Compiled (In the Shortyst amount of time.)

Date Night

I started dating this girl, and blood poured out of her. She was beautiful. Red suited her. She even wore a red dress to our first date night.

The first dish was steak. And blood poured out of her.

I was talking to one of the waiters when she reached out for my hand. I smiled, the softest and most reassuring one I can give. She held my hand ever so softly, kissing it when she brought it up to reach her lips.

I watched as the blood from her hands dripped to mine, and then on the white mantel that covered our table. Drip, drip drip the blood went, and no one seemed to care. That's good, I thought. I didn't care either. I continued with my order, and the waiter left shortly.

The piano played from somewhere we couldn't see. Not a piano in sight, nor speakers. The only other sound you'll hear are people, and the clanging of tableware, from tables both near and far.

It was surprisingly spacious, this place. We were right in the middle of one of the many red spaces of the restaurant, set humongously apart from all the other tables around us, which were closer to each other than we were to them. It's almost as if, we were the starlings of the night.

"Hey," she said, disorienting me from my habit of roaming my eyes around without turning my head in the slightest. "Your steak's gonna get cold."

"Oh, right," I laughed. She's always so attentive, her. Caring, and sweet. Her red dress makes her glow. The blood does that to her too. It still poured. And she was beautiful.

I raised my hand from my lap to reach the knife below. It felt weird using the knife with my left hand for my steak that's already half consumed, but I wanted to match her. The same hand she held my right hand with the same one she used to hold the knife. Blood flowed from her, to that hand and onto the knife she held, then onto the steak. She didn't seem to taste it, but her own blood was on that steak. "Yum, yum!" she joyously blurted out. She ate many times more, her blood always on each slice of the steak she ate.

It always made me happy seeing her happy. The blood pouring out of her became more lively, more bright red. I'd love to spend it all with her. Time, money, you name it. Nights and days. Only with her.

But blood poured out of her, which always isn't a good sign.

The steak was impeccable. We were leaning back comfortably in each of our chairs, a clear indication of a great mutual experience being shared between the two of us. Almost immediately the waiter I'd ordered to earlier came back with a special dish, a dessert, one I wouldn't miss the chance not to give to her. Its color that of blood. Its taste that of the sweetest strawberries the world could ever have. Its texture that of sweet whipped cream, soft fluffy and sticky. We dug in, and hope to God she likes it.

"Mm!" she yelps, with her eyes going wide and bright, which is actually a good sign. She takes a few more scoops and puts them in her mouth, and then again and more that I'm afraid she won't even stop if the cup didn't have a limit. Blood was still pouring. Her eating the dessert interrupting the flow. She looked cute having the cream smudge over the outside of her lips.

Having feasted my eyes on such lovely sight that she is, I took a bite off my own cup of dessert. It really was magical. She stopped eating hers, eyes locked on me, and then she started laughing, muffled, as she still had the dessert in her mouth and was trying to swallow it all but can't.

"You should see your face," she laughed more. Damn right I should. If it brought such happiness and brightness to your eyes, then it must be something lovely that you're seeing. I spent hours in the mirror earlier trying to style my hair and ponder on whatever to wear, and I don't think I'll ever see what you're seeing in me now.