Violet

8. The Rule of Belonging.

Honestly, if I were to start reflecting on it, there are quite a few things I liked. Most of all, probably, the taste of berries in the summer. Because in the winter, they taste artificial. I also enjoy watching documentaries about animals, especially the ones that live far away—so far that I'll never see them in person, not even in a zoo. Another thing I like is browsing cosmetics stores, where everything is beautifully arranged, neatly displayed on the shelves, sparkling. The products sit there with price tags I can't afford, but it's nice to admire them for free.

But when it comes to tactile sensations, something related to physical feelings rather than emotions, I've never really had anything I particularly liked or disliked—I just never had the experience to choose. Maybe, except for my mom's hugs... Yeah, they're genuinely comforting and nice, but not so much that I'd deeply crave her touch. And that's why it felt oddly strange to experience this unfamiliar craving right now, instilled by the stranger beside me, who also called himself a vampire.

Yet something kept me from questioning this new sensation, which was a revelation for me. I didn't ask any questions and just kept talking as things were.

"Alright," I said in response. Then, nodding slightly, I added quietly, "I think today is Saturday."

I intentionally kept still because I didn't want Toby to take his hands off me. Maybe it also appealed to me because his hands were cold, the room was still very hot, and my pajamas were thin. Because of this, I could feel a sense of relief in certain parts of me, on the skin beneath my clothes, a relief he was giving me. But still, it was just a bit of long-awaited coolness. After all, Toby was making me feel something much more significant, entirely unrelated to the room's temperature.

At this very moment, he barely moved his fingers down, tracing along my arms, stopping at my elbows, and I almost wished this would never end.

Without taking his eyes off me, Toby began to speak:

"Yes, it seems like Saturday, that's right," he answered, nodding. "But some days carry a special significance, not just the name given to them by people."

"And what else?" I asked, confused. "Do they carry a date?"

"Almost," he agreed again, as if only to continue praising me for my insight, not because I actually had any. "Some days have something special happening, and then they become significant."

"Like holidays?" I ventured another guess.

"Not for everyone," came his ambiguous but still gentle response. "Does today feel like a holiday to you, Violet?"

Toby hadn't let go of me once since he started, neither with his eyes nor his hands, despite my initial apprehension. And I thought that if he did let go, if he released me and stepped away, not only would this pleasant sensation end, but so would our conversation. I couldn't quite grasp the understanding of our casual chat, but I wasn't in a hurry to understand—I was in a hurry to feel.

"It does, a little, I suppose," I shrugged. "They gave out pastries at dinner today in the cafeteria, and they looked like slices of cake. Like a birthday cake. And you..."

I didn't get to finish my sentence as Toby interrupted me with a playful question:

"Do I look like a Christmas tree?"

Not reacting to his joke, I just shook my head:

"No. You just made me really happy," I finished my explanation. "And I feel very good. Even more so than on a holiday."

Without replying to me, still holding on to me, Toby led me to the bed. He sat me down, then sat beside me. The light in the room wasn't on; it only came from the window. From the night sky, just a little, and a bit more from the small amount of lighting outside. There wasn't much light overall, but enough. Enough to keep my eyes on him and his on me.