Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I think I’ve slept for the past four days—I remember waking several times to Yuu moving in and out of the room, but nothing else. He might have tried talking to me once, but my memory’s hazy—maybe I dreamt it. I’m not sure he notices how much I sleep anymore; I’ve barely left the room for three weeks, and I haven’t left the cabin for two months unless I was certain he wouldn’t know—he must be used to it, now. Or maybe he does notice, and it is I that does not. I suppose there’s a great deal he could have done while I slept and I would know none of it.

I still haven’t told him why. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. The worse I get, the more I want him to know, yet I have even less willpower for it than before.

I should have told him the moment I found him again. I should have never kept it from him for so long. The longer I keep it from him, the more convinced I become that he’ll hate me for lying, for what I’ve become.

I no longer have the time to tell him—my strength is gone.

I don’t think I’ll last much longer.

[there are smudged drops of blood on the page]



- - - - - - -



Everything went so wrong.



Nine days.

I hadn’t had any blood for nine days. It was killing me. But I couldn’t drink more yet—my blood supply would be gone too early. If I could go another six days without it, I might last long enough to find a new source of blood. I only had two flasks left, I didn’t have a choice.

The first five days without it, I expended all of my energy trying to think of a solution, something nearly impossible when blood was the only thing on my mind. When my need for it became too much, I slept (and I am certain, now, that I slept for four days—Yuu confirmed it), trying desperately to pass the time to the next flask.

I knew that I shouldn’t have waited. I was doing nothing, only trying to get through the week as quickly as possible—I would be stronger if I would just drink. Drink and gain strength, enough to think about something other than how much I needed it and find a new blood source. But there was Yuu. I was waiting for Yuu. Sick and weak as I was, I wanted to be with him as long as possible before my flasks were gone.

Because I had no plan. No plans, no ideas. I had nothing, not even the strength to try and have something. When the flasks were gone, I feared I would be too—I was too unwilling to harm another for my own sake (no matter how desperately I wanted to—make it stop, drink, act as the devil that you are).

Let me make it simpler: I would die.

The need for blood was agonizing, so unbearable that as I was first writing I dug my nails into my hand so hard that it bled (and I can’t seem to get the blood out of the page). I smelled it before I’d realized what I had done, what it was, and found my hand in my mouth frantically trying to get blood without even recognizing it as my own.

Yuu wasn’t there to see, thank God—he’d gone to visit Yoichi, and I was grateful for it, for once. I looked pathetic, pitiful, weak, and I felt even worse. My blood did nothing, yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand away from my lips. It was a truly wretched state: I was drinking my own blood, too desperate for something, anything to make it all stop. I didn’t even try to stop myself; I merely moved my journal to the side before properly biting my hand.

I need blood.

I had denied this for too long, tried too hard to cling to whatever humanity I had left (none, I knew, but I had tried anyway). And now I was out of time with no idea what I was going to do.

I drank my own blood until I was forced to stop, feeling weak from taking too much. I shouldn’t have done that, I knew. My hand didn’t heal—too little strength to even recover from injuries. I grit my teeth and stared at it, eventually taking notice of the ring on my finger. There was blood on that now, too, something strange as I’d always made a point to keep it clean. I had tainted it, tainted one of the few things I had left from my past. It made me sick.

I used the bottom of my shirt to clean it, careful to remove every speck despite how much I was shaking, how I was feeling weaker by the moment. I was dizzy, nauseous, my breaths trembling. I needed it to stop, I needed my strength yet I could barely breathe and it was getting harder each passing second. I leaned against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut.

Make it stop.

Make it stop, Yuu.



(I can’t ask him for help. I can’t ask him it’s not fair to give him this burden.)



- - - - - - -



There was far too much I didn’t know, too little strength to figure any of it out. I needed something to hold onto. I needed to protect Yuu. I needed blood.

In my state I was more dangerous to Yuu than I could do any good. And he refused to run, to flee. Refused to leave everything behind to protect himself, which meant he needed me and I was going to die before I could help him.

I can’t do this, I thought. It was too much—between Yuu and blood, I couldn’t handle it all at once.

I looked towards the ceiling. I still couldn’t breathe; the ceiling was spinning and it was making me sick, faint, confused. I shut my eyes again and counted my breaths to try and distract myself. When it failed I clung to one of the pillows, kept my arms held around it as tightly as I could and dug my fingers into it until there were holes.

