Remmick’s POV

Remmick was drinking your blood.

Remmick was drinking your blood.

And boy was he glad he gave a warning earlier despite the embarrassment, because Remmick truly could not. stop.

He was aware he was making noises, grunting from the effort it was taking him to swallow as fast as possible. From time to time moaning at the taste his tongue was chasing. His spit mixing with the mess on your neck, squelching. It was a symphony of feeding, the harmony of feeling full for once, of feeling alive. 

He had tried to be gentle, he had tried to be polite, but once your heartbeat went quiet, once your head fell back with no strength holding it in place… well whatever strength he had to keep composure left him quickly.

There were no polite words to describe the scene anymore, Remmick was devouring you, and the only thought he could formulate was that he was right, your blood was special. He’d never felt this good, this insatiable while feeding before.

The first time he didn't drink you dry, the first time he’d ignored the euphoria that rushed him, chalked it up to not having fed in a while, and he’d simply assumed it was a new day with a new outlook. No. No this was special, this was real, this was him feeling the endorphins tingling from his chest to his brain with every swallow, every suck for more of you.

Which brought him to the harrowing realization, he was running out. He had fed enough, he felt full in a way he usually didn’t. Being a vampire was about never being fully satisfied, never feeling enough warmth, never feeling enough like a live person. Your blood changed that, your blood made him feel… human. And he was running out of it.

Remmick whined a whine high pitched enough he was glad no one was around to hear it. He swallowed the last bits he could and proceeded to once again lick all around your neck for the tiny amount left he’d spilled. He felt like an animal, never understanding well enough the word ‘bloodlust’ before. 

There was something going on in his belly, rising up to his chest and to his head slowly but surely. It was something he thought he’d never feel again and yet here he was, frozen, stunned, letting the feeling pass all over him, even his toes tingling with it. Heat.

Remmick could feel the warmth of the sun inside of him, spreading around letting him stop feeling well, dead, for once. He was alive, and he wasn’t starving, he wasn’t desperate for something to stop this coldness inside him, to let him in to pretend for a few hours he was different to what he was, no, he was a vampire, but he was satiated.

Remmick stood there holding your dead body, stunned. He looked down at you and gratitude surged from his chest, you’d given him more than the gift of trust, you’d given him a reason to keep going, a reason to stick around for that had nothing to do with music, you’d given him an internal sun, and he wasn’t letting go of it or you any time soon.

Your POV

You wake up with a sore neck.

Once a bit more awake, you’re grateful that’s all you wake up to, hell you’re simply grateful you wake up at all.

You’re laying down in the blanket from earlier, it’s a bit stained now but then again, so are you. Your neck is stiff, there’s something dried on it that makes it uncomfortable to move it but you do it anyways, anything to make sure it's working correctly and healed in the right way.

You’re alone. You feel a pang in your chest at the realization. For a second you’re upset and more than a bit angry, when the sunlight on your skin makes you realise exactly why your companion isn’t here with you. You go to raise a hand to rub at your eyes when you notice a piece of paper inside of it.

“Had to leave once the sun came up, left you some things in the basket that should help, thank you again.”

The remaining anguish at being left dead and alone leaves you after reading it. Looking around you realize you’ve been hidden behind some familiar bushes, you’re at the back of your house where you keep your garden. Not technically your house, anyone could still walk around here but it was always understood by the neighbours you put effort into making this place nice, they weren’t allowed to ruin it.

 You have no idea how Remmick got you here, there’s no way of getting here without entering your house or the neighbours first, and you’re sure you didn’t give him permission to enter.

Something you’d confirmed with him about vampires from his stories, they weren’t able to enter a home without an invite.

So how did he get you to a safe place like this?

 If you had to estimate you’d say it's between five and six in the morning. The basket next to you looks intriguing since reading the note.

Knowing you don’t have much time before someone could catch you looking like a murder victim, (which you guess you actually are) you quickly open the basket. There’s what you could describe as a million napkins inside, coming up from being squished inside, with a generous amount of water sitting next to them. This will be perfect to wipe the dried stickiness you assume is blood from your body, mostly neck area. 

You sit there, behind the bushes, assessing yourself, looking up and down you quickly notice your clothes aren’t only stained, they’ve been gripped hard enough in some places near your shoulders and even waist that there’s holes all over. Better described as claw marks you coldly realized.

Wetting some of the napkins you try as fast as possible to wipe away any sign of the events from last night. Your neck is still tender but there’s no time to be gentle when people could be coming to knock on your door any minute. It's not like you to get visitors, especially so early, but one never knows and you have enough deaths on you to know it never hurts to be careful.

As you walk back to your house, a bit more fresh, you try recalling the night before. The conversation or better said interview you had with Remmick comes quickly back. He’s clearly been everywhere and has cherry picked well the moments from his life that make you impressed, though not as inspired as he’d probably wanted. You try not to feel guilty over that.

It’d all been going well till he’d bit into you. Though you are grateful this time it wasn’t a chunk of neck you had to regenerate but some puncture marks and possibly all the blood from your body. The pain hadn’t been as bad in fact it had been rather good at some points and-

The realization hits you immediately and with no warning, you got turned on by letting him drink from you.

Oh my god.

It’s as embarrassing as it is undeniable, you remember him grabbing you, having his mouth so close to an admittedly arousing zone, feeling his breath on your neck, his lips caressing your skin while his teeth marked you. His claws holding you by the waist desperate for more, you fading in and out in a dizzy state while the blood left your body.

It had all been just too much.

It had nothing to do with the man (could  he even be called a man?) who’d caused it.

So you were what most would consider a freak in more ways than one, you tried to ration with yourself. You’d always had a relationship with pain people would be terrified to discover. Pain had never been as scary as it should be, if anything it had been reliable in a way most people in your life couldn't be, the idea of finding some pleasure in it… it’d never been farfetched, it just felt wrong that it’d happened now, in these circumstances.

Was there a chance Remmick had noticed? You don’t think you had any particular moment of a clear pleasurable high , apart from some moans that could be indistinguishable from moans of pain. 

You took some deep breaths, your sore neck not helping in making you calm down. 

It was fine, you couldn’t say much for when you were mostly out of it but it's not like that was a state where you could do much to betray yourself and aid him with knowledge you needed to keep hidden. No. You’d simply passed out after a while and apart from some ambiguous noises no one would figure anything out about your new ah, likes.

You still couldn't tone down the blush that ignited the moment you remembered the sensation of him devouring you.

Remmick’s POV

The heat hadn’t left Remmick all morning.

Usually he would spend the day time sleeping, hidden inside some shed or house or whatever he could find/take, but it had become obvious quickly how impossible that would be with the adrenaline he was now filled with. The warmth in his veins was something he couldn’t even remember feeling before, but now memories of being alive were creeping in for the first time in centuries.

He was being reminded of the feeling of being a normal human being, he wasn’t sure how much he would like it once the feeling left but right now he relished in it. He was just aimlessly walking around the abandoned shed he’d found his first night here, not having much space for anything but needing to keep moving, flexing his hands every few seconds, seeing the veins protrude from his forearms, knowing with a smug grin that was your blood running through them.

Remmick is filled with you. He’d been marked by you.

Something about that thought made the heat inside him travel down in a way he’s familiar if not used to feeling for a while. He’s been trying his best not to remember all your noises when you were being fed on, but there’s something about all the warmth inside of him, all thanks to you, that makes it impossible to think of anything but you this second.

You moaned at one point, he’s certain of that, it must have been from the pain but he now knows what you sound like and how is a monster like him not supposed to take advantage of that?

He finally sits down on the floor with his bent knees leveled with his chest. The different kind of heat stirring low in his belly making himself known once again at the thought of the music you made last night.

It reminds him of the purpose of the outing, Remmick wonders what you’ll take from his tales and make beautiful melodies about. He knows logically it will take a while to hear it but by the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago, he cannot wait to listen to his stories from your mouth.

Your mouth…

Now that was something quite distracting. The way it moved in an O shape when he bit you, the gasp you let out, a gasp of pain sure but what if it hadn’t been? Remmick allowed that thought to travel through his brain down to where he now noticed something awakening as well, the bulge in his trousers growing by every memory of you from last night.

Was this wrong? Getting aroused by something that had clearly been painful for you? That had resulted in your death? Remmick wasn’t one to care much these days if something was morally wrong, hell, he’d never been as far as he can remember which isn’t as far as he’d liked. But something about you had him wondering, would you feel disgusted by him for doing this?

