Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  Last online: 10 hours ago

  Nate glanced at the time on the top left corner of his phone's screen. It was somewhere around 8am in the morning. 

So why wasn't he swamped with texts yet?

  Being a night owl, Damian would never fail to choke his phone with all sorts of messages late into the night. The other time Nate had woken up to a whooping thousand messages, which were mostly just spam and more spam. Deep inside, he actually did enjoy reading through the messages, as he found them rather amusing.

  Today was different though. There was nothing sent from Damian at all. Nate pondered for a while, wondering if he should check up on Damian, before drawing the conclusion that Damian was probably busy with something, and that it was best to not disturb him. Besides, Nate had work to do. 

  After all, cases don't solve themselves.

===============================

  Pulling and ducking over tapes that warned the curious from the crime scene, Nate was met with dimly lit red brick walls that towered over him, along with a putrid stench of gutter oil and rotting soggy trash that overflowed from bins that lined the wall. On the floor, forming streaks as they flowed to one side, was a liquid that resembled water, except for the surface of it reflecting an iridescent rainbow that squirmed. As beautiful as it was, seeing the place it was found in, the liquid was most likely something revolting too. He would have stopped there if he could.

  To his dismay, the actual crime scene was somewhere at the far end of the alley. Grumbling under his breath, Nate had no choice but to slowly make his way through the alley, careful not to step on the streaks on the pavement and the trash that was strewn all over the ground. 

“I feel sorry for whoever had to pass away in this place,” 

  he remarked, before realising that there was no one there to hear his remark. Huh. Without knowing, he had gotten so used to Damian constantly being by his side, he had forgotten the fact that Damian was not with him right then. It was odd, Damian would have always tagged along to follow him to crime scenes, though recently he has not been doing so. It almost felt like he was avoiding him. 

  Letting his thoughts spiral down the tracks, Nate nearly walks into a wall. Stiffening up at the sudden sight of the wall close-up, Nate gradually backed away. He really needed to focus, the last thing he needed was to be so absorbed in his own thoughts he would actually walk headfirst into a wall.  

  Finally at the scene, he scanned his eyes around, taking in all the little details that would have otherwise been overlooked by anybody else.

  The body belonged to that of a teen, found lying on the floor in the back alley’s dead end. No doubt he was trying to run away from someone, only to be unfortunate enough to be cornered into a dead end, with nowhere else to run to. 

  From the footprint marks that appeared ever so often on flattened trash and dented mouldy green garbage bins that were out of place, there were signs of a small struggle… which clearly ended up being completely useless. Whoever was chasing after the teen also left barely any traces of them behind, not even a strand of hair or fingerprints. Seeing how thorough they were, this did not seem to be their first time. 

  And Nate had a vague feeling that this was the same person he had been after for the past few days. 

 He just needed to check for one more thing to confirm his suspicions.

===============================

  The stale chilly air of the morgue blew upon Nate the moment he stepped inside. He never quite got used to visiting the morgue himself, which was ironic given how often he found himself stepping in here to scout out clues from bodies. It just felt unnerving, looking at bodies which were once so full of life simply lying on a cold metal plate, their eyes shut closed as if they were merely in a state of slumber. They looked like they were still living, but Nate knew that all that remained of them was a shell of what they once were. 

  The room, lit by fluorescent lamps suspended from the ceiling, had a side which was lined with shiny metal shelves fitted with a small hinged metal door for each hollowed out space on the shelves.

  His eyes flitted throughout the room before landing on a spot at the far end of the countless shelves. There was a deathly silence that hung in the space, broken only by the echoes of Nate's steps as he swiftly walked towards a spot towards the end of the shelves. A particular shelf was opened there, the metal plate inside it pulled out. Atop it was the body of the deceased teen, someone who looked young enough to still be attending school, stressing over calculus, hanging out with friends, living out their life. 

  It wasn't fair that someone so young, someone with a future could just have their life cut short like that. No, he needed to get to the bottom of this. 

  There had not yet been an approval for an autopsy to be conducted yet, so Nate could only collect evidence based on visual inspection. Not like much evidence could be collected this way. 

  However, if the killer was the same as the one he suspected to have been involved in the other cases, then the body most likely has the same mark as the others. 

  The killer had a special mark they would leave on their victims, a signature was what Nate would call it, which was mainly a deep mark somewhere near the main arteries of the victim's bodies. The mark was odd, seeming to be something made from the teeth of something too sharp to be from a human, yet the way the teeth were positioned resembled a human more than a beast. 

  It didn't take long before Nate found the mark, proving that this was another victim of the killer. The teen had already died of blood loss long ago by the time he was discovered in the wee hours of the morning, just like the other victims. The killer has a preference for striking in the night, where hardly any witnesses are present, leaving the bodies to be discovered the very next day. Not only that, but the victims were also not related to each other in any manner. It was as if the killer simply killed at random, without any motive behind their killing. 

  Having no purpose made it even more difficult, as then no potential suspects can be found. The killer had already been stealthily taking lives for the past few days, getting away scot-free. Leaving the case for another day would only mean offering another chance for the killer to seize the life of someone again, 

  But what was Nate to do? 

  He knew the killer was smart enough to find some sort of way to not leave even fingerprints behind. Spending hours and hours of digging for evidence would not magically make traces or hints about the killer appear. 

  He clicked his tongue in annoyance before heaving a sigh and leaving the morgue. No use looking around when it was going to be a dead end like all the other cases. 

