Whump writing

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: just a bit of tension

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Algernon reached the staircase overlooking the entry hall. He paused there for a moment, his eyes fixed on the front door.

He was rather irritated by the unexpected interruption during what had been turning into a strangely... peaceful moment.

Despite the little incident in the attic, Dylan hadn't panicked or retreated into that stubborn silence he sometimes hid behind in situations like this. For once, he and the vampire had been having an actual conversation, without the human looking constantly on the verge of either bolting or falling apart.

But the Peacekeeper set that irritation aside and turned his attention to the problem at hand.

Who the hell would show up at this isolated villa in the middle of the night, with rain pouring down like this?

The most likely explanation was a lost camper—or someone who'd been caught in the storm and was looking for shelter. In that case, Algernon would simply use compulsion to send them on their way. The last thing he wanted was for the surrounding woods to end up crawling with search parties.

Still, he couldn't rule out the possibility that this was a more problematic kind of visitor.

The Peacekeeper glanced toward the library door, wondering whether it was worth retrieving the nylon thread. But when the knocking came a third time, he decided it would be quicker to deal with it as he was and resumed walking toward the entrance.

He moved soundlessly and, on the way, picked up a wooden coat stand. He still wasn't back to full strength, but it wouldn't take much effort to snap the thing in half and drive it through the chest of an unwelcome guest.

However, when he was only a few steps from the door, another sound reached his ears from outside.

A foot tapping against the ground.

A light, rhythmic sound that betrayed a certain impatience.

Then he remembered that there was someone who now knew where the villa was.

He relaxed a little.

So he simply opened the door, making the small figure standing outside jump ever so slightly.

"Eddie," was all he said.

The other vampire stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed—and Algernon mentally congratulated himself on having slipped past her excellent hearing.

Then her gaze drifted to the coat stand he was still holding.

"...Al."

Ah. Right.

The owner of the house set his improvised weapon beside the door with as much nonchalance as he could manage and asked "What are you doing here?"

Eddie looked back up at him and opened her mouth, but seemed to take a few seconds to decide what words to use.

The Peacekeeper idly noted that tonight she was wearing a green rain jacket—far too big for her, naturally—which hadn't stopped her from getting soaked from head to toe.

"...Are you kidding me?" she finally shot back.

Algernon didn't remember arranging to meet her. Certainly not here at the villa.

No unexpected guests, that was what he'd established.

So he tilted his head slightly.

"No?"

Eddie looked him up and down before saying carefully "Basil's been going around bragging that he messed you up."

The mere mention of the red-haired vampire was enough to make the irritation rise again.

"Oh. So you came here looking for gossip."

That seemed to annoy her too.

"I came to make sure you were still in one piece, you ungrateful brat," she replied indignantly, folding her arms across her chest.

Algernon raised an eyebrow.

He thought about it for a moment and realized that yes, beyond simple curiosity, Edwina actually did have a good reason to check on him.

Even if she could've just waited until their next meeting and drawn her own conclusions if he failed to show up to collect the groceries she'd bought for Dylan.

"Not even Basil's stupid enough to kill another Peacekeeper," he replied simply.

Eddie's mouth fell open, and her arms dropped to her sides.

"So it's true. He really did hurt you," she said in disbelief, studying the silver-haired vampire with renewed interest "...How?"

With that silver sword he always has on him, he almost answered. But he knew perfectly well that wasn't what she meant. And right now, he wasn't really in the mood to tease her just for the pleasure of watching her pout.

"He attacked me during an assignment," he explained instead, trying to sound more indifferent than he actually felt "He caught me off guard."

"He caught you off guard," Eddie echoed, her skepticism on full display.

"What exactly are you implying?" Algernon asked, frowning.

In response, Eddie rolled her eyes with that exaggerated flair she was so fond of.

"I'm implying," she began, "that it's only natural for Basil to take any opportunity he gets to hurt you."

The Peacekeeper's gaze turned icy.

"So you're saying he had the right to do it?" his voice had gone just as cold.

Her reaction was immediate.

"No! I—" she started, instinctively taking a step back.

Then she fell silent, pressing her lips together.

A long moment passed between them.

Then Eddie subtly shifted one foot farther back, adjusting her stance so that —as became immediately obvious to Algernon— she'd be ready to bolt if necessary.

"I mean... from his point of view."

The silver-haired vampire couldn't have said what annoyed him more in that moment— her attitude or her words.

"Stop it," he said "I'm not going to do anything to you. And I didn't do anything to him."

Eddie pressed her lips together again.

Algernon knew she wanted to object, but then he heard his ticket out of the conversation approaching on bare feet.

So he raised a hand, cutting off whatever reply was about to leave her mouth, then turned his back on her.

"Dylan," he called instead, lifting his gaze toward the staircase on the far side of the entry hall.

A few moments later, the human cautiously appeared at the top.

"It's only Eddie," Algernon told him, stepping aside from the doorway just enough for Dylan to see the woman "And she was just leaving," he concluded, hoping the hint reached its intended recipient loud and clear.

"E-eh...?" Dylan murmured, his gaze moving from the Peacekeeper to the other vampire and back again.

Then, in a tiny voice "But... i-it's raining..."

The silver-haired vampire—who'd been looking for the young man's arm to make sure he'd finished bandaging it—was caught completely off guard and raised his eyebrows.

Then, once he'd actually processed what he'd just heard... he burst out laughing.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, blood, injury, wound care

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We... didn't recover the record player," Dylan said, simply to break the silence.

He didn't like being in the bathroom with the vampire. He had, to put it mildly, some unpleasant memories of the place.

"Don't worry, I don't think it's going anywhere," Algernon replied distractedly as he turned on the faucet.

Yeah... tell me about it, the young man thought bitterly.

Now that the adrenaline from that strange moment in the attic had worn off, his arm had started to hurt terribly. The gash looked awful, and the mere sight of it seemed to make the pain worse. So, of course, his eyes kept drifting back to his forearm.

His jailer ran one hand beneath the stream of water, and Dylan—busy trying not to think about the pain—found himself idly wondering whether those icy fingers actually felt temperature the way a living person's would.

Then the vampire asked "Think you can rinse it off?"

Dylan pressed his lips together and nodded. It wasn't going to be pleasant. But it wouldn't even come close to being as awful as the disinfectant.

So he stretched his injured arm over the sink and, gritting his teeth, held it beneath the running water. The first touch of the cold water sent a sharp jolt of pain shooting all the way up to his shoulder and made his eyes sting.

Looking directly at the wound made him queasy, so the young man focused instead on the thin streams of water and blood swirling together in the sink before disappearing down the drain.

He flinched slightly when he caught Algernon moving beside him out of the corner of his eye and immediately lifted his gaze to the bathroom mirror so he could keep a discreet watch on him. He saw the vampire retrieve the same old first-aid kit Dylan recognized immediately.

And then he realized... he hadn't seen it in quite a while. He really hadn't needed patching up lately.

"Ready?" the vampire asked, lifting the kit slightly.

The young man's expression darkened a little, but he nodded again, shut off the water, and obediently went to sit on the closed toilet lid. No point putting off the inevitable.

His jailer knelt in front of him, and the feeling of déjà vu became too strong to ignore. Dylan's mind drifted back to his first nights in the villa, when he'd been covered in injuries after Algernon had dragged him through the forest at that inhuman speed without a second thought.

Meanwhile, the vampire took out disinfectant and some clean gauze before looking up at the young man. A crooked smile immediately spread across his face.

"Don't pout now," he teased. "It's not my fault you got hurt this time."

Caught completely off guard, Dylan quickly turned his head away.

"I-I know—!" he blurted, fixing his eyes on the radiator beside them.

He... he hadn't expected that he and his jailer would be thinking about the same thing.

Algernon chuckled, then fell silent for a long moment.

"So, uhm..." he eventually began.

The unusual uncertainty in his voice immediately made the young man uneasy, forcing him to look back at him.

"This is going to sting. I suppose."

Dylan frowned.

"I know...?" was all he said, unable to understand why the vampire had suddenly felt the need to point out something so obvious.

"Mm. And I'll have to touch you a little, too," the other added as he soaked a piece of gauze with disinfectant.

The young man's frown deepened.

"Y-yes..." he answered, even though his jailer hadn't asked a question.

Because it hadn't been a question, right? It wasn't something Algernon needed to ask. Not something he needed permission for. He'd never hesitated to touch Dylan before.

The fact that, this time, he'd announced it out loud was unsettling somehow.

The young man flinched slightly as the vampire's cold fingers closed around his wrist, his thoughts immediately returning to what had happened in the attic.

But the silver-haired monster—who didn't seem to have noticed his reaction in the slightest—simply rotated his arm until the wound was facing upward.

And Dylan... thought back over the past few days.

When had Algernon touched him? In the attic. And the night he'd come home injured, when he'd asked Dylan to hug him. Other than that? Actually... it was difficult to think of many other occasions.

Could it be that his jailer had been actively trying to avo—

The young man's thoughts were abruptly cut short as the disinfectant-soaked gauze touched the wound, sending burning pain racing through his nerves as though the edges of the gash had caught fire.

Dylan doubled over and couldn't suppress a pained groan.

"Ah. Perhaps I should've given you some sort of countdown?" he heard the vampire say.

The young man's eyes filled with tears.

It was just a reflex caused by the pain. He felt the need to say that out loud. He also felt he'd sound incredibly foolish if he did.

"So how did you manage to hurt yourself like this, anyway?" Algernon asked conversationally as he continued cleaning the wound.

"A p-protruding nail... I think..." Dylan muttered through gritted teeth.

His jailer answered only with a long hum and silently continued his work for another couple of minutes.

He didn't seem to be enjoying himself much—

the way he'd clearly done in the past during situations like this. Maybe playing nurse to his human prisoner had already grown boring.

The young man pushed the thought away as the vampire finally seemed satisfied that the wound was clean enough.

"I hope you've had your tetanus shot," Algernon remarked as he released Dylan's wrist.

He tossed the bloodstained gauze into the nearby sink and began rummaging through the first-aid kit again.

It was only when the vampire's hand was gone that Dylan realized how much he'd been focusing on the icy touch against his skin in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. For some reason, the realization irritated him.

"...You don't get tetanus because of r-rust," he explained, still too rattled by the pain and Algernon's strange behavior to worry about sounding pedantic.

The vampire, who'd just retrieved fresh gauze and a roll of bandages, looked up at him with what seemed to be genuine surprise.

"Oh? You don't? How do you know?"

Dylan fidgeted a little and tried not to meet his jailer's red eyes. Not an easy task, considering the man was still kneeling right in front of him.

"I... read it s-somewhere."

And the silver-haired monster... laughed.

"Bookworm," he commented as he laid the clean gauze over the wound with unexpected gentleness.

The young man felt another flicker of annoyance that Algernon seemed to think he knew him so well.

Still, as he watched his jailer secure the gauze in place with the bandage, Dylan thought that perhaps this was one of those moments when he had permission to be angry. Or at least as good a moment as any to test whether the vampire had really meant what he'd said.

So the young man pressed his lips together for a moment, gathered every bit of courage he could, and began "Jer—"

But he was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the villa's front door.

Whoever it was did so with considerable force, judging by the fact that even Dylan's human ears could hear it all the way upstairs.

Instinctively, the young man looked toward his jailer.

He watched the vampire's expression turn glacial, his gaze drifting toward the floor as though he could see straight through it and into the entry hall below.

Dylan froze completely as a knot tightened in his throat, smothering any desire to put the silver-haired monster's promise to the test.

Several endless moments passed in silence.

Then the knocking came again.

Dylan watched Algernon's expression tighten into a brief frown. And then it relaxed once more into a smile as the vampire looked back at him.

"I should probably go see what that's about," he said "Can you finish patching yourself up?"

"M-mm."

The young man nodded, already hearing his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His jailer nodded as well—apparently satisfied with the answer—and rose to his feet.

Dylan watched him carefully, searching for some sign of how well he'd really recovered. But he found none.

Algernon, however, must've noticed the look. And he must've seen at least part of the anxiety behind it.

Because his smile became more... amused. Smug, the young man would've called it, if he'd been capable of thinking about anything other than the fact that someone was knocking on the villa's front door.

But nobody ever came to that isolated place.

And it certainly didn't look like the vampire had been expecting visitors, so—

"Don't worry," the silver-haired monster said "If it's a problem, I'll take care of it."

