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The walk back to your home was always complicated. It wasn't the walk itself, but rather the hour you used to come back from work. The streets were so dark and there were almost no people around... It always made you a little paranoid.
And just your luck, as you turned a corner, you noticed two men talking and drinking together.
You had to walk past them in order to get home, so, you gathered courage and started walking, shoulders tense and posture unusually straight. You were hoping maybe the two men wouldn't notice, too engrossed in their own conversation.
But you were wrong.
"What a cute girl!" One of them exclaimed, blocking your way. You frowned. "Hey, what're you doing outside at this hour?"
"Nothing." You responded, trying to ignore them and continue your way, but they didn't seem to want to let you through.
"Oh, come on, dude. You'll scare her like that." The other chuckled, leaning into your space. You stepped back.
"Me? Look at her, you are the one to freak her out, man!"
"Please, let me through."
"Oh! She's even more beautiful when angry!"
You closed your fists, trying to think of a way to escape. You weren't sure if they were just inconvenient men, or dangerous individuals... You thought of making a run for it, just in case, but that would alert them, and it would be two against one...
A gentle hand lay on your shoulder. You flinched at the touch, fingers cold against your skin.
"Are they bothering you, baby?"
Beside you stood a tall man. His hair was long and wavy, pitch black, framing his face beautifully. His skin looked almost colorless beneath the dim light. He hardly seemed alive at all.
The two men straightened their backs, their stance defensive.
"We're just talking to the girl."
"Well, she doesn't really seem in the mood to talk." He smiled, and despite his sweet demeanor, there was something unsettling about him. About his words. "I take it you're about to leave, right?"
"Le– ah!"
Before they could finish talking, they began walking away. It was like their bodies were being controlled by strings, forcing them to leave and go somewhere else.
Your eyes shifted to the man holding onto your shoulder, his smile turning genuine.
"Did they do anything to you?"
"Oh, no– they were just... Being a bit inconvenient." You tried to speak, but your words came out as a mumble. He was beautiful, in a breathtaking, yet uneasy way.
"Would you like me to walk you to your destination?"
"That won't be necessary, but, uhm... Thank you." He nodded, his finger resting on his chin for a bit, pondering something.
"Then, if you're okay, I could walk you to a closer spot to where you want to go, and you can finish your way by yourself." He offered, catching onto the idea you didn't fully trust him as a stranger. "Would that be okay with you, miss?"
A part of you was opposed to the idea... But you were curious and taken by him. So, you accepted, and he carefully locked his arm with yours, leaving you room to pull away if you wished.
The walk to the park close to your house was rather quiet, and once you arrived, he let you go with a firm squeeze of your hand.
"Will you be okay walking by yourself?"
"I will." You always were, you got used to it. But for once, it felt nice to see someone come with you, keep you company, and make sure you were safe.
It was almost sad, the way his fingers slipped from your grasp, how you missed the cold sensation of his skin on yours.
"Good girl."
You stood there in the park, a bit stunned by the whole interaction as you watched him leave.
•••
It was hard to sleep that night after that encounter. You kept thinking about that man, whoever he was, and even your colleagues would notice it.
"Did he steal your heart or something?" They would ask, half joking, half serious.
"Of course not!" You tried, although you yourself didn't believe in those words. "He was just really charming. And he saved me."
You thought he'd be a distant memory soon enough... But then you met him again, this time, as a client.
He showed up one day at the library you worked at, seemingly not noticing you. Then, his eyes landed on yours, and he waved.
A simple wave was enough to get the biggest smile on your face.
And so he started showing up more often. Every weekend, at 7pm sharp when the sun had already set, he'd come into the library with a toothy grin and a wave of his hands. And every weekend, you'd look forward to seeing him again.
Always the same time, always the same spotless button-down white shirts, always the gentle smile.
And then, you began to talk.
"Excuse me." He tapped your shoulder once, reminding you of that night. "I was looking for a specific book, but I can't find it."