===============================

  The scorching heat from the afternoon was starting to dissolve into a light cool breeze as the sun dipped over the horizon. By now, Damian should already be awake. No matter how long he sleeps during the day, he never wakes up anywhere later than the afternoon. Yet as Nate checked Damian’s contact, it only read:

  Last online: 20 hours ago

  Nate’s tapping on the back of his phone case quickened. Something must have happened to Damian that he did not want to tell Nate about again. The last time Damian had been offline for so long, Nate found him passed out in his apartment. According to Damian, it had been a ‘small’ cold which he refused to inform Nate about, his reasoning for not informing Nate sooner being something about him not wanting to trouble Nate. Damian just has this stupid habit of clamming up on his problems, which frustrated Nate to no end. He would be more at ease if Damian could just tell him for once rather than sloppily attempting to hide it from him. 

  Now, Nate finds himself sprinting down the street towards Damian’s apartment, focused on finding the fastest possible way there. He knew the route there like the back of his hand, he just never quite needed to make his way to the apartment with such haste before. It did not take long before his breath came out in pants, exhaustion beginning to creep up to him. It was times like this that he cursed at himself for not being able to run faster. His pace was slowing down and he knew it. If he even tried to stop, he would probably give in to his sore muscles, sinking down onto the concrete pavement. 

  Then, for a brief moment, he recalled the limp body of Damian he had found collapsed on the floor the other time at his apartment, the sweat beaded on his forehead, with each breath he took like a struggle to stay alive. Standing there at that point in time made him feel helpless, for not being able to be there to aid Damian earlier, for not knowing what to do, for not being there. Worst of all, it was all because he had not known. He had been going through the day like any other days, being completely clueless as to Damian's current state. The thought made a part of him feel uneasy. It made him realise:

Anything could have happened to Damian. 

Anything . 

  Anxiety had a firm grip on his thoughts, twisting and contorting them, channelling a burst of energy to Nate's run, fuelled by adrenaline that was now pumping strong throughout his bloodstream. He could see the apartment coming in view now, it felt as if it was close, yet so far away from him. 

  The back of his shirt was soaked through with sweat, he could feel it sticking to his back but he didn't care. The ‘thud thud’s of Nate's steps fell into a rhythmic pace as he neared the apartment. 

  Pushing the door open to the ground floor to the apartment with some residents standing around in the lobby, his eyes first darted first to the lift. It was somewhere near the top floor and would take forever to make its way down. Nate did not have such time to spare. His eyes landed on the alternative besides the lift – stairs. Nate might have been out of breath, his body seeming like it might give out any moment, but he did not care. Practically leaping up the flight of stairs, he began the ascent to Damian's floor. He could feel the gazes of residents like tiny pinpricks of needles upon his back, but he did not care. He could not care about such trivial matters as the same thought replayed in his head over and over again like a broken recorder:

Anything could have happened to Damian.

Anything .

===============================

  The door was unlocked. 

  Within the small crevice between the door that was ajar, Nate could barely see anything. The room was shrouded in darkness, lest for the light that shone in from the lights in the apartment's corridor. His throat closed up as he sucked a breath through his teeth.

  Why was the door unlocked? Was it the work of an intruder? Did someone…break in?

  Cautiously, he extended a hand to pry open the door, just by a little bit. As more light from the corridor streamed in, he could better see the living room of Damian's apartment. It looked as if it had been ransacked, with clothes and whatnot haphazardly strewn all over the place. The furniture had been knocked out of their usual positions, with cupboards left opened. The curtains to the living room were drawn, leaving the entirety of the living room in a shadowy veil. Somewhere on the far end of the apartment, he could hear shuffling on the wooden floor. 

  Looks like the unwelcome visitor is still here .

  He paused, before stepping inside the apartment, closing the door behind him. 

It would be best to not alert this person so they have no opportunity to get away. 

  Then, he briefly glanced around him, looking for any objects that could deal some blunt force upon the intruder. Eyes lighting up, he spotted a frying pan not too far away from where he stood. 

   Perfect.

  Stretching down to take it, a thought struck his mind. He did not know who he was thinking of going up against. For all he knew, this intruder could be someone more than just an intruder. They could be a kidnapper, an armed person or-

They could be someone like the killer that is currently on the loose.

  Nate froze. His half bent legs stood rooted to the ground, as a breath got hitched in his throat. He should have thought this through. He really, really should have thought this through.

Where did that confidence to retaliate against this person even come from?

 The shuffling that was previously somewhere far away in one of the rooms of the apartment felt closer now. Nate's body felt shaky and wracked with nausea, his mouth dry as it anticipated what was to come. There was this small voice at the back of his head urging him to run, but his legs were refusing to listen. No, they knew even if he ran, he was already too fatigued from earlier to go further. He would never have a chance to outrun this person, whoever they were.  

  From the other side of the room, a silhouette shrouded in darkness emerged, taking a slow stroll towards Nate. Each step they took brought Nate one step closer to his predicament. The air in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating, filling Nate with a sense of dread. Cornered he was, just like the teen’s case he had been investigating earlier. 

It's over . 

Damian was probably long gone by now. Just like the victims of the killer.

And Nate is next on the killer's long list of victims.

People were going to find their lifeless hollow bodies the next morning, with no way to track the killer.

This was probably how that teen felt before he got murdered.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his ears with his hands as he forced himself to look down towards the floor, hoping it would shut those useless thoughts of the killer out. Standing there for a while, his body tensed and waiting, waiting, waiting….

  But nothing happened.

  Nate looked up, puzzled. His gaze swept across the room, but the silhouette he had seen earlier was gone. A hallucination, perhaps? Maybe Nate was getting paranoid, overthinking and overloading his mind to the point where it started making up things on the spot. Sweet, refreshing, relief washed over him as he took a step, ready to start looking for Damian in the apartment. 

  He thought too soon. The cold hands of someone wrapped around his neck. He dare not move, stopping in his tracks. They held a steady grip, thumb on the nape of his neck with fingernails digging into his skin at the side. 

