夢見る;

Still.

You were trying to peacefully do your job, and Sanzu was just standing and staring, like a fucking creep.

Ugh.

Mikey should have kept his rabid puppy dog chained.

“Why do you always do that?”

Your head snapped up, an eyebrow quirked.

“Do what?”

“Drain them of blood.”

Sanzu and his stupid fucking questions.

“Because it’s easier to chop them up and turn them into fish food that way? We all do this? Ran literally taught me how to do this. And why are you even here? You’re not doing shit!”

He shrugged, still eyeing you suspiciously, his face nestled into the crook of his elbows as he watched you work.

Rolling your eyes, you choose to ignore him, focusing.

Bodies won’t disappear on their own.

“Kakucho, I don’t know how to convince you, but I’m telling you, y/n’s a fucking vampire. Or possessed. Still not sure which one it is.”

Kakucho's head was buried within his palms as a sound of sheer desperation escaped his throat, his eyes screwed tightly shut to avoid looking at his one true current problem.

Sanzu.

Sanzu spewing bullshit conspiracy theories, precisely.

God help him.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Kakucho opens his good eye to peek at the pink-haired maniac.

“Do I even want to know how you came to this conclusion?” His voice was wary, tired already. This was utter nonsense, and Sanzu should have known it, even if his brain was* utterly and completely fried on whatever the fuck he snorts in his free time.

“Probably not. Wanna see anyway?” The grin playing on the scarred man’s lips made Kakucho nervous.

“No.”

Sanzu stood up from his chair, stretching like an irate cat, and with a quick, unstable step, left the room.

Kakucho thought he was free, and he just breathed a sigh of immense relief when he heard it.

The scratching sound of shitty, rusted wheels on marble floors echoed in the hallway, followed by Sanzu wheeling in a pinboard, a photo of your face thumbtacked to the centre of a true shit show, multiple strings of red yarn connecting it all back to you.

Kakucho almost wept.

He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Sanzu started by presenting a series of incidents.

Sanzu always found it odd you only ever worked at night, no matter how hard Mikey tried to drag you into meetings in broad daylight, you always refused, persistently and stubbornly, firmly stating that ‘Sun is a horrendous creature of misery and deserves death’ and ‘You’re more of a night owl’ and how you’d rather die than have that disgusting thing ever touch your skin.

Suspicious.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Okay, and? That proves nothing, Sanzu.”

“Kakucho, shut the fuck up and listen.”

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ ( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

Sanzu has been to your house a few, very few, times, as you were always cagey about your personal space and tried to kick all of them out as soon as possible, even if it was your turn to host the poker night and even if it was your turn to be the designated driver and let them sleep off the drunkenness in your house.

But he noticed something… Well, odd.

The blackout curtains.

Thick, dark fabric draped over every one of your windows, covering every possible entry point, blocking the entrance to the balcony and forbidding any and all natural light to as much as shyly try to enter your house.

You almost scalped Kokonoi when he tried to open them once, jumping onto him and forcing him down on the ground, sitting on his back, not getting off until he let go of the curtains and until you could close them all the way shut, muttering about the damage the UV light does to skin or some shit.

And the very few times he did see you in the sun, it was only after you lathered your skin with thick layers of sunscreen from a suspicious bottle with only the words ‘Ew ew sun’ written on it in sharpie.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Listen,” Kakucho groaned, running his hands down his face, “I get their fear of the sun is weird, and a little excessive, but dude, come on. Their mum died of skin cancer, and she died in their arms, it makes sense they’d be cautious.”

Sanzu frantically shook his head.

“No, because listen, there’s more.”

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

You barely ever went to dinner with them.

Whenever you were invited, your most likely answer was ‘No, thanks’, and the few times you did agree, you never ordered any food, no matter who was paying, instead opting out for some wine or whiskey instead, under the guise that you don’t really feel hungry.

Every.

Single.

Goddamn time.

You never ate at the headquarters either, or at least, Sanzu has never seen you eat, only ever seeing you sipping on coffee or boba at your desk when he barged into your office unannounced.

He has tried feeding you, but you refused like a stubborn mule every time, coldly saying you don’t trust his cooking before returning to sipping on damn Starbucks.

It was suspicious enough that Ran asked you about it, and you simply explained you have a couple of severe food allergies and don’t feel like dying on a fucking Tuesday from an anaphylactic shock, which did get Ran and Koko to shrug and leave you be, but not Sanzu.

He opened your fridge when he was at your house, just to check what you had in there if you never ate out, but all he found was a block of cheese and a carton of strawberry juice.

Suspicious.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“You dug around their fridge?”

“Kakucho, I don’t think you’re hearing my point.”

