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"Dan, you were 'round in the eighties. Can you settle this feckin stupid debate for us?" Brian says.
That's how Daniel is roped into the conversation at 5AM on a random Tuesday. He sighs, knowing there's nothing he can do now except participate, and asks,
"I wasn't exactly ‘around,’ but alright. What's the debate about?"
"What year were inhalers invented?"
Daniel blinks. He doesn't know.
"I- Why the fuck would I know that?"
Seàn scoffs annoyingly,
"Uhh, because you were there when it happened?"
Sometimes Daniel wonders if his friends' IQs are in the single digits. He pushes that thought aside however, as he replies,
"I wasn't there when it happened. It's not like I was in the fuckin' room as they were invented."
"I thought you said you had asthma!"
"Yeah, HAD. You're missing the key part where I died , Seàn. I'm not affected by breathing problems anymore."
Seàn shrugs,
"Okay, well-"
"Why can't you just look it up?"
And that's how Daniel discovers that the internet has been down in the entire area for hours, which is why the lads are talking about something as random as inhalers in the first place. He slips away from the conversation and retreats to his room like he intended. He wants to get an early night (or perhaps, early day) and catch up on sleep.
His sleep schedule is always messed up in the winter- well, more than usual, since it's dark outside for so much longer. Christmas is only three days away, and he needs the energy to deal with four drunk and merry monsters. Kevin is human, yes, but he's a whole different kind of monster.
The thought of having the lads all together for Christmas is nice. Last year it was just him, Brian and Daithi, because Seàn and Kevin decided to have a little holiday a few counties over, supposedly to search the forests for old skeletons, or go "boning" as they call it.
Daniel is glad he has the lads. They might cause chaos and nearly burn his mansion down every week, but he was lonely before he met them. He moped around the place for... he doesn't know how long. He's stopped counting the days now; now that he has friends.
Friends that won't live forever , comes a sneer from the back of his mind.
It's a thought that's always there. Sure, Daithi is technically immortal, but what if someone manages to break his stone? Brian can't exactly die in the usual sense anymore, but he's at risk of being shut down or destroyed. Seàn lives longer than humans do, but he's still mortal. And Kevin… well, he worries about Kevin the most.
“No, shut up,” he mutters to himself. He can't let these thoughts take over, because then they won't stop, and he'll end up having a nervous breakdown and cutting off the lads completely, like he did every time he tried to live a normal, human life.
He finds his junk notebook in his desk drawer, opens it to the first empty page and scrawls down the number 1875, his birth year. None of the lads know what year he was born; they only know the day, April 13th. He writes out the year 2024 above it, and starts subtracting.
Daniel knows that he's at least 100 years old now, even though he stopped counting at around 85. But when he puts down the pencil after double and triple checking his results, he stares in disbelief at the number in front of him.
One hundred and forty-nine years old.
He sits back in his chair for a brief moment, but then he picks up the pencil again and writes down a new equation.
2024 - 1897
June 15th. On the contrary, the lads all know the year he died, but hell will freeze over before he tells them the exact date. He doesn't want anyone to feel bad for him, especially over something that happened…
127 years ago.
Daniel has been a vampire for 127 years. Now, he knows it has been a long time, but seeing it in numbers feels a lot more surreal. Be it the number of years he's lived, or the number of wars he's survived, or the number of friends he's lost…
Next April he'll be 150 years old.
The thought hits Daniel so suddenly that he doesn't even realise he's crying until he feels the tear run down his cheek. He hastily wipes it away and sniffles; he can't be crying over the fact that he's immortal, he's fine. He's made his peace with it. He's completely fine with being immortal.
-
“Y'know, I thought I'd really miss drinking,” Daithi says, half an hour before midnight on New Year's Eve,
“But being a sober ghost ain't too bad. I don't need alcohol to float. Twist.”
“What?” Seàn says, taking a card and flipping it over, revealing the seven of spades,
“Nineteen.”
“Stick. I mean like, mentally float. You feel like you're floating when you're drunk. It makes sense, alright?” he defends as Seàn reveals his two cards: ace of spades and queen of diamonds.
“HA.”
“Feck off.”
“Go again?”
“Alright.”
“Ooh, deal me in!” Brian says in a sing-song way as he sits beside Seàn,
“What’re we playing?”
“Twenty one, or blackjack. Whatever ye call it,” Seàn says, sliding the deck closer to him,
“You two play, I'm gonna get a refill.”
Just as he grabs his glass and stands up, Kevin dives into the space he left,
“What are we playin?”
Daniel watches them from his spot away from the fireplace, where for once there's an actual fire. Most of the time the candles and lamps on the mantelpiece are enough. It's a special occasion though, so he allowed Kevin to actually light the dusty old thing.
This month has been… odd. Daniel hasn't felt festive at all, and usually he's a sap for all the holiday traditions, but now they just remind him of the time that has passed.
Not for him, of course. He has been… stuck, for the last hundred and twenty-seven years. Frozen in place. His body hasn't changed, aged like it was supposed to. Scars are the only thing that make him different year to year, and even they fade after a decade or so.