Ah. Of course. They were simply behind him after all.

  As cold and sickly the fingers felt, Nate knew they had the potential to take his life away within moments. There was nothing he could do about it. He had walked readily into a trap, caught in it like a deer stunned by headlights.

  One of the hands moved its way down to Nate's collarbones causing him to flinch, as the other one gripped around his throat and tugged his head ever so slightly to the right. He could feel the icy breath of the person breathing down his neck as they approached closer to his skin. They were aiming for his carotid arteries, full of blood that surged through. Their signature was going to be made on his neck, he realised. He wanted to struggle, to get out of this, but the fingers pressed against his windpipe made him stay in place. From the corner of his eye, he could see their mouth wide open, revealing a set of fangs that was certainly not from a human. 

  A weak cry came from Nate as searing pain erupted from the left side of his neck. The fangs buried deep inside his neck, sunk into his skin, piercing through tissues with such ferocity until it reached the rushing red river beneath it all. He could feel the warmth of the iron rich liquid that now flowed freely from the gaping wound on his neck. It trailed down across the front of his shirt, snaked across his arm, and dripped down to a bloody red pool that was gradually being formed around his feet. Breathing unsteadily and muscles sore, his knees buckled, leaving him like a ragdoll, the only thing that was holding him up being the clutches of the person he did not even know the face to. A thin layer of cold sweat was beginning to form on his skin as a wave of nausea hit Nate. The blood loss was getting to him, putting his body in a perilous state as his mind forced a shutdown. 

  His eyelids were heavy and it felt like his head was under water. The world around him was blurred and hazy, as if he were in a waking dream. Sensations dull, he was drifting further and further away from reality with each moment that passed. Something was calling out to him, lulling him to sleep. Vision swimming in and out with dots swarming his vision, an ear-splitting headache latched onto his head. 

  Nate wasn’t going to be able to hold out any longer.

  The last thing he saw before hitting the floor was something he had least expected of all. In the reflection of a mirror atop a cabinet close to him, he finally had a peek at the face of his assailant. Through the round frame of the mirror, the face of someone he knew all too well stared back. With red, crazed, skittish narrowed eyes beneath a layer of white hair, their face tilted to look at Nate and their eyes met. From Nate's mouth, a singular name was uttered,

“Damian…?”

===============================

  He woke up staring at a white ceiling. Sitting up on the bed he woke up from, he frantically looked around his surroundings in confusion. He had no recollection of the events earlier at all. He only remembered pushing open the door to Damian’s apartment, then he woke up here. 

  This was not his room. Its curtains were drawn and all that lit up the room was just the dim glow of a yellow night lamp on a mini table beside him. 

   What…exactly happened? 

  Clutching his head, a high pitched ringing resounded in his ears. Then all too fast, the memories came, crashing back into his head. The way he stood motionless as he felt a presence behind him. The feeling as fear gripped onto him. The pain that came as the razor sharp fangs sank into his neck. 

  Hold on. The fangs. The marks they left behind.

  Stumbling out of the bed onto the carpeted floor, he approached a standing mirror in the corner of the room. Hurriedly turning his neck to check, he undid the layers of bandages wrapped around his neck and saw a large patch of white gauze that was soaked in red atop where the bite was. Hands gingerly touching the gauze, he winced from the pain. With a wound that deep, it was sure to leave a scar. A mark, like whatever had been on the other victims’ bodies. 

  Except that he was alive and well. He wasn’t well- dead like all the other victims of the killer.  They all had lives ahead of them, just like him. So why was it that he got to continue on and not them? It wasn’t fair. 

  His thoughts drifted to the familiar face he had seen before he passed out. 

  Could the reason why he was still alive be because Damian was the-? 

  No. 

  No, no, no.

  Don’t even think about it.

  It simply couldn’t be.

  It had to be a hallucination or something, right…?

  But if he really was the killer, then everything made sense. 

  Like how Damian had seemed to be avoiding him, hiding something from him the last couple of days.  Or how the killer seemed to know how to avoid detection so well, as if the killer knew the procedures for checking for traces left behind.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the room’s door behind him opening. A figure donning a black sweater entered, with gauzes on one of his hands and antiseptic cream in the other. His skin was paler than usual and there were dark eye bags that hung beneath his eyes. 

  Turning around, Nate shot him a glare whilst crossing his arms,

  “Damian. Care to explain?”

  A sigh escaped from the figure which stood by the doorway.

  “I knew this would have happened sooner or later. Nate, what about you sit back down on the bed so I could help you change your bandages while explaining it all to you?”

  If he wanted answers, he would have to listen to Damian. Reluctantly, Nate sat on the bed, letting Damian sit beside him. He grimaced slightly as he felt the gauze on his neck get pulled off, leaving a stinging pain behind. 

  “So, when did this all start?”

  “Somewhere around a week ago. It all started with these,” 

Damian opened his mouth, pointing at the fangs, then resumed dabbing antiseptic cream onto Nate's wound.

  “Nate, do you believe in the supernatural, like vampires and such?”

  “I didn’t before. But the mark on my neck made me think otherwise.”

Damian’s hands stopped midway while applying the antiseptic cream. He fell very quiet, silence seeping in between them. Then after some thought he spoke again,

  “Nate I apologise, I wasn’t in the right state of mind at that tim-”

  “Not just ‘that’ time, ‘that’ time isn’t your first time, because you did it more than once! Damian I don’t even know how to feel about this, I should be dead, dead ! You heard me? I’ve been looking into so many cases of people that have been murdered this way, cases of people you murdered.”

