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madnessr · 1 year

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Last Night

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You remembered the day you died vividly, and what had started as one of the best nights of your life quickly turned sour.

Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.

Warning: Suggestive moments, cursing, nonconsensual turning.

Word Count: 6.9k

Part two

The bustling chatter filled the packed room like music, unrelenting as some patrons laughed louder while others cheered softer. Every customer that walked in was rambunctious and different in their own unique way. Although becoming a bartender differed from how you had always pictured your future, ditching your home life was worth every tip and penny you earned throughout the night.

You were a good actor; that's one noteworthy little fact you learned about yourself after a few weeks. Wiping dry a martini glass, your chuckles, greetings, and mischievous remarks almost felt unfamiliar to you as you entertained the customers.

But when the lights dimmed, casting a gentle orange hue against every surface of the bar. The acting, the gestures, and the remarks all began feeling natural.

It left you with a sweet sense of satisfaction, like pushing in the last puzzle piece. But, although the usuals felt more comfortable, you still weren’t to open to the idea of becoming closer to anyone. For all you knew, these people were just here for a drink.

One visit turned into two, then three, until you could recite everyone's orders and names. Your life gradually followed the same schedule as clockwork, checking in either during the morning shifts like Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday instead of staying for the wild nightlife like Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. A small bell was hanging above the door, giving you and your occasional coworker a heads-up whenever a new patron entered the bar. It was easy to get overwhelmed, the loud bumbling chatter nearly drowning out the music playing. Drunks laughed and cheered with rosy-cheeked grins; others decided to rough-house until Pablo kicked them out.

Filling a pint of beer for your usual customer, you nearly missed the soft chin of bells as someone new entered. The door swung open, and in came a blonde biker who took your breath away. Pulling at your strings as if he was some violinist, plucking at the cords until your chatter turned utterly harmonious. It was like a strange pull, a tugging, nudging aching within your racing heart that simply needed him there. It both excited you and disturbed you. Your banter with the biker didn't last long; he ordered four bottled beers, his gaze never wavering as you shuffled past your coworker making some margaritas for a group of girls as you grabbed the beers out of the freezer and handing them over before grabbing his cash. "You new here?" You finally asked, and you weren't exactly sure what to expect, but his voice matched his looks perfectly.

You snickered, leaning over the bar. Phoenix had some exciting faces to offer, all styles and types. But it was rare you found one that was this attractive.

The biker shrugged; a type of smugness hung across his features. A simple look in his eyes gave you another clue, the man was higher than a kite. "Just haven't seen such a pretty face around in a while." He tapped his hand on the counter with a slight chuckle, stepping back as he waved before walking out the door. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as you focused on the other customers. Though, you couldn't quite keep the blonde out of your head.

Not even when your shift ended, wiping a gray-soaked washcloth across the counters and tables. Your coworker cleaned and mopped the floors before you both clocked out. You entered the employee's room, grabbing your belongings before exiting through the back door. You hopped in your car, the streets still thriving, but you only lived several blocks away from the teenage hotspot when things began to gradually cool down. Luckily that's where your shabby little hut came into view.

It wasn't perfect, but decent, and the rent was cheap, so you weren't gonna complain. Parking your bike, you walked up your porch. The old wood creaking underneath your steps, shuffling to grab your keys, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. Turning to glance around, you rushed to open the door before entering your safe and humble abode. You locked the door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh as you walked towards your bedroom. You felt a little sluggish now that you were free to be, removing your clothes and hopping in the shower. The piping hot water felt heavenly across your skin, and if you weren't so damn hungry, you would've stayed longer. Loose pajamas, some fluffy socks, and you walked back into the kitchen, heating up some leftovers from the previous night and popping open a can of beer.

You were a rather heavy drinker, one bottle often turned to three, and three would often multiply sooner rather than later. Some people might have called you an alcoholic, but you didn't really mind. Alcohol was your ambrosia, and god fucking dammit, were you willing to die for that nectar. You were on your way to grab the third beer of the night when you heard a small thump against the window.

You found it odd that a bird would hit your window, especially since they weren't nocturnal. But as you wandered over and slid open the window, you watched as a bat squeaked at you. Blonde fluffy fur as it flew away in a rush. You didn't necessarily like bats, but you didn't hate the critters, either. This was your first time seeing one in real life, your eyes flicking to the tree a few feet away from your window. There on the bottom branch, hung the monster, making you laugh. "Sorry, Dracula, the bar closed two hours ago." You were about to close the window wanting to grab your last beer and finish up your movie before heading to bed.

