Before I know it, in the haze of healing pains and adjusting to not actively being hunted by supernatural creatures, a week passed. I've been living off of something Emerson called peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches. I've made them all myself, though Emerson showed me how. He said it's all he really knew how to make that was modern. Thankfully, they were simple to make, and didn't use many ingredients. I'd never cooked a day in my life, only ever ate what was given and scavenged. Living with these men wasn't so bad, though I wish I could say otherwise. They're quite different from what I expected. The food choices were minimal, not that I knew what a good meal was actually like, but I'm honestly just grateful they haven't decided I was a snack myself. I'm surprised that they even had human food at all. I'll see them around in the kitchen every couple of days, a wine glass of blood either in their hands or somewhere near them. They each hang around the house, doing their own thing. Turns out that Sebastian plays the guitar, so that must've been his room I first awoke in... and ended up hijacking for the rest of the night. Now, I've been moved into a guest bedroom, though I doubt they ever have guests.

There are some patterns I've noticed with these vampires, intent on learning their ways in case I need a quick escape, though I feel like something is missing, that something is wrong, without any weapons on my person. Emerson will sit in a side room with angelical scenery on the walls for hours at a time. He likes to draw, tapping his pencil and fingers on his leg, often lost in the foreign music he listens to that I can hear flowing from the room. Philosophy books, easels and paintings surround him, years of art lain anywhere there is room. Sometimes, I'll see Emerson and Remington together, or all three of the brothers, as they talk and laugh or enjoy their own hobbies, just existing together. Music will flow gently from that beautiful room as the three brothers fiddle with instruments late into the night when they think I've gone to sleep. The sound is calming, the instruments cadence something so foreign to my ears as it travels through my open doorway. Remington sits quietly on the couch reading a book most of the time, though I'll occasionally see him watching TV or with a notebook full of scribbled lyrics. He'll let me read his books since I have nothing else to do, though I sit as far from him as possible. He's nice but still, I don't trust them. I want to, they've been so kind, even Sebastian with his guarded, wary looks and small smiles.

Despite giving the impression that I've gathered a lot about these boys, I really don't leave my room often. I'm... well I'm scared. This is the longest I've gone without sleeping outside or being attacked. I like it, but at the same time, its disorienting. At least I somewhat knew what to expect while I was out in the unknown. I was able to build up some sort of routine. Scavenge for food for the day, try not to die, steal some supplies if given the chance, find shelter for the night, repeat. It was an easy enough to follow routine. It kept me sane while I was being hunted. A modicum of normalcy in my chaotic existence.

With every passing day, I allow myself to relax. Currently, I'm following Emerson around. He had knocked on my door in an effort to get me out of "that stuffy old room," and well, it worked. I'd likely have agreed to anything just to have an excuse to get up and move. I may as well enjoy the time I have here, keeping my distance. At any moment, I could lose this peace and be thrust back into the chaos and fear that is my life. Besides, he's been the nicest to me so far, and our first interaction showed he was at least true to his word of not hurting me, if only for a while.

"Shh." Emerson whispers, carefully raising an index finger to his lips in a motion of silence as I follow behind him into the living room.

The sound of rain pitter patters from outside, the large arched window's black curtains pulled back to reveal the forest scenery outside as water drenched everything it can. I've never done anything like this before and the new experience has me giddy. I reign in the unusual giggle of excitement I can feel building in my chest. A new experience. I've had so many in these last few months, and even being here with these vampires is something new to add to my collection. Remington is sitting on the couch, reading the first Harry Potter book for the umpteenth time, blissfully unaware. Well, I think he notices we're here, but cares more for his book than whatever we're doing. He does glance my way more than once, though I just barely catch him doing it. I watch quietly as Emerson creeps over to him with the clunky camera he's been holding. He looks over at me, mouthing, "3...2...1..."

He jumps in front of Remington with the camera and Rem startles in mock surprise, stares at the camera only briefly and then spouts off utter and complete nonsense with a smirk.