I stayed like this until Yuu returned. Rather, until I realized he’d returned. I hadn’t even smelled him, too disoriented to recognize that the smell of his blood had been real.

I forced my eyes open, tilted my head to look at him. He was standing in the doorframe, but that was all I could see—he was spinning, too blurry to make out his expression.

I squeezed my eyes shut again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered feebly. A lie. I loosened my grip on the pillow, my hand burning to remind me that I’d bitten it and it couldn’t heal. I hid it under the pillow praying that he wouldn’t notice.

“Enough,” he snapped, hitting his hand against the doorframe. “Damn it. I’m not some child, Mikaela,” he hissed. He was angry, livid. And he’d used my name, my full name. I just wanted him to believe me, just for a few more days. I knew he didn’t. But I needed him to.

Please trust me.

I forced myself to look at him again, trying to ignore the room rapidly spiraling around me. His expression had changed, I could tell, but I still couldn’t see what it was. What I did know was that he wasn’t looking at me.

Of course you’re not a child, I thought. We’d both been forced to grow up a long time ago.

“I know,” I said. My voice was the same as before—weak, faint, yet the loudest I could manage. I don’t care. I would protect him, will protect him if it is the only thing I can do.

Yuu leaned forward from the doorframe. “I love you,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I'll be damned for it, but I love you,” he whispered. His tone was different than before; I looked away, avoided his gaze.

Damned for it. Why did he say that?

Did he know?

The thought terrified me, shook me to my core. It tore away what little strength I had and left me trembling, finally looking towards Yuu with my lips parted to say something.

(He couldn’t know. How could he say that he loved me if he knew?)

Yuu came closer, sat on the bed beside me. Agonizingly close. The smell of his blood was too strong now that he was next to me—close enough that I could hear his heartbeat. Another deep breath, one that I held because I couldn’t bear to smell it anymore. I squeezed the pillow again, staying perfectly still.

“I love you too,” I said. It was forced, spoken through grit teeth and with as few breaths as I could manage, though I meant it with every part of my being (I could never lie to him about loving him, never).

“Just tell me what it is. Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll give it,” he whispered, begged. Yuu put his hand on my cheek and I flinched. I nearly shook him off, but I still didn’t trust myself to move.

So I lied instead, hating myself for it when he so clearly wanted the truth. “I don’t need anything,” I murmured. I still struggled to breathe, my throat and mouth dry, my lips cracked. My voice sounded as bad as I felt, I knew. It was a lie so weak anyone would know it wasn’t true, and Yuu especially. But I just needed it to be over, needed him to leave, let me be.

If he stayed so close any longer, I knew I would kill him.

Yuu looked away from me and began to speak again. “I’ll never hate you—”

I cut him off. “I know.” Despite all my fears that maybe he might if he knew, somewhere in my mind I knew his words to be true, he never could. Yuu was too trusting, too unable to see flaws in the ones that he loved, no matter how large. But the fear that he might hate me was enough to remain silent, too afraid of seeing him look at me the way he looked at the other vampires.

“No matter what,” he finished. “Just tell me,” he said, voice still pleading. He paused, neither of us looking the other in the eyes. “Please.” Yuu twirled his thumb through my hair as he spoke, an action that begged me to tell the truth though I knew I could not.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, then set the pillow aside and put my hand over his. I briefly wondered if it would really be so horrible to bite him, to have human blood—of course it is, you’re lying to yourself, you could never hurt him—and found that I was squeezing his hand, lips parted again.

I hated lying to him. Hated it. My soul becomes further damned each time I see him know that I am lying and accept it as truth anyway. (It’s unforgivable, lying to one so willing to have faith in his loved ones.)

Yuu took my hand from his, holding it gently and away from my cheek, away from my mouth. It was better, it was farther, it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. “Don’t you trust me?” His voice still pleading me, begging me to tell the truth.

“I do.”

I do. I would trust him with everything. I would beg for his help, beg for him to find a solution to all of this and kill me if he couldn’t, if I didn’t know that asking this of him would hurt him. He is not a child, no, but he is still Yuu and I refuse to let him be tainted.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered slowly.

