Archive of Our Own

He'd been invited by someone he vaguely remembered in one of his classes - Shelly? Shelby? something along those lines. Owen paid little attention to the people he passed. He recognized a few from some classes, vaguely familiar faces that glanced at him once or twice.

He reached the drinks within the first few minutes he'd been there, immediately grabbing one of the many cheap bottles of vodka for himself. He screwed the cap of the bottle and took one big gulp. It stung the back of his throat, though it was nothing he wasn't used to. He made his way to a corner of the room where he could stand awkwardly, he was already bothered by the bright lights, the screaming and yelling and shouting, and the loud music. He could feel a headache beginning to form, a dull stabbing in his temples.

The music was some shitty local band, a bunch of white boys who put on eyeliner in high school and still think they're edgy. He regretted coming already.

Still, despite his building headache and annoyance, he stayed in that corner for another hour, just the right amount of time for him to down about half of the bottle. He was sure he'd regret that by the morning.

Finally he spotted someone who looked like a good enough dinner. It was a boy who looked nervous, slightly uncomfortable even. He observed him for a moment before approaching, following the wall as he crossed the room.

Owen, despite not caring what his meals usually looked like, couldn't help but notice their appearance; messy, mid-neck length brown hair, light blue eyes - a completely ordinary white boy by all means, yet there was something about him that intrigued him. Maybe it was just how easy a target he looked, or maybe it was something else entirely. He wouldn't dwell on his emotions of such a simple meal.

He forgot exactly what he said to lure the man into a room with him because, though he'd never admit it, he was more than a little tipsy by that point.

The next few things he remembered were more sensations than anything; even now the feelings were almost singed into his skin.

It started with the slightest bit a of warmth against his palm, soft skin caressed by his calloused hand. The warmth switched to cold metal too quickly. When he forced himself to remember what happened, or rather what happened after, he remembered the metal, leash-like necklace the man was wearing. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

At that point he could remember everything in a blurry way, half formed pictures and feelings lingering in his mind, like a dream you can barely remember. Yet it was all to clear.

The first press of their lips against his was clumsy at the beginning, awkward as he tried to find the right angle. It simultaneously felt like the world was crashing around them and like everything was slowed down. Both their lips were slightly chapped, yet it hardly mattered. They only broke apart when the human needed air.

Their second kiss was more aggressive as they found their confidence. It was filled with teeth as they bit at each other's lips, bloody spit coating their lips and tongues. Owen pulled the man closer by the chain on his neck until he was the one pressed against a wall. 

The man wrapped one arm around his waist and used the other hand to cup his cheek. God, this was the most human he'd felt in ages. Every touch from the human felt like fire against his skin, burning and almost wrong yet impossible to pull away from.

Every touch and caress was gentle and caring, a direct contradiction to their aggressive and passionate kissing, a feeling he mourned every time they had to pull away for air.

When he woke up his head was killing him, every small movement sent a sharp pain to his skull. 

There was an empty bottle of vodka resting in one arm - that would explain the headache. He reluctantly opened his eyes, the light stinging them immediately. The feeling adding to the pressure building deep in his head.

He brought his hands up to rub his face, smearing his eyeliner from his waterline nearly to his cheek bones. He already knew he looked like a mess. His hair was knotted and un-brushed, his shirt and pants wrinkled, his mouth dry. He never had a meal last night, he already can tell that.

Owen didn't notice another person in the room until he heard a small grunt - not only was he not alone but the other person was waking up.

He glanced to his right to find the man from last night laying next to him. Briefly he looks at the man's neck, only to find no bite marks or anything of the sort - in fact the only marks are a handful of small hickeys and reddened skin around the chain.

Owen curses under his breath, silently wishing he had never gone to the party in the first place.

When Owen looks over the man again he finds light blue eyes staring straight into his. He freezes, not moving as if that will turn him invisible - which is what he really should have done, but instead his mind was filled with thoughts of fleeing, including one that involved to being a bat. Before Owen had the time to blink he accidentally transformed into a bat with a puff of smoke.