But you halted as you watched the bat struggle on its branch, sloppily falling off and hitting the floor with a small thud. You frowned; you might not know much about bats, but they sure as hell avoided being on the ground. You hesitated before grabbing a towel and an empty shoe box; perhaps, if you were lucky enough, the bat would have flown away by the time you got to it. But unfortunately, the small little bundle of blonde fur still lay frozen on the ground. Sighing, you carefully scoop it up with the towel and lay it in the box before heading back inside.

You sat the box on the kitchen table, sitting down and taking a proper look at the thing. "You must've hit your little head when banging into the window.." You muttered, watching it stare back at you lazily. Whenever it tried to waddle its way out of the box, its little body swayed before eventually tumbling back into the fluffy fabric.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for the night, little guy." You cooed, a small smile tugging at your lips. It let out a small squeak. If you didn't know any better, you would say the bat understood you, turning around and grabbing an apple and a simple cutting knife. You sliced off a small piece, laying it in the box. You didn't know what the hell bats ate, and you weren't going to go out of your way to try and find some insect in your yard, so an apple slice will have to do for now.

Grabbing the box once more, you moved to your bedroom, entering the bathroom through a joined door. You set the box down, waving at the small bat before turning off the lights and closing the door. You got yourself settled and lay down, turning off your bedside lamp and letting out a content sigh. But then you heard it, the muffle whining and whimpers of the small creature in your bathroom. Letting out a groan, you tried covering your face with a pillow to try and drown out the noise, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Getting up with a huff, you turned on the light once more before moving over. You opened the door, flicking on the light as you watched it try and waddle towards you. "Can't you be quiet?" You groan, rubbing your temples.

However, you couldn't help but notice the silence once you had actually acknowledged the bat again, rolling your eyes at its strange antics. "Look, I can't give you attention all night. I need to sleep." You argue, watching the little creature climb up your foot and use its little claws and wings to crawl up your body.

Perhaps it was the previous drink, or your clear disregard for your own sense of self preservation, but you walked back to your bedroom with a shrug. If the little guy just had to sleep with you, then so be it. Sure, the thing could have rabies for all you new but the moment your aching feet lifted themselves onto your soft mattress; you no longer cared.

"Night night, Dracula." You snickered, closing your eyes and falling into a hollow state of peace.

Walking up, once again alone, fills you with a familiar sense of loneliness. You look around for your little companion, but you simply couldn't find him. You opened all of your windows in case you missed the little guy hiding somewhere before walking down into your kitchen for breakfast. You'd never admit it out loud, but having broken up with your long-term boyfriend, Michael, was rough on you. Half the time, you wallow in alcohol and self-loathing, spending any free time working and trying your damn hardest to move on. The relationship's end wasn't anyone's fault, really; when his father's divorce was finally settled, Michael needed to be with his mom, she needed him during this time, and you couldn't blame him for leaving with you. Looking back on it, you both could've made it work somehow, the long distance, but neither of you two found yourself to really fight for that option.

Sipping on your morning coffee was your ritual, reminiscing about your short past, a daily activity. But today, you were interrupted by the obnoxious sound of your phone ringing. Getting up and plucking the phone from the wall, your body tensed at the sweet sound of Lucy, Michaels's mother. She was the kindest person you knew, a relaxed parent that focused on a kid's trust rather than forcing the truth out from your experience.

"Hey honey, how have you been?" Her familiar, parental tone hummed over the phone. The sound tugged a smile across your lips. "Dandy, what about you, Lucy?" You knew better than to know Lucy wasn't just calling to check in with you, and although every fiber of your being wanted to cut to the chase, you managed to stay polite. Lucy let out a hum, happy with your answer. "I'm good—we're all good. But, listen, I'm sorry to call you for this, but it's about Michael." You nodded, although you knew she couldn't see you; you stayed silent, asking her to continue. "He's changed, distant. He hasn't been the same, and Sam says he's been involved with some worrisome people. I know it's a lot, but I can't help but worry. He won't talk to me, but he'll talk to you. I'll provide you with a room and everything; just please check in for me."