  “I don’t even know how this works! This whole vampire thing, heck, I don’t even know why I woke up like that one day- Nate do you get it? I can’t control this, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I find a body in front of me and I don’t know what to do- I know I have done unforgivable things but I don't have an option to not kill, because I need it, I need the blood to survive and if I don't get it myself, something in me drives me to get it anyways!”

  The last part of his sentence ended in a shriek, a cry for help in this mess that they had both unknowingly gotten themselves into. Nate had not meant to have let the conversation get so heated up. It's just, something in him was screeching with rage and fury right now. They demanded justice, justice for the lives lost, justice for the people who had to lose someone important to them. 

  He let the silence that followed speak for him, as he turned away, refusing to meet Damian’s eyes.

  Sitting beside him was Damian, who was lost and in desperate need of support. However at the same time, Damian was also one who had taken innocent lives with his hands, he's the one who is the killer. Tackling the problem of Damian being a vampire was one thing, addressing the fact that Damian had taken lives ruthlessly was another. 

  Killing was undeniably wrong. Snuffing out lives like that and playing the grim reaper was just morally wrong. He knew he should turn Damian in, finally closing the unsolved cases and bringing the victims to justice. 

  Yet a part of him clung onto Damian, with blooming hope that he could change. They could find a way for Damian to obtain blood…without the need to kill others.

  A low voice, barely a whisper, from Damian broke the silence.

  “Nate…You wouldn’t tell anyone about this, right…?”

  Saying that Nate was in a dilemma is an understatement. 

Chapter Text

Saying that Nate was in a dilemma is an understatement. His senses were telling him that what was once his friend was no longer his friend. What this person, no, stranger was, was a bloodthirsty murderer. 

  Still, he yearned to bring some sense of ease to Damian. Even if the words were faked and held no true commitment to them, he spoke,

  “Of course I wouldn't,”

   He had to tell someone.

  “I don't want to see you get into trouble,”

   He did not want Damian to get away from this free, he realised.

  “You had no other options but to kill anyway.”

   Damian was a murderer. Nothing could change that.

  That's right. At the end of the day, nothing changes the fact that Damian was a serial killer. He claimed it was for his survival, and in the process of surviving, he went out for murder. He was dangerous.

  Thinking back, Nate could feel a connection to the victims. He knows how they felt, the feeling of drowning in hopelessness knowing you were most likely not going to be able to escape alive as you get cornered. Waiting… waiting for an inevitable death…

  It was not fair that they were killed, murdered brutally for something they had not asked for. If he let Damian get away with this…then they would not be the last ones to be murdered. The series of murders would only continue. The reason why he even chose this line of work in the first place was to stop this from happening. He would even turn in someone close to him if he had to. 

   He would turn in Damian if he had to.

  …

 So why was he hesitating? 

  Maybe he just did not expect a murderer to be someone who seemed so normal. Nothing could change the fact that Damian is a murderer, nor can it change the fact that Damian had been a prominent figure in his life. Without Damian always by his side, he would probably be a loner, an outcast. His life would otherwise be dull and grey, a repetition everyday – sleep, wake up, work, home, repeat.

  “... I'm done with your bandages, Nate. I'm glad you understood me, I just… didn't expect you to so readily accept the fact that I…murdered.”

  Nate placed a hand on his neck, feeling the new bandage that was now pressed against his wound.

   Damian cared for him too. Who else would be there to show such concern for a nobody like him? 

…

Maybe the hesitance stemmed from his closeness to Damian. If he wanted to turn Damian in, he needed to distance himself from him. He needed to distance them enough so no unnecessary…feelings got in the way.

…

“Damian,”

Damian's head snapped up,

“Yeah?”

“I…I think I'm alright to go home now,”

“You sure? No dizziness? The bite didn't turn you into a vampire or anything?”

  Nate brought his fingers to his teeth, feeling for any pointed ends. Contrary to popular belief, it seemed that the bite had not turned Nate into a vampire. 

“Mhm. I'm fine.”

“Alright then, I'll drive you home-”

“No, I- I think I'll take the train home today,”

“Really? Why not?”

“I just- Need to pick up something I ordered on the way back myself.”

“Ah okay, see you tomorrow evening at the diner then? I can't really hang out in the day anymore because of- well this whole vampire thing going on.”

“Sure.”

  He replied curtly, then dashed out of the apartment, eager to get away from Damian, without even mouthing a single ‘goodbye’. 

  From the way Nate was stuttering over his words, he was sure Damian would have been able to see through his lies. Being with him for so long made it such that Damian could notice the subtle change in his feelings, or whether he was lying or not, just by the tiniest of Nate's movements. It was part of a skill he had gained from being around Nate for so long, such that he was able to pick up on little things just by looking at Nate's body language. So when he actually bought Nate's half thought up excuse, Nate was surprised, he had thought Damian would have seen through him.

  No time to mull over how he had gotten past Damian, though. Pulling out his phone and steeling himself, he rang up a number.

“Hello? I have a lead as to who the serial killer is.”

===============================

  Nate had not touched his pancakes at all.

  They were plated in front of him, a soggy mess from the maple syrup seeping into it. There was always room for pancakes, it's just that today he had no appetite to even take a bite out of them. How could anyone even have an appetite with a heart laden with guilt? 

  “Nate?”

  “Huh?”

  “Are you okay? You haven't taken so much as a nibble off your pancakes.”

  Opposite Nate was Damian, his eyes casted onto him with concern. Those were the same savage eyes that looked at him as if he were prey the night before. Right. If he could not stop Damian today, then another life would be forcibly pulled away from this world again. 

   Get a hold of yourself, Nate.

  “I’m okay. I was just thinking of…some cases earlier. I'll start eating then.”