"Oh! Sure what– what's the– I– I mean," you tried to stop yourself from stuttering, thinking how much of a fool you looked while doing it. He chuckled though, finding it amusing. "What's the book's name?"
"Pinocchio."
You blinked. You hadn't expected someone like him to be into fairy tale stories, but who were you to judge? Not like you didn't have your own unusual interests.
"I'm sorry to ask but... Why Pinocchio?"
He hummed, deep in thought.
"It's interesting, no? A wooden puppet so desperately wanting to become human."
You weren't sure you understood it, but you gave it your best to look through the library, even consulting with a co-worker, but the book was nowhere to be found. Apparently, someone had already booked that one.
You apologized a lot, and he insisted on it not being your fault.
"It's not like you can control it anyway." He laughed at your over the top reaction, and you felt your cheeks redden in embarrassment. "But I guess if you wanna make it up to me, may I get your name?"
You stood there awkwardly for a second, before hurriedly answering his question. It took everything in you to not grin at how happy he repeated your name, and how delighted he made you feel when he gave you his name.
Michael.
It was the prettiest you've ever heard.
You noticed throughout the nights he'd visit, he'd always stay around the fairy tale areas of the library. It became a thing, for you to come by while organizing a few books and ask about the stories he was reading, to which he'd happily explain to you.
His eyes would always shine with wonder at the stories, like a child explaining their favorite cartoon. It made you giggle, even in your worst days.
"You don't look too well today." He had commented once, worry on his face as you sat down for a moment to rest.
"Don't worry!" You reassured him, although you yourself didn't believe it. "I'm just... A bit tired. But I'll push through."
He had hummed that time, but you noticed: the next day, he showed up with a small flower.
"I'd like you to tell me about your favorite books." He had told you, a gentle smile on his face. "Or your favorite anything. Just... Anything so you can relax a little."
You giggled before you could stop yourself.
•••
"You're here later than usual." You commented as Michael walked into the library, wearing a forced smile as he walked up to you. You frowned at his attitude. "Is everything okay, Michael?"
"I'm alright, don't worry about me." He reassured you, his hand taking yours and kissing your fingers; a greeting you grew accustomed to by now. Your heart still raced at his cold lips though. "I'll be in the same corner as normal. Will you come talk to me when you're done?"
"You know I always do." You stifled a laugh, and Michael nodded, his hands sliding from yours as slowly as he could.
Once he was gone, you put your head in your hands, giggling to yourself.
So, you've developed a crush on Michael. What's new?
You liked to think he felt the same way. Either that, or he was a tremendous flirt; he was always so sweet towards you, so affectionate and careful with his words. Sometimes, he even walked you home to make sure you were safe.
It made you excited for the future. Maybe soon, you could ask him out.
As you hummed to yourself, placing the books back in their usual places, you couldn't help but feel excited about talking with Michael after you were done. So, you did your best to finish it all quickly, and nodded to yourself when you were done, happy to have done a good job.
You walked up to the children's book section, where Michael usually waited for you, only to not find him there. You went to the other sections he seemed to enjoy, and even to some he usually didn't walk into, but nothing.
It was like he had vanished.
"Hey," you called your colleague at the counter, who was killing time by reading one of the books a client left behind. "Did you see Michael around?"
"Your crush?"
"Hush."
"I think he left a minute ago." She moved her head towards the door. Noticing your confusion, she continued: "he didn't look so good. His hands were shaky and he looked like he'd pass out at any moment."
Your heart dropped at the news. You asked her to cover for you for the rest of the shift, promising you'd make it up to her later. You were out the door the moment she agreed, grabbing your things and going in the direction your co-worker had told you Michael had run off to.
You looked around in worry, wondering if you'd be able to find him at all, but you needed to. If he passed out alone in the streets, he could hit his head, and something worse could happen!
As you turned a corner, you heard a familiar voice.
