Chapter 18 – A Scream That’s Way Too Humiliating.

Lyon was plastered against the frame of the balcony with both arms clamped onto the sliding glass with all the strength his ordinary, everyday human body was capable of producing.

All ten fingers dug into the metal of the track. His legs, on the other side, already almost outside, with the soles of his sneakers propped on the edge of the balcony floor, sliding slowly forward as if someone were pushing them in slow motion toward the empty air of the fifteenth floor.

And inside his head, the voice was talking with all the calm in the world.

"Say it."

'No.'

"Say it, my human."

'No.'

"Say it and this is over."

'NO.'

GRK!

Lyon's fingers creaked against the track. The tendons of his wrist squeaked. Lyon clenched his teeth so hard he felt a jolt in his jaw.

'I'm not going to say it!'

"Why?"

'BECAUSE IT'S EMBARRASSING!'

"Oh."

'IT'S EMBARRASSING!'

"Oh, my human. Embarrassing?"

'YES!'

"Embarrassing to tell somebody 'I love you'?"

'YES!'

"Embarrassing to tell the only entity who has been with you every day for the last eight months, who has fought alongside you, who has protected you, who has put up with your dramas, your nonsense, your obsessions with video games, your stupid decisions and your mental hygiene rules, embarrassing to tell that entity, my human, that you love her?"

'YES!'

"Oh."

'IT'S REALLY EMBARRASSING! IT'S HYPER-EMBARRASSING! IT'S THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING YOU'VE EVER ASKED OF ME IN MY WHOLE LIFE!'

Silence.

Then, the voice spoke, in a tone that had gotten a hair colder.

"Look, my human. I've lost my patience."

'Wait!'

"Let's push the legs out just a little more."

'WAIT!'

And Lyon's legs moved forward.

One centimeter.

The soles of his sneakers scraped against the edge of the balcony floor.

Another centimeter.

Lyon clung even harder to the sliding glass. He hugged the track with both arms, chest pressed to the cold metal, and felt how the weight of his body was starting to tip toward the other side, toward the void.

'Wait! Wait, wait, wait!'

"I'll wait."

'I already apologized!'

Silence.

'I already apologized a little while ago! I already told you I didn't mean it! I already told you I didn't want to say it like that!'

"...My human."

'WHAT?!'

"I didn't ask you for an apology."

Silence.

'...What?'

"No, my human. I didn't ask you for an apology. Go back. Go back over the conversation calmly."

Lyon went back over it.

He went back over it with his face plastered against the glass and the window air coming in through the opening and his legs sliding farther and farther out.

He went back over the argument.

He went back over the shouting.

He went back over everything the voice had said to him in the last ten minutes.

And it was true.

The voice hadn't asked for an apology.

The voice had asked for something else.

'...Oh, wait, really?'

"No, my human. What I asked from you, first, was for you to admit that I'm useful."

'...'

"For you to recognize, in so many words, that without me you'd be nothing. For you to recognize that all your powers are because I am inside you. For you to recognize that I am useful."

Lyon stayed quiet.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

'...Okay. Fine.'

"Fine what?"

'You're useful.'

Silence.

'Happy?'

"Good."

'Can I come inside?'

"Not yet."

'WHY NOT?!'

"Because now I want the other thing."

'WHAT OTHER THING?!'

"For you to tell me you love me."

Silence.

A very heavy silence.

Lyon opened his eyes.

He looked down, at the street still dark, at the yellow lights of the streetlamps that looked tiny from the fifteenth floor. He looked at the white curb of the sidewalk. He looked at the elongated shadow of the building against the pavement.

And he squeezed his eyes shut again.

'...No.'

"Oh."

'No.'

"My human."

'NO.'

"My human. My stubborn human. My dramatic human."

'I'M NOT GOING TO SAY IT!'

"Why not?"

'I ALREADY TOLD YOU IT'S EMBARRASSING!'

"Why is it embarrassing?"