What would have happened if he’d been able to stay, after jumping over your house to get you to that beautiful garden at the back? If you’d noticed the effect you’d had on him?

He imagines your look of surprise turning into repulsion, a shot of heat burst inside of him. Would you look at him the way you did after that bodyguard’s death? All disappointed like you expected more from him? Like he was a dirty thing you found at the bottom of your shoe and now had to deal with?

Would you still blush, that delicious smelling blush, and would he too now, both getting your blood rushing to your faces?

With those questions, he started unbuckling his belt, faster than he realized, more desperate than he’d noticed. 

He remembered the feel of your body, grabbing it, twisting it to get the best angle for his feeding. You letting him. There was no way to forget, it had been your idea for him to feed from you. To use you. To let him consume you while at the same time being consumed back by you in his head, to be unable to stop thinking of you. Everything he was feeling now was thanks to you.

You, you, you.

Remmick knew what you tasted like. 

And he couldn’t get that flavour out of his mouth while he grabbed his cock at last and quickly began stroking.

Your POV

You spent the day trying not to think about it, ‘trying’ being the key word.

Luckily a distraction came to your door during the afternoon. For a second you’d worried at hearing the knock on the door, thinking maybe it was later than you’d realize and Remmick was already back for more. 

You hadn’t discussed a plan moving forward but you’d assumed he’d give you at least a day to feel better before coming back again for seconds, or you guess technically, thirds.

You’d been surprised when opening the door and seeing Lawrence there. Finally it seemed the bar was opening again after everything with Elliot was dealt with. The police had ruled it an animal death. You felt something twist in your stomach at that, the relief of them stopping their search for a killer, for Remmick quickly giving way to guilt over feeling that relief.

You’d done what you could come up with to make sure this wouldn’t happen again. That had to be enough, you couldn’t continue feeling guilt over someone’s death which you had nothing to do with. But your brain saying that didn’t do shit to the way your heart felt.

That hadn’t been the only news Lawrence had left you with, you were now officially the back up singer at the bar. Missy, the usual singer, would be given more of a break now to ‘relax’ and ‘not let what happened last time with her leaving them high and dry happen again’ and you would fill in those days. 

You can’t imagine Missy being too happy about it but you also couldn't really care. You were going to continue to live your dreams for more than one night. Though trepidation quickly made itself noticeable, fear that if you continue to sing, Remmick would continue to appear to keep listening.

What was your end goal with the vampire? Did you even want him to leave you alone again?

So many questions and uneasy feelings came crawling back, enough you’d bid Lawrence farewell fast after showering him with gratitude over the opportunity, promising you’d arrived early to help open up at the bar tonight.

It was hard to imagine anyone being more of a mess than you felt at this moment.

Remmick’s POV

This wasn’t part of the plan.

‘This’ being the cum currently drying on his stomach from what was a way too satisfying, too good, too perfect, fantasy he’d created about you. You weren’t supposed to be this for him. Remmick wasn’t supposed to fantasize about you. His plan was quite different, it involved him having all the power and making sure you did what he needed, no, wanted from you.

Still, he hadn’t had an orgasm like that in a while.

Not that it mattered, or that it was at all because of you. He’d just gotten too overwhelmed with how good your blood was, that’s it. So at some point once the blood had traveled south it’d stopped being about that and start being about how good you felt in his arms, how his claws couldn’t help but cling on to your waist, wanting to both rip the flesh apart and leave his mark everywhere and also soften his hands and caress every inch of skin available to see what other goosebumps he could pull from you.

He remembered carrying you afterwards, cold and dead in arms, but still soft. You’d trusted him with your body in that state and he’d taken that with the carefulness it deserved. Remmick’d made sure no one would see you and clung on tight to make sure nothing would take you from him.

It had been… an experience to care so much for someone.

He had stayed as long as he could, smoking again by the time he made it back to the shed. Just watching you, slowly warm up, smelling how blood was being filled in your body. You were something else alright. He mostly stared at your face, relaxed, zero frown for once on your forehead. There was no denying you were beautiful, it was honestly annoying how much though.

He couldn’t get distracted, he wouldn’t. 

Remmick’s POV

“But from now on you'll feed on my blood.”

Remmick remembers very well feeding from you. How could he not? He’d been so desperate, finally arriving to this ghost town, starving, angry at the world, at the connections he’d made and had been broken, finally spotting the delicious sight of a random person just walking around by themselves in the dead of night. 

A woman, a strange woman, Remmick would arrive later at the conclusion. A woman who he’d been so desperate to keep tasting he’d licked her dead neck when all the blood had been already taken, trying to take as much as he could that still remained cooling on the outside.

He hadn’t been sure at the time, but your blood had been special. Remmick had chalked it up to being too hungry and anything tasting especially good when starving. But the desperate strokes of his tongue on your neck afterwards… that had been animalistic, there had been something there that couldn’t make him stop.

Now knowing what Remmick knows about you… it's quite possible your blood is special in more ways than one. He means, the fact it replenishes itself already makes you the most interesting person he’s met in a while. The idea of tasting from you again… of being able to check if something had truly tasted different, better… well how could he possibly say no to that?

You'd said yes.

To say that Remmick was surprised would be an understatement. To be completely honest, he hadn’t gone with the most planned out idea when seeking you out to make a deal. He’d been too desperate, too eager, he wanted to see you and he didn’t want you to assume you’d had your fun together and it had already come to an end.

He was also a bit wary of seeing your reaction to killing that guard from your place of work. He didn’t regret it, hell he simply didn’t care. That man had been in his way and he’d done what he had to to be able to witness you singing, he wouldn’t apologise for doing what he had to to get to hear your voice. 

Okay maybe he was a bit defensive, you’d already bonded over being seen as monsters, maybe he didn’t want that to evaporate now because of one measly kill and have you look at him like that too. Maybe he regretted killing someone who could have been close to you, considering you worked together. 

Lucky for him, you didn’t seem to fully mind who the victim was, just upset it had happened, but understanding all the same. You even found a way to keep it from happening again! While understanding his necessity for blood. You hadn’t pleaded with him to stop as if it was a pastime Remmick enjoyed but had the option to stop doing, no, you’d simply found a, dare he say, heroic way to stop him from feeding from anyone else for now.

You really were a box of surprises, and he couldn’t wait to unwrap you completely.

Still, the idea of feeding from you again… well suffice to say it already got him drooling a bit again, something he quickly swiped with his hand to keep him from making a mess in front of you.

You two were, what was the phrase he’d desperately used then had to confidently sell? ‘Hanging out.’ It was night of course, the sun having been down enough Remmick had quickly come back to your house, maybe he’d once again been too eager and appeared, to your alarm, smoking a bit. Still, it was dark enough now, he hadn’t even attempted to persuade you to let him into your house yet, figuring trust would come once you got to know each other a bit better.

It was unlike him to be so patient lately, but what can he say? You make him want to put in the effort again.

Being a vampire was a lot like being a conman. You had to be suave, you had to be smooth, you had to sell this image of yourself that promised no harm, while on the inside salivating at the idea of harm worse than the other person could ever imagine. You had to put in the effort basically. 

It was fun. Seeing what strategy would work with who. The poor lonely soul, the hurt vulnerable victim, the desperate fighter who needed another chance to help, the innocuous gentleman who fancied coming in. It all came natural to Remmick at this point. If he needed a new angle he could just as well see into the many lives of the many connections he’d made and pick a new personality to show off.

He wasn’t thinking about them right now.

Still, with you it was different. He didn’t want you to associate him with a lie, a persona he’d put up. He, for once, wanted someone to get to know the real him, the human way. It would be easier if he could turn you, but without that option available, this would have to do.

So here you both were, walking silently side by side to the place he’d chosen for this “hanging out.” 

At first he’d been surprised you said yes. He figured he’d had to come back a few nights at least to convince you, maybe go back on his word to try the honest way and drop the ’charming’ side a bit and go more manipulative to remind you that no one else would understand you like him. But you’d said yes! 

It certainly had to help that you weren’t scared of him, knowing nothing he could do to you would be permanent, why not hang around with the local vampire? Though Remmick was used to getting his way because of that underlying fear, the implication that if he didn’t get his way something bad could happen, and it appeared you were aware of that, if not fearful for yourself, for the people around you. 