"Good afternoon! This is shark reporting from the Atlantic ocean! We've got some heavy rain here today folks." He holds a corner of his book up to his face like he is miming the weather people I've seen on window TV's in passing.

The smile he gives off afterwards is just so adorable and hilarious that I'm forced to choke down laughter. I've- I've not laughed in so, so long. At some point, I thought I'd lost the ability.

Despite my attempts, a sad excuse for a laugh makes it's way past my lips, and I reach up to cover my mouth with wide eyes. For a moment, Remington and Emerson simple stare with an air of confusion, and something I'd like to think is concern in their eyes. Remington makes to speak, and for a moment, I wonder if he is going to reprimand me for being loud like my old home used to. Emerson speaks before Remington has the chance, turning the camera off.

"You can laugh, you know." He begins gently, a soft smile on his naturally smirking lips, "Here, you don't have to worry about being too loud, or too quiet. You're allowed to be yourself. I know for a fact that Remington thinks the same, and even Sebastian would agree. You're safe here."

Nodding slowly as I process what I've been told, I take a second to think on it. These vampires have been nothing but kind to me, even Sebastian and his stand-offish actions towards me. They've not gotten mad at me at any point, not even when Sebastian snuck up on me in the kitchen and I dropped - and consequently shattered - the glass of water I'd been holding. I'd been so scared, so sure that I'd finally reached the point where he'd drink me dry and kill me, and I'd have no choice but to use my powers to stop him. I don't want to die, not after all I've been through. Sebastian, with his carefully stern expression, merely opened up a nearby drawer and handed me a rag. At that point, tears had been slipping down my cheeks silently as I struggled to not let my breathing get out of control. He had walked off to gather a broom and dustpan, coming back to see me on the floor with the rag, picking up the many pieces of glass with my bare hands. Every step echoed in my ears along with my erratic heartbeat, and when he returned, I jerked back harshly, my whole body flinching away from his presence. My leg wound throbbed with the movement, healing muscles straining in protest. I had sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to let out the sob stuck in my aching chest. The room had darkened considerably, little tendrils of darkness reaching out and brushing gently against my body.

He'd stopped me quickly, crouching down to my level to physically stop me from continuing. There is no surprise on his face as Sebastian took in the way the shadows reach towards me, only an open curiosity. He explained as gently as I'd ever heard him that we can sweep up the glass first, and then clean it up with the rag.  He looked away, strangely considerate, as I wiped my tears with shaking hands. Its only after I'd pulled them away from my face that I noticed the small swipes of blood on my palms and fingers. I had accidentally cut myself on the glass. As soon as I'd had that thought, Remington had appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, a look of concern like a thunder cloud over his face. Emerson had entered right after, a similar expression on his visage. At once, I forced the shadows back into the darkness they're tethered to, the room lightening back to normal immediately.

Remington had moved forward, a hand outstretched as though to help me up, but then he got this strained expression on his face. An emotion I couldn't quite name, but seemed distinctly sad. Emerson moved in his stead, grabbing some paper towels and placing them on my shaking, mangled hands. I remember the scars had ached terribly that day, so my grip was already looser than it should have been. The glass had just slipped out of my hands, and Sebastian hadn't been mad. He didn't yell, or even sound remotely angry. He had just guided me through the way to properly clean it up without hurting myself.

It was kind of him, considerate. There were no words I could formulate at the time to properly thank him.

"Here, let's get those cuts cleaned up. Sebastian and Remington can clear the mess just fine on their own." Emerson had moved to take my arm, but thought better of it.

At the moment, distraught at my mistake, I didn't care about the boundaries I'd set. I move my arm closer to him as an invitation to continue and he does with a tender hold, careful not to hold too tightly, nearly hovering moreso than actually touching me as he led me along to the downstairs bathroom where he brought out a brand new, shiny, first aid kid. His grip was warm as he held my own shaking hands still, not quite warm enough to be considered alive, but a far cry from the chill I'd expected. Maybe it had something to do with the blood he'd drank earlier in the day, but it was comforting nonetheless.