  Grabbing a fork and knife from a container of utensils on the table, Nate sliced a tiny piece of the pancake, ready to take a bite, only for the piercing wails of sirens in the distance to interrupt him. Setting his fork down, he whipped his head to the window beside the booth they were seated in. Down the street, he could see the flashing red blue lights of police cars. On the other side of the street there were more, all charging towards the diner they were in. Within the diner, confused murmurs and whispers came from the customers and staff. The sirens only grew louder as the police drew closer. Nobody in the diner knew what was going on. However, Nate knew. He was the one who called for them to come by to arrest someone. Damian.

  Damian simply sat there, dumbfounded. Then, a forced laugh came from him. A small smile came onto his face as he tilted his head. With a resigned voice he spoke,

  “I knew this would happen. I guess despite us being together for so long, nothing could beat your desire to serve justice, huh?”

  Struggling to find words, Nate could only respond,

  “W- what? You knew ?”

  Leaning back, Damian clasped his hands on the table and swept his eyes to the window outside, watching the cars which were now only seconds away from the diner.

  “Sure I did. I saw through your blatant lies. Taking the train home to pick up something? Nate, as far as I know, you don't pick up items from train stations. And, you might not realise, but everytime you lie, you end up pausing for too long, or stuttering out something that doesn't even make sense.”

  Taken aback, Nate found himself at a loss for words.

  “Well, if you knew, then why didn't you attempt to run away? You had so many opportunities to just- flee- or escape-”

  To that, Damian did a tiny shake of his head, 

  “Pfftttt and what? Live my life on the run? Forever running away from you? Nate, I envy you, being able to push personal relations aside, putting duty over feelings. For me, I can't let go of something like this so easily.”

  And in that brief moment, a forlorn expression flashed across his face. Damian shrugged his shoulders, his smile now strained, and his voice softer,

  “If I had to choose, I’d stay by your side even if that meant I'd die , Nate, because if it makes you feel better at being able to serve justice, then so be it,”

  The police cars were outside the diner now, the policemen swarming out of the cars. There were shouts and yells as orders were barked between them. It would not be long before they came into the diner. Nate was feeling antsy as they neared, the feelings towards Damian he had sworn to push away now surging up, berating him for putting them aside.

  “Damian- This isn't a joke, what do you mean by die ? You can't be serious-”

  “Think whatever you'd like. It won't change how I feel towards you. I'd say I'm foolish for even feeling this way. I wouldn’t run away from you even if you pointed a gun at me, you’d feel more at ease afterwards wouldn’t you? Why am I even going so far? It's not like you'd even care for me enough to not turn me in.”

  His last sentence felt like an arrow laced with poison that struck Nate. Biting his lip, Nate sharply inhaled. Damian was not wrong about him prioritising justice over relations. In his eyes, it was the laws that governed the world, making sure it does not fall into chaos. Letting people get away with crimes, even if they were someone close to Nate, was unforgivable. 

  “Guess I hit the nail on the head, huh?”

  Damian sure knew Nate well. 

  All of a sudden, a firm voice, loud as it can be, shattered their conversation,

  “HANDS UP! DON'T MOVE! DAMIAN AMBROSE, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST! FROM NOW ON ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN BE USED AGAINST YOU IN COURT!”

  From behind Damian, a stern looking policeman entered, pulling out handcuffs. Damian held out his hands, surprisingly letting the policeman cuff him with little resistance. Walking away, he turned his head to look at Nate. 

  “Hey, Nate? You think you're happier at being able to serve justice?”

  This time, Nate let a little bit of his true feelings spill over. The dam holding them back was cracking apart, fracturing from being unable to hold them anymore. His answers were no longer strong and definite. Seeing it happen right before his eyes made him conclude…

   I don't know.

  Taking his silence as an answer, Damian continued,

“...Whatever it is, just don’t blame yourself, ‘kay? I’ll accept this as a punishment meted out to me. I know I've wronged. I won't run away from this.”

  With that, he was brought away. 

  ===============================

  Nate knew he did the right thing. 

  He made sure to prevent any more murders from happening because of Damian. 

  He made sure nobody else had to experience the agony of dying at the hands of a bloodthirsty vampire.

  He was supposed to be relieved, overjoyed, even.

   So why was there this gnawing feeling that what he had done was wrong?

  His heart ached ten times over.

  Damian knew he was going to turn him in and yet he still stayed there by his side, like an idiot. His reasoning being that he wouldn’t mind it if it made Nate feel better. How someone could be so…loyal…dedicated… to Nate, he did not know. All he knew was that there was a person who cared deeply about him. And now he's gone. Because of him. Because of his selfishness that made him prioritise justice. What was justice now that Damian was gone?

  Agonising pain at what he had done dug at him. 

   He’s a selfish person, isn't he?

   …

   It did not matter. What has been done, has been done. Damian was already taken in. He would be put on trial soon and the court would most likely sentence him to death.

  Maybe if murderers were completely evil , maybe then he would have no regrets. But they were not. Murderers were people too. They could have the heart to feel , the arms to give a tender embrace , they can show concern for other people, they can care , they can love .

  Damian was there for him, to care for him so much he wouldn’t mind dying at Nate’s wretched hands. He would never hate Nate, no matter how much Nate would scorn him for tainting his hands with blood.

   …

 ===============================

  …

  It’s been a year.

  And now without Damian, his days felt a little more duller. 

  The booth they always sat at in the diner emptier.

  The notifications he would find on his phone every morning a little lesser.

  His life with one less person in it;

  He admits he feels a little lonelier.

  Maybe even regretful.

  …

  He missed him.