You could tell she was pleading; her tone was very clear with that. But could you really do this? You and Michael broke up, but you've been together since freshman year. You knew his family, and he knew yours; even if you weren't together anymore, you were still friends. With a long sigh, you rubbed your temples.

"Alright, I'll be there."

You don't plan on staying long, glancing at the backseat of your car where a small suitcase sits. You brought the essentials, but since it was summer regardless, you wanted to consider this a short beach-side vacation for yourself as well. It made coming to Santa Carla more reasonable.

Following the address Lucy promptly gave you afterward, you drove up the narrow driveway to an old-looking house. It must've been a generational home bought in the 40s if you had to guess. The sun was already setting by the time you arrived; stepping out of the car, you were greeted by an excited Lucy. However, you knew her better than that. The small stress wrinkles give away how worried she must've actually been.

She embraced you in a big bear-like hug, making you chuckle as she brought you in for some coffee. You sat inside, shielded by the hot California sun, as you stirred some creamer into your coffee. You two sat in the kitchen, a small desk separate from the main dining table.

"So, care to tell me a little more about what's been happening?" You ask, knowing that if you avoided the subject, so would Lucy. She let out a sigh, rubbing her temples as she nearly deflated before you.

"You know it's been hard for them—the divorce. Sam wasn't that close with his father; I'm afraid he experienced a more absent father figure than Micheal did. No, Micheal grew up with everything being perfect; I had a good marriage, and he had a good father and a stable home life." Lucy hummed, taking a long sip of her coffee.

"I know it wasn't easy for them. For any of us, really, but as a parent, I can't help but wonder. Did I do the right thing? Was Santa Carla really what the boys needed?"

You weren't exactly sure what to say; both you and Michael were adults at this point and were mature enough to have a conversation like this. But before Lucy was your friend, she had been more of a mother figure for you. Seeing her struggle so much makes you frown, a heaviness tugging at your lips. People really could be awful sometimes. You grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you smiled at her.

"Listen, I know being a parent is hard. But you're a good mom, okay? You have been since the start. But you need to listen; this move wasn't just for them. It was for you as well. You suffered a shitty divorce and dealt with an even worse ex-husband. You deserve this new start; let me handle Michael; I'm sure he'll come around." You watched as small tears seemed to prickle at her eyes, "Oh you!" She sang before pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." She added, rubbing small circles on your back. You couldn't help but smile, not saying it but letting the small squeeze you returned to the hug speak for you.

The sun had already set as you managed to unpack your things in the guest room, tackling Sam in a big-old sibling-like hug before heading to the boardwalk with him. Lucy had left a few hours earlier for work, which is where you were headed now. Sam led the way as he filled you in on Micheals's behavior. To say you were concerned now was an understatement; nothing Micheal did now made sense. This wasn't like him.

You walked over to the Videotape store and found Lucy glancing at the videotapes decorating the walls. You walked around, glancing at the movies that might interest you. You eventually ended up in the same aisle as a brown biker, someone who vaguely reminded you of the blonde one you met days ago. You were about to pick up The Shining when the man interrupted.

"You new here?" He eventually asked, his gaze lingering for an unusually long time. You struggled, letting out a dry chuckle. "That obvious, huh?" You hummed, feeling more at ease. The man was more stoic than you were used to, but the moment you heard his own amused chuckling, your tense shoulders gradually dropped. The man was mesmerizing, a special charm in every little trinket and clothes covering him. You felt an annoying sense of deja vu, feeling your heart push and pull your subconscious self towards this man. To gush about his leather jacket or talk about anything else for hours. He seemed to smile, catching your lingering gaze before clearing his throat and pointing towards one of the videotapes. "The Shining's good, but if you're into that, I'd recommend The Thing and Nightmare on Elms Street too." All you could do was nod, spinning around when you saw Lucy. She smiled at the brunette, handing you something as you rushed out of the shop. Any tapes and movies are utterly forgotten, and you search for space. You made brief eye contact with the man Lucy had been talking, feeling unsettled by him.

You walked along the patios of the shops lining the boardwalk; they were lightly covered in sand. A grainy texture underneath your shoes. You sat there for a moment before your eyes caught the sight of a familiar head of messy brown hair.