And that... that was something Dylan could believe. Because Algernon was strong, he reminded himself. Feared even by his own kind.

Even if he still wasn't back to full strength... he wouldn't have any trouble. Right? He'd protect his territory. And the young man, who just happened to be there, would be protected as a consequence.

Simple.

He didn't need to trust the vampire's good intentions to believe that.

"...Mm."

This time, Dylan nodded with a little more confidence.

(Sorry for the delay, as always! The hotter it gets, the less my brain cells seem to want to do their job)

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, blood, injury, accidental self-injury, anxiety, fear response

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two nights passed peacefully enough, but Dylan still wouldn't have gone so far as to say things had returned to normal.

During that time, Algernon never left the villa and—while that wasn't unusual in itself—the young man had the feeling he'd had the vampire around more than usual. In fact, he realized that his jailer hadn't disappeared to take care of his usual household chores around the villa even once.

Another sign that he still hadn't fully recovered from that horrible wound, Dylan concluded.

And despite that, Algernon had continued to seem inexplicably cheerful.

That was why the young man couldn't help but notice that, tonight, he seemed vaguely troubled instead. After turning over and over in his mind what he might have done to upset him, Dylan could no longer bear the growing anxiety and finally found the courage to ask, "Is... is something wrong?"

At the other end of the couch, the vampire looked up from the book in his hands—a book whose page he hadn't turned in several minutes—and shifted his gaze to him, mildly surprised.

"...Oh. No. It's just the rain," he replied before Dylan had time to regret opening his mouth. "I can't stand its constant drumming."

The young man found himself a little surprised as well, but... yes. Even with the boarded-up windows muffling most sounds from outside, he could still hear the rain pouring down. It must've been coming down in sheets that night.

And really, he thought, it must've been difficult for the silver-haired monster to ignore a sound like that, with the absurd hearing he possessed.

It was a strange thought. Strange to think that the very ability that allowed his jailer to hear everything Dylan said and did from any corner of the villa—stealing yet another small fragment of freedom from him—could also cause him discomfort.

But it wasn't the first strange thought Dylan had had about Algernon during those last strange nights.

"Do you want to t-turn... the TV on?" he found himself asking before he'd even thought it through.

The chatter from the television might at least partially drown out the sound of the rain, right? And if it helped the vampire relax, that would be a good thing for Dylan too, considering his entire fate depended on the creature's mood.

That was what the young man told himself, as though he needed to justify such a small and simple suggestion.

Algernon glanced toward the old television and seemed to consider it for a moment.

Then he looked back at Dylan with a smile that—for a change—seemed to promise trouble.

"Do you like music?" he asked.

And the young man had the feeling he kinda knew where this was going. More or less. Probably.

Not wanting to commit himself too much, he replied "Music... is a little vague...?"

The first image his mind supplied was that of his jailer sitting at a piano and beginning to play some classical piece.

Yeah, maybe with a white mask covering half his face...

What nonsense.

At the same time, though, he couldn't exactly imagine the vampire pulling out a smartphone and a Bluetooth speaker.

"There's an old record player in the attic," Algernon explained then, wearing the conspiratorial expression of someone about to reveal a great secret. "And a box full of vinyl records."

And that seemed... appropriate. Yes. A reasonable middle ground. Maybe leaning just a little toward the vintage side.

Besides, the simple idea of placing a record on the turntable, lowering the tonearm, and hearing music—whatever kind of music it might be—fill the villa that was usually so silent, had something incredibly appealing about it.

And apparently his expression betrayed that thought despite himself, because his jailer's smile widened and he suggested "Shall we go look for them?"

He sounded like a child proposing a treasure hunt.

"Mm," the young man replied, lowering his head and trying to appear less eager than he actually was.

So the two of them left the living room and headed upstairs, then into the cramped little space where the wooden ladder leading to the attic was located.

And there they were once more, in the graveyard of abandoned objects where the last traces of a life Dylan had never known had been left behind.

A life belonging to someone Algernon had killed.

That thought would never truly stop making the young man uncomfortable, and even now he couldn't shake the feeling that what they were doing was wrong. Like a kind of theft.

The vampire—who clearly had no such reservations—immediately began looking around with purpose.

And Dylan realized it was the first time they'd come back up here together since his jailer had given him permission to sit there and look out through the one window that hadn't been boarded up. That single small opening through which he could glimpse the outside world and reassure himself that something really existed beyond the villa, which somehow seemed to stand outside of time itself.

"I'll look for the record player. You check those boxes, alright?" Algernon told him, pointing toward the area he wanted him to search.

"A-ah, uhm, y-yes—!" the young man was torn from his thoughts.

So he turned his back on the silver-haired monster and hurried to do as he'd been told, eager to leave both the place and the unpleasant thoughts it stirred in him.

Up there, the sound of the rain was impossible to ignore as it battered the roof relentlessly.

Dylan glanced toward the window as he passed it, but saw only his own distorted reflection and the raindrops sliding down the glass, illuminated by the weak lightbulb hanging from a beam. Beyond that, there was nothing but darkness.

Yes.

Better hurry.

The young man began opening some of the boxes scattered across the floor. The first contained curtains that smelled strongly of mold and were clearly of no use whatsoever to his jailer. The second appeared to contain old photo albums, and he hurriedly closed it again.

Looking around, Dylan's attention was drawn to several smaller boxes stacked on a wooden shelf. He walked over and began checking those instead.

He didn't find what he was looking for on the lower shelves, and he mentally cursed the vampire—whom he could hear moving and rummaging around on the other side of the attic—for never bothering to label anything.

The young man stretched an arm toward the upper shelves. A sharp pain immediately shot through it and he jerked back. That turned out to be a terrible idea: he must've caught himself on a nail protruding from the wood, and the sudden movement drove it deeper into his flesh, tearing it open and drawing a pained sound from him.

Gritting his teeth, Dylan bent his arm and turned it slightly, already worried about what he was going to see.

And sure enough, an ugly, ragged gash ran along his forearm, blood already trickling down toward his elbow. It looked awful.

Suddenly, icy fingers closed around his wrist and gave it a slight tug, forcing him to turn until he found himself face to face with his jailer, who had appeared behind him.

The cry he was about to let out died in his throat when he saw the intensity of Algernon's stare fixed on the wound. His eyes were the same color as the blood flowing from it.

Algernon, who still hadn't fully recovered.

Algernon, who hadn't fed during the last two nights.

Algernon, whose mouth—whose fangs—were now only inches away from his bleeding arm.

Dylan should've apologized. Immediately. No—he probably should've begged for mercy.

But when he tried to force himself to do so, all that escaped his lips was a pathetic whimper.

And then something inexplicable happened.

The vampire's gaze darted up to meet his, and he released Dylan's wrist at once, almost as if he'd burned himself.

A long, strange moment followed.

They stared at each other. Both silent. Both motionless.

Then Algernon... sighed.

"How on earth did you manage that?" he asked with a crooked smile.

And the young man—almost as though he'd suddenly snapped back to himself—quickly pulled his injured arm away and finally managed to stammer "I-I'm s-so—! S-sorry..."

His jailer let out a snort.

"Sorry, you say... you're clumsy, if anything. And to a frankly concerning degree."

But Dylan barely heard the words. His mind could focus on only one detail: the vampire hadn't drunk his blood. Again.

So he gathered every scrap of courage he could find and asked "W-why... don't you want to drink my bl-blood...?"

Algernon looked surprised at first.

Then he frowned, immediately making Dylan wish he'd kept his stupid mouth shut.

"This," his jailer began, glancing toward the forearm Dylan was now holding tightly against his chest, "wasn't intentional... was it?"

"N-no!" the young man hurried to assure him.

"...Good," said the vampire and then he fell silent for a long moment, as though he had nothing more to add.

"I won't drink your blood because you're not food," he explained suddenly, in the tone of someone stating the obvious "Compartmentalization, I think it's called."

Dylan lowered his gaze and pressed his lips together.

That wasn't... enough.

"And... then wh-what am I?" he insisted, forcing himself to meet Algernon's scarlet eyes once more.

At that, the silver-haired bastard actually had the guts to smile at him.

"My clumsy housemate," he replied, amused "And now, how about we go get you patched up?"

An answer that answered nothing, as usual. But this time... the young man couldn't help wondering whether he could simply believe it.

Whether it really could be that simple.

And the desire for it to be hurt far more than the wound on his arm, and frightened him far more than any blood-drinking monster ever could.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, panic response, nausea/vomiting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, you can be angry at me.”

It took Dylan a moment to process those words and — once he did — he jerked his head up sharply, the irritation he’d felt toward his jailer’s relaxed attitude immediately giving way to panic.

Because why would Algernon… say something like that? And so suddenly, on top of it all?

The young man saw a spark of amusement light up the vampire’s gaze at his reaction, his smile widening enough to reveal sharp fangs.

Dylan immediately lowered his eyes again as his stomach clenched, threatening to bring back up what little he’d eaten.

“I-I… I’m n-not ang-angry…” he stammered, trying to focus on the grain of the wooden floorboards beneath him.

“Mh, are you sure?” the Peacekeeper insisted, the amusement clear in his voice. “Not even a little?”

The young man ignored the flicker of irritation that playful tone stirred inside him and shook his head.

“N-no, I… I’m s-sorry…”

What was this supposed to be this time?

Things had finally seemed to regain some semblance of normalcy after the bizarre previous night, and now Algernon was… doing what? Trying to provoke him? Why? Dylan knew his jailer often enjoyed seeing him frightened or confused, but this was the first time he’d tried to make him angry.

Was it just another stupid game, or was the vampire irritated with him for wanting to know what had happened the night before? Maybe admitting he’d been injured by another Peacekeeper had truly wounded his pride.

Or maybe Algernon was testing him. That was the most terrifying possibility to Dylan, because he had no idea what his jailer could possibly still want from him. Was he supposed to prove he was docile?Submissive?

Haven’t I already proven that enough…?

He’d gone as far as offering him his own blood… what else could possibly satisfy the vampire? What else would he be forced to give up in order to—

“Dylan.”

Algernon’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, and the young man instinctively held his breath, squeezing the cookie in his hand so tightly it crumbled apart. He didn’t even notice.

When the silver-haired monster remained silent afterward, Dylan forced himself to look up at him — but his vision was already blurred with tears, and he couldn’t make out the vampire’s expression.

“…I’m being a jerk, aren’t I?” Algernon asked after another beat of silence.

And that was it.

Dylan felt all the anxiety from the previous hours crash down on him at once, and his body reacted immediately. His stomach twisted painfully, and nausea surged violently up his throat.

The young man barely managed to clap a hand over his mouth, scramble to his feet, and lurch toward the kitchen sink. He bent over it and emptied what little remained in his stomach there — mostly bile, which burned his throat and stung his already tear-filled eyes.

He stayed hunched over the sink while another couple of cramps seized his abdomen, though nothing else managed to come up.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Algernon’s pale fingers gripping the kitchen counter right beside him.

Dylan recoiled instinctively — a sound halfway between a sob and a pathetic squeak escaping his lips — while his jailer slowly pushed himself upright.

“I—I’m s-sorry…!” the young man whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself and staggering a step backward.

Despite the tears streaming down his cheeks, he kept his eyes wide open and fixed on the vampire, expecting… he wasn’t even sure what kind of violent reaction.

But the Peacekeeper merely turned his head toward the sink and looked down into it with an unreadable expression, stirring a wave of shame beneath all Dylan’s panic.

“My fault,” Algernon said then, reaching toward the faucet and turning on the water. “I was trying to make you angry, not stress you to this point.”

His voice had lost the amusement from earlier, and his expression looked troubled now too.

But he was still insisting on that damned subject.

The young man tightened his fingers harder around his own arms — almost as though he wanted to dig his nails into his flesh — pressed his lips together, and lowered his gaze. And even he wouldn’t have known where he found the courage for the words that came next.

“…wh-what would be the point?” he asked quietly. “Getting angry… would that change my situation?”

“Not really,” the vampire replied. “But maybe it’d make you feel a little better about it.”

That… wasn’t the answer Dylan had expected.

He stared blankly for a moment before cautiously lifting his head just enough to peek at his jailer through the mess of black hair.

As if noticing, Algernon looked away from the stream of water running from the faucet and turned his attention back to him. He had that focused expression Dylan knew well by now, even if he was still far from understanding the strange thoughts hidden behind it.