'BECAUSE IT'S EMBARRASSING!'

"That's not an answer, my human. That's a repetition. Repeating a word isn't answering a question."

'IT'S JUST EMBARRASSING!'

"WHY?"

Silence.

Lyon clenched his teeth and turned the question back.

'AND WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY IT?!'

"..."

'Huh? WHY?! WHERE did you get the idea that you want me, your human, your vessel, to shout at you in the apartment living room at five in the morning that I love you?! WHERE?!'

Silence. Then, the voice answered, in a tone that was no longer cold or playful but downright sharp.

"Let's see, my human. Let's do a tally. Considering everything I've done for you over the last eight months. Considering that I've protected you, I've fought for you, I've carried the body when you chicken out, I've lent you my power when you need it, I've put up with your complaints every day, every single one, without a break. Considering all of that, my human. Considering the long tally. Is it really so hard for you to say two words?"

'...'

"Two simple words? So short?"

'...'

"Two words that regular human people say to their mother, to their brother, to their dog, to their coffee maker, or to their favorite video game, no problem?"

'...'

"Two words, my human?"

Lyon breathed in deep and answered, with his voice trembling from the position of his body but with his logic intact.

'If they're so simple... why do you want to hear them, then?'

Silence. Then, the voice spoke, with an intonation that had a little trouble staying flat.

"...That, my human, I'm not going to answer."

'HA! SO THEY'RE NOT SIMPLE!'

"I didn't say they weren't simple."

'YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T ANSWER ME!'

"It's different."

'IT'S THE SAME!'

"It's not the same."

'YES IT IS THE SAME!'

"Look, my human. Really. I'm telling you now. If you keep dragging this out, I'm going to make you fall. And this time I'm not going to let you bring out the wings."

Silence.

'WHAT?!'

"You heard me."

'YOU CAN'T DO THAT!'

"Yes I can."

'IF YOU MAKE ME FALL WITHOUT WINGS I DIE!'

"Yes, my human. That's the point."

'YOU'RE INSANE!'

"A little, yes. It's part of my charm."

Lyon's legs moved another centimeter toward the void.

The soles of his sneakers barely had any contact with the edge of the floor anymore. Lyon's hip was already going over the track. His chest, which was the only thing keeping him inside, was slipping forward like a garment badly hung on a hanger.

Inside Lyon's head, the countdown started on its own.

'Three.'

'Two.'

'One.'

And Lyon shouted.

He shouted out loud.

He shouted with his whole throat.

He shouted at five in the morning with his mouth wide open and with all the strength he had in his lungs, no filter, no dignity, nothing.

"I LOVE YOU! DAMN IT, I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOOOOU!"

The shout bounced off the building across the street, off the walls of the hallway, off the door next door, off the ceiling, off the glass of the neighboring balconies.

Silence.

A total silence.

And then, two floors down, someone opened a window.

Creak.

Then somebody else opened another window, one floor up.

Creak.

Then a third, from the apartment next door.

Creak.

Three heads poking out at the same time, looking up, toward the fifteenth-floor balcony, where a disheveled guy in a tomato-sauce-stained t-shirt and pants on backwards was clinging to the sliding door track with both arms and with his legs almost outside.

Silence.

The three neighbors blinked.

Silence.

And inside Lyon's head, the voice spoke, in a tone that was now much softer, almost satisfied.

"Oh, sweetheart. How lovely."

Lyon's legs let go.

Let go of the voice's control, that is. They came back to him. Lyon felt them respond to him again, felt how the weight of his body stopped tipping forward, felt how the vampiric strength released his knees and gave them back to their owner.

Lyon dove into the apartment in desperation and fell to his knees against the living room floor. He crawled three steps back, tucked himself behind the couch, and stayed there crouched, trying to keep his face out of view from the balconies across the way.

'...'

"..."

'...'

"Say it again."

'WHAT?!'

"Say it again, sweetheart."

