Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Charlie woke to the sound of aggressive positivity.
"Rise and shine, vampire lord! Time to face the day!"
Brent stood in front of his living room windows, arms stretched wide, about to pull open the heavy curtains.
"No!" Charlie rolled off the couch, landing behind it with a thud. "Don't open those!"
Brent paused. "Dude, it's noon. You can't stay in the dark all day."
"Actually, I can. The sun will burn my skin."
"No way, bro, vitamin D is important." Brent pulled one curtain halfway open.
Sunlight streamed across the room. Charlie pressed himself against the back of the couch, his skin prickling with an uncomfortable heat even from indirect exposure.
"Please, just close it!"
Brent sighed but pulled the curtain shut. "This is getting concerning. When's the last time you went outside during normal hours?"
Three weeks ago, Charlie thought. When he was still human.
"I work night shifts," he said instead.
"Right, but you're not working today. Or tonight, since you called in sick." Brent moved away from the windows, and Charlie cautiously emerged from behind the couch. "Which means we have all day to hang out! I was thinking we could hit the gym."
"I can't go to the gym."
"Why not?"
"Because..." Charlie's mind went blank. "I don't have a membership?"
"Guest pass, bro. Already called ahead." Brent grinned, clearly proud of his planning. "Come on, it'll be good for you. You look like you haven't eaten in days."
That was technically true. Ketchup packets and cherry Kool-Aid didn't really count as eating.
"I appreciate it, but—"
"No buts!" Brent was already heading to his room. "I've got extra workout clothes. We'll get you swole in no time!"
"Brent, I really can't."
"You know what?" Brent emerged with an armful of gym clothes. "If you're that committed to staying inside, we'll work out here. I've got dumbbells, resistance bands, and a pull-up bar."
Charlie stared at the offered clothes. "Here?"
"Yeah! It'll be fun. We'll open up some space, get a good pump going. Maybe it'll help with whatever's got you so stressed." Brent's expression softened. "Because honestly, man, you seem like you're going through something. And exercise helps. Trust me."
The genuine concern in Brent's voice made Charlie's chest tight. Here was someone actually trying to help him, even if Brent had no idea what was really wrong.
"Okay," Charlie said, taking the clothes. "We can try."
Brent's face lit up. "That's the spirit! Get changed. We'll start with some light warm-ups."
Charlie went to the bathroom to change, catching his reflection in the mirror.
He wished that part about how vampires didn't have reflections were true.
He had one, and it looked terrible. He was paler than usual and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to get worse every day.
The borrowed tank top hung loose on his frame.
When he emerged, Brent had pushed his coffee table against the wall and laid out his collection of weights. It was honestly impressive for a studio apartment—dumbbells ranging from ten to fifty pounds, several kettlebells, and resistance bands mounted to the wall.
"Alright!" Brent clapped his hands together. "Let's start with some basic movements. See where you're at."
He demonstrated a few stretches, which Charlie copied. At least flexibility hadn't changed with his transformation.
"Good! Now let's try some push-ups. Give me ten."
Charlie dropped to the floor and started. One, two, three—wait. These felt different. By ten, he wasn't even slightly tired.
"Nice form!" Brent said. "Let's try twenty more."
Charlie did twenty more. Still nothing.
"Damn, okay! You've got better endurance than I expected." Brent grabbed a twenty-pound dumbbell. "Let's test your strength. Bicep curls."
Charlie took the weight. It felt like holding a coffee mug. He did a curl, trying to make it look difficult, adding a grunt for effect because he knew this was supposed to be difficult.
"Come on, don't just go through the motions," Brent said. "Really feel the burn."
"Right. The burn." Charlie did another curl, scrunching his face in fake concentration.
Brent frowned. "That weight too light? Here." He handed Charlie a forty-pound dumbbell.
Charlie took it, still pretending to struggle just so Brent would leave him alone.
"Bro, you're not even trying. I can tell. That's forty pounds and you're treating it like it's nothing."
"No, it's definitely something," Charlie lied, adding a slight shake to his arm.
"Stop faking!" Brent grabbed the fifty-pound dumbbell. "Look, if you can't lift it, that's fine. No judgment. But don't pretend it's hard when it's not."
Something snapped in Charlie. He grabbed the fifty-pound weight and did ten rapid curls with one arm, then switched and did ten with the other, his face completely relaxed.
"Holy shit." Brent's eyes went wide. "You're doing single-arm curls with fifty pounds like it's nothing. What's your max?"