Jumping to your feet, you were off. Not sparing anyone a second glance, not until you were about to reach Micheal. You could feel it, that nostalgic giddiness you usually felt whenever you and Micheal met, but during that time, you were still together. You could jump into his arms and kiss his dimpled cheek; the sudden realization that you hadn't actually seen the brunette since you broke up made your heart squeeze. Seeing him felt more real, and the growing realization that nothing would ever be the same again made the air feel heavy.

You paused as you saw a girl with bouncy curls rush over to him, a small boy close behind as she linked their arms. You hadn't realized until then that a part of you was still clinging onto a foolish, utterly bitter sense of hope that things could return to the way they were. You couldn't have been more foolish, the excitement within you replaced with a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to turn around, run away, and drink until you cough your lungs out on some empty street bench. But you couldn't; you weren't here for Michael or yourself; you were here for Lucy's sake.

Taking in a deep breath, you walked over and cleared your throat. Michael had walked up to a group of guys, two of whom you recognized. They turned to you, four eyes curiously staring at one, another pair looking upset, and lastly, Michaels were surprised.

“Y/N?”

"The one and only." You rolled your eyes, trying to retain a sense of normality despite your emotional turmoil. The hippy-look-alike glanced between you two, taking an almost protective step in front of Micheal. "Who are you?"

Before Micheal could answer, you beat him to it. "A friend." You mused, shaking her hand. "I'm Y/N, an old childhood friend from Phoenix." She seemed to relax at the information, nodding with a gentle smile. "I'm Star, Micheal's girlfriend."

Hiding your soft grimace, you nodded with a strained smile.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

"Not going to introduce us first, Mikey?" The smooth voice hummed out, but the tone was laced with something else. You couldn't place it, but it almost sounded dissatisfied. You couldn't really answer before Micheal grabbed your arm, a bit too tight for your liking. "Stay out of it, David."

Micheal dragged you away, taking advantage of your stunned state. You suddenly understood what Sam and Lucy had been worrying about. Micheal didn't act like that, at least not for the past few years you've known him. He shoved and pushed his way through the crowd, though that wasn't very hard considering how the people practically split just to avoid you two. He didn't look back at you, nor did his grip loosen until you two were somewhere at the end of the boardwalk; the crowd lessened with every meter.

When you finally came to a stop, you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug. One of his arms snaked around your waist, a grip firm but gentle. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair, practically cradling your head as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

If you didn't have whiplash from the sudden rushing, you definitely had some now from the abrupt affection. He seemed to be, inhaling you? "Micheal." You nudged his chest, finally able to separate yourself from a very unwilling brunette.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" His voice was gentle, careful even. As if you'd run away again, which was odd since you weren't the one who left.

"I came to visit you; I see you've made some new friends.." You wandered over to the railing, hopping on carefully.

"Yeah, a lot's happened." He murmured, rubbing his neck to relieve his phantom discomfort. You nodded, silently asking him to go on. "Your family's worried about you; what's been going on, Mikey?" You nudged further, wanting to get to the core of the problem. You couldn't try and help if you didn't know what the hell was going on, but your prodding seemingly did the opposite as Michael became visibly more uncomfortable. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, rubbed his neck and brushed his fingers through his hair.

"I know, I know—a lot has been going on. I just can't tell you about it." He settled on that answer, getting closer before resting beside you. He leaned his forearms against the railing, glancing at the ocean.

"Will you be staying here for long?" You could tell he was trying to change the subject but ultimately decided that patience was the key in this situation. But apart, small and subtle, I enjoyed the way his question almost sounded pleading.

"Mhm, took a few weeks off for vacation. Lucy's giving me her spare room; I hope you don't mind." He shook his head, his signature crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, I'm glad. Haven't spent any time with my girl in a while."

"Your girl?"

He stuttered at that, "I mean—you know, guess that kinda just slipped." He seemed embarrassed, but you weren't gonna have it. What about Star?

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Star? No, she isn't my girlfriend. It's complicated, but we haven't ever really gotten official." He explained, rubbing his temples at the thought.

You nodded, "Then don't call me your girl Micheal. We broke up; I'm your friend. Please remember that." You reminded him as gently as you could, noticing the subtle flash of pain across his features before he nodded.

