Archive of Our Own

The one that had got him in the least trouble was his habit of daydreaming. Usually it only occurred during classes or stressful moments. He loved getting caught up in the feel of whatever his latest fantasy was; often it included him being at a different point in history and, more recently, a certain vampire. He could snap out of it quickly, he simply got yelled at for not paying attention all throughout his education.

The second worst was his habit of pressing sharp things against his skin - never knives or razors, only miscellaneous things. It started when they were little and trying to test if a rock was sharp. It was. He bled for nearly ten minutes. It continued from there; rocks, pencils, arrowheads, glass, anything that was sharp and pointy. He got in trouble for that a few times, they even had to talk to their middle school counselor once. This habit was also corrupted with thoughts of the vampire, after all they had not a single doubt in their mind that if they happened to cut a finger in his presence the vampire wouldn't let a single drop go to waste.

They got in the most trouble for his habit of flinching and sometimes crying when people yelled or nearly hit them. He didn't know why. His parents rarely hit or yelled. Though, he once read in a book something along the lines of "It would have hurt less if she stabbed me, and I'm sure that's why she didn't. She knew how deep her words had stung." And he immediately knew that was why his mother only struck him when her anger got the better of her. They knew that's why she rarely screamed, because at least the yelling could explain as she simply was an ill tempered woman, but calmly insulting and berating them was different. It felt more real. It felt more like the truth.

This got them in trouble with school and his parents. It was their high school counselor who finally noticed, and who unfortunately knew it was a sign of abuse. His counselor tried to talk to him but as soon as his parents found out they paid off the school to fire her, and the habit never fled, it only got worse.

Though this too was affected by the presence of the vampire in his life, for they were too busy daydreaming about the vampire to be frightened by yelling.

For as little as he did to try and heal any negative habits they were a good excuse to get out of his dorm, after all Shelby always put a band aid on their cut or quickly rushed to them to have a movie night that accidentally turned into a sleepover. Shelby was great at comforting him, she was from the moment they met.

That's why when they'd managed to slice open their palm with a shard of glass he found on the floor he immediately went to Shelby - he would have gone to Apo if he thought he desperately needed to, but Cherri was in their dorm, and Apo was scared of blood, of course, so it really wasn't functional. Although he'd soon come to realize this was his fourth mistake.

Owen hated depending on Scott, yet visiting him had become a fairly regular event as of late. Despite it all Scott understood a lot of his struggles - at least on the vampire and boys front, he'd never understand his past on any meaningful level.

Scott had his own romantic interests at the moment. He wasn't dating either yet, in fact the one of the guys, Avid, was convinced they were enemies since he was a self proclaimed vampire hunter - though that only enticed Scott more. Owen had met him once or twice - he was one of Scott's roommate's friends who happened to come by the dorm at the same time as Owen - and he despised him greatly. He was everything Owen hated, loud, annoying, and just as accusatory as the people who murdered Louis. 

That was another thing Scott understood. He'd met Louis, and, though it was before his slumber, even Scott knew how amazing Louis was. When Owen told Scott exactly what happened he said he would have done the exact same thing, if not going as far as making sure not a single person had escaped. 

But still, Scott was infatuated with Avid. Owen told himself he wasn't slightly jealous of the way Scott could so easily attain a man, he barely had to lift a finger meanwhile Owen was practically fighting a war in his head.

At the current moment Scott's roommate was out, in class he's sure, which meant it was prime time for Owen to be over.

He laid in Scott's bed holding a pillow to his face as he let out a noise somewhere between a scream, a sob, and a whine. Scott was doing his makeup, eyeliner at that very second.

"Is this still about that boy?"

Owen gave a half-whine half-moan in response.

"I hardly see the problem with him. He clearly likes you. Have you even told the poor thing your name?"

"...No. And don't act like you care for him, you haven't even met him."

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't jump to conclusions. I have, not that you've asked."

"What? When? If you did anything to them I swear."

"Calm down, what do you take me for? I'm civil, I hardly touched them."

"Answer my questions."

"He's one of Shelby's friends, he's visited once or twice."