“It won’t—” the Peacekeeper began, hesitating briefly as though uncertain which words to use. “Nothing bad will happen if you get angry.”

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, but… that couldn’t possibly be right. Not to Dylan. Why would the monster keeping him prisoner and controlling every aspect of his life make a concession like that?

But by now the young man felt too exhausted to keep trying to unravel the incomprehensible reasons behind his jailer’s behavior.

“…you don’t make any sense,” he murmured.

And those words — for some reason — brought the smile back to Algernon’s face.

“Well, baby steps,” he replied, turning off the water.

That damned, incomprehensible vampire.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At last, Dylan seemed to relax a little. He’d looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown ever since Algernon had returned.

The vampire had expected him to be anxious, of course, but what had left him feeling mildly frustrated was the fact that every attempt he made to ease the tension seemed to have the opposite effect.

Though, really, that wasn’t anything new.

Still, the Peacekeeper couldn’t help wondering whether he was doing something wrong. Wasn’t he behaving normally? If anything, he was making an effort to be even more cheerful and attentive than usual.

And then Dylan had asked about the previous night.

Algernon hadn’t expected that.

He’d assumed the human wouldn’t want to talk about it, considering how undeniably stressful the experience must’ve been for him. And yet, thinking back on it, perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him. It wasn’t the first time his housemate had chosen to know the truth despite clearly being afraid to ask for it.

Uncertainty seemed to be what frightened him most, and Algernon could understand that. He didn’t like being in unclear situations either. That was why he’d tried to make their coexistence as unambiguous as possible.

He’d given Dylan rules, and himself limits.

Don’t hurt him again.

Don't enter his room without permission.

Don’t touch him unless necessary —though he had the feeling he’d subtly crossed that line when he’d asked the other to hug him.

And yet none of it seemed enough to reassure the human.

Probably because he still didn’t trust him. And the pitiful display the Peacekeeper had shown him the previous night certainly hadn’t helped. Even now, despite having fed, his body kept betraying him, working against his efforts to show Dylan that everything was alright now, that everything had returned to order.

And his housemate was far too observant not to notice — especially since it was difficult to justify his sudden reluctance to separate himself from the floor.

Still, Dylan was here with him now — sitting on the cold kitchen tiles — and he’d started eating.

The vampire considered it a small victory.

He watched the young man nibble cautiously at a cookie and had to suppress a laugh, because once again he was reminded of some wild animal, always ready to flee. A creature whose trust had to be earned slowly.

Sometimes it was amusing — like some strange challenge to overcome — but other times it was exhausting. Because Algernon truly didn’t know what else he could do to make the human feel safe aside from establishing clear rules and providing for his needs.

The Peacekeeper found himself wondering what kind of things Dylan must’ve suffered through — even before ending up in the vampires’ clutches — to become so distrustful.

And inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to the scars on his back. Had someone he cared about left them there? Someone he trusted?

The vampire was growing increasingly curious about them, despite having initially dismissed them as none of his business.

But he had the feeling it wasn’t something he could ask Dylan directly about. The human probably wouldn’t want to answer… and would do it anyway. He’d mistake the question for an order, or some sort of threat, or simply feel forced to answer anyway.

He’d be cooperative, but far from happy about it.

Algernon already wasn’t exactly his favorite person, and he didn’t want to give him more reasons to resent him.

Maybe the vampire could… no. What a ridiculous idea. He certainly couldn’t exploit the boss’s resources to dig into the human’s past.

For one thing, if the young man ever found out, he’d undoubtedly take it very badly.

And besides, it’d be impossible to keep her from noticing. And if she grew curious and discovered Dylan existed—

The Peacekeeper felt an icy shiver run through him, almost as if his body had momentarily forgotten it hadn’t suffered from cold in over a century.

Edwina’s words immediately came back to him — about how dangerous humans immune to compulsion were — and suddenly he became certain of one thing: she would kill him without a second thought.

Algernon kept looking at the young man sitting in front of him — fragile as a twig and paler than a vampire — while he ate a cookie in tiny bites as though he feared it might be poisoned.

And imagining him standing in front of her, terrified and with no hope of escape… stirred an emotion in the vampire that he wouldn’t have known how to describe, but it was anything but pleasant.

What brought him back to reality was Dylan’s heartbeat, which — almost as though he’d been able to read the vampire’s thoughts — had begun to speed up. The human had stopped eating and curled in on himself, making himself small enough to look like nothing more than a frightened boy.

Ah.

The vampire quickly recovered the smile that had vanished from his face at some point and tilted his head slightly.

“Oops,” he said, trying to sound cheerful and casual. “Was I staring too much? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The young man gave a small start and immediately lowered his head, trying to hide his face behind his hair.

“N-no…” he murmured.

But Algernon had seen his expression. That look he sometimes had. The look of someone who’d very gladly punch him in the face.

And without even realizing it himself, the Peacekeeper’s smile became somehow more genuine.

“You know, you can be angry at me,” he found himself saying.

And he was glad he had, because the utterly bewildered look Dylan lifted toward him was priceless.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: blood, feeding, violence, murder, predatory behavior

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guided by the voices, Algernon moved a little closer, stopping before the streetlight could illuminate him too clearly.

Two men. And one of them was… a police officer.

The vampire frowned slightly. This wasn’t an ideal situation. A police officer was never good prey: they carried guns, usually traveled in pairs, and, most importantly, their deaths always attracted attention.

But the Peacekeeper was in a hurry tonight. The wound Basil had inflicted had finally stopped bleeding, but it still caused him terrible pain and made it difficult to move the way he wanted. Algernon needed to start healing.

And then there was Dylan.

He was surely anxious — even more than usual — and God only knew what terrible thoughts would go through his head if the vampire left him alone for too long. In fact, unwilling to show himself in such a pitiful state again, the Peacekeeper had left the house as soon as the sun went down, without giving the young man any explanation at all.

Meanwhile, the situation between the two humans was growing tense.

Algernon wasn’t listening to their words, but he could hear the officer’s harsh tone and the civilian’s heartbeat steadily quickening.

They were in an industrial district — mostly deserted at that hour of the night — but if the two of them started making noise and drawing attention, the vampire would have to give up and start hunting all over again.

So he decided to act.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself and slipped forward with long, silent steps, determined to end the matter quickly.

“Excuse me, officer,” he said suddenly, plastering a cordial smile onto his face once he was only a couple of steps away.

He saw the man jolt and whip his head around toward him, instinctively reaching for his gun without drawing it.

Algernon’s eyes began to glow, and he opened his mouth to speak.

He was going to tell him to leave, and then he could feed from the other man in peace. But the latter suddenly made a sharp movement that immediately caught the Peacekeeper’s attention. He’d pulled out a knife.

Distracted by the vampire’s arrival, the officer didn’t notice fast enough.

Not before the civilian grabbed him by the shoulder and drove the knife just beneath his ribcage, angled upward.

A strangled cry escaped the officer, and Algernon instantly lunged toward the other man — sinking his fangs into his throat before he could even understand what was happening and forcing him to let go of the knife’s handle.

The vampire bit deep enough to sever the carotid artery, and his prey’s blood immediately began pouring into his mouth, pumped by the frantic final beats of the man’s heart.

The Peacekeeper drank greedily, trying not to waste a single drop.

For one brief moment he savored the pleasant sensation of warmth returning to his body — of it revitalizing itself — even as his wound flashed with pain while torn flesh struggled to heal from the damage the silver had caused.

Then came a deafening sound. And a sharp, sudden pain in his left leg.

Algernon let his prey’s body — now nearly dead already — collapse to the ground and snapped his head toward the police officer.

The man, sprawled on the pavement, had one hand pressed against his abdomen, the knife’s handle still jutting from it, while the other barely managed to keep the gun aimed at him.

Their eyes met.

The officer let out a terrified sob.

And the vampire… grew irritated.

Because the gunshot would soon attract unwanted attention. Because the stupid human could’ve simply stayed down and kept still. And because the situation was slipping out of his control again.

So he threw himself at the unfortunate officer, grabbing the gun with one hand and the man’s face with the other, crushing his cheeks hard enough to smother the scream trying to escape his lips.

The force of the impact sent the man crashing backward onto the pavement, his head striking the ground as he grunted in pain.

Algernon landed astride him and twisted the gun from his grip with a sharp motion, snapping one of his fingers and forcing him to let go. Another cry of pain muffled against the cold palm of the Peacekeeper’s hand.

The vampire let the weapon drop like a useless toy and turned his attention back to the officer, ready to hurt him.

And then… he saw the terror in his eyes.

Of course, being looked at that way by a human was nothing new. But there was something so strangely familiar and unsettling about that expression that Algernon couldn’t help but stop.

…not like this.

There was no reason to do it this way. The police officer hadn’t done anything to deserve

it. He’d only been trying to do his job.

He’d simply been terribly unlucky.

Only then did the vampire become aware of the tension rigidly locking his muscles in place, and he slowly forced himself to relax.

He stayed silent for another moment — his eyes still fixed on those of his prey — before finally speaking.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, though his tone was slightly tighter than usual. “Today again, you did your duty. Today again, you protected your community.”

And as he said it, he felt a flicker of empathy for that human who, in the end, didn’t perform a job all that different from his own.

“Now you can close your eyes and rest.”

The eerie glow of Algernon’s eyes reflected in the officer’s own, and they slowly grew unfocused as his eyelids began to droop shut.

The vampire released his grip on the man’s face and bent toward his throat. He fed quickly and without hesitation, but stopped himself from draining the body completely, pulling away once he was sure the man’s heart no longer beat.

After that Algernon rose swiftly, reminding himself there was no way nobody had heard the gunshot from earlier.

He retrieved the gun, loaded it, and aimed it at the second human, who’d already been dead for quite some time. The vampire shot him in the throat, then let the gun fall back to the ground.

He picked up the knife instead and used it to slit the officer’s throat, watching one last spray of blood spill out and regretting the waste.

The Peacekeeper tossed the knife aside as well, in the direction of its owner, and without further delay disappeared from the scene, slipping soundlessly into the shadows of the nearest alleyway.

As he walked, he slid one hand beneath his coat to check the state of his wound. It wasn’t exactly fixed, but there’d be no point searching for more prey. His body was already doing its best to heal; the vampire could feel it like a prickling sensation in every stubborn strip of flesh struggling to repair itself.

Now he had to go home.

Go back to Dylan.

If Algernon knew him even a little by now — and at this point he dared believe he did — the more time he stayed away, the deeper the human would spiral into paranoia.

He needed to return and do his best to show him that everything was alright, that the incompetence he’d displayed the previous night had been nothing more than a moment of weakness. It would be terrible to depend on an incapable vampire, wouldn’t it?

And it wasn’t only a sense of duty toward him. The Peacekeeper… wanted to do it. He wanted to reassure the young man.

He knew how much courage it had taken Dylan to hug him. He’d felt the fear in every tense muscle, in every frantic heartbeat.

And the fact that he’d stayed close to him despite that fear somehow felt like something that deserved to be rewarded. Returned? Even Algernon himself wouldn’t have known how to explain it properly.

The vampire dragged a hand over his face and felt the fresh blood still staining it.

…first things first, I need to clean myself up.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, anxiety, unsettling behavior

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light from the fridge made Algernon’s unnatural silver hair gleam. But Dylan wasn’t looking at that. He was watching his back instead, wondering if beneath his clothes his immortal body could really have healed completely.

And yet, the wound on his palm… that had taken days to close. After the incident with the silver ring, the young man had often found his gaze drifting toward his jailer’s hand—even though he really didn’t want to see it—and a couple of times he’d caught sight of the palm still raw and damaged.

But maybe this time was different.

Dylan didn’t have enough information to form a clear idea—he knew that—but it was easier to try and understand how the vampire’s body worked than what went on inside his head.

“So?” Algernon asked, turning toward him.

The young man immediately lowered his gaze and stiffened.

He’d been only half-listening as his jailer cheerfully listed the contents of the fridge, but his stomach was still knotted with anxiety, and nothing had sounded even remotely appealing.

“I’m… not very h-hungry…” he murmured, hoping with all his might he wasn’t about to ruin the vampire’s strange good mood. “S-sorry…”

“Mh~ that won’t do,” Algernon said lightly—though it still made him tense. “If you were to collapse, I wouldn’t quite know how to handle it.”

Dylan didn’t reply. He kept his eyes down at least until he heard the fridge door close.