(I trusted him, I did, but I knew that he must have thought I was saying I didn’t.)

He pressed his forehead against mine, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I backed up against the wall, shaking my head and taking my hand way from his. I can’t do this. He was so close and I knew that the pain would stop if I could just…

I found my fingers brushing against his neck, tempted to cut, to drink, and I ripped my fingers away and shook my head again. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I kept saying it as I crawled out of the covers, stumbling towards the door and taking my bag with me. Yuu followed. He scrambled off the bed, grabbed my wrist. But he said nothing; he didn’t need to.

I was still dizzy, everything still spinning, but I tried to focus on his eyes for the first time that night. Yuu mouthed my name and I looked away as quickly as I’d started before I could see anything more. “Please,” I breathed, too weak to speak the words. Let me go. He paused for a moment, saying nothing, then finally dropped my wrist.

I didn’t let myself think about it. If I survived the night then I would come back to him, I swore it, I would. And so I left without another word.

I staggered through the forest thick, away from the cabin, away from Yuu. The mud squeezed between my toes, branches breaking under my feet. I tripped over tree roots and rocks, cutting myself more times than I could count. They weren’t healing anymore.

I won’t last much longer.

I stumbled until I fell to my knees and didn’t have the strength to pull myself up again.

I’m dying.

One hand clutched my chest, fingers clinging to my shirt; the other holding my neck, nearly choking myself. At that moment, I would do anything, anything, to alleviate the pain.

I can’t leave him.

I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I will never leave him. Nothing could make me leave him—not even the danger I pose to him (such a selfish being I am).

But I couldn’t take it anymore.

Everything ached. I was feverish—sweating, panting (my throat still too dry to let me breathe), shivering. My body trembled from the cold, flinching at the slightest wind. I’ve never felt so weak. I could barely see (still too dizzy), couldn’t smell so much as the muddied earth around me. My mouth was so dry; my breath kept getting caught, kept sending me into coughing fits and leaving me gasping until I was lying on my back clawing at my chest.

Make it stop.

I moved my hand towards my mouth. I knew that I shouldn’t—I’d already bitten myself once already, and I knew I didn’t have enough blood to spare. I bit it anyway.

I drank until I couldn’t, until I had taken so much that I knew any more would kill me. And it did nothing. I’d known that it wouldn’t—it’d done nothing earlier, too. I just wanted it to stop.

Please Yuu, make it stop.

I used all my remaining strength to sit up against the nearest tree. I’d tried to stand, didn’t think better of it until I was on my knees for the second time that night. But I didn’t have the energy to think anymore. I reached for the flask in my bag with no consideration, no questions: I had completely abandoned what little I’d managed to plan. I had only the smallest thought that I shouldn’t drink it, not enough to stop myself. So I gripped it between both hands, trying to keep it steady, and it still shook so much that I must’ve poured a quarter of it down my chin and onto my chest.

I felt nothing.

I prayed that it simply wasn’t enough.

I took the second flask from my bag, the last one, against all my remaining judgment. My mind was screaming to wait, wait just a few more days.(Stay with him a few days longer, please!) But I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore. I brought the flask to my lips, still shaking, still bloodying myself and wasting a third of it. It was tasteless. The feeling of blood in my mouth tricked my body into thinking I finally had it, but it wasn’t and it left me needing more.

I’d reached my limit. I’d been so naïve to think I never would—both as a child and in recent months—and I’d finally found it. I’d finally reached the point where anything but human blood wouldn’t be enough.

It was too much, all of it was too much.

I barely remember anything, I was in too much pain. I wanted to scream (and I think that I did), wanted anything to relieve the pain. I leaned forward, pressed my head against the ground and arched my back, squeezing my arms to try and focus on something other than blood.

I need it. I need it. I need it.
Please Yuu make it stop.
(I still can’t ask him.)

I felt worse with every passing minute. My ears were ringing so loudly that I could hardly hear anything, my sight dim and spinning. I had dug my fingers into my arms until they bled, coughed and gasped until my chest burned. What little I could smell smelled like blood, like Yuu, and I hated that more than anything, how badly I wanted it to really be him, a human. If I could just breathe, just have a little blood—

“Mika,” someone said.

It can’t be. I don’t believe it. It can’t be him.

…please.