"You didn't..." Even as his voice trails off it's clear what he means. "Right?" It's a question and a threat all wrapped into one word.

"Hah, of course not! He didn't stay long enough for me to try." Owen glared at him and he was quick to finish speaking. "Joking, of course. You said you never bit him, not fully, yeah? There's already an underlying air about him that says they're yours."

Owen scrunches his face and tries to speak in turn, but Scott cuts him off. "'But I don't like him!' Just admit it already. No one would judge you - well I would in the way any good friend would. He's kind of ratty looking."

Owen rolled his eyes before shutting them a moment and sighing. "Isn't that what you say about me?"

"You're right, I guess you two are made for each other then."

"Shush! We both know I was only made for one person, and...well I'll see again soon enough."

"He wouldn't want you to wallow in self pity like this, you know that."

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Move on. It doesn't mean you have to forget about him, it just means you get to enjoy life without feeling guilty."

"I deserve to feel guilty. He wouldn't have died if I were awake right after turning."

"That's not your fault and you know it."

"Isn't it?"

"Owen."

"Yes?"

Scott sighed again, small, affectionate, and slightly annoyed all at once. "Like I already said, Louis would hate you wallowing in self pity like this. Just give the human a chance, okay?"

The room goes quiet for a moment as Owen decides not to respond. Scott begins lining his lips, black as usual.

"...He said he wanted to get to know me."

Scott stops what he's doing to turn around and look at Owen who is, just as Scott had suspected, holding and pillow to his chest and blushing. He smirks while staring at him.

"...They also said that I was beautiful..." Owen pulls the pillow up to hide his face, softly screaming into it. 

"Awww, is someone having feelings they don't want?"

A small muffled "Shut up!" followed by a meaningless threat came from under the pillow.

They could both faintly smell blood, but that was simply part of living on campus; neither one expected the same man they were just talking about to come through the door with blood streaming down his forearm and finger, streaks of crimson staining his skin and marking the path drops of blood took as they fell. Pyro froze at seeing both of them, a slight blush dusting his cheeks as their eyes landed on the younger of the two vampires.

Owen bit down on his tongue till he tasted his own blood, it was barely anything compared to what he knew the blood in front of him tastes like. 

Scott stared, his grip on his lip liner growing stiff. Out of the two of them, Scott had far less self control than Owen - it really should have been the other way around, but Scott cared not to restrain himself and Owen was a master at denying himself anything he might want or need.

Pyro should have run. He knew that at least one of them was a vampire, and based on the way Scott was staring at him - and what Shelby had told him - they were sure the man he met at the party wasn't the only one. He pressed close to the door, not leaving yet - after all, how could he leave with the man of all his recent desires staring directly at him?

Owen noticed Scott looking less and less restrained, so he threw his pillow at him, stood up, and began walking towards Pyro. He grabs his wrist and drags him out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He briefly acknowledged the sound of the pillow being thrown at the door.

He leads Pyro to his dorm, his own blood already coating his mouth with a slight iron taste. The dorm was exactly the same as Pyro remembered.

Pyro sits themself on the bed of the vampire and silently offers his hand, after all he already knows he can't turn back, nor does he particularly want to.

Owen hesitates a moment - always hesitant to let himself indulge in anything - before licking up the drops of crimson streaming down their arm.

Pyro notices, as the vampire starts to lick the actual injury, - which had started bleeding a little faster due to their increased heart rate - that the cut almost feels numb now. He would need to figure out the why later, especially if he didn't want to scare the man - who was nearly in their lap - off.

He wouldn't trade this for the world. He was beginning to suspect that vampires had some chemical in their saliva, and that was what was making him feel a tad wonky - he was more than a bit dizzy and his mind was foggy. Yet at the same time it felt amazing, all their brain fog felt like a gentle, pleasant buzzing. 

Pyro wasn't thinking. He couldn't. Their hand rest on top of the vampire's head, quickly beginning to tangle into his hair. His hair was slightly greasy, likely gone unwashed for quite a while.

