kiss me, but why'd it have to be her? I mean. hell... I just– why me? And at a time like this?

"Mel? Seriously, what the hell is up with you? Is it about our ancestors?"

"No. It's–it's Hope, she..." I groaned and ran my hands roughly down my face. "What am I missing here, Mark? And why? Why'd she kiss me?"