Eleanor

We're still in his room. The sun has risen, and my eyes begin to shut. It's time to sleep.

"It wasn't an accident," he murmured. "I chose to care about you. I saw who you were, the person you are. I loved you on purpose, Eleanor."

My eyes droop. Damn it...

"Do you hate me, my love?"

I look up. He's looking at me, a small smile on his face. He swallows roughly opening a drawer.

He pulls out something. Familiar shape now.

"What is that?" I whisper.

"Do you hate me Eleanor?" He repeats himself, the silver in the gun gleaming.

He's going to shoot me then. Maybe I can just die here. It's not too bad an ending, I don't think.

His fingers stroke the barrel.

"Are you going to shoot me if I say no?" I ask, the tiredness taking over me.

"I could never hurt you, Eleanor. I won't even pretend I could. I just want to know...do you hate me? Is there a chance we could live happily together?"

I swallow. "I..."

He lifts it. "You're a young vampire. You can't help the tiredness the sun brings. Your body even in this corrupt state desperately wants to live. To avoid pain."

His blonde hair flints, his eyes lifting to mine once more. They seem...tired.

"I am an old vampire. My body has long since neglected the Will to live. To protect itself. I no longer fear the sun. It didn't used to hurt me much, actually."

His lips turn up, something between ire and self-depreciation.

"Try to stay awake dear," he coaxed in the deep, gentle voice of his. It's a curse really. I believe he'd say.

"Do you hate me? Or will you have me?" He whispered.

My eyes shut, sticking together. I feel his hand in my hair, palm against my cheek, cool and large.

"Open," he instructs.

I obey.

"This is a gun that shoots silver bullets," he whispers softly, his lips against mine. Kissing him is stronger than wine and I think he knows it.

It's a weapon, honeyed words, and his kisses, scares me more than gun ever can.

He lifts it, pushing it against his temple. "Do you hate me, Eleanor?"

Again with that.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

Silver bullets. Didn't I read somewhere silver kills vampires?

"Why do you have that?" My words slur.

He shakes his head. I see his blond hair mixed with my black curls. I'm so tired.

"You can only think of one thing at a time. Listen to what I'm saying: do you hate me?"

"Stop asking me that stupid fucking question."

"Eleanor," his finger pulls the trigger, I gasp but only a click is heard.

What is he doing?

"Listen to me carefully. There are two options," he explains calmly, clicking the trigger again.

"Stop," I hiss.

"You can tell me you hate me. I won't be upset but I will know we have no future. And I will take leave of you."

Click.

His hand trembles as he pauses, before pulling the trigger again again.

Click.

How do guns work? I'm so tired.

"Or we...we have something, something I haven't Hallucinated, something that I haven't forced—"

My lips move to demand how this isn't force. He looks between my eyes before nodding.

"No," he answers my silent demand. He knows me too well. "Because If you hate me it won't matter."

I frown. Hate you and wanting you dead aren't the same.

He smiles. "You can't kill what's already dead, my love. So tell me. Let's cease this now. This pining. I'm unable to cope. To live without you is such agony. But I can't force my love upon you."

He frowns. "It is sweet agony to love you, but it is unthinkable ungodly to hurt you. So once and for all time, my dearest Eleanor. My love."

He pulls the trigger once more.

Wait...there's a silver bullet. Just one. I see it. Oh...he's going to mill himself.

And he's not even bothered. He waits letting me take in the situation.

"I swore to take care of you all those many years ago, and I will. I've left everything to you, so don't hold back. There's a bookshop. A gallery. Billions of dollars you'll never yearn for anything —"

I shake the head. What is he doing?

"And I am very weary of life. You don't have to feel bad. I just...want to know. So tell me. Do you hate me?"

The next chamber holds the bullet. If he presses the trigger...he'll die won't he?

I shake my head. "I...I don't, I don't hate you."

He looks between my eyes. He sighs. "I'm almost disappointed. I thought...I could go in peace," he pulls the trigger, his blood splattering on my face.

A scream rips from my throat, raw and bloody.

He's dead? He can't be it's not possible—

And then I hear it. A tired sigh, as he sits up, his blonde hair now soaked in red.

"Calm down dear," he says softly, pulling the bullet from the wound in his skull.

He examines it, before putting it and in the gun. "It doesn't work. I've tried. Doused it holy water once. There's a cross in it, etched."

He stands his wounds healing, blood dissipating.

He opens the drawer, pulling a cloth out wiping the gun.

"You shouldn't try it or course," he murmurs, polishing the gun expertly. "You're a young vampire and it may actually kill you."

He sets it in the drawer gingerly, shutting it.

"Why did you do this?" I tremble.

He looks at me. "I told you. I thought...it might work if you told me you hated me. I...hoped if you wished me to die, because you are so lovely, Eleanor, bathed in gods light...I thought if you wished it, it may come true."

He leaves the room with that, shutting the door when a thud. Day takes me before I'm able to process what's occurred.