Paralyzed (boyxboy)

EIGHT

I sat in bed.

My alarm was set to ring every ten minutes in case I fell asleep. I kept the window open. He always left it wide open anyway. 

I didn't know what was going to happen, but there were certain things that I did know; he only came at night. He always came drenched in fresh blood. He still loved me. 

I pulled the blankets tighter around myself, and chuckled.

If only Dr. West could see me now... 

I had the heat blasted on full but it was still freezing cold. At some point today it had started to snow and it hadn't stopped yet. Eddies fluttered in through the window.

beep beep beep

My alarm.

I looked at the time. Two A.M.

"Come on, Evan," I whispered.

My body was shaking. The odd thing was though, I was starting to get use to the feeling of being perpetually cold. I imagined if I held Evan now, his skin, like cold stone, wouldn't even bother me anymore.

Maybe I could warm him...

beep beep beep

I blinked myself awake, surprised that I had nodded off.

Two ten A.M.

Sighing, I pushed myself up in bed, attempting to wake up.

The minutes dragged on. For some reason my thoughts landed on his lips again. Then, always smiling at me over the years, cold but smooth when they pressed against mine. Now, they felt nearly the same as then, but colder and wet with blood.

The blood... who did it belong to? Was he killing people? Did he drain them so he could stand to see me without hurting me? Was he a Vampire?

Why did he not want me to move? Was he afraid of what I might do? Or of what he might do?

My eyelids drooped heavily. I tried to keep them open...

beep beep beep beep beep

My alarm.

I tried to pry my eyes open but they were fighting me. 

No. I had to stay awake. I had to be ready when he arrived. I had to prove he wasn't a dream.

I blinked my eyes open, once, twice before I realized what I was seeing...

A figure, perched in my window. A shadowy silhouette illuminated by the light from outside.

"Evan," I breathed.

He was more still than stone, face turned toward me as though he was just as shocked as I was.

He was here. This was real.

Slowly, I pushed to my feet, heart thudding sluggishly in my chest.

He turned to jump.

"Please," I whispered. "Don't go."

His movements slowed. He turned to face me.

Tentatively, I approached the window.

It was all so surreal.

Not long ago, I had been at his funeral. I had seen his body, the carefully combed hair, the makeup on his skin, pressed suit covering his form.

With a sudden shock, I realized that he was still wearing it; the same pants, dusty and worn, shirt torn to shreds at the arms and covered in dark blotchy stains. The suit jacket was gone, but I knew...