The silence didn’t seem to be bothering you, though you were looking around a bit as if trying to figure out where exactly this vampire was taking you. Remmick wasn’t bothered by the silence either, he’d get you to talk soon enough. 

You finally made it to the park. 

Your POV

You’d had a day to think about your deal, and already you were regretting it.

It didn’t help Remmick kept glancing at you with a victorious grin on his face, like he couldn’t quite believe you were there following him to an unknown location in the dark, but still so pleased every time he checked you were still there.

You couldn’t quite believe you were here either. You’d spend most of the day (still not returning to work just yet) thinking of excuses and outright negative responses to get out of this deal. Then Elliot’s torn body would flash in your mind and well, you’d go back to choosing an outfit you wouldn’t mind staining and dying in later that night.

You’re surprised Remmick seems to genuinely want to hang out, the way he’s been basically bouncing around when walking, trying to get faster to the destination, while still glancing back to make sure you’re there… it reminds you of a too eager teen on a first date.

Not that this was a date, well a date with death totally, but nothing more, nothing less.

Remmick finally stops some place ahead of you, having entered a park and going left to a secluded corner. You shut down the idea of walking faster or even running to reach him, he can wait. You walk at a leisure pace, seeing his trembling back all the while, waiting for you to finally get there. He glances back as if he can’t help himself and grins amusedly at seeing you walking slowly to him.

“We made it sweetheart, and look! All intact like I left it.” Remmick breaks the silence, anticipation clear in his voice at you seeing whatever he has planned.

You finally reach him and stand next to him, the coldness emanating from him almost making you shiver. His musk, a mix of iron and manliness, with a hint of something ancient and powerful, like the moment you enter an old warehouse and you know things have happened here you'll never be able to comprehend, fills your nostrils and you resist the urge to exhale strongly trying to get it off. The last thing you need right now is finding something attractive about this vampire.

You follow his expectant gaze to the floor where a cozy looking blanket spreads out under a normal, if a bit scary considering the circumstances, basket. There’s also four unlit tall candles, each over a corner of the blanket. You eye this would-be-normal-if-a-bit-cheesy array with some apprehension.

…Is this what you think it is?

“Well? Don’t just stand there staring like it's a bomb about to go off.” Remmick’s voice calls out, still amused if a bit softer around the edges. “Choose a spot and sit down.”

You could have done a lot of things in that moment, laugh at the idea of a creature of the night planning a picnic, mock him for his candle choices, hell you could have tried to run away from this fucked up, silly scenario. 

Instead you sat down.

This was weird, it felt like what you'd assume it felt like when parents would force their children to spend time around another child to force them to be friends. You were just sitting on this comfortable blanket on the ground, trying not to get your garments dirty while this non-human stared at you from above while lighting candles, a dark glinting in his eyes.

“Well? Are you gonna stare all night or are you gonna sit down too?”

Remmick huffs a laugh and sits opposite you. The silence from the walk returns tenfold. This time it is awkward, though Remmick is just staring at you as if fixated on what you'll do to fix it. He doesn't seem to know what else to do but stare at you, you figure you'll start with the question that's been plaguing your mind since last night.

“What're you expecting out of tonight?”

“To be truly honest…” Remmick smiles shamefully. “I wasn't even expecting you to say yes.”

You try not to laugh but a smile still peeks through. He looks proud of having caused that. “So what, I made you have to plan a picnic in a frenzy by just being polite?”

At this, Remmick grows serious “Nothing ‘just polite’ about it.” He carries on explaining at your confused expression. “This trust you've decided to place in me, this… chance, to prove myself as more than just a monster, it's more than just politeness, it's a gift, one I don't intend to throw away or hold as anything but special.”

You weren't sure how to feel, something about the devotion with which he talked about you, about what you've done for him so far, it causes a blush to spread across your cheeks. He stares at it amazed, like he can't believe he pulled this reaction from you, though you also notice his nostrils flaring, like he can't help but smell something delicious right now and wait a darn minute.

Could he be smelling your blood better by it rising to your face like that? You can't help but blush harder at the idea in embarrassment that doesn't quite make sense. Should you always be ashamed now of having blood and common human responses around this creature? Still your body doesn't care for logic, something awkward is happening and while others might be more frightened than embarrassed, you know you're in no more danger than what you've signed up for, you blush hard and try to look down to not notice his reaction.

Still you can't help yourself, you glance up for a second (or two) and…

Woah.

His eyes are red.

There's surely a more poetic way to describe it, the glowing crimson emanating from the darkness of his eyes, something about a light in the dark, a non-human response but a physical response nonetheless that speaks more than words can say about his state right now.

His eyes are now a pool of darkness with one shining beacon in the pupils beckoning you closer. They would be telling you it's safe out here if not for the colour which you've never seen before in someone's eyes. At first you think it's a trick of the light, the candles in the dark somehow reflecting red for a second, but it quickly dawns on you this is lasting more than a second. For some reason you can't look away, it's not terror gripping you, it's not the submission at the bar either, this is just pure amazement.

You're so focused on his eyes it's impossible not to note that same amazement being shared by Remmick who's still staring at you like you've done something incredible, something daring, something mesmerizing.

He's smelling your blood.

And you're looking deep into his eyes.

The moment continues for a beat, enough for the blush to die down and his eyes to turn back to, for lack of a better word, ‘normal.’

You continue staring at his eyes, and he lifts his sight enough to stare at yours as well. You're trapped for a second, a slight gasp leaving you at the contact. Remmick seems to want to follow it, like it thrilled him to hear it and he refuses to let it get away, but there's nothing he can do but keep staring.

You should clear your throat, the louder, harsher sound breaking this tension that has spread across the park. You should look away first, let him know this was a weak moment but you're no weak woman and you're ready to let the moment pass. You should definitely get that soft wonder in his scarlet eyes out of your mind.

You do nothing. You just keep staring. There's something about staring at another ‘person’ for a while that you've never allowed yourself before. Your parents didn't like you staring at others less you be noticed back, and that had always stuck with you into adulthood. It was strange in a way, you weren't doing anything and yet, there was something quite intimate in staring and letting yourself be stared back.

It wasn't just that he was handsome, because damn him he very much was, he was strange in a way you found fascinating. He was an open book in some ways, in his desperation, his amazement, his need to have you look at him back, most of all the hunger that claims him clear as day. But in other ways, he was just so goddamned strange in that you know nothing about the real him. 

He was a too charming man with a desperation streak to him. You can't forget how he was that first night though. That was probably the most honest he'd truly been, more than on that rooftop and certainly more than whatever he had planned for tonight. He'd hurt you, cause he could, cause he wanted to, he'd needed to feed but he'd also just wanted to break something on his hands and watch it be torn apart. He'd spotted you and had his way, he'd played with his food then fed until you'd probably resembled one of those ropes the neighbour's dog chewed on furiously.

In some ways he was exactly the same as his eyes. A dark, dark ‘man’ with some inhuman light inside. You should really not want to know more and yet you were fascinated. Which drew you to finally break the moment, realizing Remmick was more content with never breaking it himself.

“You said you had stories for me.” You whispered softly, trying not to abruptly cut what had been a too long moment.

Remmick blinked a few times, as if trying to wake up from a particular deep sleep. Then slowly smiled, a bit more of a fake smile than he probably wanted, but the need in his eyes to get your focus on him was still there. “Aye I do darling, aye I do.”

And so you spent the next hour listening to the no-man in front of you paint you beautiful pictures, of survival, of strength, of watching time pass by and watching humans remain the same. It was surely interesting if a bit too majestic for your taste, you’d been expecting more personal stories, things he’d endured and had learned from. 

Instead it seemed he wanted to talk about his opinions on people, on the world at large, in a way he was probably one of the most qualified to talk about it, in others he was surely the last ‘person’ who should be talking at all.

You listened all the same, inspiration actually striking you a bit, damn him for being right, but mostly, you felt less alone, just like he’d said. The thing about his stories not being as personal as they could be, they were easy to relate to. You may not need to hide the way he does in the wee hours of the morning, you may not have the physical attributes or thirst for blood that out him as a vampire. 

You still watch humanity more than you can say. You still hide a huge part of yourself in the hope for no more excessive pain. You still understand the immortality aspect and how tiring it truly is. At times he seems to forget parts of the stories, like all the knowledge just can’t fit inside his head either, you feel a certain kinship there.