Only then did he look back at the vampire, who hesitated for a moment before going, “…ah!” and turning toward the pantry.

Algernon opened the wooden door, bent down and— dropped one knee to the floor, quick and a little abrupt. As if his leg had given out.

It wasn’t anything too obvious, but the young man didn’t miss it, and he felt his anxiety spike again as—once more—he questioned the idea that his jailer had already recovered completely.

Meanwhile, the vampire rummaged through the pantry as if nothing had happened. When he turned to glance back at Dylan over his shoulder, he was wearing a triumphant smile. He raised a hand and showed him a round tin, decorated with the name of a fairly well-known brand and an image of assorted biscuits.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Give it a try, hm?”

Dylan—who had no intention of pushing his luck by being difficult—swallowed and simply nodded.

But he really didn’t want to sit at the table, where the silver-haired monster’s gaze always made him feel like a caged hamster while he ate. So he stayed where he was, hesitating.

A long moment of silence followed, during which the young man couldn’t quite suppress the urge to hug himself, lifting one hand to grip his opposite arm.

In the end, Algernon closed the pantry—and instead of standing up, he sat down right there on the floor, cross-legged.

Dylan’s expression must have shown his complete confusion, because the vampire’s grin widened and he simply declared, “Floor picnic,” as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

The young man tightened his grip on his arm, wondering whether it was just a bizarre idea—or whether his jailer wasn’t entirely confident he’d be able to stand back up.

He couldn’t ask that out loud—not without risking bruising the silver-haired monster’s ego. And truthfully, he didn’t even want to know.

So in the end, he simply obeyed, awkwardly sitting down on the floor as well, just over a step away from Algernon. It wasn’t a distance that made him comfortable—but he had no way of putting more space between them without the other noticing. And with the strange mood he was in that night, who knew how he might interpret it.

The vampire lifted the lid off the tin of biscuits and set it down between them.

Dylan hesitantly reached out a hand—far too aware of Algernon’s gaze on him—and picked up a butter biscuit shaped like a spiral.

“Oh, those are rather pretty, aren’t they?” his jailer commented cheerfully. “I wonder how they manage to make them like that.”

“M-mh…” the young man replied, not really knowing what to say.

The situation he found himself in—on the floor, this close—couldn’t help but bring his thoughts back to the night before.

To that strange, terrifying embrace they’d shared.

The discomfort he felt now was different.

Because despite the cheerfulness, Algernon seemed… distant. More than usual.

It reminded him of the night they’d first met, and Dylan found himself realizing that—without even noticing—he’d started to believe that he and the vampire had somehow gotten used to each other.

What an idiot…

The young man pressed his lips together, stubbornly keeping his gaze fixed on the biscuit in his hand, hesitating to bring it to his mouth.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t stand for everything to stay this wrong.

“…uhm—” he began, finally lifting his eyes toward his jailer.

Only to regret it immediately, when Algernon’s gaze seemed to brighten and he asked, “Yeah?”

But it was too late to back out now.

“W-what—” Dylan faltered. “What… happened to you last night…?”

He peeked at him from behind his dark hair—and, to his surprise, saw him hesitate too.

The vampire’s smile faltered, and he looked… troubled?

“…I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it,” his jailer said at last, his tone unusually uncertain, almost as if he were asking a question in return.

The young man was already about to apologize—but that reaction stopped him.

Instead, he did his best to hold Algernon’s gaze, even as his heartbeat started roaring in his ears.

A long moment of silence passed.

Then the vampire’s grin slipped back into place, crooked and irritating, and he said, “Nothing much, really. Just a small skirmish with another Peacekeeper.”

At that, Dylan’s head jerked up slightly “A-another Peacekeeper…?”

It made sense. Who else could’ve left someone like Algernon in that state, if not another vampire who did the same kind of work? But… could Peacekeepers fight each other? Didn’t those infamous vampire rules forbid that?

The silver-haired monster nodded.

“One who doesn’t like me. Can you believe it?” he said, as if amused by the idea.

Right. Completely inexplicable… the young man thought, irritated by the relaxed way his jailer spoke about it.

To him, it seemed… horrible. The fact that two vampires on the same side could simply decide to hurt each other like that—it was horrible.

But maybe it was foolish of him to expect anything different from blood-drinking monsters.

“I’m sorry I took it out on you,” Algernon added lightly.

After a moment of confusion, Dylan remembered having had the impression—the night before—that the vampire had been looking for an excuse to hurt him. The young man lowered his gaze again, feeling a sharp prickle of panic in his chest at the thought.

“…a-are you alright now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

He regretted it immediately. He was certain the vampire would simply say yes. He was certain he would lie.

And he didn’t want that.

“I’m better,” Algernon replied, after a beat of silence.

It was… an evasive answer, yes.

But it wasn’t a lie, right?

Dylan felt a surge of relief that immediately seemed disproportionate—but, for once, he chose not to analyze it too much. At last, he lifted the biscuit in his hand and took a bite.

(I'm back! From yet another new obsession that temporarily took over my brain... but I swear I've landed back to Earth now, and I'll be posting more regularly)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, anxiety, blood, compulsive behavior

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan hadn’t managed to get a wink of sleep for hours, tormented by unanswered questions and by the still slightly surreal thought of Algernon being injured.

The young man would’ve wanted the next night to come faster, just so it would stop tormenting him with its uncertainties. He would’ve wanted to be awake, ready.

But at some point, sleep must’ve gotten the better of him…

—and he woke with a start, the sound of the front door slamming echoing through the villa.

Dylan shot upright in bed, his heart already in his throat, fragments of a nightmare still clinging to his mind. When he realized what had woken him, he couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been asleep—and whether Algernon had just left, or just come back.

And his anxiety only grew.

For a long moment, the young man stayed perfectly still, trying to listen for any other sounds coming from downstairs—but his own heartbeat was too loud to let him hear anything. So—after trying and failing to mentally prepare himself—Dylan slipped out from under the covers and off the bed.

He reached the door of his room, pressed his ear and cheek against the smooth wood, and tried to listen again. Nothing.

Leaving the illusory safety of his room was terrifying, but staying felt like it would drive him insane. So he slowly opened the door—silently begging the old hinges not to creak too loudly—and slipped into the hallway.

It was empty. Silent.

Dylan hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to head toward the attic—to try and figure out how long he’d slept by looking at the sky—or to go downstairs and find out whether Algernon was in the house.

In the end, the idea of the vampire catching him off guard was too frightening. So he cautiously made his way toward the stairs leading down into the entry hall.

Empty there, too.

The young man didn’t have the courage to head toward the library—but he didn’t feel like turning his back on it either, to go searching for his jailer in the living room or the kitchen.

So he tried to take a deep breath and called out, “A-Algernon…?”

Once again, the villa answered him with a heavy silence.

The vampire was gone.

He must’ve gone hunting, just like he’d said.

For a moment, Dylan felt almost relieved at the thought of not having to face his jailer just yet—

but then he saw it.

His body reacted first, freezing before he even reached the last step. His mind lagged behind—and before it could catch up with the events of the previous night, the first absurd explanation it offered was that a large black hole had somehow opened in the floor.

But no. It wasn’t a hole.

And—despite the dim light in the hall—it wasn’t black.

It was the scarlet stain.

The one left by Algernon’s blood.

The young man felt his heart drop into his stomach, his brief relief vanishing instantly. The inevitable moment had only been delayed—and that stain seemed to be there just to remind him of it.

He wanted to look away.

But something stopped him.

And suddenly, another disturbing detail from the previous night resurfaced in his mind. The blood on his shirt that hadn’t dried. And all at once, the stain seemed… different.

Even more terrifying.

The hairs on the back of Dylan’s neck stood on end.

He didn’t want to do this.

But he had to.

He had to, if he wanted to understand… something. At least one single damn thing about the horrifying world he’d been dragged into.

So the young man forced himself down that last step. He walked barefoot across the carpet despite the intense discomfort it caused him, and stopped at the edge of the red stain. There, he tried to kneel slowly—but his legs trembled and gave out at the last moment, making him drop onto his knees a little harder than he’d intended.

He tried to take a deep breath. To empty his mind of the dark images that the sight of all that blood stirred up.

And finally, he reached out a hand.

When his trembling fingers touched the stain, he had to tense every muscle in his body to keep from recoiling immediately.

It was still wet.

As if Algernon had gotten up from there just moments ago.

Dylan frowned, desperately trying to understand what it could mean.

He pulled his hand back—and when he saw the blood smeared across his fingertips, he instinctively clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it against his chest, as if he’d just burned himself.

For a long moment, he remained there on his knees, hunched over, staring at the red stain as he tried to connect the pieces.

Algernon’s blood didn’t dry.

And it didn’t turn to ash.

Why?

The only difference between him and the

vampires he hunted was—

…he’s the one who survives the encounter.

So… was that how it worked?

Vampires’ blood only turned to ash when they died?

It made a kind of sense—in a situation where nothing truly did. But there was something deeply unsettling about it, something that sent a shiver down the young man’s spine and pushed him back to his feet, anxious to go wash his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the hours that followed, there was no sign of Algernon.

Dylan tried not to give in to the anxiety. He forced himself to stick to what had become his routine: he watched some television, then tried to find some small task to keep himself busy—though, as usual, the villa didn’t offer many—then picked up a book.

But no matter what he did, he couldn’t calm down. He couldn’t keep the dark thoughts out of his head. And so, the young man kept finding himself back in the entry hall…

checking the stain on the carpet.

The first time, it happened by accident, as he wandered through the villa looking for dusty corners to clean.

He didn’t touch it. But he stood there, staring at it for a long moment. It was still a vivid red. Still fresh.

He considered trying to wash it away—but quickly dismissed the idea. It was too complicated to clean such a large carpet.

That was the only reason, he told himself.

Later, Dylan returned on purpose—trying to soothe the anxiety that kept growing with each passing hour—and every time, he found it unchanged.

So Algernon was… fine, right?

He hadn’t gone off somewhere to die, leaving him alone and trapped in that isolated villa… right?

He would come back.

The only terrifying unknown was what kind of mood he’d be in.

The young man began to feel irritated with himself—with that relentless urge that kept dragging him back to the entry hall to check the bloodstain. But his jailer wasn’t coming back. And he needed something—anything—to hold onto.

Even if it was small.

Even if it was unsettling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan was sitting in front of the television, not really paying attention—more because of the anxiety than the static—when he finally heard the sound of the front door.

He jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and awkwardly made his way toward the doorway.

Then he stopped.

Algernon was there, standing in the entry hall.

And after waiting for him for so long, he almost looked out of place—like Dylan hadn’t truly expected him to come back.

He was… looking at the bloodstain on the carpet.

The young man didn’t have time to read his expression, because the vampire lifted his head almost immediately and turned toward him. When his scarlet eyes landed on him, a wide smile spread across his pale face.

Too wide.

Dylan felt a shiver run up his spine.

“…good,” his jailer said. “I was worried you wouldn’t come out of your room after last night’s little horror show.”

His tone sounded like it always did.

No—maybe even lighter than usual.

That wasn’t… what the young man had expected.

He’d hoped for it.

But he’d never really believed that the events of the previous night could leave no consequences.

Dylan realized he was staring at Algernon without answering—what had he said?—and quickly lowered his gaze. His eyes landed, inevitably, on the bloodstain.

His discomfort spiked instantly.

“…Ah. I really made quite a mess, didn’t I?” the vampire remarked, sounding amused, as if he’d simply broken a vase instead of nearly bleeding out on the carpet.

The young man pressed his lips together, a flicker of irritation pushing through the anxiety and confusion. He told himself he should be grateful for the vampire’s good mood—but it was infuriating to see him so calm when he himself had spent hours being torn apart by paranoia.

It felt unfair.

Right. As if fairness matters in the slightest...

“Have you eaten?” his jailer asked suddenly, making him flinch.

He hadn’t.

He’d thought about it, but the tension of waiting for Algernon’s return had twisted his stomach, and Dylan had been fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down.

He opened his mouth to answer—

but the thought that the vampire had definitely fed, to recover so quickly, struck him, and his lips pressed shut again. He simply shook his head.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that!” Algernon replied, with unsettling enthusiasm. “Let’s see what the kitchen has to offer, hm?”

After a moment of hesitation, the young man nodded— realizing, with horror, that this night was turning out even stranger than the last.