“They have allergies. You have no points.”

Sanzu sighed, frustrated, but that quickly got replaced by a smile.

And jazz hands.

“But wait! There’s more!” In his best showbiz tone, Sanzu continued rambling.

Kakucho was ready to cancel his subscription to life.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

Rindou sometimes wore crosses.

Not to show his huge devotion to Christianity of course, no, more as an accessory, one that looked damn fine on him if Sanzu was to pass any judgement, the silver crosses with ruby red jasper stones dangling from Rindou’s ears making him seem somewhat sophisticated, giving him the charming energy of a wandering ghost.

You absolutely hated Rindou’s silver cross earrings, a scowl twisting your face anytime you saw them, but you usually chose to say nothing.

Until Rindou noticed, and with an offence that bordered on hilarious, asked you what the fuck your problem was.

You merely sighed.

“Don’t like it when people wear crosses, that’s all.”

Rindou leaned back into his seat, now with a sneer.

“What, you hyper-religious or what?”

“Nah, try to go more ‘growing up with religious trauma’. Crosses just make me uncomfortable.” Shrugging, your gaze went back to your laptop, but Sanzu noticed the way you flinched if Rindou came closer to you when wearing his earrings.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Honestly, you’re starting to sound like an ass. They’re bi, and grew up in a super religious household, of course they’re not all up for fucking religious items.”

Sanzu’s seemingly infinite well of reasons you’re possessed apparently to dried up, and he slumped into his chair with a sour look.

“I’m telling you, and you’re not listening.”

“You honestly sound like you don’t have shit. You literally just misinterpreted their trauma and allergies and made them into some fucking monster, and really dude, that’s fucked.”

Sanzu huffed.

“They’re also allergic to silver! How do you interpret that, huh?!”

Kakucho truly wished to bang his head against the wall.

“They’re allergic to nickel, you piece of absolute ass, as is half the human fucking population, and all silver has nickel because silver by itself is too soft for jewellery.”

Sanzu sunk into his chair, arms crossed, pouting.

Kakucho forced him to write you an apology card.

Even with Kakucho trying to knock some sense into Sanzu, he was still convinced.

There was something off about you, and he knew it.

So as he Googled vampire lore, and possession symptoms side to side, about a thousand tab bars open on his laptop, he stumbled upon something that gave him pause.

Reflections.

You have a reflection, he knew that much, he has seen you try out clothes and pose in front of any fucking shopping window that was polished enough, but there is a catch.

Apparently, vampires in medieval folklore don’t have a reflection because old-timey mirrors are made with silver.

Silver, which you just so happen to be allergic to, and no, fuck what Kakucho said, he’s stupid, Sanzu knew it was silver and not fucking nickel.

Modern mirrors are made with aluminium.

Sanzu took a pause, and in a quick moment of putting two and two together, he texted Kokonoi.

You barely registered Sanzu sneaking into the break room next to you, being too tired at this late hours of the night to focus on anything but the coffee you were brewing.

“Hey, didn’t expect you to be here so late-“

You never got the chance to finish your sentence, because someone is a bitch and that someone just grabbed your fucking arm out of nowhere and started dragging you away.

“Wha-“

“I know what you are.” Sanzu briefly looked back at you to flash a grin, his nails digging into your wrist.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He didn’t respond as he kicked the doors of the men’s bathroom open.

“Sanzu, what the hell-“

Before you could process it, he grabbed your shoulders, shoving you in front of the mirror, giddiness mixing with glee visible on his stupid, stupid face as he stood behind you.

Your own tired eyes stared back at you.

He blinked.

“Wait, let’s just-“ He carefully pushed you out of the mirror’s reflection, knocking on it as if it were a broken TV, before pushing you back in front of it.

Still just your tired eyes and large eye bags.

“Huh.” His fingers sneaked to the side of your mouth, pulling your upper lip up to reveal small, if a little crooked canines.

Huffing, you wrestled out of his grasp, arms crossed over your chest.

“Mind explaining what the fuck is this about, Haruchiyo, my beloved? If you wanted to look at me you could have just DONE THAT!”

He scratched his head, confusion written all over his features.

“Sorry… Uh, thought you were a vampire.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

A beat of silence passed before you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Sorry.” He slightly bowed before scurrying away, slamming the doors to the bathroom shut, and leaving you alone.

Sighing, you turned to look at yourself, fixing the little bit of makeup that smeared under your eye.

Choosing to think you look presentable, you paused just as you were about to leave, a sort of glee forming on your face as you flashed yourself a grin.

Your canines scratched your bottom lip, drawing just a bit of blood.

You knew that replacing all the mirrors was a smart choice.

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