Chapter Text

Saying that Nate was in a dilemma is an understatement. His senses were telling him that what was his friend was no longer his friend, that they were nothing more than just a murderer. His heart, however, felt otherwise. Usually, he stuck very closely to the idea of justice. In his eyes, it was the laws that governed the world, making sure it does not fall into chaos. But looking at Damian, his gaze softened. 

  “I have no idea how to do that- this whole- vampire thing it's just so-”

  Grabbing Damian's hand, Nate gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

  “Damian, we can find a way out of this. Together.”

  “Just kill me already, Nate.”

  He spoke with words filled with nothing but bitter sorrow, spiked with guilt. 

  “You think I’m bad too, don’t you? I mean, look at these hands! Look-”

  He holds up both his hands to Nate’s face, palms facing him, fingers apart.

  “ -these hands have been tainted with blood. See for yourself. Look . I’m nothing more than just a killer. Are you still forgiving me after knowing that?”

  Damian was not wrong. Those precious lives he had taken could never be reclaimed back. It went against Nate’s morals. The whole reason he even wanted to become a detective in the first place was to bring justice to the departed. At one point in time he had even thought that he could bring himself to turn in someone close to him if he had to. 

  And yet.

  “Yes. Yes I will. I will forgive you.”

  Clutching Nate's hand and returning the squeeze from earlier, Damian's voice was now barely above a whisper,

  “...really…?” 

  “Really.”

  “...thank you…”

  Arms wrapped around Nate, Damian's head rested on Nate's shoulder as he hugged him. Damian's arms felt colder now, no longer emanating the body heat a normal human would, but still embodying the warmth of a human's genuine feelings of trust. Nate could feel the tension leaving Damian's body as he leaned into him fully now, hearing a soft sniffling noise from him. 

   He's crying. Damian is crying. 

  Damian looked fragile, like something that was barely being held together. It made something in Nate ache. It made Nate want to do something, anything, to comfort him. But he knew he could not say anything to help much, so he spoke using his actions. Leaning his head and nuzzling it against Damian's, Nate returned the embrace.

  They sat just like that as moments passed, in the dim bedroom, not a word uttered to each other, conveying their feelings to each other through something as simple as a hug. 

  When the sobs dissolved into a quietude that hung in the air, Nate loosened his hug to let go of Damian, only to hear Damian's choked voice,

  “Just a bit longer…please.”

  “I’ll be here for as long as you need it.”

===============================

  He had gently pulled away from Damian upon realising his breathing had turned into the slow breaths of a person deep in slumber. 

  It was good that Damian was sleeping. Judging by his eyebags earlier, he really needed it. 

   His face was relaxed, eyelids closed, not opening anytime soon, with all tension within him seemingly gone. Who knew, one could look so different the moment they slept. There was not a hint of a smirk or the mischievous spark in his eyes he usually had. He just looked peaceful. 

  Nate wishes this peace could last forever. 

===============================

  When morning came, it came with the smell of pancakes wafting through the air. 

  Groggy eyes opening, the sores from falling asleep in an awkward position the night before catches up to Nate, making him feel a pinch of regret for not finding a better place to sleep at. 

  Eyelids heavy, it had been too late when he realised he was beginning to fall asleep beside Damian, sitting on the floor with half on his body leaning on the side of the bed, head and arms slumped against the bedsheets. By the time he caught himself drifting away, Nate could not find even an ounce of energy to shake himself awake. Which explained how he ended up in such an awkward position the next morning. 

  As much as he wanted to sink back into the realm of dreams, he forced himself to his feet, following the fragrant smell of fresh pancakes in the air. 

  “...You're up early, nightowl.”

  Indeed, Nate had not expected to find Damian cooking pancakes first thing in the morning. 

  “Heyy what’s wrong with waking up early?”

  “Well, usually, you would sleep in until the afternoon-”

  “And usually, you would be on your way solving cases by now.”

     Ah. What time was it now? 

   Nate clicks his tongue. His boss never liked it whenever anyone was late. He was rather particular when it came to the topic of time management.  As he glanced at the time from his phone, he realised he could probably make it in time to report in if he ran. Probably .

  “Shoot. I gotta go, Damian!” 

  “Woah, where do you think you are going? And in such a rush-”

  “Work, obviously.”

  “Nate it's literally a Saturday. Also, no way you’re going out in broad daylight with blood-stained clothes.”

  Nate halts in his tracks, looking down at himself. Having been in such a hurry to leave, the thought of his clothes still being bloodstained had slipped his mind. Bloodstained. Stained with his blood. Across the front of his clothes a brown-reddish stain blossomed across it, the rich-iron smell of it faint, but not gone. His mind briefly flashes back to the hysteria he had experienced the night before – the sickening feeling of not being able to do anything, the terror that chilled him to the bone, the pain that ripped through him, the-

  “Won't you stay a little bit longer for these pancakes? Oh, right, you could use my clothes in the meantime, rather than walk around looking like you just swam in blood.”

  A breath gets caught in his throat as Nate shakes himself out of his thoughts. He finds himself taking a shaky breath while nodding his head and responding weakly,

 “Yeah, I don't mind staying here longer.”

  Closing the door behind him, Nate sinks down to the floor. Head leaning heavily against the door, the suppressed thoughts gushed out all at once, swarming him. The events from yesterday felt vivid, every detail, every moment of him struggling freshly recorded in his mind, to the point where he could replay the moment over and over in his head. Chest feeling heavy and constricted, breath coming out in short gasps as his heart pounded louder than ever. 

   Breathe, Nate, breathe. That… that wasn’t Damian last night. It wasn’t him. He’d never look at you like that. He’d never think of…killing others. He’d feel guilty about it, wouldn’t he? He’s innocent. He’s innocent. He’s innocent. He didn’t ask for any of this. He’d never want this. 