'ARE YOU INSANE?!'

"A little bit, yeah. We already talked about this."

'I'M NOT REPEATING ANYTHING!'

"..."

'NO! NO! NO! The neighbor on the thirteenth floor just poked his head out! And the one on fourteen! And the one on fifteen next door! They must be looking at me weird for months now! I AM NOT GOING TO REPEAT IT!'

"Mmm."

'NO!'

"Fine."

And there Lyon felt, with absolute clarity, how his legs were tensing up again beneath his body.

Both knees.

Both feet.

His thighs tightening.

As if someone were prepping the momentum to spring him up in a jump and haul him back to the balcony.

'NO!'

"No?"

'NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! WAIT!'

"I'll wait."

'I love you!'

Silence.

"..."

'I love you, there, done, I'm saying it to you, I'm thinking it to you, I'm saying it in my head, okay?! I LOVE YOU! In my head! I'm saying it to my head! To you! I love you!'

His legs relaxed.

The knees loosened. The thighs let go. The feet went back to resting against the floor like ordinary human feet.

Silence.

And then, the voice spoke, in a strange tone. A tone Lyon had never heard before. A tone slightly low. Slightly still. A little, and it took Lyon a second to process this, a little bit embarrassed.

"...Okay."

'...'

"That... that was good."

'...'

"But, sweetheart..."

'WHAT?'

"Now all that's left..."

'No.'

"...is for you to say it out loud."

'NO.'

"Like you said it a little while ago."

'NO!'

"Shouting it, sweetheart. Like that shout. That shout was perfect. That shout I loved. That shout I want again."

'ARE YOU INSANE?!'

"A little bit, yes. It's part of—"

'IT'S NOT JUST A LITTLE BIT! YOU'RE COMPLETELY INSANE! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NEIGHBORS JUST POKED THEIR HEADS OUT THE WINDOW?! THREE! THREE NEIGHBORS! And that's just the ones I saw! If I shout that again they're going to think I've lost it! They're going to call the property manager! They're going to talk about me in the building group chat! I CAN'T SHOUT IT AGAIN!'

"I don't care."

'WHAT?!'

"I don't care, sweetheart. I don't care what the neighbors think. I don't care about the building group chat. I don't care about the property manager. I want to hear you shout it. And I want to hear it as many times as it takes."

'AS MANY TIMES?!'

"As many as it takes. Until I'm satisfied."

'UNTIL YOU'RE SATISFIED?!'

"Yes."

'AND HOW MANY IS THAT?!'

"I don't know yet. I'll be counting."

'YOU CAN'T BE COUNTING!'

"Yes I can, sweetheart."

'YOU CAN'T!'

"I'm at two, counting the shout just now and the thought just now. I need a few more to have a representative sample."

'A REPRESENTATIVE SAMPLE OF WHAT?!'

"Of affection."

'IT'S NOT AFFECTION, IT'S BLACKMAIL!'

"It's mandatory affection. It's a subcategory of affection. It's affection with structure."

'IT'S BLACKMAIL!'

"And be grateful, sweetheart, that I'm letting you off so cheap."

'CHEAP?!'

"Very cheap. Because after everything you, my human, my stubborn human, my dramatic human, have put me through in the last few hours..."

And there the voice began to enumerate. With that calm voice, with that relaxed mental-armchair voice, with that voice of an old vampiress who had all the time in the world.

"Considering, first, that today we were one step from Cya connecting you with Lyon. One step. One literal step. Second, considering that today you ended up half-naked on national television and that right now there are memes of you circulating on twenty different forums, even if you don't know it yet. Third, considering that today I compared you to a noob on a high-level server and you got offended as if I had said the worst word in the world. Fourth, considering that today you called the vampire queen, my mother, an 'old lady' in my presence. And fifth, considering that ten minutes ago you told me you wanted us to separate and to take different paths, as if I were an online relationship."

Silence.