I started coughing again and clamped my hands over my ears. “Make it stop,” I whispered, panting between each word. It couldn’t be him. It can’t be. But what if it was?

Please don’t be him.

The fear that it could be forced me to lift my head, to look, to see.

And it was.

It was Yuu.

I was dying and there he was, reckless and waiting to do something stupid to try and save me. I couldn’t focus on him—the world still spiraled, enough to make me nauseous again.

I tried sitting up and he came closer, kneeling before me. Close enough for me to see his expression, that he was frowning but only because he was concerned. Concerned. For me.

I fell over, too weak to hold myself up. Yuu put his hands over mine—still cupping my ears—and slowly brought me back up, providing enough support for me to stay still.

“It’s blood, right?” he whispered. His gaze didn’t falter. Mine did—I cringed, looking towards the ground.

I didn’t want to say it. I should have—he already knows, it’s too late. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to admit it. Too many years denying it to say it so easily, and far too many for me to say it to him.

Yuu was drawing circles on my cheek with his thumb and I started leaning into his touch. But then he moved one hand, using it to pull at his shirt collar and whisper, “Here.”

Yuu began twirling a lock of my hair; I started squeezing my arms again. “No,” I whispered. But I was staring at his neck, vividly imagining biting it, drinking. I shook my head. “No.”

I can’t hurt you.

I won’t.

I refused to look at him; I didn’t want to see his expression. Moments later, Yuu knocked my head several times, just as when we were children. I hissed in pain, grabbing my head and finally looking up at him.

He was smiling.

A half-smile.

I didn’t understand it.

“Hardheaded,” he scoffed. “You haven’t changed,” he said, his smile becoming a little more genuine.

“You must be joking,” I whispered.

A half-smile of my own, just for a moment, before I was frowning again. But it had been there, an instant of joy—though joy perhaps is too strong of a word—amidst the things I feared the most.

Yuu ruffled my hair. “Hardly,” he said softly; I furrowed my brows. He should be upset, I’d lied to him for months! Yet he smiled at me like almost nothing had happened—a smile riddled with other emotions but a smile nonetheless.

Yuu leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine. I pushed him back.

It’s too much, it’s too much, it’s too much…

The smell was overpowering, demanding me to drink; I could hear his heartbeat through the ringing in my ears. I can’t do this!

“I don’t want it,” I whispered. “I don’t want it.” I held the back of my head, fingers curling in my hair, my body aching, my eyes watering. “I don’t need it!” I shrieked.

He had his arms around me before I could stop him, one hand on my head and the other on my arm. “It’s alright. I know,” he whispered. He pressed his hand on my head, trying to force me closer.

I couldn’t fight him anymore.







I failed.

I failed him. I failed everyone.

I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t. It was too much.

I let my fangs pierce his neck.







Before he had finished speaking, I had lost it, lost everything I’d tried so hard to keep. I grabbed his shoulders, yanking him closer, pressed my lips to his neck.

Yuu flinched when I bit him.
I will never forgive myself for it.







Blood—real, human blood—tastes like copper. Vampire blood is weak, lacking any taste. Water-like, but too warm to be water and far too cold to have come from something living.

But real blood, human blood, is none of these things. It tastes metallic, simultaneously a cross between bitter and sweet, a hint of salt. It tastes exactly the same as when I was human yet nothing like it. The difference lay within in the need. Humans do not desire blood. But we do. We need it. Without it, we die.

And I hated it. No—I loved it, it was myself that I hated. I detested how badly I needed more, that no matter how much I took from him it was not enough. But above all else, however, I despised how I felt, how I could feel the remnants of my humanity slipping away.

Immortal. Powerful. Forever youthful. That is what I had become. That had been Krul’s promise when she’d turned me, something I’d spent so long trying to avoid. But I was a devil all the same—it was power stolen from the hands of another, more damage than anything I’d ever meant to do.

I could feel it. For a moment everything burned and I dug my fingers into Yuu, wincing but not once stopping. And then I felt colder than I’d ever felt in my life. I could tell that I was stronger, all my senses quickly returning to normal, then better than normal.

In just a moment, my humanity had slid from my grasp and I knew that I would be a monster for the rest of my life.

And I couldn’t take it. I had tried so hard, done everything that I could and maybe more, and I’d lost it in seconds. Everything was crumbling before me because of one moment of weakness and in the process I had hurt him.