(I'm impatient to get back to those two interacting, but if you guys are interested, I could do a little 38.5 chapter about Al's hunt)

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, anxiety, blood, panic attack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan made it upstairs and had to stop.

His chest felt tight, like something was pressing down on it. He struggled to draw in a full breath, and his legs were trembling. Now that he was alone, there was no reason to hold it in anymore — even if he would’ve preferred to make it to his room.

So he wrapped his arms around himself, leaned a shoulder against the wall, and slowly slid down until he was crouched on the floor.

He closed his eyes.

He regretted it immediately.

The darkness behind his eyelids seemed to bleed into a deep, heavy red, and his mind snapped back to the massive stain on the carpet.

He felt tears slipping down his face, strangely warm against his skin. A shiver ran through him, even though it wasn’t that cold.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t.

He hated this situation. He hated not knowing what to expect.

He’d just left Algernon, and already he regretted it. There wasn’t a single corner of the house where the young man could feel even remotely safe now, knowing the vampire was there. Injured. More unpredictable than usual.

But what was he supposed to do? Curl up at his jailer’s feet and keep watch over him all day?

Impossible.

He hoped Algernon would simply sleep, just like he’d said he would. And yet, at the same time, he was afraid of how he might act when he woke.

There was no solution. There was nothing he could do.

The only thing he could offer — his own blood — had already been refused.

And still, he needed to do something, or he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He pressed a hand to his chest, fingers clutching at his shirt as if he could somehow slow the frantic pounding of his heart by force.

The fabric was wet.

Algernon’s blood, he realized, remembering the stains.

At first, the thought sent a chill down his spine and did nothing to ease the panic clawing at him. But then he realized… it was something he could deal with.

Yes. He could wash blood away.

A small, simple task.

That was what he needed.

So Dylan forced himself to take a deep breath and carefully pushed himself back to his feet, his legs still unsteady beneath him. He started walking again — but instead of heading to his room, he turned toward the bathroom.

He stepped inside, turned on the light, then slowly closed the door, mentally cursing the faint creak of the hinges. He wanted to avoid making even the slightest sound.

This was not the right moment to wake his jailer.

But then he remembered — Algernon was on the other side of the villa. Downstairs. In the room beyond the library. In the armchair beside the red phone.

…the blood.

Right. He was here to wash the blood away. That was what he had to do. Not think about pointless things. Not until he’d calmed down at least a little.

He moved to the sink, pulled off his shirt with trembling hands and — as always — avoided looking at the pale, gaunt figure reflected in the mirror.

Then he turned on the tap.

Cold water.

Better for washing blood out of fabric.

Before starting, Dylan stared at the shirt for a long moment. The stains were still wet. Still a deep, vivid red.

Had so little time really passed?

Shouldn’t they have dried by now?

He tried to push the thought away, along with the unease that came with it, and held the fabric under the steady stream of water. He shivered at the temperature, and suddenly the air in the villa felt colder against his bare torso — especially across the scars on his back, where the skin was more sensitive.

As he watched the blood wash away into the drain — the dark red standing out sharply against the white porcelain — his thoughts drifted back to the vampire.

He wished he could stop them.

Because now more than ever, he felt like he couldn’t make sense of the silver-haired monster.

It was as if he were holding the pieces of a puzzle in his hands. And every single piece was unsettling. And he just couldn’t fit them together.

Algernon, who killed his own kind for a living, yet had apologized to a human — a human he’d spared on a whim and now kept prisoner — for getting blood on him.

Algernon, who lived in that vast villa but slept on a stupid armchair, waiting for the phone to ring, filling the time between assignments with trivial chores as if he had nothing else to do with his endless, immortal existence.

Algernon, who was injured, who clearly needed blood… and hadn’t taken it.

Dylan had offered it — and even now he couldn’t say where he’d found the courage to do so — but Algernon hadn’t taken it.

When he finished washing the blood from his shirt, the young man turned off the tap and gripped the cold, smooth porcelain, both to steady himself and to focus on something real.

Something that wasn’t the painful pressure tightening around his chest.

He closed his eyes.

He thought that he hated Algernon.

Why couldn’t he just be a simple monster? Violent. Cruel.

...it was a lie. Dylan knew it. He didn’t really want Algernon to be cruel. To hurt him.

But he didn’t want him to be… what? Vulnerable? Somewhat sad? Strangely considerate?

A sound slipped out of him, somewhere between a snort and a sob.

Stupid vampire.

He’d messed with his head so badly he couldn’t even understand himself anymore.

(Sorry for the wait, the next chapter will come faster!)

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, injury, blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hard to tell how long they had remained like that, holding each other.

Dylan had almost expected Algernon to brush the hug off as a joke — to tease him for such a useless gesture — but the vampire simply stayed there, still and silent. And so the young man could do nothing but remain there.

At first he had been so self-conscious he had barely dared to breathe. But eventually he felt the fingers on his back loosen their grip, his jailer’s hold growing less rigid, and he found that he could relax a little too.

That was when he noticed.

The first warning came from the unpleasant sensation of something wet and viscous between his fingers. Dylan couldn’t see his own hand — the one resting on Algernon’s back — so his gaze shifted from the vampire’s silver hair to the carpet.

And he froze.

A dark stain had spread across the rug where his jailer had been lying. A huge red stain.

“Al—! —gernon…” Dylan squeaked, nearly choking on the name.

“Mh?” the vampire replied simply, his forehead still resting against Dylan’s shoulder.

There was no way the young man could form a coherent thought, so all he managed to stammer was, “B-blood…”

It was… a lot of blood.

Too much.

Vampire or not, could Algernon really survive a wound like that?

“…ah.”

That was all his jailer said, and Dylan felt his own heartbeat spike again as he became fully aware of his situation once more.

Of the fangs not too far from his neck.

Of his own blood rushing through his veins.

God, it sounded so loud. Loud enough that the silver-haired monster had to hear it too.

The vampire lifted his head from Dylan’s shoulder, slipped free from the strange embrace, and moved back just enough to look at the young man.

And Dylan found himself staring back — too agitated to remember to look away, too anxious to know what would happen now.

He searched Algernon’s face for some hint of what he was thinking and hoped with all his heart that the frown he saw there was only the usual consequence of approaching dawn.

“…sorry,” his jailer said suddenly, catching him completely off guard. “I got blood on you.”

Dylan automatically followed his gaze down to his own shirt — which, yes, was indeed smeared with blood — while something in his mind seemed to jam.

Algernon was… apologizing to him?

For getting blood on him?

The apology sounded wrong and familiar at the same time.

In another moment he might have stopped to think about it. But not now, when panic threatened once again to take over.

“W-what… sh-should I do?” he asked, focusing on the shapes of the bloodstains on his shirt in a desperate attempt to anchor himself to reality in such an absurd situation.

Of course, aside from his own blood he didn’t have much to offer, but—

“You don’t have to do anything,” the vampire said.

The words stirred a strong sense of déjà vu.

And for a moment Dylan thought about leaving him there. After all, it was Algernon. Obviously he didn’t need Dylan’s help.

He could simply go back to his room, try to forget the events of that disturbing night, and the following evening everything would return to normal — if it could even be called normal.

Algernon would go back to being his untouchable jailer again, the source of so many of his fears but also of the few certainties he had left.

Maybe it was the tone the vampire had used, unusually tired and flat even for his daytime version.

Or maybe it was the memory of a boy left alone to tend wounds on his own back that he couldn’t even reach.

Whatever the reason, Dylan heard himself ask, “W-what… can I do?”

He dared lift his gaze toward the Peacekeeper and saw him hesitate with a troubled expression, glancing first at the wound on his chest, then around the entry hall.

When he finally looked back at Dylan, the young man managed to meet his gaze only because he knew his hair hid most of his face.

“…can you help me get to sleep?” Algernon asked.

“Y-yes!” the young man answered quickly, with so much eagerness the word came out a little too high.

He scrambled to his feet awkwardly and bent slightly forward, extending both hands toward the vampire.

For a moment his jailer remained motionless, staring at them as though they were two alien objects.

And Dylan suddenly became painfully aware of how strange the gesture was between them.

At last Algernon brought one hand to his chest — clutching his black coat — and reached out with the other toward Dylan’s. The Peacekeeper pulled himself up mostly with his own strength, and yet the act of helping him still threw the young man off balance, making him stumble slightly.

For a brief moment it was hard to tell who was supporting whom.

The usual Algernon would’ve made fun of me, Dylan thought. But the vampire remained silent, and the young man felt the discomfort of that unusual situation rise again.

Not to mention the sudden spike of uncertainty he felt when he looked toward the stairs. Would he really manage, weak as he was, to help his jailer all the way upstairs? Or was he about to prove himself useless yet again?

As anxiety began to mix with a deep sense of shame, Algernon cut through the thread of his thoughts.

“Through there,” he murmured, giving him a small tug toward the door of the library.

Normally that would’ve confused the young man, but the relief of not having to face the stairs was overwhelming.

The two of them began moving slowly, and somewhat awkwardly.

The vampire leaned against Dylan’s shoulder, and he had no idea what to do with his own hands — he wouldn’t have known how to support his jailer, and he didn’t even dare try. At least having them free allowed him to open the library door.

When he realized Algernon intended to keep going, the young man felt the anxiety rise again and instinctively lowered his gaze.

Because there was only one room they could be heading toward.

When they reached the door wedged between the bookshelves, Dylan felt the vampire’s hand lift from his shoulder. But before he could turn to see what he was doing, he felt his weight shift against his back, and for the briefest instant he thought his jailer had fainted.

Instead Algernon rested his chin on Dylan’s shoulder, stretched out one arm, and slid a key into the lock.

The vampire turned the key.

The young man lowered the handle.

And there it was — the empty room, with only its solitary leather armchair standing guard beside that hateful red telephone.

At that point the Peacekeeper moved past Dylan and took a couple of steps forward, swaying slightly.

The young man remained on the threshold, torn between the urge to help him and the fear of stepping inside that forbidden room.

While he hesitated, Algernon reached the armchair, turned around, and practically let himself fall into it.

Only then did the realization truly settle in Dylan’s mind.

They had reached the destination.

Not a grand master bedroom.

Not a picturesque velvet-lined coffin hidden in the basement.

No.

The armchair beside the telephone.

Somehow, it seemed like the most… wrong thing about that entire wrong night.

“You can go now,” the vampire murmured.

Dylan looked at him. Still fully dressed. Covered in his own blood. His posture slack, his eyelids lowered — though the room was too dark to tell whether his eyes were closed.

In that moment, more than a monster…

he looked like a broken doll.

And it wasn’t terrifying.

And it was terrifying that it wasn’t.

And Dylan just wanted to go hide.

“Mh—!” was all he managed to answer, his lips pressed tight and his chest squeezed in a grip that didn’t feel like fear alone this time. So he hurried to close the door — like a curtain falling on a scene too disturbing to watch — and practically fled.

Can I please be put on the taglist? i would be DEVASTATED if i missed any uploads

AAAAH thank you so much!! I’m so happy you’re enjoying the story!

Just a small note: in this setting vampires are… well, basically corpses 😅 So even if you choose the romantic route, Dylan and Al will never have a “physical” relationship in the usual sense. But they’ll probably find their own quirky ways to cuddle.

I’d be thrilled if this poll got a few comments. You might even sway other readers with solid reasoning.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, power imbalance, voluntary blood offering, Al being a bit more jerkish than usual

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, he saw Algernon emerge from between the trees.

The relief, however, lasted only a second. Even in the dark, Dylan immediately sensed something was wrong: the vampire was moving slowly, hunched in on himself.

As anxiety surged back up, the young man turned on his heel and hurried down from the attic, moving as quickly as his underused, trembling legs would allow. He only slowed when he reached the entry hall.

Algernon was inside the villa now — and, to Dylan’s surprise, lying face-down on the thick carpet.

Dylan instinctively held his breath, though the vampire had obviously already sensed him.

“Dylan,” his jailer called. After a brief pause, he lifted an arm and used it to roll himself over onto his back. “I’m back,” he added.

The young man let out the breath in a shaky exhale and cautiously descended the last short staircase separating them.

The vampire was looking straight at him and smiling. It might have passed for his usual smug smile, if not for the blood staining his cheeks.

Dylan stopped a few feet away — a shiver crawling up his spine — and noticed that Algernon’s dark clothes were soaked in blood.