I found myself beginning to trust them, after that. Their actions made it easy, their words even moreso.

Now, as I stood before Remington and Emerson, I let a smile creep across my face. I didn't quite feel like letting out the laugh I'd stopped before, but this was progress.

"You're free to laugh, and smile, and simply exist here." Remington states firmly, meeting my gaze with one of surety, of assurance and care.

Nodding again, I let my smile remain. Perhaps I'll let myself believe in them, if only in that my laughter or my happiness will not bring harm.

::

"I don't trust her, but I know she's been hurt. Neither of you saw her face when that glass shattered yesterday. There was this stricken terror on her face, and when she started to cry, it was silent. Her face fell into this carefully blank expression and she was actively trying to make as little noise and movement as possible. It was... not right. Be careful of how you handle her, as I will try to be. Oh, and Remington, try and let her initiate interactions herself so as to not overwhelm her. Just take things slow and you'll be fine."

As Sebastian leaves, off to continue cleaning the kitchen that we hardly make use of, Remington speaks, his voice a sullen, grateful whisper.

"Thank you for trying to make her comfortable here Emerson. I know Sebastian and I haven't made the job easy for you with how we've been treating her, or in my case, avoiding her due to my circumstances. I appreciate it more than you could ever know."

"Don't mention it. She'll be my big sister if all goes well after all. I have to make a good impression or she'll never side with me in arguments."

::

For us apparently being soulmates, I think Remington has been attempting to avoid me for the most part, which is not hard to do as I remain in my room most hours of the day avoiding them. Everytime I see him and we're alone in the same room, he gives me this pained look as though he wants to speak to me. He looked so excited when we met, and I can see in his eyes that he still is, there's just this... sad apprehension gleaming in his eyes. He... seems ashamed of something. The vampire tries to avoid being close to me or just plain interacting with me, and I'm not entirely sure of the reason. Is it because I wouldn't let him touch me? I hope not. I don't... want him to be sad because of me. I don't want to hurt him. Does he know there's something wrong with me? Does he know I'm a freak? Does he regret being my soulmate, even though he himself hasn't really been acting upon that fact? How could he not, after seeing my reactions to things, after seeing how messed up I am?

No. Stop thinking that this peace between yourself and these vampires will last once they find out what you can do.

They're going to kill me or give me back to them once they discover my abilities. They can't find out. If I stay here too long, they will find out, inevitably. And I will leave. I will leave, and not be taken back home, even if I have to rip my own body to pieces trying.

Without my consent, my mind wanders back to every tiny little memory I have of him. Of the little glimpses of his personality I've hoarded in my mind without realizing it. His love of books, of music, his adoration for his brothers despite how they argue over trivial matters. I wonder if he knows that I see him looking at me, longing permanent in his gaze. I wonder if he sees me looking at him, curiosity and so, so much hope in my own. I want this soulmate thing to be true, for there to be someone out there to love me like I'd never been loved before. Someone destined for me. I don't deserve it, or expect it, but I want to hold onto this hope so badly. I want something to hold onto with every fibre of my being, something to cherish. With every glimpse I get into who Remington is, I find myself wanting it to be him that I love and care for.

My feet move, my want to talk to him overpowering any logical thinking I may have had. I want to see him. I...

I need to see him. My heart hurts everytime he looks to be in pain, when he's not near. I don't understand it. I don't know him all that well. I've pushed him away, set a barrier between my heart and his, and yet I find myself caring for him. I don't understand at all. Nothing is like it used to be.

I almost miss the way things were when I was a child, after my parents, but before everything started to hurt. Before pain was all I had known for so long. Everything was so simple. Follow orders and be left alone. In peace. Pretend everything was normal long enough and eventually I believed it. Until I couldn't follow orders anymore. Not after what was asked of me. There was no... anything. No need, no want to be near another person. Only the desperate urge to get away.

I find myself walking up the steps to the second floor. My hand trails the wooden railing as I go, steps heavy yet meaningful. What am I doing?

