"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."
Charlie sank onto the tilted cushions, head in his hands. He'd meant to prove his vampire nature. Instead, he'd proven he was too weak to be a proper vampireora proper human.
"So about that vampire strength," Brent said carefully. "Is it... like, inconsistent? Does it come and go?"
"Apparently," Charlie muttered.
"That's actually really interesting from a character development standpoint." Brent sat beside him. "Like, maybe your vampire character is still learning to control his powers? That would make for a compelling arc."
Charlie wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.
"Sure," he said instead. "Character development."
His stomach growled so loudly that Brent flinched.
"Look," Brent said. "Whether you're a real vampire or just really committed to the role, you clearly need help. You're obviously dealing with something heavy. So I'm here for you, okay? Even if I don't fully understand what you're going through."
The kindness in his voice made Charlie's chest tight. "Thanks, Brent."
"But seriously, you need to eat something. Even vampires need nutrition, right?"
Charlie's stomach growled again. The hunger was getting worse. The ketchup packets weren't even taking the edge off anymore.
"Yeah," Charlie said quietly. "We do." The sounds his stomach made became louder.
"Okay, that's concerning," Brent said. "That sounded like a wounded animal."
"Sorry." Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. The exercise had definitely been a mistake. His body had burned through whatever meager energy his dubious diet had provided, and now it wanted payment.
"Let me make you something." Brent headed to his kitchen. "I've got protein bars, leftover Thai food, some questionable yogurt..."
"I'm good."
"You're not good. You're literally vibrating."
Charlie couldn't argue with that. His hands were still shaking.
Brent returned with an armful of food, dumping it on the coffee table. "Eat something. Anything."
Charlie picked up a protein bar to appease him, unwrapped it, took a bite. It tasted like cardboard and sadness. His body knew this wasn't what it needed, but he forced himself to swallow.
"Better?" Brent asked.
"Yeah," Charlie lied.