It was… an unusual sight. Despite the brutal nature of his work, his jailer had always returned in perfect order, looking just as neat as when he'd left. The young man might have found it strange — but he already understood, he'd seen it, that vampires left nothing behind but ash and bones.

The perfect definition of a clean execution.

So his first thought, at the sight of the blood, might've been that it belonged to some unfortunate human — but… judging by his behavior, at least some of it had to be Algernon’s, right?

Algernon was injured.

His terrifying jailer. So dangerous he was feared even by his own kind.

In Dylan’s mind, that simply didn’t make sense.

What could've happened? What would happen now? It was a new situation. Strange. Destabilizing.

The vampire still hadn’t moved from the floor.

Dylan swallowed dryly a few times — trying to force down the panic rising in his throat — before he managed to ask, “T-tough job?”

“Some surprises,” Algernon replied, his smile still perfectly intact.

A few seconds of silence passed between them before the vampire broke it again, his voice carefree. “If you’re thinking about trying something… now’s your chance.”

Dylan’s throat tightened. His heartbeat spiked — and the worst part was knowing that the vampire could hear it.

Algernon closed his eyes, as if he’d simply decided to take a nap right there on the floor. Confident that the young man wouldn’t have the courage — or the means — to hurt him.

The thought sparked a flicker of anger in Dylan, and with it, just enough nerve to take a few more steps forward, stopping at the vampire’s side.

For the first time, maybe, he was looking down at Algernon.

It didn’t make him feel good. It didn’t make him feel safe. It only felt wrong.

What could he even do? Drive a stake through his heart? He had no doubt Algernon could defend himself, even in this state. And besides — then what? He’d never make it out of the forest alone. And even if by some miracle he did, there was no home to return to.

His jailer had to know that. So why would he say something like that?

Does he want… a reason to hurt me?

After a long moment of hesitation, the young man knelt beside the vampire and, with a trembling hand, pulled up his sleeve, baring his thin arm. The skin was marred with scars — the small puncture wounds from the countless needles that had drained him over the past year.

Algernon opened his eyes and stared — actually stared — at the offered arm. For once, he looked truly surprised.

The sharp tips of his fangs peeked out from between his lips, and only then did it occur to Dylan that no vampire had ever bitten him. Despite being used like a blood bag for over a year, he’d never been bitten.

He wondered if it would hurt.

Of course it will hurt.

Algernon had never fed from him. He had never even hurt him — except for the incident with the draughts box.

Dylan thought that maybe, just maybe, if he showed himself to be useful now — submissive — things could continue like this a little longer.

Fear, but no pain.

The vampire smiled again and, in one swift motion, grabbed Dylan’s arm. But instead of sinking his fangs into it, he pushed himself up off the ground and lunged — toward Dylan’s neck.

A strangled sound escaped the young man — he didn’t even have time to brace himself.

But Algernon didn’t bite.

He rested his forehead on Dylan’s shoulder instead, one hand still holding his arm, the other gripping the back of his shirt.

Dylan could feel his heart pounding so hard he was surprised he could still make out the vampire’s voice, even with those terrifying lips so close to his chest.

“Word of advice,” Algernon said, light as ever, “don’t offer something like that to a hungry, injured vampire.”

The young man still thought he was going to die. That the next moment would bring teeth, and then — nothing.

Nothing ever again.

But the moments passed, quietly, until the vampire finally let out a long sigh, his forehead still resting on Dylan’s shoulder.

“If I bit you now, I wouldn’t be able to stop,” he murmured. “But it was sweet of you to offer.”

Dylan had closed his eyes at some point, and now he opened them slowly, glancing down at the vampire’s head, at his impossibly silver hair.

“I-I can… cut myself,” he whispered. Then, trying to explain, “Bleed into… into a glass.”

It was probably a stupid idea. The soft snort against his chest seemed to agree.

“Nah. No need,” Algernon replied. “I’ll get some sleep, and tomorrow night I’ll be strong enough to hunt.”

That should have been comforting. It would have been, if the vampire’s strong hands weren’t still holding him in place.

So the young man stayed quiet and still, hoping Algernon wouldn’t change his mind.

“But right now,” the vampire added, “I think I’d like a hug.”

His tone was sardonic, but somehow… Dylan didn’t think he was joking.

Algernon was a monster among monsters, he thought again — a terribly lonely creature.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Algernon closed the door behind him.

He'd made it. He was safe inside his own house — where the sunlight couldn’t reach him.

The relief was so overwhelming that, for a brief moment, it overpowered his self-control. Before he even realized it, the vampire was sprawled face-down on the carpet.

Ah— how pathetic. It almost made him want to laugh.

He should get up before—

…there he is.

He sensed him long before the sound of bare feet on the stairs. The frantic pounding of his heart gave him away.

Already frightened.

“Dylan,” the vampire said. He lifted one arm, pressed his palm to the floor, and used it to roll onto his back. He had to bite back a groan when the wound on his back — still open, completely untreated — struck the carpet. “I’m back,” he declared.

He smiled at the human as he watched him descend the last few steps leading into the entry hall. He saw him approach, then stop, his heartbeat accelerating again.

Sometimes that heart pounded so violently that Algernon wondered how it didn’t simply burst.

Several long moments of silence passed, during which who knew what dramatic thoughts were running through the young man’s head.

The Peacekeeper thought he should make a joke to lighten the mood — but none came to mind. And he didn’t feel like trying.

Surprisingly, it was Dylan who broke the silence.

“T-tough job?” he asked, in that weak, uncertain tone he always used.

As if the vampire had always been on the verge of attacking him for no reason.

“Some surprises,” Algernon replied, still smiling.

The human’s frightened expression — which sometimes made him want to prod at him just to see him fluster — irritated him now.

What did he have to fear? Hadn’t Algernon promised he wouldn’t hurt him anymore? Hadn’t he kept his word so far?

“If you’re thinking about trying something…” he said, “now’s your chance.” And he closed his eyes, just to drive the point home.

He knew he wouldn’t do it. He was too scared. And too intelligent.

Algernon only wanted to rattle him a little more, since nothing he could have said would have reassured him anyway.

Yeah, truly a terrible temperament.

In the silence that followed, the vampire felt the young man step closer until he stopped beside him.

Oh, come on… was he really going to test his luck? Perhaps Algernon had misjudged him. It wouldn’t have been the first mistake he’d made that night.

But Dylan wasn’t Basil.

He was human. Unarmed. And his body still hadn’t recovered from his long captivity. He wasn’t truly a threat.

So Algernon decided to let him. The Peacekeeper wouldn’t hurt him — he'd promised. And, strictly speaking, he hadn’t set any rule forbidding Dylan from attacking him.

No. He would simply scare him a little.

The silence stretched on, and Algernon found himself genuinely curious. So when he felt the human kneel beside him, he opened his eyes.

Only to find Dylan’s thin, trembling arm extended toward him in silent offering.

This… this he had not expected.

What the hell was the human doing? Probably just trying to survive. By offering his own blood to a vampire.

Ah— what an idiot.

His heart was racing like a rabbit’s, his entire body trembling. He was undoubtedly fighting the instinct to flee. And yet he remained there, motionless, ready to be bitten.

Such an idiot.

A strange sting prickled at Algernon’s nose, and for a second he almost laughed. Instead, he grabbed the offered arm and pushed himself up from the floor.

Using the same momentum, he rested his forehead against Dylan’s left shoulder. He brought his free hand to the young man’s back and curled his fingers into the fabric of his shirt — far too loose for that slender frame.

The young man went rigid. Terrified, without a doubt.

“Word of advice,” the vampire said, feeling his earlier irritation slip away, “don’t offer something like that to a hungry, injured vampire.”

Now he could feel the human’s heartbeat not only in his ears, but through his entire body — as if it were beating inside his own chest.

It was a… nostalgic sensation, somehow.

He couldn’t hold back a long sigh.

“If I bit you now, I wouldn’t be able to stop,” he admitted softly, listening to the blood rushing beneath fabric and skin, through the veins of his foolish housemate. “But it was sweet of you to offer.”

“I-I can… cut myself,” Dylan offered, his voice reduced to a whisper. “Bleed into… into a glass.”

The vampire stifled a half-laugh, pressing his face against the young man’s chest as he imagined him dressed as a waiter, presenting him with a goblet full of blood.

“Nah. No need,” he replied. “I’ll get some sleep, and tomorrow night I’ll be strong enough to hunt.”

Right. Everything was fine. Just a bad night, he told himself. Occupational hazards.

Now he felt like the idiot — for how much he had let the incident with Basil shake him.

“But right now, I think I’d like a hug.”

It was a stupid joke, and he wasn’t even sure how it had slipped out.

And yet, after a moment, he felt Dylan’s hand settle against his back, between his shoulder blades.

A light touch. Trembling. Uncertain.

It probably couldn’t even be called a proper hug. But the vampire realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had received one.

He had no measure for comparison.

He felt silly.

He felt… calm.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: emotional distress, captivity, anxiety, injury / wound

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan was starting to feel anxious. Dawn couldn’t be far off now, and yet Algernon still hadn’t returned.

The young man knew he’d gone out on an assignment. Not that Dylan had asked — he wouldn’t have dared — and of course the vampire never bothered to inform him of his plans, but the night before… the phone had rung. That damned red phone in the empty room, a thing that promised nothing but trouble.

Its jarring ring always seemed to echo through the entire villa, shattering the unreal stillness that wrapped around it. Dylan, who had been in the living room that time, hadn’t caught a single word — not that he’d wanted to eavesdrop, anyway — but he couldn’t help noticing that the call had apparently lasted longer than usual.

After that, he’d thought Algernon would leave right away. Instead, he’d retrieved some maps from who-knew-where and set about studying them with a certain eagerness, as if he were planning a trip rather than an execution.

The following night, he’d left shortly after sunset, and the young man had been grateful to be alone for a while.

The truth was that, after Eddie’s visit, Dylan hadn’t been able to stop thinking.

Thinking about Algernon.

He was… young, apparently — though it felt absurd to Dylan to call young someone who’d been alive for over a century. No, it was probably more accurate to say the vampire had been dead for over a century.

It would’ve been easy to assume that was the reason for his somewhat antiquated lifestyle, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie — far older than he was — had seemed decidedly more up to date. Dylan had come to the conclusion that Algernon simply found modern conveniences useless.

It made sense, didn’t it? He worked when he received an assignment, hunted when he was hungry, and when there was nothing to do, he cleaned the villa. He’d piled up everything he didn’t need in the attic.

The only thing out of place — the only useless thing — was… Dylan.

That thought did nothing but worsen his anxiety, feeding the fear that sooner or later the vampire would grow tired of him and decide to get rid of him.

But at some point, the draughts box had come back to mind.

Despite being broken, Algernon hadn’t thrown it away. And even before Dylan had broken it — hadn’t it been a useless object to him? Did he have anyone to play draughts with? He’d kept the box among all those books he rarely read.

And then — by now it was clear — the silver-haired vampire was a monster even among monsters. Feared and hated by his own kind.

The young man didn’t know exactly what kind of relationship Algernon had with Eddie, but even she feared him, and it had seemed like three nights earlier had been the first time she’d ever stepped into that isolated villa, despite the fact that the two of them had known each other for a very long time.

As terrifying as it still was to realize he’d ended up in the clutches of the most dangerous vampire of all, Dylan had the impression that it made Algernon’s behavior make a little more sense: he’d taken him in out of curiosity, kept him around to stave off boredom.

Didn’t that mean that, deep down, the silver-haired monster found his own existence… empty?

The young man had probably just been projecting. It wasn’t like he could truly imagine what a cold creature like Algernon might feel — assuming he felt anything at all.

And yet the draughts box had kept resurfacing in his thoughts, along with his jailer’s outburst of rage when Dylan had accidentally broken it.

Along with the D carved into the wood.

And somehow, it became difficult to believe that Algernon felt nothing.

Dylan rested his forehead against the glass of the attic window — the vampire had granted him free access to it — and stared out at the dark mass of forest surrounding the villa.

Sure, he knew he didn’t matter nearly as much as the draughts box in his jailer’s eyes, but… he would come back, right?

The young man believed so.

He knew vampires existed, and he was certain that if Algernon truly grew tired of having him around, he wouldn’t abandon him.

He would eliminate him.

It was his job.

