Falling for my Vampire Captain のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Franklin’s POVThe cab pulled away before I even got my second bag off the ground, leaving me standing at the entrance of Frostbite Hockey Academy with nothing but cold air biting at my neck and the sound of my own breathing.I stood there for a moment, just taking it in.The academy was massive, more than I had imagined when I first read the transfer documents. Iron gates, tall and black, stretched across the entrance like something out of a gothic novel. Beyond them, buildings rose in clean, sharp lines against a pale sky. Snow dusted the rooftops and clung to the edges of the pavement. Everything looked permanent, like it had been standing long before I was born and would keep standing long after I left.Which, given how things ended at my last school, might not be too long.I grabbed both bags and pushed through the smaller side gate that had been left open. My boots crunched over the thin layer of ice that coated the path leading toward the main building. The cold here was differ

Franklin’s POVThe door opened again about four minutes after it had closed.I hadn’t moved from the bench. My hand was still bleeding, slow and steady, and I had pressed the edge of my sleeve against it more out of habit than any real effort to deal with it. My friend’s words were still sitting in my head, but I hadn’t had time to turn them over properly before footsteps crossed the floor toward me.Rydan stopped a few feet away.He didn’t come close this time. He held the first aid kit out at arm’s length, the way you’d pass something to a stranger on a bus… far enough that there was a clear gap between us, far enough that our hands wouldn’t meet. I looked at the kit, then at him.His face gave nothing away.I reached forward and took it from him. The moment my fingers closed around it, he let go and stepped back. I sat there holding it, half expecting him to say something… an explanation, an instruction, anything. But he just stood there at that distance, watching me with those gre

Franklin’s POVMy legs made the decision before my brain did.One second I was standing in the doorway of the changing room, and the next I was turning, moving fast, trying to put as much distance between myself and what I had just seen as my legs would allow. The image was already burned behind my eyes… the wound that had been there, red and deep, and then simply not. Like it had never happened. Like flesh could just decide to close itself and move on.I made it two steps into the corridor.A hand closed around my wrist.The grip was iron. Not painful exactly, but absolute… the kind of hold that communicates very clearly that the person applying it is not exerting even close to their full strength. I was pulled back and around before I could plant my feet, and then my back was against the wall and Rydan was in front of me.His eyes were black.Not dark brown, not some trick of the light in a dim corridor… black. Fully, completely black, the way eyes don’t go. It lasted only a moment

Franklin’s POVI woke up to the unfamiliar weight of someone else on the mattress.For a second I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, piecing it together. The film had ended somewhere around midnight. We had talked after, still on the couch, low voices, the kind of conversation that only happens when it’s late and the rest of the world has gone quiet. At some point we had moved, and at some point after that, sleep had arrived without announcing itself.Rydan was on top of the covers, fully dressed, one arm folded under his head. Asleep, he looked younger. All that composure had nowhere to perform, so it had simply vacated, and what was left was just a person, resting.I watched him for a moment longer than was probably reasonable, then got up carefully and went to the kitchen.I moved around quietly… eggs, the pan my mom kept on the second hook, bread in the toaster. The morning light coming through the kitchen window was pale and thin, the kind that belonged to cold days. I worke

Franklin’s POVI almost didn’t go.I stood in my apartment for a good ten minutes after the call ended, jacket still on, bag still over my shoulder, weighing it. Vivian and I had history that stretched back further than most of my memories… the kind of friendship that forms before you’re old enough to choose people deliberately, rooted in proximity and shared years and the particular loyalty of children who only have each other to rely on. That didn’t dissolve just because time had passed.I went.She had picked a place near the centre of town, a small bar with warm lighting and the kind of background noise that makes conversation feel private. She was already there when I arrived, seated at a corner table, and she stood when she saw me with a smile that was genuinely happy. That part was easy to receive. Whatever complicated thing Vivian was, she had always been glad to see me.We hugged briefly and sat down.For the first half hour it was fine. Better than fine. She talked about whe