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They kept running into each other in taverns all across the world.
Sometimes it took a year. Sometimes a decade. And still, somehow, it always ended the same way.
A tavern. Warm light. Laughter thick in the air like smoke.
And Will.
Right now, Mike sat alone near the bar, a half-finished glass of something dark and bitter sweating beneath his fingers. The place smelled of spilled ale and roasted meat. A bard strummed something cheerful and terrible in the corner.
But Mike didn’t look at him. He looked across the room.
Will was glowing.
That was the infuriating thing—he always did. Long hair half-braided with faintly shimmering threads, ears unmistakably elven, eyes bright with mischief and spelllight. He was leaning close to some guy—human, young—laughing too loud, brushing knees, sharing a drink like they’d known each other longer than ten minutes.
The human said something that made Will laugh again, head tipping back, silver earring catching the light.
They were having the time of their lives. Really.
Mike’s jaw tightened.
He debated his options with the seriousness of a man considering murder.
Option one: wait it out. Let the conversation end naturally. Option two: ruin everything immediately.
The human put his hand on Will’s shoulder.
Mike stood.
He crossed the tavern in long, unhurried strides, boots heavy against the floor. The guy noticed him first—noticed the way the noise around them seemed to dip, noticed the cold ripple that followed Mike like a shadow.
“Hey, man, what is your—”
Mike caught his gaze. Vampiric magic slid into place, smooth and effortless, a familiar old trick. His voice was calm. Even. Almost polite.
“Get lost.”
The spell took hold instantly. The human blinked, went slack, stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor—and walked away without another word.
Will clicked his tongue, unimpressed. He rolled his eyes and tipped back the rest of his drink.
“Wow,” he said dryly. “Only relying on your powers, huh? Couldn’t deal with it fair?”
Mike lifted his eyebrows in exaggerated innocence. “And you couldn’t help but put on a show?”
Will grinned, unrepentant. “When I came in, you were already here. You saw me immediately.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “I thought you’d say hello. But you just sat there brooding by the bar like a gargoyle. I figured you had nothing to say to me.”
Mike snorted.
“So I found myself some company,” Will continued, shrugging. “Seems fair.”
Mike shook his head and exhaled slowly. “The last time we spoke, it ended in a fight. And the time before that.” His gaze flicked away, then back to Will. “And it’s clearly starting to be one now.”
Will lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “No one’s fighting. We’re just talking.”
“Yeah,” Mike said flatly. “To you, it’s always just talking.”
Will’s mouth twitched. “Implying something?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral, eyes unreadable.
“You know humans fetishize elves,” Mike said, the words coming out sharper than he intended. “So why you—”
“Speaking from experience?” Will cut in smoothly.
Mike frowned. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Will rolled his eyes. “So what’s the point of this conversation? Interaction?” He leaned back, studying Mike with a half-smile.
“You do remember,” Will continued lightly, “that I’m a very powerful sorcerer, right?” He gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t exactly need a vampire hovering over me like a guard dog.”
Something in Mike snapped.
“I just—” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair, then forced a breath. “You’re right. Okay. Fine.” His voice hardened. “Sorry for interrupting your very entertaining evening.”
He stood, already retreating. “I’ll call the human back if he caught your interest so much. Wouldn’t want to ruin your fun.”
Will’s expression shifted a bit.
“And I won’t bother you again,” Mike added, bitterness bleeding through now. “Sorry for caring about—” He faltered, word being foreign on his tongue. “About old…”
Will snorted. Despite Mike’s clear attempt to end the conversation he leaned forward instead, eyes bright with something sharp.
“Old what?” Will asked, waving a hand. “Friend? Acquaintance?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, smiling thinly. “Come on. We met at some shitty festival in a nowhere town. Found common ground. Drank too much. Sang louder than the band. Spent a few days glued to each other.”
He shrugged. “Then the festival ended. And everyone scattered with it.” He tilted his head. “Am I missing something?”
He spoke as if it were a stranger’s story. As if none of it mattered.
Mike opened his mouth, then closed it.
Will didn’t need him to answer.
“Oh. Right.” Will snapped his fingers theatrically. “The ending.”
His smile widened, brittle at the edges. “Last night of the festival. We both said we had something to confess.” A breathy laugh. “And because we’re apparently idiots, we decided to do it in the most childish way possible—saying it at the exact same time.”
He gestured between them. “My cheerful I like you was clearly louder than your very serious I’m a vampire. But we still heard each other.”
He laughed again, hysteria creeping in at the edges.“ Color me shocked! Because how stupid did you think I was?” Will went on. “ You only met me after sunset. You never fully smiled with your teeth. Flinched at mirrors.” He laughed again, too fast. “I noticed. I just didn’t care.”
“I decided you weren’t dangerous,” Will continued, voice trembling now despite the grin plastered on his face. “Because you were kind. Because you listened. Because you looked at me like—”
He stopped. Swallowed.
“And for exactly one second after I said it, I thought—really thought—you might say it back. Even if it wasn’t what you meant to confess.” His mouth twisted. “ Because it couldn’t be that all those touches, those looks at my mouth, my hands, my—” He cut himself off with a sharp breath. “I thought maybe I wasn’t imagining it.”
