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Charles Rowland hadn't been expecting his entire life to be flipped on its head that when he woke up that January morning.
The day was cold and dry, the chill burning his hands when he left the St. Hilarion's dormitory. It was a Saturday, but his cricket team had wanted to get a bit of practice in before their game next week.
If only they'd known he wouldn't make it.
Charles pulled his coat tighter around him, not that it did much. He usually took the senic route through the courtyard, the ground paved with brick, but this morning he wanted to get there as soon as he could, so he decided on cutting through the small forest on the outskirts of the campus, it was only a ten minute walk.
As he dragged his feet—his toes nearly numb—he came across some footprints. It wouldn't have surprised him too greatly, but these footprints looked like bare feet, not the print of shoes. Who on earth would be walking barefoot in the middle of January?
His question was—unfortunately— answered when a boy no older than him came out of nowhere, pressing him against a tree with superhuman speed. His eyes were wild and blood red, filled with hunger, flitting over Charles' face and landing on his neck.
Charles began to shout, for this was where he was going to die. The boy placed his hands over Charles' mouth (Charles made note of the slim fingers that lied across his lips and then chastised himself for it. There were more important things happening here). They were just as cold as he was. He had the decency to take on an apolegetic look before two sharp fangs dropped from his open mouth.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, before leaning in and sinking those fangs into Charles' neck who screamed against the hand covering his mouth. It was pointless, vampires were real and he was about to die to one. It really was a bummer because Charles had heard about vampires before when they studied Dracula in class and thought they were brills… that is before one decided to attack him.
The boy groaned deeply as he pulled the blood out of Charles' neck, like it was the best thing he'd tasted. Charles felt his hot tongue against the column of his throat, helping him pull from Charles' body. He'd lost the energy to fight back, slumping against the tree at his back.
Charles was surprised when the vampire detached himself from Charles' neck, fully assuming he would take the opportunity to kill him where he stood.
"I'm sorry," he said again, but his eyes were normal now, a deep brown instead of that piercing red. He leaned back in, licking Charles' throat. Charles tensed at the feeling, but it stopped the blood he felt dripping from his neck. The fingers on his face had grown warmer. He bit down hard, angry at himself for not trying that before.
The vampire tore his hand away, looking more like a spooked animal than a predator. His eyes darted off to the side, looking as if he was going to run that way too. Charles couldn't let that happen.
"Wait. You'll get caught if you go that way, there's a cricket practice happening right now and I don't think coach will be too keen on seeing a bloke with blood all over his mouth." After a beat, he extended his hand with a grin plastered on his face, anything to get his answers. "I'm Charles, what's your name, random vampire who attacked me in the woods?"
"My name is Edwin," he said after a beat, taking Charles' hand cautiously.
"Would have been a pleasure to meet you, you know, if you hadn't attacked me in the woods," Charles tacked on, still a bit emotionally sore from that. His neck felt fine though, he assumed it was something to do with the boy's saliva. Kinda gross, but at least it worked.
"I know, I am terribly sorry," he stuttered out in his posh accent that only made Charles want to sock him in the face a little. "I was… It is no excuse, but I was starving. I haven't eaten for days, I only just escaped and I didn't want to hurt anyone but I was famished and near death and you walked in and my instincts took over and I am truly, impossibly sorry," he rambled, hardly stopping for breath. Charles, the sop he was, felt sorry for the bloke. He sounded sincere—like he really hadn't wanted to and like he had been trying not to hurt anybody.
"It's fine," he saw the look on Edwin's face, like he was the crazy one, even though one of them had attacked the other and it sure as shit wasn't Charles. He let out the smallest laugh. "Really, it's okay. I don't reckon it's your fault you're like this, and I appreciate you not, you know, fully killing me." He found that he meant it, and that was almost more surprising than anything else that happened this morning.
"I sincerely do not know how to respond to that," Edwin said after a tick. "Thank you," he said. He didn't look one bit like a creature of the night now, just kind of a scared guy.
"Did you say you escaped?"