"You look so beautiful with that flower crown," Theophile said, gently placing the handmade wreath on her silver-blonde hair. "I can't even look away—and I mean that literally. My eyes are getting dry from not blinking."
"Are you mocking me?" Lavelle asked, grinning despite herself. "It's the flowers that are pretty, not me."
Theophile caught her hand as she reached up to fuss with the crown. "You're beautiful," he said, his voice softer now. "With or without scars. You're beautiful, and it's time you realized that."
"You're so full of crap," Lavelle grumbled, avoiding his gaze even as they stood close enough to smell his cologne. "You sound just like Mark and Shotaro."
"I'm not lying," Theophile said softly. "I'm just telling you what I see. And there's one more important thing... my mom used to say that real beauty isn't just about what's on the outside."
"How am I supposed to believe that when you never stop talking?" Lavelle asked, a hint of a smile touching her lips.
Theophile took a deep breath. "Then look me in the eyes and tell me if you see a lie in them. Can you?"
Instead of meeting his gaze, Lavelle turned away, staring out across the lake. Her bare feet skimmed the water's surface, her movements calm but restless. Theophile sighed, as if he understood exactly why she couldn't look at him.
"You know, I get annoyed with myself sometimes, too," he admitted, his voice heavy. "Especially when I stare too long in the mirror. It's like... if I look into my own eyes for too long, some kind of monster might stare back."
Lavelle was quiet for a moment. "To me, your eyes are beautiful. It's like there's a whole universe inside them, and I... I like it. But sometimes it's hard to keep looking, because we're nothing to each other, really."
Theophile was taken aback by her honesty. His chest warmed at her words, but there was a sharp ache there, too. "Then why are you afraid to look at me? Is it because I'm a vampire?"
"Because I'm scared you'll see everything," she whispered. "There are so many dark stories in my life—ones you don't need to know."
"Is that why you always avoid touching me? And why you keep singing those same sad songs, over and over?" Theophile's pupils widened as he turned fully toward her.
"You already guessed it, didn't you?" Lavelle's voice was barely audible. "I can't talk about this with anyone. Not even Daniela, Mark, or Shotaro. It's been so long since I've trusted anyone... I don't even know how anymore."
Theophile slowly took her hands and kissed them. Gently, he pushed up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing a long, pale scar running from her wrist to her elbow. His eyes widened, but his expression was full of pain, not shock.
"This looks like a wound so deep it stole your ability to trust," he murmured. "Like something you can never get back."
"Yeah," Lavelle said, pulling her hand away, clearly uncomfortable. "Something like that."
A gust of wind swept between them, thickening the silence. They'd been sitting by the lake for what felt like hours, neither willing to leave. Lavelle watched the water ripple as fish jumped in the distance, her thoughts drifting somewhere far away.
Theophile stayed quiet, searching for the right thing to say.
"Um... so, what's your favorite song?" he finally asked, breaking the tension.
"I don't know. Maybe 'Ode to Joy.' Or whatever pop songs are trending now," Lavelle replied, her voice distant.
"Nothing more specific? Like Jacques Brel? Or Kassav'? They brought something really special to music."
"Who are they?"
"French musicians. They were big back in the '90s."
"I wasn't even born then," Lavelle said with a slight laugh. "Lately, I've been into Spanish and Bollywood music. They just feel... alive. So colorful and full of joy."
"You really do need music that can cheer you up, don't you?" Theophile glanced at Lavelle. "So, what's your favorite sport?"
"Is that really important?" Lavelle asked.
Theophile nodded. "I think so. Because if you want, I could build a special room for you here, so you can do it again."
"Taekwondo," Lavelle replied.
Theophile stared. "Taekwondo?"
"What, is that weird?" she asked defensively.
"Yeah, a little. I just never pictured a girl like you being into such a violent sport. I'm surprised," Theophile admitted.
Lavelle sighed, stretching her leg which had grown stiff from sitting still for so long. "I joined the club because I needed an excuse... an excuse to get hurt where no one would ask questions. It was a way to feel pain that I could control, that came from a 'legitimate' source."