It was too much.

I couldn’t handle it. I lost my grip.

I clung to Yuu and started sobbing. I squeezed him in my arms, holding him so tightly that now I am certain it must have hurt. I cried so hard that I struggled to breathe against his neck, never quite forced to stop drinking but gasping often enough to make a bloody mess of us both.

Yuu merely held the back of my head, gently moving his thumb in a soothing manner. “You’ve been hurting for so long, Mika,” he whispered. “I can't heal you. At least let me suffer with you.”

You don’t deserve to suffer. I wanted to say it—would have said it. But I couldn’t stop. Too greedy. Too selfish. Killing him, for my own sake. And I could only imagine how it was for him, how he’d flinched when I bit him. I knew he’d been attacked in the past, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull away and let him be (you’re truly a devil, I told myself).

I’m so sorry.

I don’t know how long I drank—it was difficult to keep track of time with how sick I’d felt and how strange all of it was. Yuu held my head the entire time, not once telling me to stop. His heart raced, his breaths were shallow, but he never asked. How I could be so selfish and he so selfless, I didn’t know.

I stopped the moment I could force myself to. It wasn’t enough blood—truly, I needed more before I could fully heal—but I refused to take any more from him. I wouldn’t. There was no reason for him to be in pain, despite what he thought, and especially not to save me.

I took my fangs out of his neck as gently as I could and pressed my hand over the wound to stop the bleeding.

“That wasn’t enough,” he said. He put his hand over mine, tangling our fingers together. But then he tightened his grip, tried to move our hands to free his neck again in a motion that clearly said take more.

I didn’t look at him. “It was,” I whispered. A lie, and I knew he wouldn’t believe it. To be clear, I didn’t expect him to—I simply didn’t want to discuss it. It wasn’t his problem.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. I was fighting back more tears, trying to control my breaths and refusing to look at him. I couldn’t. Seeing the bite made me feel sick, disgusted with myself and the monster I was, and the idea of seeing his face terrified me so much that it made me dizzy, left me shaking. I pulled my hands away and held them in my lap, squeezed them into fists.

If he spoke, I didn’t listen. I had started to pick at my sleeve, pulling at stitches and tearing fabric until it came apart. I didn’t care that it was already soaked in blood, that I’d torn several holes into it; I secured it around his neck, covering the bite.

It was the least I could do.

I didn’t know if it would stop the bleeding (though I desperately wanted it to, needed it to). I stared at it and wondered how much it must have hurt, what he must have thought of me, that surely he must hate me.

Yuu eventually broke my concentration—a good thing, I was getting lost in my thoughts and ignoring him, the one I had just wounded. “Mika,” he started. Yuu bit his lip, visibly uncomfortable with whatever it was he wished to say. “Your eyes…” he whispered.

I looked up immediately, previous restraints entirely forgotten (but still avoiding his gaze).

“Oh.” I furrowed my brows. Right.

They were red now.

I’d forgotten.

Yuu traced his thumb under my eye and I did the same to him. It was the first time I dared to look directly at him, slowly lifted my eyes to meet his. His were still green, thank God—Yuu was still human, still the same as when we’d been parted. My body had betrayed me, but at least I still had him. I hadn’t ruined him.

“It’s the color of your ring now. See. Look,” he said softly. He took my left hand and held it up, as if he was comparing my ring to my eyes, or maybe to prove what he said though I could not see it myself.

It was a compliment, I realized. Yuu was complimenting my eyes, evidence of how much I had changed since we’d first been parted, his words evidence of how little he had changed. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Truly. Yuu always cared more about how others fared even when he should be concerned with himself, and I should have known that would remain true even now. Yet it still took me off guard.

“Really?” I whispered, my voice so quiet that it was little more than a breath.

Yuu nodded. He smiled. But it was a very broken smile, not the radiant smile he usually had, not the smile of my sun. I burned the image into my mind, a reminder of what I’d done to him (maybe I had ruined him). Only then did I try to comfort him. I pulled my hand away from him, moving to his cheek and gently stroking his chin, breathing softly. You will be fine, I wanted to say. I couldn’t. Instead I drifted nearer and nearer until my nose nudged against his, my lips scarcely an inch away. I knew I shouldn’t be so close—I wouldn’t kiss him, couldn’t kiss him (but God did I want to).