Lost in my thoughts, I knock on Remington's door. It opens hardly a moment later and I look up from staring at the doorknob to see his brown eyes. My thoughts come to a startling halt. He's... in front of me. So close I could reach out and touch him with barely any effort on my part.

"I... uh... I w-wanted to talk you. I'm s-sorry if this is a bad time. I-I'm going to just-just go, sorry." I rush out, stumbling over my words in my haste.

Why did I say that? What would we even talk about? Why didn't I just stay in my room?

I pivot on my heel, fully intending to fall down the stairs if I have to in order to escape the situation but the sudden pleasurable tingles on my wrist stops me entirely. I look down in surprise with widened eyes, not really knowing what was going on. His tan hand is wrapped firmly, yet gently around my bony wrist. The anxiety that usually wrecks my body and mind at touch isn't present, only the tendee feeling of his skin on my own. Never before has a touch not frightened me. I turn so I can somewhat face him and stare at him in confusion, a furrow between my brow.

What's going on? What is this... feeling? I've never felt anything like this before.

He, too, is staring at where our skin meets. His hand is warm like Emersons was, thought its a muted warmth compared to my own. Almost alive, but not quite. I pay close attention to the tingles as they continue to buzz. Its like liquid happiness is coursing through my veins. Well, I think anyway. I haven't felt truly happy in a long, long time. Since I was a young child, before my parents knew what I could do.

Any thoughts as to how I hadn't wanted him to touch me, any of them to touch me, go out the window, so to speak.

"Come in."

Two short, simple words. That's all it takes for me to follow Remington into his room, letting his cold hand rest in my warm one as he leads me along. He leaves the door open a good bit, to my relief.

"*Derexi hense."

He mutters something in a language I don't understand and a gold glow leaves his lips for only a moment before it appears to lightly cover his walls in a warm glow. As he utters those strange words, his eyes glow a startlingly bright gold, like the color of my eye.

"What... w-was that?" I murmur in utter confusion.

I'd seen this before, the spell, I mean. But the golden eyes was something I was unfamiliar with. "A privacy spell, sweetness. Our mother was a witch and she had taught us a few spells." He replies simply.

He moves around his room, picking up discarded bits of clothing and papers, before he stops, turning to look at me in surprise at my sudden follow-up statement.

"N-not the, uh, the spell, uh, y-your eyes."

"My... Oh! I'm surprised you weren't asking about the spell, or my mother being a witch. A witch or warlock can always be measured by the color of their eyes when performing magic. Gold means that they are extremely powerful, and those without a gold flash or if their irises aren't taken over completely by the brilliant color, are simply normal magic users. It's also a soulmate thing." He says that last sentence so quietly, I don't catch a thing he says.

"I've n-never seen someone else with gold eyes before." I mutter, deciding to return my gaze to my wrist.

I can still feel the ghost of his tender touch, a longing settling in my being. It's unusual to want anyone to touch me as I'm usually so averse to it.

Remington notices me staring at where our skin had touched, walking over to me silently. "Are you surprised by the feeling sweetness?" He smiles, gently taking my arm like he did before, leading us to sit on his bed, side by side, "This is the feeling that will occur everytime we touch, and it won't be quite so prominent or jarring, eventually. It's caused by our souls reacting to each other due to our status as soulmates. I wasn't lying to you about that, my dear."

I can't help but to believe him. Everything about him is screaming at me that he is telling nothing but the truth. His honest eyed, kind smile, the pleasurable tingles where our skin meets. I want to believe him, but I'm scared. To hide my fears, I change the subject.

"How d-do you know so m-much about soulmates R-Remington?"

"I doubt you know this but vampires are never given a promised. We are a species destined to find love with someone whose soul does not complete our own. But us Kropp brothers weren't born from two vampire parents, or were completely human. We're anomaly's in the supernatural world already, just because of our existence. Our father was a vampire, and our mother a witch, as I mentioned before. So you being my soulmate... it's... it's a miracle. I'd always hoped I'd have one, but tried not to get my hopes up. I scoured every supernatural library I could over the years, just absorbing as much information as I could."