He scrambled to fly - a nearly impossible task with his headache - into a corner as the man stared wide-eyed at him. Owen squeezed his eyes shut a began praying - not to a god, he was never one to believe in what he couldn't see (and while he has had hallucinations, none had ever been of a god), but rather to Louis. Or was it Louis' ghost? No, he found it hard to believe Louis would become anything but a angel. He prayed that he would disappear from the location, or that this was all an insane nightmare - a truly foolish thought, vampires can't dream after all.

He had no such luck.

"What the fuck."

Owen forced himself to open one eye, finding the man still staring - yet his gaze wasn't filled with disgust, fear, or distain, it was filled with something adjacent to awe. The man seems to catch himself, scrambling to stand and attempting to fix his hair. Based off the way he winced as he stood Owen could tell he wasn't the only one with a headache. They do nothing for a moment, neither daring to move.

"Pyro," the man begins to state, his voice shaky and unsure. "My name is Pyro."

Owen watches him like a cat watching it's prey. He doesn't move, doesn't respond.

"Um- I- I won't hurt you."

Owen lets out a small, cocky laugh and hopes it isn't clear how shaky his voice is. "Please! You should be worried I'll hurt you if anything. You should be scared."

Pyro swallows hard, clearly nervous, and Owen's gaze follows the the movement of his throat. Reluctantly he turns back into a human, only because it would be more intimidating.

Pyro's eyes become even more awe-filled. "You're beautiful." They whisper under their breath, but Owen hears it - how could he not? - and begins blushing.

He convinces himself that it was only out of embarrassment and rage for the lack of fear. They should be scared. Why aren't they scared? "Beautiful? I am a monster. I am nothing akin to beautiful."

"Monsters can be beautiful."

Owen paused before his expression turned into a scowl as he desperately tried to tell himself he didn't care for what Pyro had said. He took a few steps closer and grabbed the humans collar, staring him straight in the eyes while he tried to ignore the memories of the previous night bubbling up in his mind.

"You tell anyone about what you saw today and I will tear you apart limb by limb, understood?"

Pyro nodded, his face quickly turning red. They couldn't help but stare at his fangs, - or maybe it was his lips - which didn't help either of their red faces.

"...Good." Owen stated before promptly releasing them and beginning to run off. 

Pyro was quick to grab his wrist while yelling a small, "Wait!"

As Owen actually stopped to glance back he noticed how desperate Pyro's eyes were. It disgusted him. He need to leave immediately. He hated this. If he wasn't careful he could too easily see himself getting attached to this man, maybe even gaining feelings. And that was Owen's worst nightmare.

"Can- Can I at least know your name...?"

"No! For all I know you could use it against me. Now release me!"

Pyro's eyes pleaded with him a moment before he becomes overly embarrassed and listens, letting go of his wrist as Owen begins running out the nearest door.

Pyro's first mistake was deciding that even once he was out of his parents' control he had to act rebellious. Parties, dressing alternatively, drinking, all things he couldn't do at home with his parents, and, as they'd slowly learn, couldn't be trusted to do anyways.

In all honesty he could remember most of the night crystal clear, it just embarrassed him to a large extreme. So he tried not to think about it. That and the morning after. Although it was hard not to think of the man he'd met - the vampire he'd met. He was beautiful, long brown hair, - if he thought too long he begun to remember how soft yet tangled it was; large, brown eyes that made him look like he wanted to devour them; soft lips that hid sharp fangs - he remembered running his tongue over them, the feel on them on his lip as the man had bitten him. He remembered how he had felt like everything his parents would never let him have; simple joy, a person he got to choose, a pleasurable moment with no strings attached. He was like the pure embodiment of every common sin that his parents warned him about. He was perfect. They wanted more of him.

Over the next few days and nights he thought of the man almost obsessively. Every thought was either about the vampire or led to thoughts about him. During class, while eating, whenever he was trying to sleep. It was all about him. Every small thing that resembled the man stung his heart in a deep, aching way. It felt like something was being stabbed into his heart, he knew it was wrong to create such a one-sided relationship with a man he only met once, and the only reason he let it go on was because he told himself it was nothing more than curiosity. After all, it was possible that he was centuries old - they could learn so much history from him! Or at the very least they could become the first to write a book that's accurate about modern-day vampires.

