Translucent | VAMPIRE Malum |

Little Home Town Neighbor

When Calum woke up the next morning, things felt weird — different. His head was pounding, and he really couldn't think straight. Maybe that was supposed to be a good thing, but in his mind, it wasn't. He rushed downstairs to where his parents were after slipping on a pair of grey sweatpants and an extra long black shirt that should've been baggy on him, but was tight as it clung to his stomach. As he reached the kitchen, he grabbed an apple from the woven breakfast basket, and looked his mother in the eye. It was Saturday morning, but he felt like it was just another day. He never really had a break to relax, so why was today any different?

His mother looked up from her book, then smiled, closing the book with a thin bookmark. "Nice to see you up before noon." She tapped her nails against the kitchen table, and with her other hand, she held her face up. "You missed the new neighbor earlier. He dropped off a delicious butterscotch pudding."

Calum bit into his apple, then furrowed his brow as he made eye contact with his mother. He swallowed, feeling anxious all of a sudden. "New neighbor?"

She nodded her head, then slid the pan of butterscotch pudding across the table, meeting Calum's arms. He didn't realize that there was anything on the table earlier — he must have missed it somehow. "He was cute too. You would've liked him."

The Maori groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not gay?"

"Enough times for me not to believe it." She laughed, then picked her book back up. "He invited us over for supper. Maybe you should go over there and introduce yourself beforehand. Help him unpack or something."

"And why would I do that?" Calum asked, now crossing his arms. He looked around, seeing how empty this house really was. Without his father and sister, it was lonely.

She groaned, looking up from her book once more. "Because you don't have any friends."

Calum closed his eyes. Now he was upset. His mom didn't have to say that, but she went there anyway. "I did."

"Honey," Joy mumbled, patting the chair next to her as though she were expecting Calum to sit down, but he turned down her offer as quickly as possible, "Luke would want you to let him go. He doesn't want you to be upset about this forever. He wants you to make new friends, meet new people. I know he was your best friend, but he's gone. He isn't coming back."

Without hesitation, Calum clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut once again, trying not to make himself cry. He missed Luke. He promised Luke that they'd be best friends forever. "Please don't remind me that he's gone. Please don't. Just. . please."

"At least tell the neighbor that you appreciate the butterscotch pudding. It'd be rude not to," she said, changing the subject almost instantly. Calum nodded, sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets and making his way towards the front door, head down low. His Saturday was ruined now.

As Calum walked outside, he looked at the house across the street. It was definitely old, and the front porch was covered with cardboard boxes, some opened and some unopened. Near the front porch was a driveway, where a vintage car was present. Calum hesitantly walked towards the house, and he wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous. Extremely nervous.

He knocked on the front door, seeming surprised that it opened on it's own. It wasn't locked, so he figured that it'd be okay to walk in. Within seconds, he closed the door, leaving only an inch open in case of emergency. There, near the bookcase, stood a silhouette of a male who was humming. "You could have knocked."

Calum jumped a bit, not realizing that the man had even heard him. He kept to himself, but figured he needed to respond. "I tried to, but the door was already open and — never mind. I'm here to thank you for the butterscotch pudding. Mother's orders."