The ghost of the past is like a persistent ex—no matter how much you try to move on, it keeps showing up with old baggage.
Ghost of the Past
I looked at Lil, amused by her surprised expression as I pulled ingredients from her kitchen cabinets. She leaned against the counter, her curiosity evident.
"I didn't know you could cook," she remarked, clearly intrigued.
I shrugged nonchalantly as I began chopping vegetables. "I can. I just don't like to. I prefer having others do it for me."
As I worked, I noticed Lil's eyes widen in surprise. My knife moved with a practiced rhythm, slicing through the vegetables with skillful precision. "You're quite good at this," she commented, a hint of admiration in her voice.
Glancing up briefly, I gave her a grin. "It's a useful skill. You never know when you might need to disassemble a vampire corpse."
Lil's gaze followed my movements intently, and a small laugh escaped her lips. "I guess that's one way to look at it."
I chuckled, the memory bringing a smile to my face. "Let's just say I tried to care for someone. Cooking seemed like a good way to heal them quicker. I ended up setting off the smoke alarm and making a mess that would put a tornado to shame."
Lil laughed, shaking her head.
I shrugged again. "I learned from my mistakes. If I'm going to cook, I might as well do it right."
As we worked together, Lil's initial hesitance turned into confidence. We fell into a rhythm, our movements synchronized. The kitchen filled with the sounds of chopping, sizzling, and the occasional clink of a pan.
"So, cooking, huh?" Lil said, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "It's a bit like magic, don't you think? Combining elements to create something wonderful."
I raised an eyebrow. "I never thought of it that way."
We fell into a comfortable rhythm, our movements in sync as we prepared the meal. "You know," I said, as I expertly sliced through a carrot, "Alex is an incredible cook. He's always experimenting with new recipes. I swear, half the time I'm afraid he's going to turn our kitchen into a chemistry lab."
Lil's eyes widened in interest. "Really?"
I chuckled. "Yep. Alex's cooking skills are top-notch. Rolo, on the other hand, is a bit of a disaster in the kitchen. But it's fun to watch him suffer. He cuts onions in swimming goggles."
Lil laughed. "Sounds like a fun dynamic."
"It is," I agreed. "Alex can turn the most mundane meal into a gourmet experience. And he's always eager to cook for us. It's one of the things I appreciate most about him."
Lil's expression softened as she listened. "I miss home-cooked food," she admitted. "I haven't had time to cook lately with everything going on. I've been relying on takeout and the occasional restaurant meal."
I nodded. "If you miss it so much, you're always welcome to come by our place."
Lil looked surprised. "Really? You'd invite me over just like that?"
I shrugged. "Of course. Alex would enjoy the company, and I'm sure he'd be happy to cook for you."
Lil's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and something deeper. "It's just... you're the first person in a long time who's invited me over for food."
I paused, realizing the weight of her words. The loneliness she must have felt, masked by her independence and strength, was evident now.
"Well," I said, offering her a reassuring smile, "if you ever need a break or just want a home-cooked meal, you're always welcome."
Lil's gaze softened as she looked at me. "Thank you, Shay. That means a lot."
We continued cooking, the conversation flowing easily as we shared more about our lives. The kitchen was filled with laughter and the comforting aroma of the meal we were preparing.
The aroma of the food filled the room, a comforting scent that seemed to ease the weight of our earlier conversations. We sat down to her table to eat. Lilinette took her first bite, and her eyes widened in delight.
"This is amazing," she said, savoring the flavors. She took another bite, clearly enjoying the meal more than she intended to, letting out a soft, contented hum with each mouthful. Her eyes sparkled with genuine pleasure and she seemed completely absorbed in the taste.
I watched her with a growing smile. She looked so unguarded, her usual poise slipping away in the face of such simple joy. There was something endearing about the way she practically melted into her seat with each bite. It made her seem almost...
"You know," I said, unable to hide my amusement, "you're really cute."
Lil's eyes shot up, and she froze mid-bite. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she quickly set her fork down, looking both surprised and embarrassed. She fumbled for words, her usual confidence momentarily lost.
"What?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
I chuckled, finding her reaction both charming and amusing. "I guess it's been a while since anyone told you that, huh?"
Her gaze fell to her plate, and she tried to hide her blush behind a strand of hair that had fallen over her face.
I tilted my head, studying her. "It's clear that you don't get many compliments like that. You're always so composed and in control, it's easy to forget you're not some unflappable enigma."
Her lips curved into a tentative smile. "I guess I'm not very good at... handling compliments."
I nodded understandingly. "Well, you know, it's okay to enjoy these moments. You deserve to feel good every now and then."