"After all of that, sweetheart, shouting 'I love you' a few times out the window isn't asking too much. It's the bare minimum. It's the bare indispensable minimum. It's the waiter's tip."

'...'

"So..."

'...'

"Whenever you're ready, my human."

'...'

"Shout."

Lyon clenched his teeth behind the couch.

He looked at the ceiling.

He looked at the open sliding door, with the fresh dawn air coming in through the opening.

He looked at the crooked lamp hanging above him.

And he breathed in deep. Very slowly, with all the accumulated shame of two decades of life, with his face burning a bright red, he stood up.

Lyon walked over to the balcony, leaned out just a bit, and with his whole throat, again, with his voice coming out like a stadium chant, he shouted.

"I LOVE YOOOOU!"

Silence.

And from the thirteenth floor, the hoarse voice of the air-conditioning-duct neighbor, that same voice that had shouted hours before, answered with a calm fury that was no longer anger but downright exhaustion.

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP, DAMMIT?! IT'S FIVE IN THE MORNING! AND I DON'T CARE WHO YOU LOVE, JUST SHUT UP!"

Inside Lyon's head, the voice fell out of the mental armchair for the second time that night.

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

'Shut up.'

"BAHAHAHA."

'Shut up.'

"BAHAHA. 'AND I DON'T CARE WHO YOU LOVE'! OH MY GOD! OH, SWEETHEART! THIS NEIGHBOR IS A TREASURE!"

'SHUT UP.'

"Again."

'NO!'

"Again, sweetheart. And this time with feeling. It didn't sound entirely sincere."

'I'M AT THE WINDOW SHOUTING AT FIVE IN THE MORNING! WHAT MORE SINCERE DO YOU WANT?!'

"More sincere."

'IT'S NOT POSSIBLE TO BE MORE SINCERE THAN THIS!'

"Yes it is. Again. Let's go."

And Lyon's legs started to tense up again.

'WAIT! WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!'

"I'll wait."

Lyon breathed, leaned out over the balcony again and shouted, with his voice slightly cracked, with his face even redder, with his dignity now definitively gone out to buy cigarettes:

"I LOVE YOOOOU!"

Silence.

"Better."

'...'

"Again."

'I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE DOING THIS TO ME!'

"Again, sweetheart."

"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOOOOU!"

"Oh, delicious. Again."

"I LOVE YOOOOOU!"

"One more."

"IIII LOOOVE YOOOOOU!"

And from the thirteenth floor, the air-conditioning-duct neighbor, after the fourth repetition, did the only thing he had left to do. He slammed the window shut with a bang so violent it echoed through the whole building.

WHAM!

And inside Lyon's head, the voice sighed.

A long sigh. An affectionate sigh. A sigh completely satisfied.

"Oh, sweetheart."

'...'

"That was beautiful."

'I hate my life.'

"Oh, don't say that, sweetheart. Your life is precious."

'I hate it.'

"You love it."

'I hate it.'

"And you love me."

'...'

"Right?"

'...'

"Right, sweetheart?"

'...Yes.'

"Yes, what?"

'...Yes, I love you.'

"Oh."

'Just shut up.'

"One more, please."

'NO!'

"Just one."

'NO WAY!'

And his legs started to tense up for the third time. Lyon, still leaning out over the balcony, with his face the color of a ripe tomato, with the neighbors now definitively concluding that on the fifteenth floor there lived a lunatic, breathed in deep.

And shouted one last time.

"IIIIII LOOOOVE YOOOOOOOU!"

Silence.

And in the silence of five-thirty in the morning, with the first birds of dawn starting to peek out from the branches of the trees, with the yellow lights of the streetlamps starting to go off on their own, Lyon let himself drop against the balcony floor, with his back leaning against the railing, with his hands on his face, and with the voice inside his head quietly humming a vampire song Lyon had never heard before but that at that moment sounded ridiculously happy to him.

'I hate my life.'

"I love yours, sweetheart."