Feeling the sudden heaviness in the air, you frowned, looking around as you thought of a way to change the subject. "So, who exactly are your friends?"

"Allow me to take charge of this one, Micheal." A deep, familiar voice mused. The blonde mullet-wearing dude always seemed like a cat, sneaky and quiet but always in the mood to toy with something, in this case, someone.

"Since our Mikey seemed to hide you from us, which is awfully rude of you. I'll take charge from here." He stepped closer, glancing you over. He had an odd look in his eyes and almost seemed angry with Michael for taking you away. However, before the blonde could talk, a rocker look-like, the man you had sworn you saw in your bar prior bounced up beside you and slung his arm around your shoulder.

You ignored the tingles you felt when your bare skin met his but instead chucked it up to your lack of action recently. "I'm Paul, sweetheart!" He stared at you for a bit too long for comfort before moving on. "That's Marko, David, and the brooding guy over there is little ol' Dwayne."

"Why did Dwayne get an extra introduction, and I'm just Marko?" You couldn't help but chuckle at the banter, feeling like the group was awfully playful. So what was the problem? You could see Micheal having a good time with them, so why the sudden change.

"Well, I'm Y/N. Michael's, old friend." You formally introduced, not expecting much, but Dwayne nodded. All of them seemed to be in their own world, Dwayne appearing the most interested. Had you known how focused they actually were on you, analyzing your heart beat, body language, anything they could grasp onto you would've run.

"What brings you to Santa Carla Y/N." David leaned against the railing, his cold gaze curious. "Seems like a pretty far distance to go for just a friend." He added, and at that moment, you got the sense that you just couldn't lie to David. That cold, icy gaze practically looked through you. As if he's had years of experience understanding human behavior, it unnerved you.

"Well, I'm also here for a vacation." You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

He gave you a look that simply screamed that he didn't believe you before moving on. "Are you gonna be staying here for long, sugar?" Marko took you out of that uncomfortable situation, making you nod with a hum. "Depends on what you consider long, but I'll be here for a few weeks."

"Well, we ought' to show you around here then. Show you all Santa Carla's got to offer!" Marko hollered, which received agreeing gazes from everyone except Micheal, who appeared rather upset. But you were here, and what better way to understand Micheal than by meeting his friends. "The hell with it." You mused, a grin tugging at your lips at the cheers and eager looks around you.

So, you explored Santa Carla just like Marko had said. Practically losing your soul during the fast carnival rides, winning petty prizes, eating greasy food, fucking with surfer nazis, and stealing some things here and there. So now you were here, surrounded by the starry sky and the roaring ocean. A campfire crackling on the sand as you were sitting in between Michael and Dwayne. With a beer bottle in hand, everyone seemed relaxed despite the playful fighting happening between Paul and Marko.

"So, tell me a little about yourself. How'd you come to know our boy Mikey here?" David had been on your ass since you met; he didn't let your lie slide earlier, even if he hadn't acknowledged it. He was so eager to know about the true nature between you and Micheal, and at the question, you couldn't help but notice Star perk up beside Micheal.

"Nothin' much to tell, I'm afraid. I met Michael when he was interning at his father's mechanics shop when I finally got a car from my old man, only to have it break down on me several weeks later. That is where we met." You glanced at Michael, seeing a faint smile tug on his lips as he seemingly played with the sand.

"I was new, and he offered me a tour around town. One thing led to another, and we became friends. Didn't get together until what, junior year? Yeah, around that time." You add, watching as Paul and Marko suddenly stop rough-housing. "Wait, you two were together?" Paul asked, staring between your two. "You said you were just friends," Marko added, an odd glint in his eyes. You shrugged, taking a quick swig of your beer.

"We are just friends, Mikey and I broke up when he left for Santa Carla." You glanced at the brunette, seeing the way his smile had dissolved. There was a glaze to his eyes as if he was somewhere else completely. You understood; perhaps that's why you guys got together in the first place. You simply understood Michael, the way he was currently dancing with you again in his memories. It was apparent to you.

"Ah." The sound of David's stern hum of acknowledgment made you turn your attention back to the group of boys. They all seemed to be in thought, but none looked too pleased with your previous relationship. "Been happily single ever since—well, I haven't really been looking, to be honest." You added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, you hear that, boys?" Paul grinned, getting up and moving behind you. He rested his hands on your shoulder, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of your head. "She's open for the taking!"

