Journal Entry 20

January 3rd, 1946

The holidays have been such a blur.  I never really expected to celebrate considering we’ve been wandering the desert for months.  I was pleasantly surprised, but then when am I not pleasantly surprised when it comes to Cyrus?

This year I took it upon myself to get my vampire traveling companion a gift.  It was not an easy task, considering we move at night and he is almost always with me.  I managed to flit about at a market early one afternoon just before the others of our caravan started to stir.  I bartered some fine alcohol away and in exchange purchased a pair of boots in Cyrus’ size.

The vampire oddly takes pride in his appearance and considering we travel as much as we do, our footwear tends to end up absolutely in shambles.  They are nice boots, obviously made for traveling but comfortable and attractive as well.  I felt silly and yet accomplished for having found something to give him.

I figured that gifting a man a pair of sensible shoes did not really give much away.  Though I longed to give him something far more sentimental, I dared not.

Our Christmas celebration included the entire caravan cooking over a large fire and then singing and dancing under the moon light.  It was not exactly a traditional Christmas, but people exchanged gifts and moods were high.  When I gave Cyrus his gift, his eyes grew far brighter than any lit tree.  We were happy.

Of course he gifted me more than I could have ever asked.  I do not understand where he comes up with ideas nor where he gets the time to shop.  How does he slip away from me and purchase things without my knowledge?  His thoughtfulness knows no bounds.  I am kept always in sweets, in pens and good paper, in fresh lab coats, and this year a fine pocket watch that plays a tinkling tune when you open it.

His friendship spoils me.  Yes, friendship.  I must remind myself at all times that this is a friendship.  Or something akin to it.  I am still partially a prisoner that he refuses to let depart him.  It is not as if I have anywhere to go, but I romanticize our relationship when the truth is that I am addicted to his blood, and I am not certain he would let me leave with my life, if I tried.

The New Year was as Christmas.  The caravan built a bonfire and danced about it, drinking spirits and being joyful.  I was happy for most of the evening.  Even Cyrus took to sipping alcohol and indulging in japery.

As the chiming of midnight approached, I spied Cyrus out on a dune by his lonesome, nursing a bottle.  I approached him cautiously, turning my eyes towards the stars in the same way that he was doing.  I was silent, waiting to see if he wished to speak.  After what seemed like an eternity, he turned his attentions to me.  He looked up at me, eyes shimmering like the stars above. 

It always takes my breath away, when he stares up at me with such intensity.  I find it hard to put into words what it is like to have someone so beautiful and powerful, looking ‘up’ at you.  I find it incredibly erotic and have always wished he would up on his toes to kiss me.  But that is neither here nor there.

What happened next threatened to cause me to faint.  He reached up and placed a warm palm against my cheek.  I froze in place, becoming stiff.  I held my breath and my eyes must have been wide and round with shock.  He said nothing at first, leaning up and bringing his face towards mine.  I could smell the strong alcohol on his breath.  I thought that the moment had finally come; I thought he was actually going to kiss me.  However, his own eyes became wide and he seemed startled, frightened, perhaps even horrified at what he was doing.

He drew back quickly and instead reached for my hand.  He gave it a tender squeeze, brought it to his lips and kissed my knuckles before stating ‘Happy New Year Lorenz.’  Then with that, he turned away, not meeting my gaze.

My heart shattered into so many pieces that night it surely must have turned to sand and been committed to the desert winds.  I know not what he was thinking when he realized his drunken folly, but the look upon his face twists in my gut. 

I have to rid myself of my need for his blood.  I have to get away from him.  I simply cannot live like this forever.  I do not care if this is my punishment for all the wrongs I have committed.  Some days I believe I would rather die than have my heart broken over and over again.

I do not just desire Cyrus the Elder Vampire.  I am completely and madly in love with him and I do not know how to make it stop, but somehow, some way…I will.

Goodbye for now Journal.

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