As the meal continued, Lil seemed to relax a bit, though her earlier awkwardness lingered. As Lilinette finished her meal, she moved seamlessly into the task of clearing the table. Her movements were precise and graceful. She began gathering the dirty dishes, her hands expertly stacking them as she moved about the kitchen.
I watched her from my seat, unable to look away. As she stood at the sink, her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, adding to the relaxed, almost domestic atmosphere. I found myself lost in thought, observing her. Her usual air of aloofness was gone, replaced by a more relatable, human side that I hadn't seen before.
My gaze lingered on her, and I couldn't help but reflect on the contrast between the powerful, enigmatic figure I was used to and this moment of ordinary simplicity. The way she concentrated on the task, her delicate fingers moving methodically over the plates, was both intimate and oddly soothing.
I thought about the loneliness that must accompany her existence. Despite her strength and the mysteries she carried, here she was, engaging in the simple act of cleaning up after a meal. It was a reminder that beneath the layers of her complex life, there was a person who cherished these small, unremarkable moments of normalcy.
Once the last dish was dried and put away, Lilinette wiped her hands on a towel and turned to me, her expression softening into something almost content. There was a quiet satisfaction in the air, a calm that had settled over us after the shared meal.
"How about a movie?" I suggested casually, tilting my head toward the TV. "I promise not to pick anything too terrible."
Lilinette blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. "A movie?" she echoed as if the idea hadn't even crossed her mind.
"Yeah," I said, shrugging.
For a moment, she seemed to consider it, her gaze drifting to the DVDs and then back to me. There was a flicker of hesitation, but it quickly gave way to something else—a spark of curiosity, maybe even a bit of longing.
"Alright," she agreed, her voice laced with a hint of surprise at her own answer. "But if it's terrible, you're the one taking the blame."
I grinned, grateful that she was willing to let the day unfold in this quiet, unplanned way. "Deal. I'll take full responsibility."
As we moved to the living room, I flipped through the stack of movies, looking for something that might suit the mood—something light, maybe a little nostalgic, nothing too heavy. I could feel Lilinette's eyes on me as I browsed, as if she was studying me, trying to understand why I was still here, sharing this small, unexpected moment with her.
Settling on an old classic, I popped the disc out of its case and walked over to the player. As I fiddled with the controls, I couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the DVDs stacked haphazardly on Lilinette's shelf. Who even used DVDs anymore? Most people had moved on to streaming ages ago, but here was Lil, keeping it old school. There was something almost charming about it, a nostalgic throwback that felt strangely fitting for her.
I thanked my lucky stars that I'd spent countless afternoons as a kid watching movies with my brother, messing around with our old DVD player until we knew every quirk and glitch it had. Those hours of figuring out which buttons to press, how to navigate the clunky menus, and even the occasional struggle of unjamming a stuck disc suddenly felt oddly useful.
I slid the DVD into the player, hoping it would actually work without a hitch. The machine whirred, and I let out a breath of relief when the screen flickered to life.
I turned back to the couch, where Lil was watching me with an amused expression. "What?" I asked, settling next to her.
"Nothing," she said, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Just didn't think anyone else would know how to work that thing."
I laughed softly. "Hey, I'm not that young."
She chuckled, shaking her head.
I sank down onto the couch next to her. The movie filled the room with a warm, familiar glow. Lilinette leaned back, tucking her legs under her, her posture slowly relaxing as the film began.
As the movie began, I glanced over at her, taking in the way her shoulders relaxed, her eyes softening as she allowed herself to get lost in the film. There was something endearing about the way she watched, fully immersed and unguarded as if she'd allowed herself to forget the weight she usually carried.
It was a quiet kind of peace, a fleeting moment where everything else faded away, leaving just the two of us and the flickering images on the screen.
As the credits rolled, I stretched out on the couch, pretending to watch the names scroll by. In truth, I couldn't recall a single plot point from the movie. If someone had asked me what it was about, I'd be at a complete loss. I hadn't paid attention to the characters or the dialogue—my focus had been entirely elsewhere.
She didn't seem to notice me watching, lost in the world of the film in a way that made her seem softer, almost vulnerable. It was a side of Lil I rarely got to see—a break in her usual sharp edges and guarded demeanor. I found myself drawn to it, lingering on the curve of her cheek, the slight quirk of her mouth, the way her fingers absently played with the hem of her sleeve.
As the final credits faded to black, she glanced over, catching me mid-stare. I quickly turned my gaze back to the screen, pretending to stretch my arms overhead like I'd just been lounging casually the whole time. But the slight tilt of her head told me she wasn't fooled.
"What'd you think?" she asked, her voice pulling me back to reality.
I smirked, trying to act like I had even the faintest clue. "Oh, you know, it was… good. Really, uh, thought-provoking."
She raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You have no idea what it was about, do you?"
I laughed, unable to deny it. "Not a damn clue."
She snorted, shaking her head with an amused glimmer in her eyes. But there was no judgment there, just an easy comfort that made me realize I didn't need to pretend. Not with her.
(...)
I tossed and turned on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answer to my restless mind. The house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. Lil had gone to bed a while ago, and I'd opted to stay on the couch—half to keep watch, half because it was the only polite choice.
But sleep didn't come easily. Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under, though it was a light, uneasy sleep.
I woke suddenly, the instinct honed by years of training kicking in before my conscious mind could catch up. I sensed a presence hovering over me, and without thinking, I grabbed the hand reaching toward me, twisting my body to flip the intruder onto the couch. In one fluid motion, I pressed them beneath me, my weight pinning them down against the cushions.
It wasn't until I looked down, panting and adrenaline still rushing through my veins, that I realized who I had pinned. Lil was sprawled beneath me, her eyes wide and stunned, her breath catching in her throat. The faint moonlight streaming through the window cast a silver glow over her features, accentuating her shocked expression.
Her hair fanned out around her head, and for a long moment, neither of us moved. I felt the heat of her body against mine, the erratic beat of her heart under my palm where I'd pinned her wrist. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she blinked up at me, utterly caught off guard.
"What the hell are you doing?" I breathed out, still caught between reflex and recognition.
Lil swallowed hard, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "I… I was just going to wake you. You looked like you were having a nightmare."
My grip on her wrist loosened, but I didn't move away. There was something vulnerable about the way she looked at me like she'd been caught somewhere between concern and fear. Her lips parted slightly, and I could feel the tension simmering in the thin space between us.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, still hovering over her. "Reflexes."
She nodded, her eyes searching mine as if trying to figure out what to say next. "I… didn't mean to startle you."
I finally eased back, releasing her wrist and letting my weight shift off her. She sat up slowly, still watching me like she was trying to read my every thought. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, barely visible in the moonlight, and something in her gaze that was hard to define.
"You okay?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling a mix of embarrassment and lingering adrenaline.
"Yeah, just... didn't expect that." She chuckled nervously, running a hand through her tousled hair. "Guess I should've just let you be."
A small smile tugged at my lips. "Maybe. Or maybe I just need to learn not to toss you across the room in my sleep."
Lil laughed softly, the tension between us easing just a little. But as she sat there, catching her breath, I couldn't help but notice the way she looked at me—like she was seeing something different, something unexpected. And maybe I was seeing something new in her, too.
Lil sat back, still a bit shaken, her fingers absently tracing the line of the couch's fabric. I could see the flicker of curiosity in her eyes, tempered by hesitation. She glanced up at me, her expression softening, and for a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the distant clock, the quiet pulse of the house around us.
Tentatively, she asked, "What were you dreaming about?"
I paused, caught off guard by the question. It wasn't something people usually asked, and certainly not something I was used to answering. My gaze drifted away from her, my mind trying to grasp at the fading edges of whatever had pulled me into that restless sleep. But it was like trying to hold onto smoke—whatever the dream was, it had slipped away the moment I woke.
"I… I'm not really sure," I admitted, my voice low, almost reluctant. "I never really remember them. Just... flashes. Impressions."
I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of the images that had haunted my sleep. There were glimpses of things—shadows, faces that were familiar yet indistinct, and a gnawing sense of something I couldn't quite place. But whenever I tried to pin it down, it would vanish, leaving behind only that faint unease.
Lil watched me, her expression shifting between curiosity and something deeper. "It must've been something intense. You looked… troubled."
I gave her a wry smile, though there was little humor in it. "Yeah, maybe. I've had these dreams for as long as I can remember. Sometimes they're just noise, other times… well, I guess tonight was one of those times."
Lil nodded, her gaze thoughtful, almost understanding. She looked at me like she wanted to say something more, but instead, she just nodded, the question lingering unspoken between us. For a long moment, we sat in the dim light, the silence filled with the quiet hum of things unsaid.
I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the confession before I spoke.
"I think… I miss the heartbeats," I said quietly, my voice tinged with an unexpected vulnerability. "The scents of my famiglia. When they're around, it's like... the monster in me calms down, and the nightmares don't feel as suffocating. But when I'm alone…" I trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "It's harder."
Lil listened in silence, absorbing my admission. Her eyes were soft, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. She shifted closer, the faintest rustle of fabric brushing against my arm. And then, without a word, she leaned her head gently on my shoulder. The warmth of her touch was unexpected, but it was grounding in a way I hadn't realized I needed.
For a moment, I just stared ahead, caught between the comfort of her presence and the strangeness of the intimacy. Her hair brushed against my cheek, faintly scented with something sweet and familiar, and I couldn't help but close my eyes, soaking in the quiet moment.