You start nibbling on the small sandwiches he brought with him in the basket during the second story. You can’t help it, he’d arrived so early you hadn’t had time for dinner, something he’d certainly accounted for if the amount of sandwiches said anything. You notice he ate nothing, interrupting a story to ask him about it, to which he just chuckled at.

“I think I’ll have enough of my fill when you’re done honey.”

Right.

You were dying tonight.

Somehow in all the staring and eating and listening you’d forgotten yourself. As if he could sense the dread rising in you he quickly took one of your hands on his. This might be the first time you’d touched since that violent night. You tried not to shiver at the coldness emanating from his hand, he didn’t hide the shudder that spread through him at touching yours though.

“You can always back out of your condition darling, there’s no shame in that.” He whispered quietly, his voice rough from all the telling he’d been doing. You tried not to shiver at that too but this time you failed, he tracked the movement with dark eyes.

“No.” Your voice cut through the tension rising back up. “In fact,” You took a deep breath bracing yourself then continued. “I think it’s time we get to it, I’ve heard enough for tonight and I’ve definitely had my fill of food so, let’s get to it.”

He eyed you for a second too long, trying to read you once again. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

You’re still holding hands. You quickly swipe yours away, not seeing him clench his trying to keep you there a beat too late. You use both hands to hold your hair on one side so your neck is fully free on the other. You turned towards the side you’re holding your hair, your neck bulging out a little at the motion. You risk a glance and confirm your theory. 

His eyes are red again.

He cautiously gets closer to you, as if expecting you to scream bloody murder any second now. You're still sitting but he's now kneeling in front of you, mouth higher than your neck, he leans in a bit too far, a bit too eager, and his nose touches your jaw. He makes a noise between a growl and a whimper, both scary and weak, like a wounded animal stuck in a corner, still willing to give it his all.

He's smelling you now, you can feel the deep inhale he's trying to conceal. His eyes are closed, his nose is slowly moving more toward your neck and he's biting his lip to avoid any more noises coming out when he finally is the one to break the silence.

“You need to tell me now if you regret this.” He whispers into your flesh. “Because I'm letting you know now, once I've started it’s going to be very difficult for me to stop sweetheart.” 

You both feel your pulse jump in your throat at that, what exactly your feeling you hope he assumes is fear. Doesn't stop him from groaning at feeling so up close. That's when you notice the wet sensation dripping from your neck, you remember a similar sensation last time this happened. 

You open your eyes, when did you close them? And see it, drool, thick lengthy drool coming out of the vampire’s mouth, more resembling a cartoon wolf than a bat at this moment. Remmick doesn't seem to notice it or at least doesn't seem to be able to do nothing about it for he's just letting it drip drip drip down your body, wetting your shirt along the way. Now that it matters, it'll be covered in blood soon enough.

“Just do it.” You whisper harshly, uncomfortable with how much this is making you feel, and exactly what it is you're feeling.

It's safe to say you haven't been aroused by a man in a long time. You really weren't expecting this.

Remmick nods like he imagined your response, mutters more to himself than you “here I go.” And clamps his mouth over your neck, this time not biting out a chunk and immediately spitting it out quickly going back toward your neck, letting it spray your jaw and face and shoulder, while you quickly pass out, no.

No, this time there's no piece of you bitten and chewed out. This time, you would even describe him as gentle.

Remmick quickly pierces your skin with his fangs, his teeth growing while gnawing on your skin, you feel the length of them, the longer and sharper and more brutal they're becoming all while laying territory on your neck. The pain comes sharply, quickly, but you've built quite a tolerance over your existence, it's not that bad if anything well,

It makes you feel alive.

He pulls his teeth out slowly, trying to make it as less impactful as possible while trying to let his lips as close by as possible for when the blood starts gushing out. Not wanting a single drop to go to waste.

You feel the moment his tongue touches your blood for he shudders through it while groaning once again. The pain haven't done nothing to quell your arousal, if anything only fuelling it responds strongly to the noise Remmick makes.

He's sucking now, swallowing strongly, loudly, greedily. He doesn't seem to be able to stop to take a breath, much less stop to check on you. His warning was no lie, he genuinely can't seem to stop.

The pain is going away now, as is your clear read on the situation. You're dizzy, sight coming in and out while you sway in place. Remmick’s holding you as much as he can, you feel his claws (when did they come out?) pinching you, also hurting you lightly enough you suddenly moan from both the pain and overstimulation. Remmick freezes for a second, then as if not by choice goes back to swallowing.

You're lightheaded, you're all over the place, you suddenly question how he's supposed to bring you home after this without anyone noticing. So nervous over dying again, you really hadn't made the necessary planning beforehand.

You're too tired to think, you abandon that train of thought quickly going back to Remmick's tongue flicking, swiping longingly on your neck while he breathes for the first time in a bit, then goes back to sucking while groaning once again, this time more desperate, this time more like he can't get enough but knows there's no much left on the tank still.

Right now, he couldn't even focus on how good you looked right now. Right now you were by the kitchen serving yourself a drink, clearly expecting alcohol to make the current situation easier to endure.

He doesn't know if you've ever even had alcohol before, he's never seen you drink. He's bothered there's so much he still doesn't know about you beyond studying together. 

“I'm not letting you go so easily, Cook.”

Fuck. Why'd you have to go and say something like that, do something as crazy as this? Is this how people felt being around him? Feeling like someone swept the carpet underneath their feet by his crazy actions? He wasn't sure he liked it.

Don't get him wrong, he likes seeing this side of you. This hot, stubborn, determined side who looks like it'd do anything to keep him around. But there was danger too in everything you had done tonight, from the too small outfit where he could see more skin he wanted the rest of the world not to see, to the idea of you staying all night here, with the rest of the usual scum he hung around with.

This wasn't your scene, and he was worried about you, more than he cared to admit. 

He stood still, looking at you, when he realised what he was doing. He quickly shook his head as if trying to shake his thoughts out. He was Cook damn it, he didn't stand there looking out for some nerdy girl, he was the life of the party. 

Determined and confident, he decreed to himself that nothing, no amount of worry pity he felt for you right now would make him go to you.

Casting one last look your way, he made his way back to the center of the living room. Where he started jumping around, dancing with all the pent up energy you'd just given him. He tried to forget about your words, about you, for now, he'd win this bet and then he'd never have to see you again.

It was better for everyone this way.

Your POV

You were carefully serving yourself some beer into a plastic cup when you felt colder all of a sudden. You looked around a bit confused when you saw Cook again, doing what he does best, be the loud center of attention. 

You were a bit intimidated, you were in his natural habitat basically. How the hell were you meant to outlast him in a place like this with your nerdy self? 

You looked down in defeat and saw your outfit again. You weren't really looking like yourself tonight, all dolled up and um, less covered than usual. Maybe you didn't have to be yourself tonight. Maybe channeling Cook wasn't just for the bet idea, maybe channeling him tonight was means for survival.

With a newfound rigor and air of victory you took a sip of your beer, trying your best not to grimace at the taste. 

You heard a laughter behind you and turned around.

“Yeah, that's the face one should make at this shitty beer. I keep telling Josh to not buy the cheapest one, I can only apologise.”

The guy talking to you is handsome, that's the only way to really describe him. He's a tall man with brown swept hair that looks too casual to be anything but and green shining eyes that are right now looking amusedly at you.

“So you're complicit in what just happened to me.” You joke back. “I would accept the apology a lot faster if it came with a better drink.”

He laughs again, louder this time and you see his neck tilting back. There's something warm about nailing a social interaction you weren't prepared for. You smiled back brightly. Unaware of the eyes now on you.

“Say no more, here you can have mine, I just made it so no cooties.” He teases while holding out a drink, you go to take it but another hand quickly grabs it before you can.

“Hey cheers mate.” James Cook says before downing the drink.

What the hell.

The other man looks perplexed for a second, darting his eyes between you and Cook as if trying to find an explanation for what just happened. You can't really give him back so you just shrug. Cook just looks at him with a sharp grin.

Green eyes quickly switches back to the casual posture from before, though still with some confusion in his eyes and tone he replies. “Um, no problem man.” He turns to you. “I'll just make you another one.”

“That won't be necessary mate, she's busy, come on babe.” Cool cuts in while grabbing your hand and dragging you to the dance floor/living room.. You try to throw a final look at the kind man from the kitchen, maybe share in his bewilderment one more time, but Cook's too fast and your mind quickly strays.