He barked a laugh. “But no.”
Will straightened, mimicking Mike’s voice.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were… like that,” he recited. “But I’m not. I’m seeing a girl. She knows what I am. She even gives me her blood. So you’re completely safe.”
Will clapped his hands once. “Oh, thank the gods! I’m safe.”
His smile cracked. “You could’ve stopped there, you know. That was enough. But you didn’t.”
His voice dropped, deadly calm now. “You had to add: You’re a very good soul. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”
Silence fell heavy around them.
Then Will slammed both hands onto the table. The sound cracked through the tavern. Conversations died. Chairs scraped. Every eye turned toward them.
“So don’t you dare,” Will said, shaking now, magic humming under his skin, “accuse me of putting on a show.” His eyes burned into Mike. “Apparently anyone can do it.”
“And tonight,” Will finished, bitter and bright, “I decided I could too.”
Will reached into his pocket. Mike barely registered the motion before cold dread slid straight down his spine.
A small knife caught the light. Will turned it once between his fingers, almost thoughtful, then looked back up at Mike with a look that was far too calm.
“But if you’re saying you care about me,” Will said lightly, “then let me care in return.”
Mike opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“I can see you’re hungry.”
The blade kissed skin.
Mike moved on instinct.
He grabbed Will’s wrist the second the knife sliced into his palm, blood blooming bright and obscene against pale skin. The scent hit him like a punch—hot, alive, dizzying. His eyes burned. His fangs ached.
“What are you doing?!” Mike hissed, fingers tightening painfully around Will’s arm as he shook it once, hard. His voice dropped to a vicious whisper meant for Will alone. “Are you insane? You’re putting yourself in danger. There are other vampires here.”
Will didn’t lower his voice.
“Oh,” he said, turning his bloody palm upward, theatrical as ever. “But you said I’m such a good soul.” He glanced around the tavern, eyes bright with challenge. “I can share. With everyone.”
He twitched his hand.
Blood splattered onto the table in fat, glistening drops.
The reaction was immediate. Breaths hitching. Low, hungry murmurs curling through the room like smoke.
What a cute elf.
Gods, do you smell that?
Sweet thing, isn’t he?
Mike growled.
It tore out of him, low and feral, vibrating in his chest. He yanked Will closer, squeezing his wrist hard enough that Will hissed—but Mike barely registered it. Pain was better than what would happen if he didn’t move now.
He dragged Will toward the stairs, boots thudding hard against the tavern floor. Chairs scraped hastily out of the way. Someone laughed nervously. Someone else swore.
Will fought him every step of the way—planting his heels, shoving back, magic sparking in furious little flares around his shoulders.
“Let go of me!” Will snapped, twisting violently. “You don’t get to—”
Mike didn’t answer. He hauled him up the stairs two at a time, the scent of blood trailing behind them like an invitation he couldn’t take back.
He reached the second floor, wrenched open the door to the room he’d rented, and shoved Will inside.
Will stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the bed, whirling around instantly.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Will shouted, chest heaving, hair coming loose from its braid.
Mike stayed in the doorway.
He gripped the doorframe with one hand, knuckles white, and pointedly did not look at Will. The room was small—low ceiling, narrow bed, shuttered window. Too close. Too full of Will’s scent.
“I rented this room for a couple of days,” Mike said, voice rough, uneven. “I won’t bother you again.” He swallowed hard. “But lock the door. Treat the wound. And don’t come out until the sun rises.”
He swallowed hard.
“Otherwise,” he added quietly, “they won’t let you go so easily.”
He started to close the door.
“Wait—”
Will slammed his uninjured palm against it. And Mike looked up despite himself.
Will’s face was flushed, hair half-fallen from its braid, eyes too bright, anger and adrenaline still buzzing through him. He was shaking—not with fear, but with the aftershock of rage and adrenaline and whatever ugly courage had driven him back there.
He took a fast, shallow breath. Then another.
His bravado cracked.
He winced, arching his brows, pained, and bit the inside of his cheek like he was trying to swallow something sharp.
“Maybe,” Will said, voice suddenly rough, stripped bare of mockery, “maybe I went too far.” He exhaled shakily. “I was angry and I—”
Mike cut him off immediately.
“Don’t.” He shook his head once. “Don’t apologise. I deserved that.”
Silence stretched between them, taut and fragile. hen Will spoke again, softer this time.
“But… um.” He shifted his weight, eyes flicking away for just a second before returning to Mike’s face. “You’re hungry, right?” A pause. “You’re not… seeing that girl anymore?”
God, no. Mike had left her the same second he’d left that town.
“No,” Mike said at last. “Don’t worry about that.” His gaze lingered on Will despite himself, tracing every tremor, every shallow breath. “I’ll figure out how to feed.”
“You could drink from me,” Will said.
The words were rushed, almost tripping over each other, as if he’d decided not to think too hard before saying them. He extended his injured palm.
“I really don’t mind.”
