This was inspired by how I feel about the world and what I long for. This could be depressing to some readers.
There Y/N sat alone. Three fruity drinks sat, all half empty, a sour taste in their mouth from discovering that all were spiked with something. Of course, who didn't want to get drunk on the forth of July? But after all of her friends went home with their usual hookups, and Y/N sat alone. For the third year in a row.
The forth of July became something of an empty feeling each year. Hours of plain fireworks no longer excited them, and the Greasy food only seemed to make them feel as though they were attempting to fill a bottomless void in the pit of their stomach.
Three drinks, all not to their taste and an empty bag of potato chips. With more than enough crumbs to cover the random strangers home. Every year one of Y/N's friends would get invited to some random party- always claiming to be the best and biggest party- and every year it only left Y/N feeling more empty inside.
The house was empty, a normal occurrence that had in some past time became Y/N's job to look after the house after everyone left with their "dates". Red and blue cups remained on the floor with numerous stock piled stains. The clean up was never hard due to it all being 100% trash.
After the dull rehearsed cleanup, Y/N plopped themselves into an untouched chair, facing the flashing lights outside the big glass walls. This quite moment was the part she could always count on. The loud tranquility of the sonic booms that echoed across the many parks and neighborhoods. The dark silhouette houses showing no intrusion of light to ruin the moment.
Unbeknownst to them, a tall figure watched their sad moment in interest. An uninvited guest, late to the early ended party- intrigued by the sad creature in the old arm chair. Alone and basking in the muffled explosions of the outside world. Safe in their own sad comfort.
The figure lead itself to the mirroring chair and quietly sat upon it's cushion as if it would break. Y/N almost didn't notice the tall man, but they didn't feel the need to let him know they saw him.
"They do this every year, don't they?" The mans voice was quiet, and gravely, but not from the lack of talking, it just seemed to be that way. It didn't disturb the mood.
"Religiously." Y/N leaned their head against the lip that peaked out of the chair, facing the man. He was pale, with inky black hair that lead to a perfect widows peak. Tight cheekbones made their own seem to hurt just by looking at their sharpness. Their eyes lead back up, expecting the beautiful dark green.
The man let Y/N look him over. He was used to it in a small degree- but learned to distance himself from small groups of people who would point out his immortal features.
"Come here." Y/N comfortably slid over to sit with the immortal man. A living, breathing dead man. Or as Y/N jokingly called him, a vampire.
He didn't drink blood, nor was he scared of anything holy. But he was invisible to sunlight. So he walked the nights.
The flashes of the outside world would periodically turn parts of his body invisible. A side of his face, the left arm when there was a low firework- it let Y/N awe at his unique physical state. As if he was glitching into their reality.
"I'm done doing this. Take me with you?"
"To the outer realm? You'll become like me."
"My soul is already like yours. Tired. This world is too..." Y/N paused, at a complete loss for the right word.
"Empty."
"Yes. Empty." The immortal man rose from the chair- setting Y/N down and grasping their hand.
"Hold on to me."
The two left the empty world to never return. To live their shared life together in another realm and never return to the forsaken one.
Y/N finally felt the missing spark.