But he knew it was more than that. Deep down he knew it was an intense infatuation he felt for the man, not a crush - that was a childish term in his opinion - and not quite love - even if his feelings were romantic, how could he say he loved a person he only met once?

His roommate, Apo, had asked how the party went multiple times and gotten the same answer delivered in the same way; "Um- I don't, uh, remember." He said with a blank look on his face that conveyed more than a little panic.

Apo would raise an eyebrow skeptically before shrugging it off. She was plenty used to Pyro's oddities by now, she figured he probably just embarrassed himself in front of everyone - nothing new.

He didn't see the stranger from the party again for nearly a week, he simply lingered in his memory, a shadow lurking at the back of his mind. When he finally did it was nothing like he imagined it would be. 

It was late afternoon, the sun was just about to set on campus. Pyro was walking with Shelby, leading her up to their dorm as they told him about her new roommate. "His name is Scott," they started. "I think he's a vampire." She took a sip of her green tea boba.

Pyro visibly perked up at that slightly and took out the earbud that he had in. "And what is it about him that makes you think that?"

"A lot of things, for starters he dresses like one, lots of ruffled shirts." They begin counting on their fingers, pointer finger first. "Secondly he has a weird accent- well it's less the accent and more the grammar he uses. Very medieval like."

Pyro listens intently, waiting for something that would tell him whether or not this roommate of Shelby's was the man he'd been waiting to see again.

"Plus he has really sharp teeth! And I've never seen him eat or drink - except wine, he likes wine. AND- And, he has blue hair the first few days he's here, right? But then yesterday it turned like a silvery-white color! And he always wears sunglasses."

Pyro's demeanor deflated at the mention of blue hair, definitely not who he was hoping it was.

Suddenly, Shelby turns to them as their listing stopped. "But, what do you think? Do you think he's a vampire?"

"I don't know. I've never met him."

Shelby nods, thinking for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want to meet him? He should be there right now!" Before waiting for an answer they grab onto his sleeve and begin dragging him towards their apartment. "C'mon!"

He tried to keep up while running up the stairs and down the hall, screeching to a halt when Shelby did. They took a second to catch their breath while Shelby unlocked the door and swung it open. They both stepped in, Shelby immediately waving at a person sitting on the bed on opposite side of the room that her's was on. "Hi Scott!"

The person, Scott, waved back and stared quizzically at Pyro, who, ever nervous around new - and pretty - people, awkwardly waved back.

"And this is?" Pyro noted the accent - it sounded Scottish, but he could be wrong.

"My name's-" Shelby cut him off before he could get his name out.

"Pyro! This is Pyro, we share a literature class. I've told you about them once or twice, haven't I?"

"Ah, yes, I remember." Scott paused a second as he pushed a few strands of white hair out of his eye. Pyro noticed how his eyes look red - maybe he was Albino? Or maybe the man from the party wasn't the only vampire on campus. "You never mentioned how adorable your friend was, Shelby." He casually stated as put his hand out and half bowed.

Pyro could feel himself begin to blush, yet he ignored it and he loosely shook Scott's hand. Scott was beautiful and charming, but there was something eerie about him. "It's nice to meet you, Shelby's said a lot about you."

Scott gave him a lazy, slightly seductive smile as he brought their hand to his lips. He pressed a small kiss to the top of their hand before speaking, still slightly too close to them to be comfortable. "The pleasure is all mine."

Pyro laughed awkwardly for a second before turning back to Shelby. "I really have to get going, I have an essay that's due tomorrow night."

Shelby nodded, pulling Pyro into a quick side hug. "Alright! Good night, and stay safe, okay?"

Pyro nodded and hugged back before heading out the door. "You too."

As he closed the door he saw Scott staring at him, an icy glare that sent chills down his spine - even once he started heading down the hall he couldn't shake the feeling. He started speeding up, desperately trying to get away from the feeling of being watched.

Once he got to the stairs he slowed down only slightly, tripping on the second to last step and face planting into the concrete. He saw a person just before he hit the ground, the silhouette so familiar, a figure that stayed in the back of his memory even when his eyes were closed. Lifting their head from the floor they confirm their suspensions.

Standing right in front of him was the man from the party. He looked like a deer in headlights as he stared back down at them.