Lil's voice broke the silence, soft and barely above a whisper. "You're not alone right now."
I turned my head slightly, glancing down at her. She was so close, her breath warm against my skin, and there was a tenderness in her eyes that I hadn't expected to see. It was almost as if she could sense the turbulence inside me, the parts of myself I rarely let anyone see.
A faint smile tugged at my lips, and I found myself leaning into her just a little, savoring the rare sense of calm. I did not answer with words, but the slight squeeze of my hand on her arm was answer enough.
We sat there in the quiet darkness, the weight of unspoken words lingering between us. Lil's warmth against my side was a welcome balm. After a long moment, she shifted slightly, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the fabric of the couch.
"I… I get nightmares too," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper as if saying it too loud would make the memories all too real. "I dream of… fallen comrades, blood, and war. The faces of those I couldn't save." She paused, her breath hitching slightly, and I felt her body tense beside me. "Sometimes… sometimes I see my master."
I glanced at her, catching the haunted look in her eyes. It wasn't just stress—it was the kind of pain that lingers, like an old wound that never fully heals. Her master. The mage who had taught her everything.
Lil's gaze drifted, her eyes clouding with memories as she spoke. "He was my savior, you know."
She paused, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of the sofa. "He was kind, patient, and so unbelievably strong. He believed in me, even when I couldn't believe in myself. For a long time, he was everything to me." Her voice cracked slightly, the faintest hint of vulnerability slipping through. "I loved him the most. More than anyone."
I could hear the weight of her confession, and the way she said it—with a mix of reverence and regret—spoke volumes. Her master wasn't just a teacher or a mentor; he was the person who had shaped her, saved her, and, in many ways, defined her.
Lil's eyes met mine briefly before darting away, her expression conflicted. "But sometimes, when I look at you, Shay, I see him. And that… that disturbs me."
I blinked, caught off guard by her admission. "Why's that?"
She hesitated, struggling to put her feelings into words. "You remind me of him in ways that are hard to explain. The way you stand, even the way you carry yourself. It's like I'm looking at him. It's comforting… but also confusing."
I watched her, trying to understand the turmoil she was feeling. I could tell she was lost in the parallels she drew between her past and the present, caught between familiarity and something deeper, something she couldn't quite place.
"He was the only one who made me feel safe," Lil continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "And you… you make me feel that too. But it's different, and I don't know how to handle it."
Her admission hung heavy in the air, and I found myself at a loss for words. There was a tenderness in her gaze, mixed with a vulnerability that she rarely let show.
"You don't have to figure it all out right now," I said softly, my hand brushing against hers.
She gave me a small, uncertain smile, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I guess so."
Lil remained quiet for a moment longer as if weighing her next words carefully. Her gaze drifted back to the dimly lit room, avoiding mine, but I could sense the shift in her thoughts.
"There are ways you're different from him, though," she finally said, her voice barely audible. "In ways that stand out."
I watched her closely, noticing how her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of the sofa, betraying her usual calm. "Different how?" I asked, keeping my tone gentle.
Lil hesitated, her brows knitting together as she searched for the right words. "You're… more unpredictable. My master was steady, always in control. With you, there's this wildness, this raw energy that I never saw in him."
I didn't expect that answer, and I wasn't sure how to respond. But Lil wasn't finished. She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with sincerity and something deeper, something almost vulnerable.
"You're… warmer, in a way," she continued, her voice softer now. "You don't just shield people with your strength; you draw them in. My master was like a wall—solid, reliable, but distant. You… you let people get close, even when you don't mean to. It's like there's this quiet kindness in you, even when you're trying to hide it."
I blinked, caught off guard by her insight. I had never thought of myself that way, never considered that I was letting anyone in. But hearing it from Lil, it made sense in a way I hadn't allowed myself to see.
"And… you're stubborn," she added with a faint smile, her eyes softening. "My master had this unwavering discipline, but you… you push back, question everything. You're relentless, and sometimes it's infuriating, but it's also..."
She trailed off. "It's… inspiring, I guess. You're not just following some rules. You're writing your own story, and that's… that's something I never saw in him."
Lil's eyes met mine, and for a moment, the distance between us felt almost nonexistent. She was looking at me—not as her savior, not as a ghost of someone she once knew, but as Shay. Just Shay.
"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling the weight of her words settle between us. "For seeing me, I mean."
"I think I'm still figuring you out," she admitted, her smile turning a touch playful.
The room was quiet again, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with a new understanding. Shay and Lil. Not the Hueless King and not the Mirriad Mage. Just Shay and Lil. Just the two of us, piecing together something that was ours alone.