Mike’s fingers clenched around the doorknob until the metal bit into his skin.
Will exhaled shakily. “And I still trust you enough.”
“I—” Mike swallowed. His jaw tightened. “I haven’t fed in weeks.” Each word felt dragged out of him. “If I lose control…” His teeth ground together. “I could hurt you. Badly.”
Will’s lips began to tremble.
His eyes filled despite his obvious effort not to let them. He blinked once. Then again.
“You can’t hurt me more than you already did, Michael.”
Two tears slipped free at the same time, tracing silent paths down his cheeks.
Mike’s dead heart sank.
The hunger vanished in an instant—drowned under a crushing wave of self-loathing. That was the second time he’d made Will cry. The second time he’d stood here and watched something precious break because of him.
How could he?
Will’s tears kept coming. He closed his eyes, breath hitching, but his hand never dropped. Still offered. Still trusting.
He bit down on his red, swollen lip, hard, like he was punishing himself for daring to feel anything at all. His entire body trembling now again.
If he didn’t do something—if he didn’t choose now—he would step into the sun and let it burn him to ash rather than ever hurt Will again.
Mike moved suddenly.
One moment he was frozen in the doorway, the next he crossed the room in two long strides and slammed the door shut behind him. efore Will could react, Mike wrapped both arms around him—one firm around his waist, the other cradling the back of his head, pulling him close, close, close.
Will gasped, startled, then stilled.
Mike’s hand slid gently through his hair, fingers combing through the strands. He murmured something low and soothing.
Gradually, Will’s trembling eased. His breathing slowed. He sagged just a little into Mike’s hold.
After a moment, Will’s lifted his head, lips parting to speak—
Mike didn’t let him.
He leaned down and kissed him.
It was gentle. Careful. A kiss placed like a promise rather than a demand. His other hand came up to cup Will’s cheek, thumb brushing away the last trace of tears.
Will made a soft, surprised sound against his mouth, and Mike pulled back at once.
“What are you doing…?” Will asked, breathless, eyes wide, stunned and searching.
Mike swallowed. His hands stayed where they were, like he was afraid moving them would undo everything.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer you back then,” he said quietly. “I did like you. I just—panicked. I wasn’t ready to face that part of myself.” His voice wavered, then steadied. “But I never forgot you. Not once.”
Will stared at him.
“I’m glad I can finally say this,” Mike went on, words tumbling now, urgent and honest. “I like you. You’ve been haunting my dreams, and that’s why I kept chasing rumors and trails in the daylight. I wasn’t just looking for you.” A faint, crooked smile. “I was looking for myself too.”
“So… here it is. Late. Overdue.” A faint, rueful smile. “I like you, Will. I like you a lot.”
Will just stared at him.
Then his lips curved—slowly, impossibly wide. His eyes were still wet, but now they shone with something bright and alive, and Mike swore—swore—that something warm stirred in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in centuries.
Mike kissed him again.
This time deeper, slower. A kiss that lingered, mouths fitting together like they’d been waiting years to remember how. Will melted into it, hands fisting in Mike’s clothes, breath hitching softly as Mike’s thumb traced the line of his jaw.
When they finally parted, Will looked dazed.
When they finally pulled apart, Will smiled—cunning, familiar.
“My proposal still stands,” he said lightly.
Mike blinked, dazed.
“…What?”
Will tilted his head. “You can drink from me,” he said, calm and sure. “I trust you.”
Mike clenched his teeth, fangs aching painfully beneath his gums. “Will,” he warned, voice low and strained. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I know,” Will said, almost fondly. “But it is natural.” He tilted his head back more, exposing his neck without fear. “And I’m curious.”
Mike could hear it—the steady pulse beneath Will’s skin, blood rushing warm and alive. His mouth parted without permission.
“Hell,” he muttered. “That’s insane.” He dragged in a breath, clinging to the last scraps of control. “Maybe… the palm instead.”
“Nuh-uh.” Will smiled, unrepentant. “I insist.”
Mike shut his eyes, then nodded once. “Okay. But listen to me.” His hands framed Will’s face. “If I hurt you—if it’s too much—you protect yourself. Magic, force, whatever it takes. Don’t hold back.”
Will nodded eagerly, far too pleased with himself.
Mike leaned in again, pressing a few lingering kisses along Will’s jaw. Will arched instinctively, offering more, trusting without hesitation.
Mike brushed his lips against Will’s neck, then traced the spot with his tongue—slow, reverent—before giving a small, teasing nip with his human teeth. Will exhaled shakily, a sound caught halfway between a laugh and a sigh.
Then Mike bit. Carefully and controlled. Just enough to draw blood.
He soothed the skin immediately with a gentle tongue, reverent. Not taking more than he could handle.
Will made a soft, helpless sound, fingers tightening in Mike’s clothes. He pressed Mike closer, clearly enjoying every second.
Mike pulled away only to return to Will’s lips, lingering there, steadying both of them—blood warm on his tongue, affection heavier still.
Outside, the tavern noise faded into irrelevance. Inside the room, for the first time in years, neither of them felt like they were running anymore.