Babe!?

You barely accept that you just heard him call you that before he's already singing along to whatever song is playing and swinging your arms around. Now holding both of your hands. You stand still in place looking at him half confused, half irritated. Though you notice the heat quickly rising to your cheeks at the close proximity and petname combo.

“What the hell was that?” You demand.

He seems to think for a second as if not even he knows why he did that. Before his usual nonchalant smirk falls on his face.

“What?” Cook casually asks shrugging. “Figured I'd saved you from that interaction, you're welcome.” He grins at you.

“Save me?” You repeat confused. “I didn't need saving, he was just being nice.”

His grin quickly falls at that, a stubborn frown replacing it. “I'm sure he was, and what reason did he have for that huh?” At your lack of response (you're still so confused) he adds. “Not to mention you were just gonna drink that without having seen if he put anything in it were you?” 

He's berating you.

He does have a point thou- wait a second.

“So your solution was to neck the possibly spiked drink?” You question both alarmed and irritated at his behavior in the kitchen and now.

He seems caught for a second, before he once again shrugs. “Better me than you sweetheart.”

Just ignoring that now you focus on the last word reminding you of your next line of questioning.

“And what's up with the pet names? Usually they just sound like your usual condescending sarcastic ‘jokes’ but babe? Seriously?” 

His eyes look back to the kitchen for a second before placing them back on you. “I know guys like him love, better he thinks you're unavailable.” 

Your blush comes back at the implications. He just made this guy assume you're dating Cook. He just implied that guy wanted to… with you.

What?

“Guys like him?” You repeat hoping for an explanation on something that actually makes sense.

“You deserve someone better.” Cook starts explaining, his eyes softening when looking back at you and seeing the confusion in your eyes. “Not a sleazy guy, someone who comes to these parties and stays all night and skips school the next day to go to some more.”

“Cook-”

“Someone who won't even graduate.” He continues, ignoring you. “A mess that will just drag you down to his level.” There's a faraway look in his eyes now like he's not even seeing you but this awful future he's concocting. “Who will hurt you, not give you enough because he isn't enough.” He snaps out of it and looks at you deadly serious with suspiciously shining eyes. “Someone who is utter shit.”

“James…” Your voice fades out. Hearing what he is and isn't saying. Confused still but also so sad for the man in front of you.

Cook closes his eyes after you utter his name. He opens them again and they come back clearer. He tries to smile but it's the fakest smallest smile you've seen, it doesn't fit anything you know of Cook. 

“Don't act like you don't know it, smart girl.” 

A beat passed. You feel useless, all the words you want to say to him, all the reassurance you want to give him overwhelms you and a tiny voice in the back of your head betrays you by asking you, is he right?

“Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bet to win.”

You for the second time watch him walk away from you, hating yourself for not having the bravery or words to tell him how much he's come to mean to you.

.

.

.

.

.

No. 

This won't stand. 

First of all, you are winning this bet. 

Second, this is the last time you let James Cook walk away from you.

You may not have a plan yet, but that's very soon changing. You go to  sit down at a nearby chair and let your mind do its thing. 

Overthink like crazy. 

You strategize different ways to convince him, to show him, to love him so loudly and so rightly he has no option but to take a chance on you. It goes from the most sensible to the most chaotic, from your way to Cook's way.

The problem is the beginning. He'll just keep ignoring you, walking away, he won't even give you the chance and one moment of being flustered and overwhelmed by him and he'll be gone.

You're so busy shutting down every plan that comes your way you don't notice the figure saddling up next to you.

“So…your boyfriend is pretty protective eh?”

Green eyes makes you jump in your seat.

You look at him, all your thoughts and plans and overwhelming feelings screeching to a halt too fast for you to make much sense of the sentence. One thing stands out.

“I don't have a boyfriend”

The guy, now sitting down next to you, eyes you interestedly. “Oh? Let me rephrase then; so… your friend is pretty jealous eh?”

You're a  bit annoyed you have to be social when you're so close to a plan when you catch up to the conversation.

You can't help but giggle at the idea he's painting.

“Jealous? James Cook?” Because of me?

The man raises his eyebrows at you “You usually have guy friends call you babe and pull you from meeting new guys that are interested in you?”

Did he just-?

You stuttered while trying to respond while he watches amusedly. You clear your throat then finally find something to say. “Well you certainly don't beat around the bush do you?”

It’s weak, but he laughs. “No, not really.”

You squint your eyes at him. “What's your deal?”

He laughs again, you're beginning to get a little annoyed at this. “I'm Mike, my roommate Josh throws parties like this all the time and you're the first person I see who looks as out of place as me at one.” He smiles at you. “And it doesn't hurt that you're very pretty.”

He's flirting with you!

Oh my god you're getting flirted with. Like genuinely.

Wait, you had strategies to analyze!

You look at him, ready to turn him down, when your overpowered brain finally connects some pretty clear dots.

This man, Mike, was flirting with you in the kitchen.

He was interrupted by Cook pretending to be your boyfriend.

Mike thinks that Cook was jealous.

Because Cook was jealous.

Cook will refuse to talk to you if you just go up to him.

Ergo, you need to make Cook come to you.

Mike is the beginning of your plan.

You're a freaking genius.

All you have to do is convince this man to help you and you're golden… 

How the hell are you supposed to convince him!?

You take a deep breath, worriedly realize you've been quiet for a while and look up again at Mike. Who is clearly chill with watching amusedly at you thinking so hard after he called you pretty. Prick.

“I need your help.” You want so badly to smack yourself in the head for that being the phrase you start with.

Mike raises his eyebrows again, questioning you immediately. “Wow you sure don't beat around the bush huh?”

“I don't have time for your charming funny lines Mike.” You hurriedly reply. 

Then take another breath because you clearly need to chill.

“Sorry, I just-” You sweep your gaze around the room, eyes quickly finding Cook again, who's back to dancing with some beautiful girls, too far away to see you in the corner sitting with Mike. “You ever find someone who challenges your way of viewing life so hard you should hate them a little bit? But you can't help but love them for having given you this insight into what an actual enjoyable life could be?”

Mike eyes you questioning then looks at where you're looking, then back at your now clenched fists. Understanding quickly fills his eyes. “Oooh, your friend isn't the only jealous one is he?”

“No, he isn't.” You admit to another person, finally. “But he is the one whose jealousy leads to him doing impulsive things that contradict his original plans.”

“Huh?”

“He won't talk to me.” You explain, hurt seeping into your tone. “He's decided for both of us that he's not good enough so he won't even try.” You look back at Mike, determination replacing the pained tone. “But if I can get him to admit his feelings, if I can get him to stop ignoring what's going on between us, I can show him the truth.”

Invested and seemingly moved, Mike urges you. “And what is the truth?”

You look back at Cook. “That I love him, for who he is, and he's better than what people including him say he is.”

“Wow.” Mike huffs a breath. “I really wasn't expecting this tonight.” 

You snort, tension breaking. You shyly look back at him. “Yeah sorry, this is part of the reason I don't come to parties, I'm too intense for them.”

Mike laughs again. “Hey no apologies necessary, it's the most entertainment I've had at a party that didn't result in me having to clean up gross stuff or kicking people out of my room.” 

You both laugh together at that.

Right at the time the song currently playing ends and there's enough silence for your joined laughter to reach someone else's ears.

“So if I'm understanding correctly.” Mike starts. “The way I can help you with your situation is to make the guy you yourself have called impulsive when jealous, and who sidenote I've definitely seen beat up dudes at other parties before, jealous enough he'll be provoked into breaking us up?

“When you say it like that it sounds dangerously stupid.”

Mike laughs while raising his arms. “Hey if the shoe fits…”

“What can I offer to convince you?” You ask, hoping the desperation in your voice isn't too obvious. You've already been vulnerable enough with this kind stranger tonight.

Mike scratches his chin while staring into the ceiling. “I don't really want anything from you now that I know you're into some other bloke but, now that I think about it, if I get punched I can definitely use it as a reason to not have any more parties at our house anymore…”

You stared amazed at Mike. “You're incredible you know?”

He shrugs, suddenly a bit shy. “You just happened to trigger my romantic side okay? Don't read too much into it.”

You kiss him on the cheek. Hoping your gratitude will come through in the gesture.

Mike blushes then looks away “Well with you doing things like that we're not gonna need much to get the plan started. He already looks like he wants to kill me at least.”