"That is not what I meant—"Before you could finish your sentence, Paul and Marko picked you up. They cheered as they ran towards the inky black ocean water, grinning to themselves as Paul held your hands and Marko your feet. They swung you threateningly over the water's edge. Your screams were filled with laughter as they grinned.

"What do you say, Paul? Should our little sunflower get a drop in the ocean for lying to us?" Paul grinned a mischievous cat-like grin. Glancing at Marko, the expression was practically mirrored. "I don't know, Paulie; maybe she should. Wash off all of that Michael stench off of her."

"Don't drop me! Fuck you, seriously. Don't you dare!" You warned, trying to wiggle yourself out of their death grip.

"Nah, threats won't work on us, honey. Maybe a reward will work, hmm. What do you think, Paul?"

"I think a kiss ought' to do it," Paul answered, glancing between you and his devil-like companion. "Couldn't agree more."

"Fine, fine, have your stupid kiss but let me down!"

As if on cue, they synced up. "If you say so!" Marko cheered as, with a powerful swing, they threw you over and into the water. You let out a shrill screech, landing in the water ungraciously. Once you popped back up, you glared at the two.

Wincing as you tried to get up, you promptly plopped back into the water with a splash. They heard you loud and clear, and Michael was already by Marko and Paul's side. David and Dwayne followed, but not as quickly.

"You okay, sugar?" Paul asked, frowning as you shook your head. You held out a hand to him, silently asking for help to get up. When he walked over to you, not minding his now wet boots. He grabbed your hand, not expecting you to harshly tug him down and into the water with you.

You cackled, wanting to commit the blonde's dumbfounded expression to memory. "Damn girl, you made me worried!" He explained, and Marko nearly doubled over laughing. He splashed you, wrapping his arm around your waist under the water. You froze, not expecting the contact. "That was rather evil of you, sunflower," he mused, in a tone far too low and husky than you had expected coming from the rocker-wannabe.

"And throwing me into the water, wasn't?" You mimicked, turning to glance at him. He laughed, pulling you closer. You could feel his breath taunting your skin; his gaze was all too narrow and lustful for your liking. He looked hungry, practically starved, as he grinned at you. "But I am evil, sunflower, and the one thing you can trust in a bad guy is that he'll always do something awful. It's the good ones you gotta be careful about," He hummed, his gaze shifting to your lips. He lifted his hand, cupping your jaw as he traced his thumb against your lip. "The good ones are a wild card, baby; you never know when they're finally gonna give in." He whispered, and at that moment, you knew he wasn't just talking about petty, mean deeds.

He was referring to you if the position you weren't in wasn't clear enough. However, before you could respond, Michael broke you two up. Unable to form a proper response, you followed your old friend, watching as he returned you to the rest of the group.

"What were they thinking? You'll catch your death being wet this late at night!" Micheal murmured as he complained, making you roll your eyes. "I'm fine; we were just having some fun." You defended, watching as Marko slung his arm around your shoulder. "Yeah, chill out, Mikey."

Dwanye seemed to agree with Micheal instead as he grabbed your hand and gently led you back to the campfire to warm up again. He didn't mind the sudden chill now; your body was still fired up from your earlier encounter with Paul. You felt a heavy cloth drape over your shoulders, glancing to see David's coat loosely set over you. He sat down beside you, handing you your previously abandoned beer bottle.

"Thanks," you smiled.

"It's already so late, yet you don't seem even the slightest bit tired. Do you usually stay up this late?" He asked though he didn't look at you at first. One of his hands loosely held a cigarette, letting a puff of smoke escape through his lips. His eyes focused on the blazing fire in front of you before gradually looking into your eyes. Once again, you could feel your ability to lie fade, not with such a dominating gaze practically reading you.

"I work at a bar most days of the week; you get used to late nights." You explained, being honest for once. He nodded, seemingly appreciating your bluntness.

"Doesn't sound like that's the safest job." Dwayne chimed in, an odd look of concern across his features. You weren't sure what to make of that look; you weren't close enough to garner that concern. But couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach, fuck, how starved were you for affection?

"Neither is staying in Santa Carla, but here we are." You murmured, a little embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate. You couldn't really describe it, but being around them felt right. Having their attention felt right, and a part of you wanted to keep it. David chuckled at your answer, subtly resting his hand on your thigh.

