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The summer air suffocated him.
Bulgaria hated living in his own skin as much as he hated the hot, heavy silence, covering the air like a sticky film. But that’s what this was for. With their bodies so close, it was easy to let his mind take him somewhere far away.
Waning sunlight filtering through the window painted Romania’s silhouette a rich gold. When he leaned closer, his eyes caught the sunset, illuminated like a pair of glittering rubies.
Beautiful, perhaps, was an understatement.
Urgent hands worked at unbuttoning his collar, pleasantly cool where they brushed against his feverish skin, skin that would soon be drained of color as soon as he gave the word. If the way Romania lingered by his neck to inhale or the way his impatient hands nearly popped a button was anything to go by, he was hungrier than usual. The very thought made his pulse quicken, and he could only hope that his heartbeat wasn’t audible in the stuffy silence.
Once enough skin was exposed, Bulgaria leaned his head back experimentally, letting it loll to expose the curve of his neck and maybe this time get even more out of this. At the very least, it was worth it to feel that addicting rush when Romania gave him that hungry look.
Romania wasted no time in leaning down and pressing the pointed tips of his fangs to the spot where neck meets shoulder, carefully placed to avoid an artery. But he didn’t break skin just yet. It was a final warning. Even after weeks without so much as a drop, he restrained himself enough to let Bulgaria back away at the last second.
What would it take for Romania to want him enough to do what he wanted already? To need him so desperately that he didn’t think to ask for permission? No matter what he tried, he still wasn’t enough.
“Do it,” Bulgaria gritted out, more impatient than intended. It occurred to him that he was always the one to beg for it, as if he needed this more than the one who survived on him.
He braced for the impending pain, but regardless, a scream erupted from his throat as a pair of fangs broke skin and ripped through flesh. Instinctively, his hands flew out to grip Romania’s shoulders, not to pry him off but to keep him there, a silent plea: Use me and no one else.
At once a steady stream of blood flowed sharply out of him. He felt his rapid pulse with every wave that left his body, further intensified when Romania lightly chewed the flesh to coax more blood out. It hurt more than it needed to, the pain almost unbearable, but above all else, it fed his reckless ego.
For whatever reason, his thoughts drifted to earlier that afternoon–returning to their stroll through the sunny streets of Plovdiv with no destination in mind, conversation jumping from one familiar topic to the next, a routine he never tired of. They had walked side by side, paces matching up like second nature, yet he always felt the nagging need to catch up in another way. Romania had turned to him every now and then, gazing at him with a fondness he didn’t know how to handle without averting his eyes. If Bulgaria didn’t know any better, he could almost believe that his friend felt the same way. At the very least, he hoped the other thought of him as more than an annoyance or a friend due to proximity.
There was a world of difference between the man who had excitedly dragged him out to sightsee earlier that same day and the man currently leeching off of him and he didn’t know which he preferred. It was the former he first fell in love with, the Romania who praised him, teased him, and understood him like no other, the one who occupied his thoughts at all hours of the day but whose very thoughts he could never figure out. It was the man ripping into him, bleeding him dry, and openly desiring his being who provided a love he could digest.
He could take this. Whatever Romania wanted, Bulgaria would give, because the other had given him so much more.
Gradually, Romania relaxed as his thirst ebbed. He seemed to realize how uncomfortable this position must be and shifted into something more comfortable, one hand resting on Bulgaria’s shoulder and another cradling his head. Like a lovers’ embrace, he thought foolishly.
The only difference was, Romania didn’t love him back.
The logical part of him knew why he was here, in the same position he’d fantasized about more times than he wanted to admit. For one, he healed quickly and without suffering permanent damage. But aside from that, he was one of the only people who could not only withstand but welcomed the pain: The perfect candidate. There had surely been many more who offered their blood over the centuries, he knew, before the two of them became what they were now, and certainly many who were better than him in more ways than one.
But when Romania sighed around his neck, he savored the pretty sound, allowing himself to believe that only he could draw that out from him, that there was something special about him that granted him the right to stay beside someone so perfect. A delusional fantasy, sure to be shattered as soon as Romania’s hunger was sated, but one that was easy to believe in with someone desperately latching onto his neck and gulping mouthful after mouthful of his blood. He imagined that with each drop lost, all of his flaws and mistakes left along with them and he was made better, if only it were that simple. Despite the shame and blood loss, an absurd grin spread across his face.
There was no feeling he loved more.
Just as he felt he might faint, the fangs retracted, replaced with a wet tongue that licked at the wound, gathering up stray drops until it clotted and closed up.
It was over.
He would laugh if he had the energy, but now only managed a weak exhale. How ironic that he had felt so invigorated from having the literal life sucked out of him. As far as Romania was aware, this ritual of theirs was just a transaction, a way for him to drink his fill and for Bulgaria to get a taste for pain. He could only imagine how disgusted Romania would be if he learned that someone like Bulgaria felt this way about him, how he used him just to live for a moment in a world where he was wanted back. No, Romania would be ashamed to even call him a friend.
That overwhelming shame always followed without fail, but he knew without a doubt each time that he would jump at the chance to be used again.
By now, the sun had completely disappeared beneath the horizon, a fact he only realized when Romania drew away and he couldn’t make out his face in the darkness. It was hard enough figuring out what went on in Romania’s head half the time, and this certainly didn’t help. He could only imagine his expression, maybe one of satisfaction or disinterest, as well as the rosy blush that was surely decorating those cheeks now.
The wound on his neck had stopped bleeding, but it throbbed terribly and ached with movements as small as breathing. He shivered despite the summer air, unable to retain any heat.
Romania’s skin was warmer than before against his when they brushed back a few stray hairs plastered to his forehead with cold sweat. If only he had the privilege to touch him more often, perhaps when Romania wasn’t doing it out of necessity, but he knows he wasn’t built to be treated any other way.
Even as he was pinned down, bled, too pained to move, he had never felt them to be on more equal footing. There was something seriously wrong with him.
“I’m sorry for drinking so much. Are you okay?” Hearing concern in a voice directed at him felt out of place, but he couldn’t deny how selfishly delighted it made him feel. “Give me a sign.”
He mustered a hum in response, and then felt his head lifted gently to rest on a pillow. Shuffling sounds to his right signaled that Romania was trying to turn on the light, but he swiftly pulled him back.
“Leave it. Stay with me?” It was true that he wanted Romania here with him for as long as he was allowed, but he left out the part about not wanting to be seen in this sorry state.
“Of course.”
Though Romania never said no to him, it was always a relief to hear those words, because Bulgaria didn’t know how much longer they had until these blissful but finite days ended. As selfish as it was, he hoped Romania wouldn’t realize how much better he could do anytime soon, that he wouldn’t abandon him for someone who matched him in talent and character. And so for now, he would ask for his friend’s companionship for as long as he was allowed.