“Huh?”

You start turning to look when Mike grabs your chin, impeding you from seeing what he just saw. Indignant, you open your mouth when he stops you by whispering in your ear.

“Don't look now, but he's switching between staring daggers at me and staring at you like a hurt puppy.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

This could actually work. Or really hurt Mike.

“What do we do now?” You whisper back. His face still too close to yours, making you blush at the intimacy.

You see movement out of the corner of your eyes.

Mike distracts you from turning once again but replying. “Well this of course.”

Then he kisses you.

You are kind of a prude. You aren't one to have kissed much. Kissing someone still makes you blush intensely. Still, you're experienced and knowledgeable enough to know you're supposed to be feeling more right now.

You feel plenty physically. Your mouth quickly responding once your brain reactivates. Moving along and kissing back is sure a sensation on the mouth.

But your chest couldn't feel emptier right now.

He's just starting to slip his tongue into your mouth and you're starting to think this is too much when he stops and says loudly. “Follow me.”

You scurry to follow Mike and before you can comprehend much, with your mouth still buzzing, you arrive at the upstairs bathroom. You're about to question what to do now when he shushes you.

He stands next to the door while pushing you further into the back of the bathroom. You hit the wall next to the shower when you start to hear hurried footsteps. Your eyes widened look toward Mike who's smirking like everything is going exactly as expected.

The door opens with a bang. James Cook stands on the other side, panicked and out of breath, he enters.

Quietly, Mike steps outside, looking pretty satisfied with himself. He closes the door behind him.

All you can hear is Cook breathing heavily and the bass of the music thumping on the walls. You feel like a deer caught by headlights, you stare guiltily at how his face that went white from the panic starts reddening with anger.

This is the hard part of the plan.

“What. The fuck. Just happened.” Cook’s clipped tone should scare you. It should make you want to run and hide, but all you want is to place your fingers on his furrowed brow and caress till he stops looking so angry.

“I tricked you.” Your shaky voice replies.

“What?”

“I needed to prove something.”

“What?”

“You like me.”

He stills. His anger seems to evaporate and panic sets in. He seems ready to deny it so you keep going.

“And I like you too.”

Silence.

He seems unable to comprehend what you just said. He's staring at you afraid, like somehow you hold everything you need to destroy him. You see fear and hope fight for dominance in his eyes.

“In fact I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

Cook looks destroyed. That's the only word for it. 

Then, you watch sadly but not surprised how he snaps back into his persona. He grins at you. Prepared to make a joke out of this, out of you.

You raise a hand to stop him. “Don't.” You look him in the eyes. “Don't be a coward now.”

He takes a step back in shock. You see his expression crumble once again. He looks hurt, he looks afraid, in fact you've never seen him so terrified. But he stopped what he was going to say. 

This is your moment.

“I'm smarter than you, correct?” You ask plainly, looking at him expectantly.

Confused and still scared, Cook nods.

“Good. So it won't come as a surprise that you are wrong and I am right when it comes to most matters.”

“What're you-”

“Most matters usually referring to things like Literature, Shakespeare, the themes and motifs of classical plays, though you are good once you actually read the plays at that last one, usually you see things I've also noticed-”

“Princess-”

“But today the matter I am referring to is the one of one James Cook.” You see him stop his frustrated interruptions. 

“You see you think James Cook is shit, you think he has no future, and most incorrectly you think he's not good enough for me.” You state the cruel facts.

“That's the conclusion you've come to, now onto my conclusion.” You take a deep breath, this is it. “James Cook; he's annoying, he's frustrating and he's rude. He jokes too much and laughs too loud and thinks the world owes him more than it does. He pushes my buttons by just breathing and enjoys it the way a child enjoys burning ants with a magnifying glass, simplistic and cruel.” You watch his face fall as he looks down in shame.

“He's also the person who has taught me the most in this world.”

His head snaps back. Confusedly he looks at you.

“My life was every day the same, before James Cook, I'd wake up, go to school, do small talk, study, study, study, and sleep. I thought if I could control everything enough, do everything as right as possible, I would have a good life some day. Losing sight of the fact that my life was passing by and I was enjoying nothing.

Then came these study sessions, where I learned what fun actually was. Where I learned what enjoying one's time could be. Where I learned that not everything must be the strict schedule I'd built for myself. If you have nothing good in the present, what's the point of building a future?

And you are good James, you're very good. You live life with everything you've got you love with your whole chest, you keep going in spite of the bad hand you were dealt and the shitty people that have hurt you.” 

I've seen you when you try, you're not dumb either. And most importantly, you care. You care so much it destroys you and makes you hide away, but I've seen you when you care and it's when you're most beautiful.

So yeah you can be mean, childish, a prick. Who isn't sometimes? You're also full of light and beauty and caring.”

You finish your monologue and take a deep breath, you're pretty fucking embarrassed at being so vulnerable. You risk a glance at Cook and he seems as broken as you feel.

“So yeah, James Cook is good enough for me, he's actually amazing for me, and there's nothing you can use to debate with me that will change that.”

“You don't know all the things I've done princess.” Cook whispers hoarsely.

“I don't love you in spite of the bad stuff James, how can I get you to see-” Your voice  breaks, the tears that you've been holding back this whole time crawl back with a vengeance.

“Why do you do that then?” He questions then explains. “Call me James. Like I can be something better than just Cook.”

“I don't think being Cook is bad.” You start delicately. “I actually like when you're Cook and wild and unpredictable. I just like James too, the one who loves his little brother, who tries to listen intensely to my summary of Hamlet.” You smile at him. “The one who's so scared of hurting me he would deny himself being with the person he likes.”

“I don't like you.”

Pain. Immediately you feel hurt all over your chest.

You start stuttering, trying to find what to say that will fix this huge glaring error in your thinking. When he steps forward. Clutches your cheek in his hand like something precious he's worried will slip away.

And kisses you.

Now you feel something in your chest. Warmth blooms in, if fireworks could exist inside the human body you'd be certain this would be the evidence to prove it. 

Your mouth doesn't start moving in time, too stunned to do much of anything but experience the party in your chest, when he pulls away.

“I love you too.”

And that's the story of how you ended up making out with The James Cook at your first high school party.

Remmick's POV

Remmick isn't used to this feeling. 

Surely a being that's lived as long as he has, should be used to everything at this point. He isn't sure he likes surprises like this. 

It's true he's lived too long, longer than even you apparently, so being so unused to things like acts of kindness, well it's simply depressing isn't it?

He isn't absolutely certain of what he's feeling exactly. He sure as hell knows at what though. 

You forgave him. It didn't make sense. You let go of the fact that he killed you, murdered you, then threw you away. 

Another thing he wasn't used to feeling, not anymore, the guilt. 

He was a vampire, there wasn't much more to it. He needed to feed and feed he did. 

He always preferred turning to simply killing, in fact he used to fantasize, when younger and dumber, (or maybe when younger and hopeful) of turning most of the world. They would all be connected, all understand each other, but most importantly, they would all be the same. 

But that was early turned Remmick, a being he forgot what it was like to be like. 

He still liked saving people. He still liked the moment when the bite took, seeing, learning, knowing all there was to know. He was just done. 

Remmick sort of wished there was some big event that happened that made him decide. Some moment everyone around him betrayed him one final time. One person he couldn't bear living without being lost. Something that would have brought the old vampire to tears for the first time in who can remember. 

In reality he'd just gotten too tired. No big moment, no final goodbye, just a man looking around tired of seeing no one there, feeling them at the back of his head, without him. Living, in a way, making more of them even, having experiences he was no longer privy too. 

Remmick wasn't meant to be alone, even as a kid. When he would have done anything for someone to want to save him. He had a father, he had people around, he was never alone, not really. Another thing he'd never gotten used to, the silence.

He may not remember much of the times before all this, hell he doesn't even remember much of the times after being turned, but there's a familiarity he feels every time his skin crawls at the silence, like his usual reaction isn't something his body has ever not done.

Silence led to nights like this, sitting on a rooftop alone, thinking too much, of times before, of beings he'd known, created, and even seen destroyed. Thinking of the call at the back of his head, the hivemind he was apart from but always connected to.

If he focused he could feel whatever they were feeling, he could probably find them, try one more time. But then he thought of you, of your voice, your story, he thought of you giving him a glimpse into what his life had been.

He couldn't just walk away from you. 

