Chapter Text
Waylon draped his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the front of it so it wouldn’t fall off of him. It was an old cloak, covered in patches and a few holes, but it was his nonetheless.
“Mom, I’m going to town to get more bread!” he called up the stairs to their small home. She replied for him to be careful, as always, and he grabbed the grocery basket, heading out into the warm morning. Before heading off, he pulled his hood up to cover and conceal the two furry ears that laid atop his blond hair. His tail was hidden as well, under the cloak, hiding his and his family's’ secret.
He was a werewolf. His whole family consisted of them. His and a few other families had to hold the burden of the curse on their backs throughout life, and that was all he knew. As far as he knew, it wasn’t so bad. He looked perfectly human, aside from the ears and tail, and acted like a civilized human at any time possible. Sure, they turned when it was a full moon, which was kind of scary, but whatever.
He was a scrawny wolf, if you’d even call him that. He liked to consider himself a human, no matter how much he was reminded that he wasn’t.
He liked to blend in, and to study the real humans. The small town that the forest he called home surrounded was his favorite place to be. He took a different route to the town everytime he went, going farther and farther into the forest each time, mapping it out in his mind.Today he pushed through some bushes about a mile away from his house, and found a small dirt trail. It appeared that the trail lead straight towards the town, but he noticed that it continued to go back, a straight line into the dense and surrounding forests. He hesitated, staring into the deep unknown for a moment, before turning and walking towards town.
He didn’t know why, but it gave him a bad feeling thinking about following the trail.
After an hour or so, he found his way to town. It was as busy and bustling as ever, the vast variety of townspeople hurrying about with children in hand, a sweetheart, or alone to one of the various shops and boutiques, or small stands set up around the square.
Waylon walked around the various selections, window shopping the clothes and fruits, thoroughly examining and searching through the vegetables, and ultimately making small talk and mingling with anyone willing. After a while, he had a few apples, a small round of cheese, and a canteen with fresh orange juice stowed away safely inside of the wicker basket.
He took notice of the time from a clock displayed on the wall of a shop, and decided it was time to get the bread and start heading home. He let his eyes wander as his nose took in the various scents leading up to the bread bakery he always went to.
After selecting a loaf and paying the familiar old woman behind the counter, he made his way out of the shop and out of the town. He followed back the same trail he had used previously, and was soon met with the part in the bushes that he would turn in to go home, and the straight path back deeper into the forest.
Curiosity was always a bitch, wasn’t it?
He took the first steps onto the path, and before he knew it, he was on his way to wherever it would take him.
…
It was cold. It was dark. It was raining.
Waylon had misjudged the time, apparently. It had grown dark rather quickly after he had set his path, and he didn’t want to risk going back the way he came, because he didn’t know where to turn off. He was scared. He pulled the light cloth around him tighter, shivering as he looked around warily. He had no idea where he was.
He everything was silent around him, aside from the crickets and the sound of twigs cracking behind him. Wait.
What?
He didn’t spare any time or thought before he broke into a sprint, throwing himself forward down the path. If it were a villager, he’d be killed for his inhumanity, if it was another werewolf, he’d be killed for stepping onto a different territory, and oh God, if it was a vampire, he’d be killed for the fun of it.
He ran until his legs ached and his lungs burned from sucking in the night’s frosty air. Eventually he tripped, yelping and twisting his ankle, before falling to the earthy ground, setting the basket beside him as he caught his breath.
He was being ridiculous.
Vampires were just a story that mom’s told their pups, to keep them obeying orders and out of the woods. Hah. Look how far that got him. His older brother and his friends used to tell him stories of how the woods used to be full of vampires, until the werewolves came. They wiped the creatures out of the forest, overpowering even the most powerful ones. All except for one family of vampires. The fabled Gluskins. They were a small family, with a lot of power. They were able to ward of the beasts, and according to their stories, still survived in these woods today.
But that was all a story, right?
Waylon looked around himself, seeing an endless path in both directions, walled off by a dense fence of evergreen and shrubs on either side of the long, dusty road. Then he began to cry. He cried for many reasons. He cried because he was lost, he cried because he was alone, he cried because it was dark and he was scared, and because he was cold. But most of all, he cried because he couldn’t do anything else.
His hood fell from his head as he threw his head back and let out the grossest, loudest, neediest, sob that he had in him. He didn’t even care who found him, he just wanted to be found. He didn’t even wipe his eyes or nose or mouth, simply sobbed and curled up on his side in the dirt.
He cried so hard, he didn’t hear the twigs breaking behind him again. He cried so hard, he didn’t even notice the body stopping a few feet behind him.
“Darling!”
Waylon froze for a moment, until he heard the footsteps growing closer. Then, he pushed himself up and backwards in a fluid motion, kicking his basket over in the process as he kicked himself away from the person.