Dylan closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of the cold glass against his forehead. He felt truly pathetic and hopeless, standing there and anxiously awaiting the return of the creature who would one day kill him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Algernon stumbled over a root and — at that speed — was hurled forward, hitting the ground hard.

The impact tore a grunt of pain from him, and he stayed there, sprawled on the ground, on a carpet of leaves still damp from the rain.

He was… in pretty bad shape.

He was used to pain, knew he could endure hunger, but for some reason, now it all felt like too much.

He would’ve liked nothing more than to stay there and close his eyes, but that would’ve been a death sentence.

He told himself the villa couldn’t be far now. It would probably have been wiser to find some hole to hide in and recover his strength until the next sunset, but no — he’d chosen to go home.

His home.

He desperately needed to close the door behind him and forget that horrible night.

So he forced himself back to his feet, but he must have moved the wrong way, because he felt the nylon thread pull too tight, digging into the charred edges of the wound in his chest.

He hadn’t managed to stop the bleeding completely. And as for his back — well. There had been nothing he could do about that.

As if that weren’t enough, he could feel dawn approaching now, draining what little strength he had left.

He started walking again, hunched over himself, careful not to tear the makeshift sutures.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

He’d done everything right. He’d done his job.

Basil was a Peacekeeper too — he should have known that even if Algernon had backed out that time, someone else would simply have been sent in his place.

And yet, that hadn’t stopped the red-haired vampire from hating him.

Hadn’t stopped him from hurting him.

During an assignment.

Algernon didn’t need friends, but if he couldn’t even trust his back to other Peacekeepers…

A sudden noise made the vampire whirl around just in time to see an owl taking flight from a branch. Algernon grimaced and continued on his way.

This wasn’t good. He didn’t feel like himself.

He felt vulnerable.

He was vulnerable, like this.

And dawn was getting closer and closer.

At last, the dark outline of the villa emerged from among the trees — a promise of safety and control. But when he dragged himself up to the door, a detail he’d forgotten came back to him.

Dylan.

There was a human in his house now. And seeing him arrive covered in blood would undoubtedly terrify him.

Smile, smile, the vampire told himself, lifting a hand to his face and forcing his muscles to relax — tense with pain and stiffening further as sleep crept closer.

And as he used cold, blood-smeared fingers to push the corners of his mouth upward, he felt irritation stir. Because apparently, despite the pain clawing at him, he also had to make an effort not to look too frightening.

It was ridiculous.

And pointless.

No matter what he did — or didn’t do — Dylan always looked at him with that same scared expression.

Ah— Algernon just wanted to be alone as soon as possible.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: graphic violence, stabbing / impalement, blood and injury, physical pain, hurt no comfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Algernon reached a crossroads, paused for a moment to read the signs, then turned left. He arrived at the meeting point without any trouble.

The sky was heavy — not a single star managing to peek through the clouds — and the streets were still littered with puddles, though it had stopped raining a while ago. The vampire was grateful for that: he had never liked the rain much.

Tonight’s assignment was going to be a demanding one, he reflected as he waited, and clearly the boss hadn’t wanted to risk any unforeseen complications. He found himself idly wondering who else had been sent, but immediately dismissed the thought.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was doing a good job.

And, if possible, finishing before dawn, because having to find some shelter to wait out daylight was always a nuisance. Besides, he hadn’t stayed out during the day even once since Dylan had started living with him.

Ah — he probably should’ve warned him about that possibility.

Maybe the human would’ve appreciated a bit of solitude, considering he’d seemed even more uneasy than usual over the past couple of days. But being left alone without warning or explanation would definitely have unsettled him.

The vampire could only hope that — if it came to that — Dylan wouldn’t be too afraid to eat, or anything like that.

Algernon turned his head slightly toward the figure approaching him.

Broad-shouldered and tall, with blood-red hair cascading past his shoulders. A bass case hung at his side.

…fantastic.

“Basil,” said the silver-haired vampire, fixing a polite smile on his face.

The other man didn’t bother returning it.

“Well, would you look at that,” he replied, his sneer making his disdain abundantly clear. “So there are jobs even you can’t handle on your own.”

Algernon felt a muscle twitch along his jaw, his smile tightening further as he bit back any sharp retort before it could slip past his lips. Basil would be a pain in the ass no matter what, but there was still no reason to provoke him.

Especially not when work was involved.

“We’d better get moving,” he said instead, turning his back on the other vampire and starting off.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Basil snarled — but followed him nonetheless.

Algernon sighed as he pulled out the nylon wire and began winding it around his fingers. Basil wasn’t… exactly his number-one fan, but he knew his stuff.

He told himself that his presence would make the job easier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last target was running, but Algernon was right on his heels.

The fugitive was already severely wounded. All Algernon had to do was close the distance, decapitate him, and that would be it. Job done.

That was when Basil stepped into the target’s path, silver sword in hand.

With his massive build, the red-haired Peacekeeper took up most of the tunnel — and could easily block whatever space remained thanks to the reach of his weapon. The other vampire was forced to halt his run.

The perfect opening.

Algernon swiftly slipped the noose around his neck.

But this time he wasn’t dealing with a fledgling, so he wasn’t overly surprised when the vampire spun around to face him. What did impress him was how quickly the target raised both hands, bringing his wrists up to his throat.

The Peacekeeper yanked hard on the nylon wire, but failed to sever both head and hands in one clean motion. The other vampire let out a sound halfway between a snarl and a strangled scream.

Damn it, thought the silver-haired vampire as the wire bit into his fingers.

With both hands now pinned, the target tried to kick him — but they were too close. Instead, he lost his balance and fell backward, dragging his attacker down with him.

Algernon landed on his knees atop him and, ignoring the pain in his fingers, kept trying to tighten the noose.

“Bloodhounds… bastards…” the other vampire rasped.

Just a little more.

The Peacekeeper’s mind registered the detail of Basil’s boots planting themselves on either side of the target’s head, but he pushed the thought aside — focused on the task at hand.

Then came the pain.

A fierce, searing pain that tore through his chest and seemed to set every nerve in his body ablaze.

Algernon — without loosening his grip on the nylon — lowered his gaze just enough to see the long, straight blade protruding from his chest, buried deep into the body beneath him.

Still unable to fully process what was happening, the silver-haired Peacekeeper turned his head in a jerky, unsteady motion. He caught sight of scarlet hair falling close to his face.

“What—” he said, his own blood spilling from his mouth the moment he parted his lips. “…are you… doing?”

“Hm? My job,” Basil replied, his voice only inches from his head. “I pinned the target, didn’t I?”

The target?

What the hell was he talking about?

He already had the target.

“Y-you… pull it o-out…”

It burned. It burned like madness. Like being impaled by red-hot iron that, instead of cooling, only grew hotter and hotter.

“…hey, he’s going feral,” the other Peacekeeper commented, ignoring him. “You gonna let that happen?”

It took Algernon a few seconds to understand what he meant. Then he looked back down at the vampire beneath him.

He had started snarling, a guttural, gurgling sound that — more than hearing it with his ears — the silver-haired vampire felt vibrating through the blade that skewered them both.

“Hurry up. Finish the job.”

As if to drive the point home, Basil twisted the sword in his flesh.

“—gh—ahh—!” Algernon cried out as a fresh wave of pain tore through him.

Another surge of blood flooded his mouth and splattered across the target’s face.

The job. Finish the job.

Yes. That was what he had to do.

Algernon tried to tighten the nylon noose, but he could feel his strength ebbing away. The vampire beneath him began struggling with renewed force, making the silver blade shift.

“Nnngh!” the silver-haired Peacekeeper groaned, grimacing.

“It shouldn’t be difficult, for you,” Basil went on, his icy voice now little more than a distant echo to Algernon. The burning was so intense it seemed to assault all five of his senses at once.

Meanwhile, the target was baring his fangs; his nails were growing into claws, his hair slowly lengthening as well. He was becoming more and more bestial.

Even with his mind clouded by pain, the silver-haired vampire knew this was bad.

Very bad.

So he tried to ignore the sensation of his entire body being set on fire and pulled on the wire — pulled with all the strength he had left.

He felt the nylon cut deeper into his opponent’s flesh, as well as into his own fingers. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony wrought by the silver sword.

“Come on. Aren’t you the best of all of us?” Basil taunted, twisting the blade yet again.

Algernon clenched his teeth so hard he felt them creak, as if they were about to shatter.

Burn, burn, burn—

Focus!

—burn, burn—

The nylon dug into the other vampire’s wrists until it reached bone, but he only thrashed more violently.

—burn, burn, bur—

FOCUS.

And then, instead of his own thoughts, the silver-haired Peacekeeper seemed to hear a woman’s voice.

Cold.

Unyielding.

Familiar.

He stopped pulling the wire, went still for a heartbeat… and then loosened his grip.

The vampire beneath him immediately surged upward, ready to bite.

But Algernon tightened his fingers again — slick with blood now — and gave one sharp, decisive yank.

In a single motion, both hands and the head tore free from the rest of the body, with the sickening crack of a snapping branch.

The vampire’s furious eyes barely had time to go blank before he turned to ash, leaving behind nothing but a skeleton in shredded clothes. The head — now just a skull — rolled away.

Before the Peacekeeper could feel even a flicker of relief, he felt the silver sword being wrenched from his body with enough force to shatter the ribs of the corpse beneath him. Algernon’s body was hauled upward by the blade sliding free of his charred flesh, then he collapsed forward with a groan, bracing his injured hands against the ground.

His vision flickered. He waited a moment, until he managed to focus on the sight of his own blood soaking into the target’s ashes — a dark stain spreading outward.

Only then did he turn his head just enough to look at Basil, who was already sliding the sword back into the bass case.

“W-why…?” was all he managed to ask.

The red-haired vampire met his gaze, his face twisted into something that went beyond disdain. Hatred.

“You’ve got a fucking nerve, asking me that.”

Algernon bared his teeth — from pain as much as from rage — but Basil didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest.

“You’d better clean up this mess,” he said, turning his back on him. “You wouldn’t want to leave traces.”

And without another word, he walked off down the tunnel.

The silver-haired vampire waited until he was out of sight, and then until the echo of his footsteps had faded away as well.

Only then did he force himself up onto his knees.

His body swayed, his vision flickered again, more blood rose in his mouth and he spat it out. He brought a trembling hand to his chest and carefully touched the charred edges of the wound.

He felt blood running between his fingers.

And down his stomach.

And along his back.

It was going to be difficult to make it home before dawn.

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: captivity, emotional distress

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The visit from Eddie, and the commotion she had caused, had left Dylan completely exhausted. There were still several hours to go before dawn, and yet he was already struggling to focus on what he was reading.

The young man lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t want to go to sleep too early. It was frustrating enough how little autonomy his body had, how much rest it required. And that was despite the fact that—aside from a bit of light housework—Dylan didn’t actually do anything physically demanding. His mind, too, seemed to tire with incredible speed, though maybe that was only because of the terrible thoughts crowding it.

Or maybe it’s my mind that’s atrophied the most, after a year of “immobility”

And then there were the nightmares. They weren’t new to him, not really, but lately the dark settings of his childhood had begun to blend with vague memories of his captivity.

Voices, most of all. Different voices that at first all shared the same sickly-sweet tone, only to grow colder and more indifferent with time. The sensation of a dull ache throughout his body. The desperate need to stretch his legs, and the impossibility of doing so. The bars of the cage, peeking out from every corner of his dreams, as though they had always been hidden behind the pale yellow walls of the house where he had grown up.

And then there was this recurring scene, where he would absentmindedly observe the small circular scars on the inside of his arms and try to see constellations in them. But he would realize he couldn’t remember them. He would realize he couldn’t remember anything.

That was usually when he woke with a start, trembling and drenched in sweat, panic still throbbing through his entire body.

“Dylan,” Algernon called, and the young man startled more violently than usual.

The two of them hadn’t exchanged many words since Eddie had left. After Dylan had broken down on the floor, crying like a poor idiot, the vampire had asked if he needed a hand—but he already felt miserable enough, so he had shaken his head.

The other had answered with a simple hum, had stepped closer—making him freeze in fear—and then had moved past him, returning to the living room.

It had taken Dylan a while to stop crying. And then he had stayed there on the rug a bit longer, as the relief of still being in one piece slowly gave way to anxiety and shame at having once again proven himself a nuisance to his jailer.

In the end, what gave him the courage to get back on his feet and join the vampire in the living room was the need to cling to routine. He needed some kind of reassurance that—just as Algernon had said—nothing had changed.