Owen stills at first, the gentleness of the human's touch holding such reverence he nearly shivers. He quickly begins lapping up every last drop again, not allowing a single droplet going to waste. As the blood begins slowing to a soft trickle Owen slows his licking to a matching pace. The flavor of Pyro's blood is exactly the same as the last two times he's had a taste; the perfect mix of sweet and savory. 

He'd met plenty of humans before and fed from a good portion of them, but something about this one felt different. Maybe it was the way they seemed to want him. Maybe it was the way they caressed him like a lover would. Maybe it was simply all in his head. But, to him, Pyro was different.

Owen hated how quickly it was over, but truthfully he knew it was for the best - he wouldn't want them to be harmed from blood loss. Pyro let out a small noise, a cross between a whine and a whimper as Owen stopped licking entirely. Pyro couldn't help but wonder what a true bite would feel like, not even a turning bite, just a gentle, loving bite. His imagination ran wild with vivid images of the vampire sinking his fangs into his neck, his mind even fuzzier from the direct hit of his veins, everything too warm and too cold at the same time. He felt drunk. He felt like he was already in heaven.

Owen pulls back, beginning to stand, but not before pressing a faint, fleeting kiss to their palm. He stared slightly grumpy for a moment before reluctantly sitting next to them, his head tilted downward so his hair can hide his faint blush.

Pyro doesn't move, he barely even breathes, - his brain was still fuzzy, but more importantly - he didn't want to ruin the moment.

"...Thank you." Pyro mutters, not thinking before he speaks.

Owen turns to stare at him, slightly baffled. "You're thanking me for drinking your blood?"

"Well it stopped bleeding and I didn't have to clean anything, so..."

Owen sighs, going back to hiding his face. He hesitates a moment before speaking again. "...Owen." This was Owen's fourth mistake. He should have known better than giving them his name.

Pyro responds, a tinge of confusion dotting his voice. "What?"

"That's my name."

"Oh." Oh. he thought.

Neither talked for a moment, an awkward silence hanging in the air between them.

Owen sighed before leaning into them slightly. He rests the side of his head against his shoulder, the other man immediately tensing underneath him. It took a second before Pyro began to feel more at ease, but once he did he began to melt under Owen's touch. Their brain tossed around his name, all of his thoughts now replacing "the vampire" with Owen. Owen. He liked the way it sounded.

They both stayed like that a long while, - Pyro's hand eventually moving to tangle into Owen's hair once more - only separating when Pyro got a call from Apo asking where he was.

Louis loved Owen's name, he loved everything about Owen. He also loved pet names, and he loved knowing exactly which ones made Owen flustered.

One particular evening - one of their last together - the couple sat curled up on the loveseat in Louis' office, nothing new yet neither was ever tired of it.

Louis' hands lazily trailed patterns against the small bits of exposed skin on Owen's hands, and occasionally his hips. Owen struggled to keep his eyes open, not yet sleeping but not truly awake either. Louis' head rested on his shoulder, occasionally whispering something to him or pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"...Owen, my dear, you know you can rest if you desire."

A small chill went down Owen's spine as he listened to Louis' voice - if he did not sound like any god then he was certain no god was even close to perfect. "I know, Lou, but I don't want to miss a second of time with you."

Louis let out a slightly amused huff before pressing his lips against Owen's cheek. "You're too sweet, my love, but you need to sleep eventually."

"So do you, you work far harder than I do."

"I'm not sure that's true darling, you do manual labor all day - even though I keep telling you that you could retire if you so pleased - and I sit in an office all day. Hardly the same, if you ask me."

"Well, yes, but you go to meetings and deal with people all day..."

"And? If my job truly were harder would not I be the one about to fall asleep right now?"

"I'm not about to fall asleep..."

"Uh-huh, and that's why your eyes keep closing, right?"

Owen knew he didn't have any further valid argument so he simply whined instead.

"You get so whiny when you're tired, love."

"I do not..."

"Sure, dear. You can rest your eyes and be assured that I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"You promise I won't annoy you if I do? Or that you won't bore of me?..."

"I promise, my love."

And so Owen barely fought when the pleasant numbness of sleep began to fill his mind, Louis' reassurance doing plenty to ease his concerns.