"Wait, you used it as an excuse to hurt yourself?" Theophile repeated, his voice softening.
"More or less. It was the only reason that made sense at the time," Lavelle said quietly.
Theophile took a deep breath, then suddenly grabbed her hand and bit down on her forearm hard enough to draw blood.
"What are you doing?!" Lavelle screamed hysterically, trying to yank her arm back.
"This scar won't go away because it's your past," Theophile answered, his voice intense.
Tears streamed down Lavelle's face as she saw the fresh blood. She bit her lower lip, struggling against the pain. "What is wrong with you? You're hurting me!"
Then, Theophile bit his own tongue and began to lick the wound. Lavelle stared, wide-eyed, as the fresh bite mark slowly faded, leaving only the old, long scar from her accident.
"You can't erase the dark past that haunts you," he whispered. "But I can stop new wounds from leaving a mark... maybe they'll never scar at all. Can you believe that?" He kissed her arm gently before letting go, leaving Lavelle frozen in confusion. "I'm being serious. Don't think I'm just boasting."
Lavelle threw herself onto her bed, closing her eyes tightly. The memory of Theophile kissing her a few hours ago—when she'd almost slipped and he'd caught her—kept replaying in her mind. It was a bad sign; her heart couldn't lie about the attraction she felt. It had been so soft and so fast. She cursed herself for the accident. Her emotions were completely unstable after he had tended to her wound, a memory that sent thrills through her straight to the seventh heaven.
"Oh my god... how did I let this happen?" she groaned into her pillow.
"What's wrong with you? You've been acting weird ever since you got back from your... whatever with Theophile." Daniela's sudden entrance made Lavelle jump. Her face was blushing like a ripe peach.
"It's... it's nothing," Lavelle dodged, rolling over to hide her face.
"Bull. Your cheeks are bright red. Something definitely happened," Daniela said, plopping down on the edge of the bed.
"You don't want to know. It's not a fun story," Lavelle mumbled into the mattress.
"What, did you guys do, like, adult things?" Daniela guessed, rolling her eyes.
Lavelle was so shocked she reflexively hurled a pillow at Daniela's shoulder. "How can you even think that? It's way too soon!" Daniela just laughed mockingly and moved closer to her flustered friend.
"Hey, why are you so defensive if nothing special happened?" Daniela complained, rubbing her shoulder playfully.
"Fine... I... I accidentally kissed him," Lavelle admitted, biting her lower lip. "But that's not even what's bothering me the most."
Daniela's eyes went wide. She scooted closer and whispered, "Well? How was it?"
"How was what?"
"Don't play dumb! What's it like to kiss a vampire king? Was it thrilling? Was it like in the movies?" Daniela pressed, her voice full of gossipy excitement.
"I don't know! And I'm so screwed because it felt like he went too deep, like he stabbed something right into my heart. I'm just... so confused right now."
"Did he, like... enter your body?" Daniela asked with feigned innocence.
"Stop asking crazy questions! I'm already dizzy thinking about this. Theophile seems so serious, like he's never going to let us go now," Lavelle said, frustration mounting.
"What do you mean?"
"He hurt me, and then he healed it instantly," Lavelle replied, glancing at her arm where no trace of the injury remained.
Daniela saw it too, looking like she'd been tricked. "Are you for real?"
"I'm serious. The wound was right here, and it healed in seconds because of his blood. He cut his own tongue and licked it..."
"That means he wants to take you someplace beautiful, to keep you safe and unharmed," Daniela said, her tone turning serious. "But even so, you need to think twice about getting involved with Theophile. You can hate anyone else, but you can't hate your mom, right? She would be heartbroken if she knew you were in love with a vampire."
"But... could I have a sweeter love story with someone who will never leave me because he's immortal?" Lavelle's voice was small and hopeful.
"Lavelle, I don't have an answer for that," Daniela sighed. "But, if your mom doesn't approve later, I'm ready to help persuade her and your sister."
"I'm just terrified that this is all just wishful thinking on my part."