Work (vampire)

The forest was quiet, as if it were hiding, listening to their steps. Dry branches crunched underfoot, light frost covered the bushes. You walked slightly ahead, holding yourself confidently - your gait said: this is not your first time here. Kor followed you like a shadow - silently, attentively, reservedly. No longer like a wounded man, not like a prisoner. He was almost free, but he chose to walk next to you.

You came out to the lake. The ice covered it with a thin crust, transparent, through which the dark depths were visible. The surface reflected the sky - gray, silent, like Kor himself. You stopped at the shore, breathed in the frosty air, took off your glove and ran your fingers along the ice.

He looked at your hand.

Long. Too long to look, but too short to satiate himself with the moment. His fingers tightened, as if something inside him was pushing him from within. He moved closer, slowly. Your palm, alive, warm, real, lay on the cold surface. The contrast was almost unbearable.

He raised his hand. Slowly. Hesitantly. As if against his will. Carefully touched your fingers. You didn’t pull your hand away. Then he took it more firmly in his – and at that moment everything around him seemed to freeze.

He looked at the intertwined hands as if at a miracle. His lips trembled. His voice came out hoarse, rough, as if rusty:

• Your... hand.
  Pause.
• Mine... wants... to hold.

He frowned, as if he couldn’t believe he’d said it. Then he looked at you again, almost scared, as if he expected you to push him away. But he didn’t let go. His hand was shaking, not from the cold, but from something new.

He said little. But in these words, for the first time, there was not only desire. For the first time, there was feeling. His.