  If Damian were here, he would probably put his hands on Nate to reassure him. Just for a minute, in that moment, Nate could almost feel the warmth of Damian’s hands seeping into his – it was more than enough to calm him down, bringing him back to the present. He knew Damian meant no harm, yet getting reminded of yesterday night made a sense of uneasiness bubble up from within him. Eventually, this sense of uneasiness would turn into fear. Fear of him. Fear of Damian. But that problem could wait. It could wait. They could still live life normally now. It is fine now. 

Everything is fine. 

===============================

After a long time of thinking and careful picking of clothes, Nate finally emerges from the room with a baggy looking outfit that was not really his style. However, he could not help it, for many of the other clothes were not his size. Holding out his arms, the short sleeves of his shirt loosely sagged down, the unsmoothed wrinkles on it apparent. 

  “I think the clothes might be a little too big for me…”

  Sitting by a coffee table in the middle of the living room, Damian looks up the moment he hears Nate’s voice. He turns around to find Nate in an slightly oversized white shirt and cargo pants, a far cry from the stiff looking formal wear Nate usually had on. Standing stiffly, Nate strains a grin accompanied with a slight furrow of his brows, 

  “So? How do I look? I don’t look odd, do I?”

  Humming a “hmm”, Damian spins Nate one round, looking him up and down before saying,

  “You look alright, just more casual than usual.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” 

  “Does it matter? You look pretty fine either way.”

  “I knew I shouldn't have asked you…!”

  “Whatever you say, Nate~ Go and eat your pancakes now before they turn cold!”

  “Okay, okay,”

  Taking a seat beside Damian at the coffee table, the pancakes neatly plated before him. Piled up onto each other, with maple syrup oozing between them and a small slab of butter at the top, Nate admired the pancakes for a while before taking his first bite. 

  “!!”

  “So? How is it?”

  “Thish ish veruuhh goosh!!!”

  “Ergh…don't talk with your mouth full…I don't wanna see the crushed pancakes in your mouth…”

  Even while saying that, Damian laughed, the melodious sound of it ringing out. It might have only been a week since Nate had truly seen Damian face to face, given how up until now Damian had been avoiding him, but it felt like forever since he got to hear that familiar sound of his mellow laughter again. And Nate felt strangely relieved. 

   Maybe without realising, he had missed Damian after all.

===============================

  When Nate had finished with breakfast, they had gotten to discussing what could be done to resolve the whole thing. It still felt odd saying it, the words 'vampire’ did not quite come that easily to Nate, given how unbelievable this whole situation was. But it was real. Very real. 

  “Don’t you find it ironic since I had decided to dress up as a vampire that one Halloween? Then now I became one?”

  “Focus, Damian…”

  “Right, what solutions did you have in mind again?”

  “Well I was thinking along the lines of animal blood…? Though if worse comes to worse you could always take mine,”

  “I did have an idea of getting animal blood, but where would we even obtain it from?”

  “Butcher's shop down the street?” 

  “We'd look weird purchasing animals’ blood, though…wouldn't it arouse suspicion?”

  “That part could be thought of later. For now I'd much prefer if you had a consistent supply of blood to prevent your inner vampire- or whatever it is- from hunting it itself.”

  “Practical and straightforward, wow. Are you sure that animal blood would help?”

  “We'd never know unless we try it.”

  And so, that was how Nate ended up being tasked to buy the blood. They had decided it was best to buy it as soon as possible, instead of waiting until evening, which was usually the time Damian began to thirst for blood. As much as Damian would have wanted to tag along on Nate's trip to the butcher, he would've stood out too much as someone wearing clothes covering every inch of him in the summertime, so he was forced to stay home.

  The shop was not particularly far, in fact it was a shop Nate would frequently pass by on his way to Damian’s apartment whenever he stopped by. It always had fresh meat hanging by metal hooks displayed at the entrance, beneath it a display fridge that displayed more slabs and slices of meat for people to choose from. There was always this smell that lingered in the air whenever he passed it by that was particularly unpleasant to Nate that would always make him quicken his pace. 

  Today, however, he paused outside the shop. There was nobody manning the counter. Risking a peek inside, he sees a man, who he supposes is the owner of the shop, standing with his back facing him. He wielded a cleaver, a chopping board before him, chopping up a slab of meat, the cleaver landing with a booming ‘ chop chop chop ’ that made Nate shrink back slightly.

  It did not take long before the man notices him, turning around to face Nate, looking over the display fridge.

  “Need sumthin’?”

  But the man’s question fell on deaf ears for Nate was too focused on the little stream of blood coming out of the slab of meat still on the chopping board behind the man. A little bit of queasiness arises from him and he finds himself leaning on the display fridge for support. The incident plays in his mind again, with its all too overwhelming details pouring in. Once again he was there at night, horror gripping on him, as he helplessly struggled against the growing ache in his neck before the world blacked out. He had been alright with seeing blood before, yet ever since the incident, it had never been the same. 

  He was afraid , he realised. Afraid of being thrown into that situation again. Afraid of nearly dying just like that again. Afraid to the point where even the sight of blood was more than enough to strike terror in his heart.

  “Scuse’ me, are you going to get anything or no?”

  The gruff voice of the man breaks his train of thought. 

  “Sorry, I…I was thinking if you sold uhm…blood? Cow’s blood, pig’s blood…? For- uh- black pudding?”

  “We don’t sell no blood here. People come ‘ere to buy meat, not blood.”

  “Oh..uh, thanks anyways!”

  Awkwardly walking away from the shop, Nate heaves a sigh. Without the animal blood they had originally planned to get, Damian would have to live off his blood for now. Despite him feeling so determined to help out Damian at a point in time, now he was doubtful if he would even willingly let Damian bite him a second time. 