"I don't know." Charlie was tired of pretending. "I told you. I'm a vampire. Super strength comes with the territory."
"Right, vampire strength." Brent nodded seriously, but Charlie could see he still didn't believe it. "From all your vampire training."
"I don't train! I literally just told you—"
"Let's find out your max!" Brent was getting excited now. He grabbed his backpack and started filling it with weights. "This is probably about seventy pounds total. Can you curl this?"
Charlie took the backpack by one strap and curled it easily. Too easily. Then, frustrated, he took Brent's entire weight set—the rack and all—and lifted it overhead with one hand.
"See?" Charlie said, holding approximately two hundred pounds above his head like an umbrella. "Vampire. Actual vampire. Not LARPing. Not method acting. Vampire."
"Dude. DUDE." Brent was practically vibrating with excitement. "You've been training for this role for YEARS, haven't you? The dedication! The commitment! You probably started working out in secret when you first got interested in vampire stuff!"
Charlie set the weights down with a clang. "Brent, I was literally holding your entire gym with one hand."
"I know! It's incredible! You must have such a specific workout routine. And supplements! Are you on creatine? BCAAs? Some special program?"
"Does tomato juice count?"
"Is that code for something? Like a new pre-workout?"
Charlie grabbed the pull-up bar mounted in Brent's doorway and did a pull-up so forcefully that the bar bent into a V-shape.
"Oh come on!" Brent rushed over to examine it. "That was a hundred-dollar bar! How did you—wait, this is amazing. The grip strength alone!"
"Because I'm a vampire!"
"Method acting to the extreme, bro. I respect it." Brent was filming now with his phone. "My followers are going to lose their minds when they see this."
Charlie stared at the phone screen, seeing himself clearly displayed doing inhuman feats. "I show up on camera."
"Yeah? Why wouldn't you?"
"Vampires aren't supposed to show up on camera. But then, I show up in the mirror too." Charlie slumped. "I can't even do that right."
"Maybe you're a different kind of vampire?" Brent suggested helpfully. "Like in that movie where they could see themselves but only in digital cameras?"
"This isn't a movie!"
"I know, it's a lifestyle. A commitment. And honestly?" Brent deleted the video. "I respect that you want to keep the mystique. No social media evidence. Though I don't think that'll help your acting career."
Acting career…
He was not an actor.
And he would prove it once and for all.
Charlie grabbed Brent's couch. His fingers sank into the fabric as he got a good grip. The muscles in his arms tensed, and the couch lifted off the ground.
"Whoa!" Brent said.
"Get on it," Charlie demanded.
"What?"
"Sit on the couch. I'll prove it."
"Okay, but if you drop me, you're paying for my sushi next time we go." Brent climbed onto the couch, still laughing. "This is insane."
Charlie adjusted his grip and lifted the couch higher. It rose—Brent and all. Charlie's arms straightened, pushing the furniture overhead.
"VAMPIRE!" Charlie shouted triumphantly.
And that's when his body gave up.
It wasn't gradual. One second he was holding several hundred pounds over his head, and the next his arms just... stopped working. Like someone had turned off whatever power fueled him.
The couch dropped.
Charlie's survival instincts kicked in just enough to make him stumble backward, shoving the falling furniture away from his head.
The couch tilted as it fell, spilling Brent sideways with a yelp.
It crashed down where Charlie had been standing, one leg splintering against the floor with a crack like a gunshot.
Brent landed on his yoga mat with a heavy thud. Charlie hit the wall behind him, sliding down to sit on the floor.
"Ow," Brent said from his position on the ground. "What happened?"
Charlie stared at his trembling hands. "I don't... I don't know."
"Did you lose your grip?" Brent sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Man, that was scary. You okay?"
"I'm fine." Charlie wasn't fine. His arms felt like wet noodles. Even now, he could barely keep them raised. "Sorry. I'm so sorry."
"It's cool, bro. That couch was old anyway." Brent stood, brushing himself off, then looked at Charlie more closely. "You sure you’re okay?"
Charlie looked down. His whole body was trembling. The exertion of the exercise must have burned through what little energy the ketchup packets had provided.
"Maybe we pushed too hard," Brent said, genuine concern creeping into his voice. "When's the last time you ate?"
Three weeks. But he couldn't say that again.
"I'm fine," Charlie repeated, but his voice cracked on the word. His vision was starting to blur at the edges. "Just need to sit down."
"Okay, yeah." Brent guided him to the fallen couch, which was now at an angle with its broken leg. "Let's take a break. That was intense."