"I'm sorry..."
Michael.
You'd recognize that soft, melodic voice anywhere.
Before you could even think of walking closer to him, you watched as he hunched over something.
"I really didn't want to harm you. I'm sorry, I swear I'll be quick." He reassured whoever it was, his voice filled with guilt. "It won't kill you, I promise. I'll just drink enough to get through the week."
You heard a tweeting sound.
Your eyes widened in horror.
Michael was holding tight onto a bird who was strangely stiff in his hands, as if something was keeping it from fighting back.
And then, Michael's teeth sunk into the animal.
Your hand went to your mouth, trying to suppress a gasp.
You failed.
Michael turned to you immediately, blood in his mouth as the bird was finally set free from whatever was holding it still. Yet, he didn't seem to care when it flew away.
His blood-red eyes widened in fear and surprise. His canines were sharper than usual, and his complexion against the light made him look supernatural.
What on earth did you just witness?
"I–I can explain." He stuttered, taking a step towards you, but your body moved on instinct, running as fast as you could and leaving him behind.
But you weren't scared of his teeth, or his eyes or nails.
You were terrified of the shame in his face as you ran.
•••
Michael didn't show up after that.
Every day around 7pm, you'd glance at the door, but he never came back. Honestly, you didn't even know why you kept thinking about it. Michael was the complete opposite of who you thought he was.
Everything made sense now. The coldness of his touch, his sharp teeth, the fact he never seemed to show up during the day.
He was a vampire.
And you fell in love with him. What was this, some sort of y/n fanfic?
You sighed.
The worst part? You kept wondering if he was okay. Yeah, you worried about the guy who bit into a tiny bird to drink its blood. But then again, he seemed so ashamed, so regretful. You couldn't help but think that maybe he wasn't all that bad.
Either that or you had gone completely mad.
Three weeks after the incident, it was your turn to close the library. You did your usual routine, and began your walk home, thoughts going everywhere and nowhere.
It wasn't until you got to the park that you noticed it.
It was him.
Michael looked hopeless. His eyebags were worse than normal, he looked skinnier. His whole demeanor looked defeated. Like he hadn't been eating for months.
You didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.
His head lifted towards you and he met your gaze. For a moment, his eyes filled with light.
He tried calling your name, but as he got up, he suddenly felt dizzy, and you instinctively ran to his side, helping him stand up.
He blinked at you, processing the fact that you were touching him. That you were worried.
"I... Listen, I–"
"What happened to you, Michael?" You interrupted, slowly lifting your hand to lightly touch his face, noticing his state. "My goodness, you look horrible."
"Aren't you... Mad at me? Disgusted?" He questioned. You stayed quiet for a bit, unsure of what to answer.
"I... I'm conflicted." You confessed. "But I'm... I'm trying to understand." With that, you helped Michael sit down, and put some distance between you two. You inhaled deeply. "So, help me understand."
Michael stared at you for a moment, a heavy sigh leaving him as he rested his face on his hands, curling inward. He stayed like that for a few seconds, your hands dropping to your lap as you watched him.
Finally, he spoke in a quiet voice:
"I know what I must've looked like back there." His voice failed him, breaking for a moment. "But I would never hurt you. I would never hurt any human."
"For... For how long have you been this way?"
"For as long as I remember." Michael ran his hand over his face. "It's been centuries. I might as well have been born a vampire."
You fidgeted with your fingers for a moment, staring down at your hands and biting the inside of your cheek.
Your gaze slowly lifted towards Michael. He looked awful, barely keeping himself together. He looked like he hadn't rested for days.
Or eaten for days.
"Have you, uhm..." You tried to think of a better way to say it, but you simply couldn't. "Have you been drinking lately?"
He flinched at your words.
"No." He cleared his throat, unable to look you in the eyes. "I haven't really had... The courage to do so, I think."
"That bird was the last thing you fed on?"
