VLAD IS NOT A VAMPIRE [BL]

GREGORY

Vlad remembered that one day when he was around nine, and his mum was on one of her deep cleaning purges. She had taken out a massive bag of photos, handling the bag with such disgust, as if they were burnt memories. Without a second toss she had shoved them in the bin, and when she was sleeping Vlad dug the photos out and found pictures of his Father. He remembered staring at him for a long time, at the doused faded blonde hair, so unlike his own black locks, at his Father's blue sad looking slanted eyes, and that dazzling smile. It haunted his dreams sometimes, all those straight teeth, his tall weedy frame. He looked and looked at that photo so he could burn it into his memory, he never wanted to forget it. He even made up stories about his father. He'd be a kind, passionate man, who owned a bakery. No, not even a bakery, maybe a mechanic shop, or a florist. But Vlad made him out to be a small business type of man, who at the weekends makes chairs out of wood that Vlad can sit on when he's outside playing card games. And his Father would tell him he loved him, give him a kiss on the cheek. Ruffle his hair, sit with him at night and tell him wild stories from his youth. Then in the mornings he would make fluffy pancakes with syrup and strawberries, light coming in from the windows. He'd say to Vlad;

"Let's open up shop together."

Then Vlad will start setting up the cakes, or the toolboxes or the flowers and his Dad will wander across his shop with a relaxed ease, singing underneath his breath, his sad slanted blue eyes brightening at his own creation, and Vlad will say something like "when I'm older I'll take over this shop for you."

"No Vlad." He'd say. "You go and do whatever you want in life."

"But I want to stay with you."

"It doesn't matter how far you go Vlad, I'll always be here for you."

Then Vlad will laugh, and his Dad will tell him to have a good day at school, slip him five pounds and a donut, "get yourself something nice." He'd say and Vlad will run off to school, so blissfully unaware at how lucky he was.

Actually meeting his Father made him all types of nervous. He was at the airport, small and afraid. His social worker was standing next to him with a gentle smile. Her name was Keira and she had short brown hair and a forgettable face. She was a bit annoying as well, but Vlad was too distraught to dwell on it too much.

"I didn't expect your Father to live so far away."

Vlad made a non-committal noise. Too much was happening at the same time.

"I mean... Transylvania. Hah! I didn't even know it was a real place."

Vlad grunted again.

Keira crouched down to Vlad's small frame (he was still waiting for puberty to hit him). "I know this is a lot to handle Vlad. But I really think this will be good for you, you get to start again, start afresh in a new country. I was watching some travel videos about Transylvania, it truly is beautiful. You're going to enjoy it here, I know you will."

But Vlad didn't get the time to respond because he saw a crop of blond hair, sad slanted eyes, his Father. He turned away from Keira, marching over to the man with a determined gait.

"Dad?"

The man smiled hesitantly at Vlad, then looking over at Keira while waving his hand. "I guess I'm taking it from here?" Keira nodded.

"I've sent you everything you needed. It was nice to seeing you Mr Jones. I'm sure Vlad will be very happy."

Vlad's father nodded once more, watching as Keira left. He scratched the back of his head.

"So, uh, Vlad, you ready to get in the car?"

Vlad nodded. He had a strong urge to hug him but something about his Dad seemed off. He was nervous, too nervous.