He found the other comfortably seated with his legs stretched out, feet resting on the coffee table, absorbed in a book. Maybe he was immersed in his reading. Or maybe he was, deep down, genuinely annoyed with him, because he didn’t acknowledge his presence at all.

Maybe for now that was for the best, Dylan told himself. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation.

So he gathered his courage, sat down at the opposite end of the couch, and went back to reading the adventure novel he had closed when the two vampires arrived.

Now Algernon was holding his book against his chest, watching the young man with an unreadable expression.

“Y-yes…?” Dylan stammered.

“Do you like coffee?” the vampire asked, and Dylan froze.

“Coffee?” he repeated, as though he’d forgotten what it was.

“Coffee,” his jailer echoed, smiling, amused by his confusion.

No, he’d never liked it much. Too bitter. But now the thought of it brought with it the image of the sun rising, of something warm between his fingers, of a domestic—normal—scene. And suddenly, he really wanted to smell coffee.

“I… I like it,” he murmured, cautiously studying Algernon. That was… an offer, right? As unpredictable as the vampire could be, he wouldn’t ask a question like that out of the blue without a reason.

…Right?

Algernon’s smile widened.

“Alright,” he said simply. He abandoned his book on the arm of the couch and got up, leaving the room.

Dylan hesitated. The vampire hadn’t asked him to follow, but he hadn’t told him to wait either. The young man pressed his lips together, wondering which option would seem more natural in that situation. He was fairly sure his jailer had gone to make him coffee, but it felt presumptuous to assume it. And staying there to find out whether he was right would only make him more uncomfortable.

So he stood up as well and left the living room on unsteady steps. He brought the book with him. Simply because holding something in his hands was a good way to keep himself from wrapping his arms around his body.

He crossed the dining room without needing to turn on the light, guided by the glow coming from the open kitchen door. When he stepped inside, he found Algernon with his back to him, busy setting a small pot of water on the stove. And the young man thought that the scene really could have looked domestic and normal.

If only the one making the coffee hadn’t been a monster who fed on human blood. If only Dylan had been a guest, and not a prisoner.

“Sit,” the vampire said, having heard him arrive. Having obviously heard him arrive.

He obeyed automatically, sitting down at the kitchen table, even though by now he knew his jailer well enough to understand—at least with the rational part of his mind—that it hadn’t been meant as a real order.

He stayed silent, watching Algernon out of the corner of his eye as he set a glass coffee maker and a jar of ground coffee on the counter. The vampire began tapping his fingers against the surface in a gesture that seemed impatient while he waited for the water to heat, and the young man couldn’t help thinking it must be a nuisance for him to make coffee he wouldn’t even be able to drink.

Maybe he should've told him he didn’t like coffee after all.

“Do you think I should wait for it to boil?” Algernon asked suddenly.

“I-I’m n-not s-sure… I’m s-sorry,” Dylan replied, lowering his gaze to the book in his hands.

“Hm. Trial and error, I suppose,” the vampire commented, turning off the burner. His tone was cheerful. He did always seem to enjoy performing small tasks like that—human things.

It’s probably just the novelty, the young man thought, and tried not to dwell on it long enough for it to turn dark. He tried not to think about Eddie calling him Algernon’s toy.

He looked back at his jailer as he added the coffee to the press—little by little, as if unsure about the amount. Then he poured in the hot water, stirred, and replaced the lid.

They waited again.

Algernon picked up the coffee jar and began idly reading the label. After a moment, he said, “Eddie brought it. The coffee.”

Dylan shifted slightly in his chair, as if it had suddenly become uncomfortable.

“So forgive her if she was rude, alright?” the vampire added, still with his back turned as he retrieved a cup from one of the cabinets.

“…M-mh,” the young man replied, a little surprised by the request. It wasn’t as though his opinion of the woman mattered in any way. Still, something occurred to him, and—as he watched Algernon slowly press down the plunger—he thought that maybe there was no harm in saying it out loud. It was easier to talk to the vampire when he wasn’t fixing him with those scarlet eyes.

“S-somehow… she re-resembles you. In her m-mannerisms, I mean.”

Algernon turned to look at him, appearing surprised.

Dylan immediately regretted giving voice to his thoughts. “I-I’m s-sorry, I’m p-probably wrong…” he rushed to backtrack, lowering his gaze to the book and gripping it more tightly.

He heard his jailer chuckle.

“No. But honestly, I think it’s me who resembles her,” he said. “I must have picked up some of her habits, when we worked together.”

Those words made the young man’s head snap up. “Sh-she’s a p-peacekeeper too…?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“She was,” the vampire replied, as though it were a trivial detail.

But it wasn’t, to Dylan.

He thought back to Eddie’s behavior, to the subtle caution with which she treated Algernon, to her reaction when he had reprimanded her. He had assumed her fear came from the role the silver-haired vampire held—but if she herself had once been a peacekeeper…

“Milk or sugar?” his jailer asked.

Dylan kept staring at his back, wondering what kind of monster he was—one who could make coffee for him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and yet inspire fear in those who were supposed to be his equals with nothing more than a word, a slight shift in mood.

Algernon turned to look at him, and the young man flinched, quickly averting his gaze.

“M-milk, please…” he stammered, feeling a knot form in his throat.

(In the next chapter someone might get sliiiiightly hurt)

(feel free to ask if you want to be tagged)

Dylan & Algernon Masterlist

CW: captivity, emotional distress, fear, mention of murder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan reached the door and hesitated there. Because—even though he obviously wasn’t trying to escape—just touching the handle felt like breaking the rules, like doing something he could be punished for. He could hear the two vampires talking just beyond the door, so he hugged Eddie’s sunglasses to his chest, gathered his courage, and decided to knock to get their attention.

But before he could, he realized they were talking about him—and froze again. He couldn’t stop himself from listening as the woman spoke about another human being, immune like him, even though a small voice in his head whispered that this was a terrible idea. He really should have listened to that voice.

“I killed him,” Eddie said, with a calmness no one should ever use for a sentence like that.

And just like that, Dylan’s fragile little world cracked—and shattered under the weight of those words. His blood began roaring in his ears, the room seemed to tilt, and the front door—which already frightened him on a normal day—was now terrifying. Because behind those wooden panels was the end of everything.

And before the young man could even begin to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, the door opened and Algernon stepped back inside—surely ready, at last, to do what he had only postponed so far out of sheer whim.

Dylan staggered back a couple of steps, instinct screaming at him to run while reason told him he had no chance. Not in a house with bricked-up windows. Not in his current physical condition, still far from ideal. And most of all—not with the silver-haired monster after him.

“You heard something unpleasant, didn’t you?” the vampire asked, closing the door behind him. “P-please…” the young man said, fear tightening around his throat like a noose. “D-don’t—!” Kill me. He couldn’t make himself say the last words.

He just wanted to go back—to a moment earlier, in the living room, when for a brief instant Algernon had seemed less… monstrous. Or to skip ahead. To spare himself the terror and the pain and jump straight to the ending. To oblivion.

The vampire took a step toward him, and Dylan took one back. He saw his jailer slip his hands into his pockets, and immediately an image surfaced in his mind: a spool of nylon wire. Then the memory of Algernon tearing a head off without effort, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was how he was going to do it this time too. To him too.

The vampire remained silent, watching him with that look he sometimes had—the look of someone wondering how to deal with a problem.

And Dylan could no longer bear the agony of waiting in silence. He clutched Eddie’s sunglasses to his chest and tried to swallow the sobs climbing up his throat. “I-I’ll do a-anything, just—” he begged, dropping his gaze to the carpet, searching for a shadow—some tiny scrap—of comfort in its now-familiar pattern. “J-just… have mercy…”

Once again, the young man surprised himself with how intensely he didn’t want to die. But then again, it was always like this. During the day, in the long waking stretches between one nightmare and the next, Dylan often came to the conclusion that a quick, painless death—the kind Algernon had promised him—would be preferable to this suffocating captivity. But when, at dusk, the vampire appeared at his bedroom door, his survival instinct always won. Resignation was swept away, and once more he found himself tiptoeing around the silver-haired monster.

God, right now he would have done anything just for the promise of getting to live one more fucking day.

“But you don’t have to do anything, remember?”

The young man stiffened at those words. The tone they were spoken in almost sounded… gentle? His thoughts began to race, nearly as fast as the frantic pounding of his heart. Algernon wasn’t… trying to use his powers on him, right? Why would he? Was he looking for one last confirmation before following Eddie’s suggestion?

Dylan hesitantly lifted his gaze to his jailer. But no—his eyes didn’t have that sinister gleam they supposedly took on when a vampire used the compulsion.

The vampire was simply standing there—the door behind him framing him like the subject of a painting—with that damned, unreadable smile etched onto his face. Because to him, this was all just a joke. It wasn’t his life hanging by a thread.

Dylan wanted to scream. And cry. And hide.

“You chose to live, and here you are,” Algernon went on with a shrug, his tone light, more like himself. He tilted his head slightly and asked, “Changed your mind?”

“No!” the young man heard himself snap back, before his brain had even fully processed the question.

The vampire’s smile widened. “Good. Then nothing’s changed.”

Dylan pressed his lips together and felt them tremble. He wanted to believe it—he really did want to believe this had just been another night like all the others—but Eddie’s words kept echoing in his head. Because they made sense, didn’t they? From a vampire’s point of view. At least, from what little Dylan had managed to understand about them by now. Dylan was a problem. And Algernon’s job was to eliminate problems.

When the silver-haired monster finally grew tired of their ridiculous game of coexistence, of Dylan’s far-from-lively company, the only reasonable ending would be—

“Dylan.”

The vampire saying his name made him flinch, his fingers instantly loosening their grip around the sunglasses he hadn’t even realized he was clutching almost hard enough to break.

“You can relax,” Algernon continued when the young man dared to meet his gaze. He was still smiling.

Dylan’s lips trembled again, and he wasn’t quick enough to stop the words that slipped out. “…as long as I follow the rules.” He had never dared use such a sharp tone with his jailer, and he regretted it instantly.

He shuddered and quickly dropped his gaze to the carpet, before he could see anger paint itself across the vampire’s face.

Algernon sighed. Dylan stayed perfectly still, holding his breath, waiting in silent agony.

“We all have rules to follow,” the other said eventually. “That’s what separates us from beasts, isn’t it?”

There was something sinister about those words, but because his tone was as light as ever, the young man dared to glance up at his face. He dropped his gaze again immediately when their eyes met.

“Speaking of rules,” the vampire went on, a new spark of amusement in his voice that sent a shiver crawling up the young man’s spine, “I think we should add one.”

Oh, no. What the hell had he come up with now? Dylan tried to remember what he might have done wrong. Maybe he’d been disrespectful to Eddie. Or maybe he shouldn’t have asked Algernon about his age. Ah—his head was starting to pound, his stomach churned. He just wanted this conversation to be over.

“W-what… what rule?” he asked uncertainly, peeking at his jailer from behind his black hair, since he didn’t seem inclined to continue without prompting.

Algernon took a step toward him—slow, measured—and the young man wanted to step back again, but this time his legs shook and refused to move.

The vampire’s smile widened even more, and it might have seemed innocent, if not for the sharp fangs that showed as he opened his mouth to speak. “No more unexpected guests.”

Dylan was completely caught off guard, unable to form a single coherent thought, let alone words.

His jailer pulled one hand from his pocket, making him flinch—but only raised it to scratch the back of his head. “I shouldn’t have brought Eddie here without warning you,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the sunglasses in Dylan’s fingers, “I thought it might have been fun, but… you don’t seem to have enjoyed it.”

“I-I’m sorry…” the young man murmured, still struggling to keep up with the strange turn the conversation had taken. But one thing was becoming clear: no—Algernon wasn’t about to hurt him.

“That’s my line,” the vampire shot back, his grin starting to tilt to one side like a crooked sign.

Relief crashed over Dylan like a wave, and his legs finally gave out. He found himself on his knees on the carpet without even realizing it. His face burned, and he dropped his gaze, curling in on himself, the sunglasses still clutched to his chest. “Ah—s-sorry—I’m… I’m s-so sorry—!” he stammered miserably.

There was a moment of silence. Then the sound of Algernon chuckling. “Sorry boy,” he commented.

…jerk, the young man thought, his eyes filling with tears—and whether they were from frustration, relief, or something else entirely, he no longer knew.