He had to make it up to you somehow, sure, you'd forgiven him, understood him after he opened up, something he didn't do anymore either. He'd taken a chance after hearing your story, he'd forgotten you could feel that connection without a bite first. You'd forgiven him, but now, now there was no reason for you to ever even see each other again.

That simply wouldn't do. He'd find something to do, to give, something good that would force you to be around again, to maybe sing to him again. To cover the silence with your stories, surely you had many similar to his, you even knew what it was like to be perceived as a monster. 

He'd been shocked by that. The idea that you, some pretty and strong being, could understand him, it was wild while also comforting. 

He'd find a way to keep you, even better, he'd find a way to make you want to stay, a way to return you to him.

This would be different. This wouldn't be Remmick turning the first person he finds, and waiting for the inevitable moment they'd die or leave. This is someone who first of all, can't die. And secondly someone who's as lonely as he is. He could see it in their eyes. 

If he played his cards right, he could have his own songbird around, cooing in his ear every night when the quiet got too loud. Telling him about their struggles with humans, with the passage of time, with the need to run from everywhere. 

More than that, they could listen back, hear his own stories and struggles and maybe sing them back to him. 

Remmick could see his family again.

So maybe forming connections with people was never going to work, maybe one day everyone leaves and he isn't meant to have a new family anymore. But now with you, he had a chance to get his original one back, one song at a time, his home, his life, with that, who even needs the sun?

He would go back a bit on his promise to himself, he wouldn't turn you, he wasn't even sure he could, but he'd pull every trick necessary to make himself indispensable, to attach himself to you. And when you thank him and offer to pay him back for all he's done for you well, how could you refuse singing a tune like the ones at the bar?

Yes, tonight had been more useful than he'd expected. And it was all thanks to you.

He still wasn't sure what he was feeling, the guilt was still there as well but now for new reasons he was pushing down as far as he could. But he was determined now. 

Remmick smiled up to the sky, measuring how long he had until the sun came up. With one final thought he stood up ready to jump down.

This was going to be fun.

-----------------------------------

Yn's POV

You woke up the next morning already overwhelmed. Memories of yesterday flashing through your mind. The sensations of finally being able to sing, actually getting up on that stage, inviting something in, something that felt as magical as you but better, good. 

Meeting your killer, actually talking to him, letting go of your secrets for the first time, forgiving him, understanding him in a deep level you'd never been able to connect with anyone in-

You sighed. You just woke up. It'd taken you forever to fall asleep yesterday, Remmick's heartfelt “thank you” stuck in your mind on repeat.  And now morning was here and you were as tired, if not more, with too many thoughts running through your head. 

You tried to organise your thoughts and figure out what you were feeling about them all while getting ready for the day. You made breakfast, you considered his regret over killing you. You showered, you remembered the look on his face when you started singing a song from his people. You got dressed and couldn’t stop replaying the moment you realised you’re both alike, both desperately wanting a connection you can’t have.

And through it all you felt the fear. The fear you felt when you exited that burning house, waiting for everyone to come and curse you out. You finally told someone your secret, your whole reason for being how you are, you told someone something that was from so deep in you, taking it out, for a moment you’d seen the words on the air and wished so badly you could grab them and put them back inside.

You knew he couldn’t kill you, you also knew he had no reason to betray your trust. Hell, he’d chosen to give you parts of himself to make up for forcing yours. What would be the point of telling anyone your secrets when you could easily give his back? 

But still the fear of everyone around you coming together to cage you like an animal, execute you like a monster… It was hard not to feel it after revealing so much.

Going outside to head to work you almost expected a mob gathering there. Calling yourself all synonymous of stupid you could think of, you walked to the bar. Unbeknownst to you, work would give you the first real distraction from everything that happened last night.

----------------------------

“What happened?” That's your first question when you see the place still closed with Lawrence outside as if waiting for you. 

“It’s bad kid.” The man sighs looking at the ground. “It's Elliot… someone murdered him last night, threw his body in the dumpster”

Your body freezes.

“I called the police as soon as I came in to open up, the smell alone was enough for me to throw up.” Lawrence shakes his head while talking as if trying to shake the images in his head. “Whoever did this took a chunk out of his neck, I’ve never seen anything like it, I’d have thought it was an animal if not for where he was found.”

You can't believe this, you remember seeing Elliot stepping outside before Remmick came in. You try hard to remember if you saw him come back in at some point before you left for the night, but the memory is nowhere to be found.

There's no question who did this, you're almost offended he didn't even try anything a little bit original, just copied your death with the next one close by like nothing.

The next phrase from Lawrence cuts your selfish thinking. “The police will want to talk to ya kid, it's part of it we've all had to do it, I told them you left early and were on stage for the most part but still, it's important, you understand.”

You did understand, there was nothing you could say that would help, but it was important everyone tried their best to solve this. Knowing they wouldn’t, that his death would go unavenged… it left a bitter feeling in your chest. 

Something akin to guilt also started festering, Remmick had come back to The Space Between the bar because of your singing. You quickly shook your head at the thought, you refused to be so self centered as to make his death about you. You’d lived too long to know that your actions were your own, and it was the same with the rest of the world.

If Remmick had decided to kill Elliot, that was his guilt you were feeling for him, and you were not gonna make things so easy for him.

----------------------------

Your talk with the police went as well as it could. They clearly wanted information you could not give them, or at least wouldn’t. You apologised to Elliot in your head, but there were certain rules to how far you’d go for other people. Rules you’d put in place to make sure you wouldn’t end up on the wrong side of an angry mob again.

Once you’d said goodbye to the police and Lawrence you quickly went back home to think before it got too dark. What now? You had no reason to think you’d ever even see the vampire again. Sure you’d had a heart to heart, you were not conceited enough to assume he would stay in this nowhere town just because of it.

Should you just continue your day as normal? Before your singing, your supernatural discovery, your death? It wouldn’t be the first time you’d woken up from a death and carried on, but there was something about Remmick that wouldn’t let you leave the matter settled.

You thought back to his eyes, the amusement they carried with them at every corner, like he was in on a joke you would always be too late to be included in. His voice, the fake accent, the real one underneath, the way he called you sweet names naturally. 

You wondered what it would be like to hear him sing.

You shook your head for what felt like the tenth time of the day. You were done with this no man, you had been forced to bond with him once and suddenly you were able to excuse his killing of a coworker? Just because you understood him, forgiven his treatment of you, should it be the same for poor Elliot?

You were tired of thinking of someone who would never even show his face again. You could recognise some reasons why you were still thinking of him, and admit you found pity in never seeing his face again, you could even admit he had a nice face to begin with. Though the actually admitting it out loud would have brought shame and heat to your cheeks at once. That did not mean he was suddenly a nice man, one you should give the time of day to. 

No, you were done thinking of Remmick the vampire, the killer, the sweet talker who you could have formed some kinship with if he’d stayed, he would have to be a fool to ever show his face around this parts again and more than that-

Your thoughts were halted by a knock on the door. 

It was a polite and unassuming knock, yet something about it drew you to walk slowly to the door with certain caution. Perhaps it was the quiet you’d just noticed from the outside, the way the birds stopped singing and the wind stopped howling, the way everything seemed to standstill waiting for you to answer something maybe you shouldn’t.

You’d never been one for cowardice though, while squaring your shoulders back you decided to open the door and-

No.

It seemed the vampire was a fool after all.

There stood Remmick, with the same clothes from the last time you saw him. The same pretty eyes filled with mischief, though they held some trepidation this time you’d never bet on him feeling. More surprising, there was a banjo strapped to his back.

“Hiya sweetheart.” The ‘man’ greeted you, a tone indicating it was good to see you. 

You considered slamming the door on his face.

“What are you doing here?” You decided on asking first, out of the million questions in your head.

He shrugged “Well I figured I’d pass by, maybe offer some distraction for you tonight seeing as your usual plans of working have been canceled.” He offered a fake apologetic smile at that. “Sorry about that.”

You couldn't believe his casual tone mentioning his killing, like he hadn't been driven to tears yesterday over his regret at killing you.

Then again why wouldn't you believe it, he'd given you pretty shit reasons to imply he had a heart.

“I don't need a distraction.” You finally settled on, no point wasting time trying to get him to feel for a victim that could do nothing for him. “So unless you're paying me for my shift tonight I suggest you get.”

He laughed amused at your words. “Oh honey I don't think you want to close that door on me until you're heard what I've got to say.” 