Years... how many years did he hope and long for a soulmate? The other half of his soul...

And he got stuck with me.

We sit in momentary silence, so I take this time to really look at him, at the emotion in his eyes. There's such joy there as he looks at me, but also this... this shame, and pain.

"Remington, I w-want to know why you've been avoiding me. If we r-really truly are soul... soulmates, then why do you look so ashamed when y-you look at me? Is there... is there something w-wrong with me? I'm sorry if I'm not good enough of a soulmate, I know you mentioned vampires d-don't get them. I'm sorry you got stuck with me." I curse my incessant stuttering, wishing that I didn't speak this way.

I'm an abomination. My magic, my soul, its all wrong. There must be something wrong with me. There has to be. Maybe he realized this and that's why he's been avoiding me. It never crossed my mind that it could be something wrong with him, so used to being a problem to everyone around me.

He seems taken aback, and there's so many emotions swimming around in his dark eyes but the most prominent is guilt.

Oh... So it must be true.

(A/N: Me jumping to conclusions like)

A deep sadness fills my entire being and tears well up in my eyes for reasons I cannot fathom. I don't know Remington all that well. So why does the confirmation that he is ashamed of me hurt so bad?

I'm so caught up in my thoughts and sadness that I don't hear the audible hiss that escapes Remington. He clutches at the place over his heart like someone had stabbed him, shirt clenched between whitening fingers.

"-sten to me. Sweetness!" I don't willingly look at him, not wanting to meet his eyes, but he doesn't let me refuse to meet his gaze.

His gentle fingers ghosting over my cheek brings immediate tingles to the area, a blush forming at our contact, forcing me to look him in his glimmering chocolate irises. "I'm not ashamed of you. You have to believe me when I say that I would never, ever be anything less than proud at even the thought of you being my soulmate. You're my promised, love. My promised, the match to my own soul."

"You- you're sure? You're not... l-lying to me or anything, right?"

"Sweetness, I would never lie unless it was absolutely necessary. Lying would hurt you, and I never want to hurt you."

My heart is quick to believe him though my brain feebly protests.

"If you're n-not going to lie.... then... why are you avoiding- avoiding me? Did I do something w-wrong?"

I say this as though I myself was not avoiding him in turn.

"No, no. It's not you, I promise. It's... my fault actually. I can't tell you yet. Maybe when I know you won't hate me."

He stares into my eyes, showing no signs of lying, no glances to the floor or the sides. No guilt in his eyes as he makes that promise. "Alright." I murmur, acting quickly as I capture him in a hug before he can fully process my one-worded answer, before I can think ill of my action.

He's warm, which still surprises me despite knowing why. All of the vampires I'd come across had been cold, sluggish and crazed. Remington is a vampire, like his brothers. They're technically mostly dead. Their hearts still beat, but at a much, much slower pace than humans. The heart doesn't pump blood through the body fast enough to keep the organs well-functioning, so the muscles and organs don't heat up like a live persons. As the time between feeding lengthens, the blood they'd consumed dissipates alongside their magic, the two interconnected. Their magic relies directly on the blood needed to keep their bodies and souls sustained. They grow weak, sluggish and stiff as their minds splinter. Eventually they feel as if they were dead before they truly die. It's why they need warm blood. It heats up the organs and heart enough to function, warming their bodies and allowing for lifelike movement and coloring.

The scientists had loose lips, high off my magical prowess as a human as they hurt me, giddy over their discoveries.

Remington's strong arms wrap around my waist hesitantly and I tighten my grip around his torso.

I want to trust him so badly. I want someone in my life who cares for me, anyone. I'm... desperate to be loved. I shouldn't stay here, any moment this could go wrong, but... with his arms around me... an emotion I've never felt before warms my heart. I don't want to be alone anymore.

::

*Definition of: derexi Hense (latin). Got it from Google translate so I don't trust it entirely 😂

Seclusion.

Also, please let me know if I messed up that part about body heat and blood and such. Thanks.