"Yet here we are." He repeated, his deep voice sending shivers down your back.

"Fuck." You heard someone hiss loudly, everyone's gaze turning to Micheal, who was staring at his watch. "David, it's nearly sunrise." He cursed sternly, sending panicked looks across everyone except the leader. You were surprised yourself, having completely lost track of time. But you were a little confused as all the guys got up and guided you back to the pier.

"You guys got a curfew or something?" You asked, biting the inside of your cheek. Dwanye chuckled as he and the others walked over to their bikes. "Miss us already, sugar?" Paul hummed, getting on his bike. Micheal shook his head, taking your hand gently in his. He caressed the chilled hand with his thumb, and you couldn't help but notice that Micheals's hand was just as cold as yours. "We just have something we need to do; see you tomorrow?"

"You're not going home?" You asked, slightly surprised at the sudden change in atmosphere. "No, like I said, we have something planned." He seemed more nervous, rubbing his neck. A nervous tick he developed when Michael was lying. But you didn't feel like pushing, so you let go of his hand with a sigh.

He walked to his bike, the five starting their engines with a powerful roar. Paul and Marko wave as they drive off, Dwayne following. Michael stared longingly at you, starting his back before driving off too. David moved but promptly stopped before you. One of his feet resting on the floor. He caressed your cheek with his gloved hand, watching you carefully. You felt pulled as if the boy's leaving was pulling your heart along with them. "You think to much." David hummed teasingly, staring into your eyes. "Come back to the boardwalk tomorrow; I'll come and find you," he instructed, not leaving any room for debate.

"How'll you manage that?" You taunted, your breath hitching as he promptly leaned closer.

But instead of a snarky remark, his hand that rested on your cheek slid back. Tangling his fingers in your hair, keeping a firm grip on the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a searing kiss. Sparks flew, and you were sure you could have burnt yourself at the searing heat of the kiss. David wasn't gentle, and there was a dominating eagerness to his lips that commanded your utter acceptance. His teeth playfully nipped your bottom lip, pulling it slowly as he parted. You pulled away with lidded eyes, observing the same intoxicated look flash across David's features.

"See you tomorrow, baby." He chuckled, roaring his engine before leaving you. It took you several minutes to recuperate, walking back into the main center of the boardwalk.

Walking past a closing video store, you weren't really paying attention to your surroundings. The sound of a man's voice pulling you out of your daze, looking around your eyes connected with those of a middle-aged man. You recognized him as the video store owner, who must've said something to you.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked, now focused on the man.

"I said you should stay away from those bikers; they're nothing but trouble." His words seemed stern, yet they had the unnerving power to upset you.

"Yeah, you know them or something?" You asked in an accusatory tone, hearing the man shake his head with a small sigh.

"You've got the same attitude as them; if it were up to me, I wouldn't let you in. But Lucy always wanted a daughter." The man's tone turned sadistic as he got closer, pushing you into a nearby alleyway. Panic shot through you, every fiber of your being screaming at you to run. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But before your fight or flight response could kick in, you were knocked against the wall with such force the wind was knocked out of you. Leaving you disoriented and wheezing for air.

You felt his fangs graze your skin, a small sob escaping you. A fear of dying, hate for pain, and lingering betrayal being too much for your eyes to hold. What did Lucy have to do with this? You didn't deserve to die, not like this!

You were scared. One of your hands placed itself on his chest, clenching the fabric of his jacket between your fingers as you desperately tried pushing him away. Thrashing as much as you could. When the pain finally arrived, you winced harshly and gasped. The hold on the man's jacket grew tighter as his jaw clenched. It fucking hurt. Hurt like hell. But he refused to move, not wanting to make the feeling worse. The longer you stood there, the more accustomed you felt to the dull aching. It was an awful feeling, leaving you feeling dirty all over, but whatever was happening, it sparked hopes that you might get out of this alive.

You could feel particular sharp sparks of pain whenever you moved, shifting the puncture wounds. Your mind grew cloudy the longer he drank.

