My Long Lost Mate

"Are you finished?" I asked Luke, who had just come out of the bathroom with a clean set of clothing on his body. I had asked him to go clean himself off the blood as soon as we returned to our room, so he could immediately rest after going through such a long day.

He forced a small smile at me and said, "I am."

He said he was done, but in fact, he was far from it. I found there was still blood on his hands when I looked at him, and he wasn't even properly dressed. His mind must have been elsewhere, hence the mess. 

"You're obviously not done yet," I said, fixing the buŧŧons on his shirt. "Come here," I said, grabbing his hand and motioning him to follow me to the bathroom. When we arrived, I turned on the water and helped him wash the blood off his hands. He stayed still, allowing me to do whatever I wanted. 

It was the first time I had seen him so quiet, and I didn't know what to say or do to cheer him up. What did he do when I was sad? He had always found a way to make me feel better when things were hard. Now that the roles had been reversed, I needed to find a way to help him. I shouldn't be on the receiving end all the time.

"You are all clean now," I said, taking a towel to dry his hands. When I released his hands to dry my own, he hurriedly took my hand back, not wanting me to let go of him. He held my hand tightly—as if he needed me to give him strength.

I gently stroked his hair with my free hand as I lifted my eyes to him. I couldn't help but reach in and hug him because he seemed to be so broken, and I was afraid that if I let go, he wouldn't be able to hang on.

"You look like you need a hug," I said, leaning in closer and softly patting his back. Hearing it, he succumbed to my embrace, resting his head on my shoulder. 

"I do," he replied, his voice soft like a whisper. He couldn't stop blaming himself for what happened, even though it was clearly not his fault. Ross seemed to be an important figure in Kiel's life, and he didn't want to see his friend suffer another loss. It was inevitable, but still.

"I'm really sorry for what happened," I said, hugging him tighter, "I'm sure Ross is in a better place now, sending you his best wishes for your great courage in setting him free. He's forever grateful for what you did."

He remained quiet, soaking in the silence. However, as time went by, I began to hear a muffled sob, as if he was trying to conceal his distress. I tried to break the hug to look at him, but he kept me from doing so. Instead, he held me even closer, as though he didn't want to let go even for a second.

"Don't," he begged, "Don't let go of me."

"I will never, Luke," I said.

When I first met him, I ȧssumed I would only be staying with him for a few days and would only think of him as a kind man who helped me out. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would be someone so special to me, someone whose presence would have such an impact on my life. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to imagine myself being separated from him.  He had become such an important part of my life that losing him would be like losing a piece of me.

And to see him like this—it broke me in ways I never imagined I could ever feel for another. To me, who lived most of her life alone, feeling happiness or sorrow for others was an unusual experience. Since the loss of my mother, never once did I feel others' empathy for me, so I never did the same to people. How could I feel empathy for others when my own life was the worst it could be?

I began to feel feelings that I have long forgotten, see things that I had never seen before, and learn more about the world outside of my room. He taught me about love and how kind and genuine a person could ever be. He gave me happiness, and I wanted to give him the same.

"Can I look at you?" I asked, and I could feel him shake his head in response. "Please," I added, "I want to see your face." 

With that being said, I pushed him slightly away, and he eventually let me to. When I looked at him, his eyes were brimming with tears, on the verge of letting them roll down his cheeks. I raised my hand to his cheek, ċȧrėssing it. 

"It's okay to cry," I said, giving him a small smile, "I know that you don't like others to see you weak, to see you vulnerable, but at least, can't you just be yourself with me? You don't need to hide your pain and sorrow. Instead, share them with me so that we can work through this together." 

He fixed his gaze on me, and as he did, a single tear left his eye. It was his agreement, his answer to my words. He was willing to show me his vulnerable side, a side which I had never seen of him, and I was glad—glad because he could finally let his guard down and let out the bottling emotions inside him. 

"Ross... he was like a second father—to both me and Kiel," he said as more tears escaped his eyes, "He cared for me when I needed it the most, taught me many things in life, brewed the best of tea," he chuckled a little as he reminisced the memories of the man, "He would always open the door to the manor for me when I ran away from home, despite my mom's order to not to. He would also prepare warm meals for me in case I was starving from the long journey."

I nodded to his narrative, giving him my full attention. I didn't know Luke had such a deep relationship with Ross. It was my first time hearing about it. I thought it was only Kiel who had a close relationship with him, but I thought wrong. It must be why he was so hesitant about killing Ross, despite him being a deranged vampire. 

"I remember coming to Gordom just a few days after losing both of my parents, hoping for some peace and comfort. But, as it turned out, it didn't go as well as I had hoped. I still felt sad and lost, but I didn't want people to see me cry, so I tried to find a spot where I could hide. Ross took notice of my dėsɨrės and took me to the lake. Since then, the lake had become our little secret place," he smiled sourly. 

"He was always so serious, but he could be quite funny at times," he continued, "He was such a kind man, but I—I killed him," he said. He pulled out his hands, his hands trembling, "I killed him with my own two hands."

"No," I quickly denied, taking in his trembling hands in mine, "Didn't I tell you? You didn't kill him. You saved him, Luke. Ross wouldn't want to stay in a body that only knows how to kill. Would he want to hurt anyone if he were still alive?" 

"No... he wouldn't," he answered, shaking his head, "He wouldn't hurt anyone, but..." he faltered, looking away from me to hide another wave of tears, "...I wish things could be different. I don't want him to die like this."

"I wish things could be different too," I said, fighting back my own tears, "But we can't do anything to change our fate. If we are doomed to go through this, then all that we can do is follow. It's horrible, but we don't have any choice."

I drew him in for another embrace, allowing him to cry his heart out. It was rare for him to show his sadness, so I wanted to give him as much time as possible to do so. He didn't have to look strong and tough all of the time, as having a weakness was a natural part of being human.

I could feel my shoulders damp from his tears after a few moments of him weeping in my embrace. He wasn't crying out loud but cried rather quietly, as quiet as a mouse. If I didn't hear his sniffles, then I would have thought he was fast asleep in my embrace. 

"What is God even doing? Giving such a terrible fate for a wonderful soul," I mocked for him to chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. "There better be something good ahead," I said.

"There better be," he repeated.