"Animal blood only quiets the hunger. And I can't even bring myself to drink all of it either, so..." His words died out as he spoke, like they physically hurt him.
You thought about his state for a while, about his attitudes, the horrific scene you saw the other day... But now, as he sat next to you, thin and frail, for some strange reason, he didn't seem like the monster normally depicted in movies.
Michael looked broken. Like anyone else.
Your hand reached his arm almost on instinct, the cold sending shivers down your spine.
"Would... Would my blood help?"
The question not only surprised Michael, but you as well. You weren't planning on doing this, but you couldn't stand the sight of him starving himself. It was far too painful.
"I can't." He pushed your hand away, slowly, gently. "It's too much to ask. It's too cruel."
"Michael, I'm giving you permission."
"You don't know what you're saying." He insisted, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's not a pleasant thing. What if– what if I can't stop after the first bite? What if I hurt you? What if–" he stopped himself, afraid of scaring you even more. He groaned into his hand, his eyes suddenly watering. "Please. Don't offer something like this to someone like me."
It took you a moment to finally reach him, holding his face into your trembling hands.
"Michael, I care about you." You confessed. "More than that, I trust you. If it was anyone else, they'd be making excuses, trying to appear like it's not that bad but... You're being honest." A small smile graced your features. "To me, that's more than enough. You helped me once, let me help you this time."
Michael just stared at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears as he sniffed and forced himself not to cry. He leaned into your touch, his fingers stroking one of your wrists, where your veins were quite visible.
He seemed to think for a moment, before pushing your hands away slowly, holding one of them with care.
"...are you sure?"
"I am."
Michael glanced at you one last time, turning the inner part of your wrist towards his face. He leaned into your space, your skin mere inches away from his mouth.
He stopped midway, his eyes looking up at you for a second.
"If I hurt you..."
"You won't hurt me."
Michael pressed his lips into a thin line before turning his attention back to your wrist. He inhaled deeply, opening his mouth and calmly resting his teeth against your skin.
Then, his canines sank into your wrist.
It didn't hurt as badly as you thought it would. There was a strange, numbing sensation, but you could feel some of your blood leaving your body.
Michael was incredibly gentle. His hold wasn't strong, even his bite had been careful, and he sucked your blood as if he was trying to suck venom out of your body. Something akin to a chore.
Maybe it made him feel better if he saw it like that.
It took a few seconds, but once Michael was done, his lips gave your hurt wrist a small peck, like he was apologizing. He rummaged through his pockets for a handkerchief and put it against your skin, trying to make sure you stopped bleeding.
You leaned against the back of the bench, breath slightly heavy. Michael noticed it immediately.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Was it too much?"
"I'm fine, I–" you stopped, sighing. "Just a bit lightheaded. Must be from the lack of blood."
Michael turned your head towards him, his hand touching your soft cheek.
"Are you sure? Please, if it was too much, I can–"
"It's fine, it's like blood donation, right?" You joked, leaning into his hand. "When I donate blood I feel the same way. Let's just see this as me donating some blood to you, 'kay?"
It took a moment, but something changed in Michael.
He laughed.
For the first time, he genuinely laughed. Still tired, still guilty... But now, there was some levity to him. Like something was finally lifted off his shoulders.
He grinned at you, coming closer and giving your cheek a small, sweet kiss.
Your breath caught embarrassingly fast despite your better judgment.
"Thank you." He whispered to you, his thumb stroking your face. "Thank you for helping me."
You couldn't help but return his smile, squeezing your hand against your wrist.
"That's what friends are for, right?"
He smiled at you, nodding along.
"Right. Friends." He chuckled. "Let's call it that."
You shifted your gaze at that.
"Come on," he got up, suddenly feeling better. It was incredible what human blood could do to him; he still struggled to maintain his strength, but he looked far better now. "I'll walk you home, if you want."
He offered his hand and you smiled.
"I always do."