"Stop.." You whispered, the words sounding frail and weak. The man needed to stop. Your body was slowly growing light, the feeling of dizziness and sleepiness festering inside you. The hand holding onto him loosened its grip before slowly falling against your side. Your tears had stopped a few minutes ago, your cheeks glistening from the wetness. Your eyes grew dull in color, silently fighting yourself to stay awake. You could practically hear your heart hammering against your chest, each beat loud and overwhelming as it rang through your ears.

It felt like you were dying, and a part of you was convinced you actually were.

Your body was in a state of searing, burning pain. Your heartbeat rang like cathedral drums, harsh and loud before the sound turned quiet. One beat, a pause, then silence. Your body limp and cold, your lifeless body let the blood of its murderer wash down your tongue. Suddenly everything began to burn inside you; your mouth ached horribly, and your fingertips too. Your body felt freezing cold until some drop of relief washed over you, and through your mouth came a small stream of euphoria. Practically lighting your every fiber on fire. Your eyes opened, no longer their usual color but a vivid yellow. Your hand instinctively grabbed the man's wrist, your mind going blank as you sink your teeth into the crimson liquid.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you closed your eyes, swallowing greedily as you calmed the burning inside yourself. You didn't let the man budge, your new, sharpened nails practically digging into his forearm. You felt insatiable; no matter how hurriedly you lapped and sucked on the wound, you wanted more, more blood.

You didn't relent; you practically couldn't. But the urge to look up at your murderer was undeniable. You pulled away, a small trail of the man's blood trailing down the corner of your lips as you looked up at him. Large, doe-eyed hungry eyes stared up at him, the look of a pure predator.

You had died in that alleyway, after all; a part of you just knew that. With speed unrecognizable, you ran away, not sure where, but far, far, away from the boardwalk.

The next night, David and the others did not find you at the boardwalk. But none of them were just going to let you go like that, no, not when mates were so hard to find. It was hard enough for them to have let you go last night, and if it wasn't for the threat of the approaching sun, they wouldn't have. Their boardwalk princess was missing, and there would be hell to pay if they didn't find you soon.

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madnessr · 11 months

Text

Last Night Part Two

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?

Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity

Part One

Word Count: 10k

There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!

Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!

If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla.

You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin.

Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now?

You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you.

You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position?

How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real.

You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize.

Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another.

You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat.

The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity.

You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.

But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home.

Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?

Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest.

So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to.

You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick.

However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home.

You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean.

The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone.

"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you.

"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic.

"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.

None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.

Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places.

Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him.

“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone.

Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you.

David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds.

"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair.

"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again.

All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial.

"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well?

Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut.

David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him.

"Who?"

"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that.

"Who did this to you?"

The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them."

That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling.

You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways.

"Are they still sleeping?"

An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!"

A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking.

"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial.

David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud.

Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression.

For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse.

Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny.

Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously.

David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal.

"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy.

Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight.

Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you."

Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over."

The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound.

As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down.

"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal."

You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others.

Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan.

Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it.

When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed.

You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors.

"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby."

"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two.

The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it."

You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you.

"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow.

"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood."

As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress.

"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you.

"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do.

But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed.

Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains.

You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed.

"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you.

Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone.

"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises.

"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood.

"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes.

"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David."

You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you.

"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious.

As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin.

You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust.

In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge.

You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you.

"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.

"Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets.

"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.

"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished.

"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you.

Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down.

As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.

They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well.

No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.

The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose.

The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!"

Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry.

The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in.

"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?"

"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now."

The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?"

You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue.

"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them."

You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours.

"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire."

He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore."

His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord."

Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair.

"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical.

The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow.

"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls.

He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement.

As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed.

Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you.

"So what will you do?"

"What I need too."

His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again.

"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong.

"What I was born to do."

His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake.

Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight.

That blow was meant to kill you.

"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls.

"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.

The boys.

David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you.

"You will never—be one of God's—creations."

Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves.

The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours.

You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood.

Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close.

"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night.

That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer.

That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk.

"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange.

"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant.

"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too."

You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.

"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead.

"What?"

He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest.

"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you.

"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you?

"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth.

"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves?

"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you.

"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past.

"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N."

"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man.

"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why?

"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?"

"We aren't animals, David–"

"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before.

"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too."

A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.

"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing.

"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."

"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore."

He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you.

"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more.

When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse.

"Hey, Darlin!"

The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

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