And so I remained frozen, breathed against him and wondered if somehow I could kiss him. I kept my eyes shut and settled against him, forehead pressed against his. He ran his fingers across my cheek, neither of us moving to close the distance nor pull away—we stayed perfectly still, our lips barely parted, just enough distance to keep Yuu safe and just enough to make me need more.

“Does it hurt?” he eventually asked. I shook my head. (I felt better—I had hurt him for my own personal gain, had hurt him to heal myself.)

But he asked another question, strangely similar to the other. “Are you alright?”

And I found myself pulling away from him and shaking my head again, despite every part of me protesting, that I should lie, lie to him, don’t let him worry about me.

“You’re finally being honest,” he said. He merely laughed (or chuckled, really—too short to be a proper laugh), and I realized that truly that was the most honest I’d been with him in months. “But it’s alright, I’m scared too,” he whispered. Yuu pressed his fingers to my chin, softly stroking it with his thumb to try and clean the blood off.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again. I took his hand into mine, held it against my cheek. “It’s all my fault,” I said. Then I moved his hand again, my nose brushing past it before I gently pressed my lips to it. I kissed him four times, starting at his wrist and moving closer to his palm. (I wanted to bite him, still needed blood, but I didn’t. I resisted. If nothing else, what I stole from him gave me the strength to have control again.)

When I stopped kissing him, I kept his hand against my lips. I did not bite him, no, but the temptation was there. I wanted to, it really hadn’t been enough (never would be), and I used all of my willpower not to. But I wouldn’t. Not again.

Instead I looked towards Yuu, found that he was smiling again. This was the smile of my sun, something bright, true, a smile that wasn’t brought on by the horrors I’d shown him that night. Yuu didn’t talk for several minutes; all the while, I watched his expression and prayed that it wouldn’t change. But it did, eventually—to something serious, more fitting of what I’d put him through. And then he spoke, and it left me confused, breathless. “This is our burden from now on,” he said.

Ours? I’d thought. It was mine, it was I who was a vampire, not him, so why would any of this be his burden? I wouldn’t let it be his.

I wouldn’t let him suffer from my burdens.

I grit my teeth, closing my eyes. I would do anything not to cry again, too aware of how badly I’d hurt him and how little he cared. I dropped Yuu’s hand and returned mine to my lap, squeezed them into fists again. I tried everything not to cry again, yet I felt tears run down my cheeks, dripping onto my fingers and soaking into my skin. “It’s all my fault,” I said quietly. Yuu shook his head, reached forward to wipe my cheeks, and eventually moved to kiss me. I pushed him away. “You can’t,” I whispered.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to stop him when I’d nearly done the same just moments ago. “You can’t,” I repeated. Yet I held his face, brushing my thumb against his lips (so selfish to do this to him again, to refuse to follow my own demands). I avoided his eyes, fingers shaking.

God how I wanted to kiss him, say that he would be alright and that it was my burden and that he would be fine. But the risk was too great, too likely that I could accidentally turn him—too much of my own blood, of Krul’s, too likely that he might by corrupted by it. Kissing him was too selfish, far too dangerous. I wanted to (God how I wanted to), but I couldn’t.

And so I said it again. “Don’t.”

Neither of us spoke afterwards, leaving us in silence again.

I wanted to explain myself, to tell him everything, to fill the silence and the void between us. I hated leaving him in the dark, even when he could guess most of the answers. But my throat was tight and I still struggled to breathe right.

Eventually, I lost my opportunity to explain—Yuu leaned his forehead against mine and spoke. “Only me. Only drink from me, alright? No one else.”

Yuu paused and pulled away from the touch, and I mulled over his words wondering why. Yet another choice of his that I didn’t understand—this wasn’t an offer, it was a demand, and I couldn’t comprehend why he would require that I only drink from him. He was also blushing for no discernable reason. (And in hindsight, it was quite cute, though I barely thought of it then.)

I was readying myself to refuse his demand when he tried to explain himself further. “That is,” he coughed and looked towards the ground, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you knew you hurt someone. Drink from me whenever, and you won’t need to worry about that. You have my consent. From here on.”

I stared at him.

But I have hurt you.

