1、leaning the w ...
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Imagine every life as a winding trail—the crossings between two such trails often happen in the most mundane, overlooked corners. Yet these very intersections can redefine the course of our lives, revealing themselves years later as moments of uncanny significance.And today, I simply want to argue that this holds true even for the immortals.
Take this: A vampire, centuries old, steps into a subway station.The last thing he anticipates? Stumbling into the most absurd (and perilous) subway "scam" of his eternal life.
Here begins the Inner monologue(of TOP):
(INT.Subway: Being pillow-fied by a stranger. )
V: Oh. Well, this is... unexpected.
The moment the small figure leans against me, my entire existence narrows down to that single point of contact. The warmth seeps through the fabric of my coat—subtle, alive, a stark contrast to my own unchanging cold. Humans rarely come this close, not unless they’re prey. And this one? Definitely not prey. Too fragile. Too... trusting.
He’s asleep.
I should move. Shift away. Let him slump against the window instead. But the rhythm of the subway lulls even me into a strange stillness, and the weight against my side is... not unpleasant. His breathing is slow, steady—trusting in a way that feels almost naive. Doesn’t he know what kind of world he’s in? That monsters don’t just lurk in shadows, but sit beside him in plain sight?
His pulse is right there.
I can hear it. Not loudly, not like the frantic drumming of fear, but a quiet, steady beat. It’s maddening. I’ve fed recently—I’m not desperate. But the scent of him, the warmth, the way his collar slips just enough to reveal the faintest hint of skin... It’s been decades since I’ve allowed myself to be this close to a human without intent.
What if he wakes up?
Would he recoil? Scream? Or worse—would he look at me with those sleepy eyes and not run? The latter terrifies me more. Humans who don’t fear me are dangerous. They make me forget what I am.
The train jolts, and his head slips further, resting fully against my shoulder now. Damn it. I could let him fall. I should. But instead, my arm shifts—just slightly—to steady him.
Pathetic.
Centuries of survival instincts, and here I am, playing pillow for some fragile, clueless mortal. If my kind could see me now, they’d laugh. Or worse, pity me.
But then... he murmurs something in his sleep. Nonsense words, soft and slurred. And for a second, just a second, I imagine what it would be like if this were normal. If I were still human. If warmth wasn’t something I stole but something I could have.
The train brakes. His eyes flutter.
Shit.
I tense, ready for the moment he realizes—the gasp, the scramble away. But when his gaze lifts, bleary and unfocused, he just... blinks. And then, with a small, unconscious sigh, he nuzzles back into place.
...
I’m in trouble.
---(later)
# H: (still half-asleep, mumbling) "Mm... s’cold..."
V: (stiff, barely breathing) "...You have no idea."
作者有话说
第1章 leaning