  It all reminded him too much, too much, of the terrifying pain and the panic he went through that day. The day he thought he was going to die from the neverending flow of blood that only

flowed, 

flowed, 

flowed from his neck 

down his arm 

down his legs 

down the floor.

===============================

  Knocking on the apartment door, Nate calls out,

  “I'm back!”

  It took some time for Damian to respond, but when he eventually did, the door opened only for Nate to see Damian who was looking odd, the sleeve of his hoodie drawn back and his arm to his face like he was biting on it. It was only now with the sleeve pulled back that Nate notices the many angry red bite marks that were littered over his arm which alarmed him,

  “Damian!? What…what…?”

  “I- I didn't expect it to happen so quickly I-”

  It was only when Nate’s eyes met Damian's that he realised what was going on. He knew those eyes. The same narrowed eyes of a glaring red that he had seen before, which was now filling him with fear. His heart pounded in his ribcage as the sound of blood rushing in his ears grew louder. He had to go. 

   He had to go 

  hehadtogo

  hehadto-

  “Nate…? Do you have the blood? Biting myself delays it but it isn't a solution that'll last..”

  Damian's voice brings him back. 

   Why was he thinking of running away? How could he even think of that…? Wait. No. Now wasn't the time to think about that. 

  Closing the door behind him, he drags Damian to the sofa by the coffee table.

  “What are you-”

  “The butcher's didn't have any blood. But you still need blood, don't you?”

  He could feel the terror seizing him now, sending chills down his spine, sucking the warmth from him. Fear was probably written all over his face by now. He was sure Damian could see the slight tremble in his hands as he brought his arm up to his face. 

  “My blood. You- You can take my blood.”

  “...You’re shaking, your hands are shaking you- You don’t actually want this, do you? You don’t have to force yourself-”

  “Damian, I’ve already said I’ll help you. I won’t go back on my words. You need this blood so you wouldn’t kill so please, please, please , just- Just take it.”

  When Damian fell silent, Nate turned away. There was this feeling gnawing at him that he would have a near death experience again, maybe even die, yet he felt that it would be much more different this time. Still, the hope was not enough to stamp out the horrible flashbacks of that time again, all too clear in his mind and the prickling pain that came with it. It was like he was brought back to that moment again, the rich-iron smell too strong, the feeling of his throat constricting, being caught like a mouse in a mousetrap.

  With his arm still outstretched, he braced himself, gritting his teeth together. He could feel Damian’s warm breath on his skin now, the sharp fangs of his most likely closer than ever. He would not know since his eyes were screwed shut anyway. 

  There was something in him that oh so desperately wanted to draw his arm back in, to run. But if he did so, what would happen to Damian then? Would he let Damian suffer the guilt of killing yet another person again knowing full well he could prevent it? Would he not be abandoning Damian despite saying otherwise? 

    “Damian, we can find a way out of this. Together.”

  He shall not turn back on his words. 

  …

  There was a surprising gentleness to the bite this time. Without knowing, Nate lets out a breath he had been holding all this while. It certainly was different. Damian seemed more in control, careful to bite deep enough to draw the slightest bit of blood, but not deep enough to leave a wound as deep as last time. 

  With his arm held up by Damian who was careful not to exert too much of a pressure on him, Nate could not help but take this moment to observe the way his pearly white strands of hair fell over his warm red eyes. It was a familiar sight that he found himself looking forward to seeing everyday that was accompanied with this warmth behind it which he could not explain. It was simply unique to Damian, and Damian only – definitely something the beast in him that had nearly consumed him the other day could never embody.

  Noticing Nate's gaze on him for too long, Damian pauses, voice taking on a concerned tone,

  “You need painkillers?”

  “Nope. You can…go back to doing whatever you were doing.”

  Licking up the little drops of blood that bubbled up from where his teeth had sunk in, his tongue leaving a ticklish sensation across Nate’s arm. It took Nate all his might to not focus and think too much about it, redirecting his thoughts to something else. Finally, Damian pulls away. 

  “I think I'm done.”

  “That’s fast.”

  “Mm? What more would you want outta me? A kiss to your wound, perhaps?”

  Nate could feel his face heating up at Damian’s teasing, as he snaps back,

  “No!”

   Though he wouldn’t really mind since it was Damian…

  Ignoring Nate’s reply, Damian playfully pecks it anyways, a stupid smirk on his face as he did so. 

  “Let’s get you patched up now, hm?”

  Pulling Nate along to the bathroom, he cleanses the wound under running water, before grabbing a first-aid kit to get what he needed to patch up the wound. Hands so careful, wrapping the bandages around the wound, Nate watches as Damian becomes fully absorbed in working on his wound, mesmerised by his every action. 

  It was fine now. 

  It is actually fine now.

  Just him and Damian, Damian and him.

  The way they have been and always have been. 

  No matter what happened, 

  it felt that as long as he remained by Damian’s side, 

  everything was going to be okay. 

Chapter Text

 “You know,”

  Damian murmurs sleepily, thumb drawing a line along Nate’s collarbones,

  “If I hadn’t realised at the last moment that you were Nate, you wouldn’t have survived.”

  His breaths coming out as soft warm wisps, hands cupping Nate’s face, forehead now against Nate’s as he broke into a sob,

  “I…I nearly lost you there, Nate…If i had not tried to resist against it…You would’ve…would’ve…”

  “But you resisted and I’m alive, aren’t I? The bite was shallower and you narrowly missed the artery..”

  Nuzzling his head against Damian’s, Nate gently smiles at him.

  “Mm…” 

  Damian sighs.

  Together, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, relishing each other’s company as they laid side-by-side facing each other on the same bed, gradually drifting off into sleep.