I didn’t understand how he could separate himself from others like this. I really didn’t. But he did.

And I especially didn’t understand how he could be so selfless.

“This is our burden now,” he said, nodding and locking eyes with mine.

It is not.

I still didn’t think it could be his burden, no matter what either of us wanted. And even if it could, I didn’t want to weigh him with such things—he doesn’t deserve this!—but I didn’t have the energy to disagree, to speak.

“It’s ours,” he assured.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

So I had burdened him. Tried as I might, I’d failed him again, troubled him more than I’d even thought possible. And he knew it, yet he still blamed himself. “This was my fault. Not yours. But, at least we’re both devils now,” he said. Then he smiled. A dreadful smile that showed how truly unhappy he was with this, when surely he meant to act like he didn’t really mind. But it was clear: he hated it. He felt responsible for it. And I didn’t care what he said—it was my fault.

I didn’t speak because I had nothing to say. My lips were parted, ready to explain why he was wrong, so wrong, but there was nothing. Even if I was too exhausted to finish, I wanted to try, but not a single word came to mind: he was already so convinced that I had tainted him—how could I refute such a thing? Maybe I had! How was I to know? It was I that had long been tainted, and him that I had tried so hard to protect—perhaps I truly had failed and allowed him to become corrupted.

“It’s not that terrible, actually.” Yuu laughed hollowly, giving the same effect as his smile. But it was terrible—his laugh proved as much. I had failed him, failed the one thing I’d sworn to never do—I’d hurt him. I had hurt him and corrupted him in the process. To say it was anything else would be foolish.

“No, this is terrible. Awful. But if you come to hate it so much you can’t bear to drink, just think of me, alright? Whenever you consider yourself less than human, think of it as us becoming closer. One. Our burden.” he said.

Yuu was blank. Terrifyingly so. His expression betrayed his tone, so caring when his face showed nothing. He looked down at his hands, bloody and defiled and reflecting how tainted he’d become, what I’d done to him.

I couldn’t bear it.

I curled my fingers into fists and whispered “I’m so sorry” on the verge of tears again.

Yuu shook his head fiercely. “None of that anymore. Ever,” he ordered. “I know you’re hurting, and you hate hurting me like this, Mika. But I’m fine. I swear. I’m fine with suffering if it means you don’t have to suffer alone. I want to suffer with you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I’m not.

I’m not fine with this.

I didn’t want to see him suffer. I didn’t care what he thought of it—I had caused so many of the problems he’d had in his life and I refused to add to them.

And he had called it terrible. Terrible. He knows what I’ve become, what I’ve done to him, and he hates it. And it is my fault.

“Please forgive me,” I whispered. I covered my face and began crying again, and moments later he pulled me into his arms again. He kept my head under his chin, slowly running his fingers through my hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to be forgiven.” He spoke lightly, like this was meant to be a good thing. I didn’t see how.

Surely he meant that nothing could be forgiven, that my actions were truly irredeemable.

Yet his tone said otherwise. 

I needed to know which he’d meant say. Everything I knew about Yuu screamed that it wasn’t what I thought, that he would always forgive me for my wrongdoings because that’s the sort of person he was. But everything else said that was wrong, and it made it impossible to tell which it was.

But eventually Yuu pulled back, still holding my head and looking directly into my eyes (though I avoided his).

“I want this,” he said, drawing circles on my cheek.

You’ve corrupted him, I thought.

You’ve ruined him, if he wants something as terrible as this.

I didn’t ask for forgiveness again. I had decided for myself: it was irredeemable, I did not deserve to be forgiven, regardless of what he thought. Instead, I rested on his shoulder again, crying even harder than before.

The more I thought about everything he’d said, the worse I felt, the guiltier I was, the more I realized how much pain I had caused him. And yet it was I that clung to him, sobbed on his shoulder and begged for forgiveness while he tried to comfort me, running his hands through my hair. All the while I only whispered “I’m sorry” and “It’s all my fault,” becoming increasingly more distressed as I truly realized the significance of what I’d done.

I’d hurt him, certainly. But I had doomed myself (so selfish to think of yourself when you hurt him, I’d thought).

I would outlive him.

This was now a fact. With every second, Yuu grew closer to outgrowing me.

I would outlive him.

And I didn’t know what I would do without him.