The Hunger - Only Lovers Left Alive

Chapter Six

"Are you excited about meeting him?"

"Not really."

I rolled my eyes and folded the clothes I had washed before dropping them onto the arm of the chair he was sat on.

"Is there anything you do get excited about?"

Adam looked at me briefly then furrowed his eyebrows, his blue eyes flittering here and there as he thought until he shrugged casually.

"Music."

"That's it? Wow, you really are just a wet blanket, aren't you?"

I laughed at the glare I received as a response.

"Oh come on, you know I'm only joking."

"Do I?"

"Of course, my little fledgling," I smiled, picking up the pile that had been gradually increasing.

"I hate it when you call me that," he griped, though there was the faintest of twitches to the corner of his lips.

"Well too bad, the name has stuck now."

Adam rolled his eyes then went back to plucking and tuning his guitar strings, letting his dark hair fall slightly into his face as he concentrated.

In a way, I felt kind of bad for unleashing my giddiness on Adam, it wasn't like me to get this giggly and admittedly annoying, but the prospect of seeing Vincent again sparked my heart with the largest joy it could muster.

It wasn't unusual for me to go long periods without seeing him, the longest had been eighteen months, but he always returned with a smile, a gift and the intention of making up lost time to me.

That experience was always mind blowing, each time it was like we were getting to know each other's bodies for the first time despite the decades that we had been together.

Forever young and forever in love, so it seemed.

I, at least, was still head over heels for the man.

There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't hope to hear from him, to listen to his silky voice as he talked about events that had happened since the last time we had talked.

Vincent was always getting into little adventures and at times I wished that I was there with him, but I knew from experience that I was more of a homebody and preferred a mundane life with a day of adventure here or there, to which he was the direct opposite.

Sometimes I would feel like a stay at home mother and with my new fledgling, even if I didn't see him as a son by a technical standpoint, the feeling only intensified.

I still had two more days to wait and the waiting time was beginning to make me antsy and it became difficult to settle down.

Reading didn't work as my mind drifted too often and I'd forget the part I had supposedly just been reading and now that the housework was almost done I wasn't entirely sure on what to do with myself, which I'm sure, in turn, also annoyed Adam as I kept fidgeting.

"We should go for a walk."

He stopped plucking at the strings again and looked up at me, flicking his hair out of his face with a nudge of his head.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I'm bored and feel like I have ants in my pants, I need to do something."

"I'd be more willing to help with the pants part if I'm being honest."

"Maybe when Vincent is back," I mumbled, trying to look past the flip my stomach did at the prospect.

Adam blanched for a moment before his eyes narrowed a little, most probably in skepticism.

"Seriously?"

I looked at him and shrugged quickly.

"Sure, we've shared beds with a few of his fledglings."

"I see, how many has he had?"

I frowned in thought, thinking back over the years that I had known.

"Maybe seven?"

"Not many then," Adam nodded, his lips pursing as a question he didn't quite seem to want to ask lingered in the air.

Not that he needed to say it aloud.

Reaching over, I ran my fingers through his tangled hair and smiled at him, which he didn't see due to his eyes slowly falling closed.

"You are my first, Adam, that you can be assured of."

"I hate how much comfort that gives me," he sighed, though his face had softened into an almost smile.

"I know, but it'll pass in time."

"But not before Vincent arrives."

He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards me, I had grown accustomed enough to reading Adam's dampened down emotions to know that he was giving me a look of, what I at least hoped to be, playful resignation.

"No," I smiled, moving my hand from his hair to rest under his jaw so my thumb could stroke his cheek, "you'll never be that lucky."