‘A decade or so’ . Such a fleeting thought for him, but such a long time for the fast-moving mortals around him. Even Daithi. He hasn't been alive- or dead, rather, for very long. A decade is still a lot for him-
“Oi Daniel! We're playin’ Uno now, wanna join?” Brian calls. Daniel shakes himself out of his thoughts and quickly replies, letting autopilot take over,
“Ah sure, go on.”
“We’ll have to make it quick though, we’ve only got twenty minutes left.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing! It’s the new year for fecks sake!”
-
Daniel's birthday rolls around. Time seems to both drag on and fly by at the same time. He wakes in the early evening, before the sun has even fully set.
He can already hear the hustle and bustle of the lads downstairs, probably preparing to celebrate. Daniel barely wants to get out of bed, let alone celebrate the one thing that's been eating at him for months. But the lads are so nice to him and they work so hard on his birthday, he can't help but feel guilty. He could at least try to enjoy today for their sake.
As he gets dressed whilst sitting down, still not fully committed to being out of bed, there's a sharp knock on his bedroom door.
“Yeah?”
“Just checking if you're up,” comes Brian's voice from behind the door,
“We’ve prepared some stuff downstairs if you wanna join us.”
Instead of joining them, Daniel opens his door for a moment and hears their spritely, happy voices. It's already too much, so he transforms into a bat and slips away quietly.
There's one place in the mansion that nobody can get to. The very top of the attic, the gap between the ceiling and the roof, is barely habitable, between the lack of light, the missing window panes and the unstable floorboards. Daniel isn't sure if the lads even know about it.
Carefully, he lands on the floor and transforms back. The ornate window is smudged and fogged up, but he can still see the remaining shreds of sunset. Without even thinking, his hand finds its way out of one of the missing glass panes and basks in the soft orange glow.
It doesn't burn, per se, but he still feels something, a tingly, almost pleasant feeling. He stays there for God knows how long; long enough that the sun fully sets and the attic is shrouded in darkness.
Maybe the feeling of burning isn't so bad. At least it's a feeling .
He feels Daithi's presence before he hears him. Daniel slowly pulls his hand back from the empty frame and turns his head.
“Dan, what the fuck are you doin’ up here?”
The vampire curls up tighter, bringing his knees to his chest almost defensively, and mutters,
“I… didn't think anyone knew this was here.”
Daithi floats higher and sits down opposite Daniel,
“I don't think the others know. I found it when we were looking for hiding spots, y'know, that time we scared those ghost hunters.”
Daniel remembers. That was back in September. Back when he was happy .
“Anyway, you didn't answer me. Why don't you wanna celebrate?”
“I never said that-”
“Oh, so you're just hiding up here for fun then. Bit of an odd way to celebrate your own birthday but alright.”
Daniel looks down at the floor. There's a loose screw sticking out. He wonders how big a screw has to be in order to count as a stake.
“…I hate being dead.”
Daithi's face falls. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but Daniel actually being open about his feelings was not it.
“I know that's selfish of me, I have this giant mansion, as much money as I could ever need, four great friends…
But I just don't… feel happy anymore. I don't feel anything anymore. It feels like I'm overstaying my welcome, like I'm just waiting for…”
He looks up at Daithi briefly, but finds that the eye contact is just too much.
“I’m just waiting for something… terrible to happen. At least it’ll make me feel alive for a moment. And then it’ll be over…”
“Daniel…” Daithi tries to cut in.
“I know. It’s stupid. I’m just being stupid. I’m sorry-”
“Dan- just shut up for a second. You’re not stupid.” The ghost slides closer and sits beside the vampire,
“Being dead feels like shite. Don’t be sorry for feeling like shite. You’ve got an equally dead friend to confide in, remember?”
Daniel shakes his head frantically,
“No, no, you don’t get to say that. You’re not equally dead. You haven’t been dead for over a century. You-”
“Dan.”
“You can’t just- I can’t-”
“Dan, you’re having a panic attack.”
He shakes his head again, pulling on the sleeves of his dress shirt as he chokes on a sob. Before, he liked that the attic was small and cramped, but now it’s suffocating. His vision blurs with unshed tears and his chest tightens. He doesn’t even need to breathe nearly as much as a human, yet he’s hyperventilating. He can’t breathe.
He’s going to faint. He’s going to die . He hasn’t felt this alive for more than a century. And he forgot how horrible it feels.
“It’s okay. Just breathe.”
He can’t .
“Listen. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He’s not .
Daithi’s voice starts dying out in Daniel’s ears, turning into unintelligible murmurs. The tightness in his chest loosens, just enough for a real breath to slip through, but then he just starts sobbing all over again. His hands are shaking now. He buries his face in his knees.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He… he’s…
He breathes in.
He breathes out.
He’s okay.
“… -gave up on rebuilding it. I think he’s burned it down one too many times. I didn’t know how that tree was still up, but then he told me it’s somethin’ called a dryad? Which means it doesn’t burn easy? Anyway he said he might make a shed on the mansion grounds instead, and he was waiting ‘til today to ask because he thought you might get drunk and say yes.”