“Oh, Darling, how I’ve been looking for you!”
The man was dressed in what used to be a fancy blue waistcoat, white button up shirt, black dress pants, and a blue bowtie for effect, though everything was now covered in dirt and ripped. His hair was cut in a rather peculiar fashion, he noticed through the darkness, and his face was marred on one side, a large scar covering an area around his eye. He was eerily pale, and his blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Waylon was now terrified.
Like any terrified teen in a forest, confronted by a tall man calling him darling, he fainted on the spot.
…
He was being carried. He felt the motions of swaying and bouncing, and he felt the arms holding him up, one under his knees and the other around his back, protectively holding him. His eyes were still closed, but he was awake. He smiled, wrapping his arms around his holder’s neck tightly.
“Oh, thank goodness, never do that again! I thought I’d lost you, Darling!”
His eyes snapped open and he released the man carrying him, flailing around for a moment as he looked around in the darkness. His heartbeat quickened, and he remembered what had happened.
“W-who are you, what do you want from me?”, he blurted the questions out hastily as he stared at the man.
“Please, don’t hurt yourself, we don’t want your ankle to be worsened”, he explained as he increased his grip around Waylon. “We’ll be home soon, Darling, then we shall take care of the problem”, he muttered quietly as he continued walking. It was now that Waylon realised that his basket was in his lap, and he cautiously opened it, finding everything he had bought inside.
Apparently, his captor noticed his hesitation to move, “Don’t worry, I won’t bite” he smiled and flashed his eyes to his, “hard”, and that was when Waylon noticed the distinct fangs. Then he cried out and fainted again.
…
Waylon awoke, for the third time that night, in bad condition. He was laying on a soft mattress, engulfed by silky sky blue sheets, and he was tired. That was until he felt the hands around his ankle, move up and down his bare sides. Then he realized he was shirtless and laying in a vampire’s bed.
He screamed as loud as he could as he sat up. The man who was next to him allowed his reaction, and then pushed him lightly back down, where his hand lingered around his cheek while he gazed into his eyes with a smile.
“Do not fear, Darling. I would never hurt you, more than I had to.” he whispered as he leaned down and pressed his cold, dead lips to Waylon’s.
He pulled back quickly, it was a small and quick peck, more than anything, but it made Waylon shiver all the same.
“What do you want with me?” Waylon asked with a shaky tone as he raised one hand to feel the sides of his neck; no bites, thank goodness.
He was answered with a smile and a hand running down his side. “I just want you.”
“Me? I need to go home, to my mom..” he sat up in the large bed and looked around. There was a large window on the side of the room, but heavy black curtains prevented any light, making it impossible to tell what time it was. The room would be pitch black, if not for the several oil lamps positioned around, evenly bathing the room in a warm light. He noticed how old everything looked. The nightstands and any trinkets or dresser in the room had a thick layer of dust coating it. It seemed the only things not covered in a gray layer was the bed, a spot on the wall next to the door, and a straight path on the floor, from the bed and out of the room.
Out of the room.
That’s where he wanted to be.
“I gotta go”, he muttered again as he tried to stand, only to fall as soon as he put pressure on his ankle. He cried out as he held his ankle, and the vampire came around the other side of the bed quickly, picking him up under the arms, and sitting him back onto the bed.
“Darling, you mustn't be walking on your leg for a few days, ‘less we want you to injure yourself further.” he scolded sternly. He sat on the bed next to him, running his fingers up and down the injured ankle, which was now wrapped nicely in cloth that looked like it had been torn from an old shirt. Waylon stared at the man while he stared intently at the floor, seemingly deep in thought.
“You want to go home?” he asked finally, his eyes now locked with Waylon’s. Waylon nodded in answer.
“I have to go home to my mom.. I’m the only one to take care of her”, he explained as he straightened his position.
“Alright.”, was all the man said as he stood and left the room. Waylon was confused, but he sat in the bed. What in the world had he gotten himself into? Why wasn’t this vampire eating him alive or something? His thoughts were interrupted as the man returned, Waylon’s cloak, shirt, and basket in his arm.
He helped Waylon put on his clothes, fastening his cloak for him, and kissing his nose, before handing him the basket. “Everything you brought is there. Now, let’s go”, he said as he pulled back the curtains, it was still night, opening the glass pane, and picking up Waylon, bridal style like before, and hoping out into the night. Waylon caught a glimpse of the home, it was very large, and they had come from the second story. He didn’t know vampires were so durable.
“Rest, my love. We’ll be there soon”, he heard the man whisper above him. He looked around for a moment, before he rested his head to the man’s chest, and fell asleep, listening to the silence of no heartbeat.