Soon, the attic comes back into focus; the feeling of the draft through the window comes back, and the slightly cold sensation of Daithi’s hand resting over his knee. Daithi continues to ramble about anything that comes to his mind, until Daniel lifts his head and wipes his eyes with his sleeves.
“You alright now?” Daithi asks, so casually, as if he didn’t just watch a vampire have a panic attack in his attic on his own birthday.
Daniel nods. For the first time in a while, it doesn’t feel forced. He is alright.
“You’re right. I’ve only been dead for about a decade. I can’t imagine how a century would feel.”
“No-” Daniel’s voice comes out shaky, but he doesn’t seem to care,
“I was wrong to compare us. I regret saying that.”
“That doesn’t stop it being true. You were angry, I get it. I’m surprised you weren’t angrier with how long you’ve kept all this to yourself.”
It’s quiet for a while.
“Y’know I-”
“I’ve been a-”
They both speak at the same time. Daniel breathes out a laugh and wipes his eyes again.
“You first,” Daithi insists.
Daniel takes a deep breath, and his voice comes out steady this time,
“A hundred and fifty years. I’ve been alive for a hundred and fifty years, today.”
“Feckin hell, Dan,”
“I know… it feels weird saying it out loud. I’ve never told anyone how old I am.”
Daniel picks up the loose screw and drives it into the floorboard with his thumb. He doesn’t really fancy being stabbed in the foot when he gets up,
“I think I’ll tell the others too. Maybe today or maybe another time. I still don’t know how I feel about… the whole immortal thing.”
“That makes sense. It’s not really somethin’ you just figure out after a random panic attack on a Tuesday.”
The vampire chuckles.
“While I’m already sharing, I died on the fifteenth of June. I don’t think I’ve told anyone the exact date.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Y’know, steer Kevin and his fires away from you on the day. Make sure you ain’t too stressed.”
He laughs again,
“I’d actually like that, I think. I’ve come close to snapping at the lads on my death day.”
Daithi smirks,
“I died October second, if you wanna return the favour.”
“I’ll put it in the diary. Giant red letters and all, DAITHI DEAD.”
“Ohh so you can make jokes about my death now!” Daithi sneers. They both know there’s not actually any resentment behind it.
“Alright, alright. What were you gonna say?”
Daithi sighs,
“Oh, I was gonna say somethin’ sad about myself to make you feel better.”
“Come on, out with it. We’re sharing now.”
“Alright… I don’t think I ever had a grave. Y’know, since they never found my body.”
“I didn’t have one either. It was kind of a weird time where only rich families had graveyards on their property. And again, no body since I… still have it.”
“We should make graves for each other!”
Daniel thinks it’s a joke at first. He thinks it’s a joke as they leave the attic and join the lads. He still thinks it’s a joke for a few days. Then Daithi comes through his door at 1AM one night, asking Daniel if he has free time, and scaring the shit out of Daniel in the process.
“I don’t have plans today. Why?”
-
The forest is usually silent. Tonight, two men trudge through the growths. One isn’t exactly trudging, rather floating straight through bushes and low branches. The other carries a large cardboard box, and struggles to see in front of him.
“As nice as this is, I feel like you’re just making me do manual labour.”
“Alright, alright. Sorry you’re not all cosy in your fancy mansion for a single night.”
They stop in a seemingly random spot. There’s nothing notable in sight, no clearings or paths. They argue for a moment over what the best spot is, as if they’re familiar with every inch of this giant, abandoned forest. They are .
But alas, they kneel on the ground. The corporeal one clears sticks and leaves away from a small area. Then he snaps his fingers, and a pair of large stones, previously selected from a nearby stream, appear right before them. The ghost shakes his head,
“Fuckin’ show-off.”
“I wasn’t gonna haul stones all the way out here.”
They work together to fix the stones in the ground, the man packing dirt around the bases and the ghost directing him. The man takes a pouch of tools from his suit pocket. A small hammer, a chisel, some sanding and polishing sheets. It takes over an hour, slowly carving out names on both of the stones.
“Can you put ‘beloved husband of Brian Hanby’ on mine?”
“Fuck off. Even if I agreed, that would take hours.”
“Okay, somethin’ shorter like ‘Sex God’ at least-”
“We agreed on just first names! Now shut up before I spell my own name wrong.”
Next he decorates the stones. The ghost is quiet for a long time, as the man decorates one of the graves. As soon as he sits back, seemingly finished, the ghost pipes up again, instructing him exactly where to put the flowers, which order to line up the crystals, and how to drape the moss and leaves over the top.
“No, no no no. Don’t light it yet. I wanna say something first.”
“Come on, I didn’t do all this with yours! It’s getting light already.”
The ghost stands up and clasps his hands together, as if paying his last respects at a funeral.
“Rest in peace Daniel Condren. Gone too soon, but also it was fuckin’ ages ago and he’s not exactly gone.”
The man rolls his eyes.
“Okay, now go.”
The candle is lit and placed in the small gathering of crystals. Then the man gathers up the rest of the unused decorations, places them in the box, and the pair leave without another word.
And the forest is silent again.
-