How had he read you so easily? And more importantly, what the hell was he talking about?

He sighed for a second looking at the ground, like he hadn't anticipated whatever this was being so difficult.

“Look I'll just cut right to the chase, you seem the type to appreciate that. But first I'll explain that that security man didn't really give me much of a choice, and I needed to get in and hear your sweet voice somehow.”

You feel a mixture of things when hearing that. Guilt again at the confirmation that he got to Elliot because of you, before you quickly pushed it away. Anger at his easy justification for killing someone. Most of all you felt tired at having to feel so much for someone you didn't really even know well.

You ignored the part of you that felt pity for the man in front of you, at how easy it was for him to strip himself of his humanity.

“You said you'd cut straight to the chase.”

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to read you, you did your best to give him nothing. You just stared back, gazing into his eyes, trying not to stare too deeply into them, you didn't care what he felt, at the very least you didn't want to care.

When he realised you were staring back something shifted in his, something he was trying to hold back seeped in and you recognized it plain as day. 

Hunger.

Finally he broke the silence, but continued to stare into your eyes while he spoke. “I think we both know we understand each other better than most people could understand us.”

You stilled.

He continued.

“And we both understand the importance and… magic of music.”

“This is you cutting to the chase?”

“I'm getting there.”

“You need inspiration.” At your affronted look he clarified. “For your music.”

“Oh do I?”

“And I need someone to listen.” 

You frowned at him suspiciously. “What are you suggesting?”

“Let's meet at night.” He started pleading. “I'll tell you a little something about myself, or someone else who's just like me, you then grab whatever you want from that, and make your art to sing back at the joint.”

You were confused for a few reasons. He was being bold coming to you like this. He was even more bold in pretending this was at all a fair deal. Helpful to you in any way.

“I'm not even the usual singer at the bar, I'm a backup.”

He smirked then looked you up and down. “We both know they'll be crazy not to offer you the job after last night.”

“And-” You carried on like he didn't say anything. “Who says I need your stories to make up any of my art?”

“Okay so the song thing was a bit of a stretch.” Remmick conceded. “But it's not a bad reason and even if not the priority, let's not pretend you won't get anything out of the two of us…”

You could see Remmick struggle to find the words.

“...hanging out.”

You stared at him for a beat too long.

You saw satisfied smile at having finished his sentence. But you also saw the uncertainty in his eyes at his choice of words. He was really trying for something here. 

You were sure you didn't want him getting it easily.

“Hanging out?”  You deadpanned.

He spread his arms at his sides and exclaimed. “Hanging out!”

That's when the rest of the sentence came back to you. “Wait, what do you think I'll be getting out of us hanging out?”

At this he dropped his arms, stopped the fake confident smile and looked into your eyes once again.

“I can promise you you won't be lonely no more.”

.

.

.

You've never not been lonely before. At least you don’t remember a time you weren't. If you concentrate hard enough, sure there were moments; your parents hugging you before everything, Cynthia laughing at something deadpanned you'd said you couldn't resist at the time, her baby holding your finger. 

There were moments you'd felt something close to the connection Remmick talked wistfully about. Short moments you'd been close to something real. 

It was a strange feeling when you were in a room with people. You couldn't really form relationships with them but you had acquaintances, people who knew whatever name you used in whatever town you'd gone to. Still, being in the room with them, them who knew a version of you that wasn't real, while not even knowing that much to begin with. It was strange. 

You were lonely, no matter how many people were there or not. You didn't let them close, you didn't let them know you, you couldn't. 

You were forced to run, forced to continue coming up with new names, new places, new everything. Why go through the pain of knowing anyone and having to say goodbye? More than that, why go through the danger of having people want to keep in touch? 

So yeah, of course you were lonely.  

That didn't make you an easy mark. 

You get what this used-to-be-man is trying to do here. You can see the desperation leaking off him in his sweaty forehead. You can sense the anxiety on his tight shoulders. He's breathing fast hoping the moment will pass faster if he can just inhale it quick enough. 

He's hanging on barely, waiting for your response. You take a moment to think, you are lonely as you've established, you could use the company of someone who you don't have to keep at arms length, someone who knows enough about the real you, who could find out more and actually wants to. 

That's not a question. What is a question is if this being, Remmick, is truly the one to let close. 

He isn't, you know he isn't, he's a murderer, a cruel man who took pleasure in playing with you, with your fear. Surely out of everyone to let close enough to form an attachment, a bond, surely he's the last one, he should be. 

But he does know your secret. More than that, he understands what it's like. He's died before, and gotten up right after, and have to keep going knowing there's no clear or inevitable end, probably. 

'He's lonely too'. You can't help but let the unhelpful thought come through. 

'He's also willing to do anything to get his way' You argue back with yourself. 

Sure, you'd forgiven him for killing you. You understand survival, you understand getting colder as time passes. You can even understand not caring at all. 

Still, you refuse to be his victim twice.

But then you think of Elliot.

Thrown away, discarded after being used so this vampire could see you once again. You thought of the people of this town, the ones you sort of knew, the ones you saw walking around sometimes, what would happen to their lives if Remmick stuck around?

What would happen to their lives if he didn't get what he wanted?

You had an idea, a crazy, stupid idea, but it was something that would bring you some peace over not helping with Elliot's death. Perhaps it would bring you more than just some peace.

“I have a condition.”

At this you saw his expression change. He stilled. You saw his desperation leave for a second as he smiled triumphantly, knowing he'd won. You saw shock enter his eyes before they gleamed with satisfaction. You took in all of this with a bittersweet sensation.

“Whatever you want sugar, it's yours.” 

“I don't want you to feed on the people of this town.” You blurted out.

He exhales strongly like he wants to laugh but won't for your benefit. “That's fine, it'll take some trouble going to the next but not enough to not accept the deal.” He teases.

You shake your head “No, I don't want you to feed from the next town either”

Something shifts in his eyes, his posture tenses once again “I don't think you fully understand what I am sweetheart I ha-”

“You have to feed on human blood, yes, I understand.” You quickly interrupt. You inhale before finally bursting out with your idea. “But from now on you'll feed on my blood.”

“What.”

“You'll drink my blood at night after we've… ‘hung out’ or whatever you have planned. And during the day I'll regenerate the blood you took from me.” You explain simply, neutral toned.

He doesn't relax. Or seem any less confused. “You want me… to feed from you…?”

You feel heat crawl at your cheeks. “I don't particularly want that, I just don't want you to kill anyone else if I can help it.”

“How noble.” He huffs a laugh “I gotta say honey, you're already been such a big bag of surprises. I can't wait to get to know you even better.”

This was probably not your greatest idea.

You clear your throat. “So it's a deal?”

He smiles victoriously, all fake human teeth shining. The reminder of what hides underneath making you shiver slightly for some reason that's not entirely fear.

Your eyes widened as you realised where exactly your trail of thoughts was leading you.

Moments like this you wished you had more friends to be able to talk to someone about this. But thinking of your friends from school, the ones you sit with at lunch and share notes with in class, the ones you study with and say goodbye at the end of the school day knowing you won’t talk to them until the next class… talking to them about a crush… it just wasn’t your relationship.

Not to mention that crush being on the James Cook, you hadn’t lied when you told him you didn’t think you were better than him but, you definitely knew most people at school thought so, at least the ones you talked to. It wasn’t fair, they didn’t know him…

At the same time, he had done some very messy very public things during the year.

‘It doesn’t matter’ You decided shaking your head. Those things are him sure, you weren’t under the impression his only honest time was around you during tutoring. You knew he was wild and chaotic and full of energy he was willing to hit everyone around him with, in whatever form it came out, hell the consequences.

But you also knew he was delicate, you knew how insecure he really was inside, how he assumed he had no future so why would he bother with boring stuff in the present that would ultimately not help him in the long run. He was scared, and trying his best to distract himself from that.

How were you supposed to make him see that wasn’t the case? How were you meant to tutor him if he thought it was a waste of time? And how were you meant to apologise if he would keep skipping class, and when he did come, ignore you like you were never even there?

Because that was the new thing. 

Suddenly the guy whose eyes would always find their way back to yours during class distracting the shit out of you. The guy who would find a way to sit close by enough you could hear all his stupid jokes and comments about whatever he was thinking about at the moment. The guy that would bump into you in the hallways and help you pick your books as if you didn’t know he did it on purpose. That guy was now ignoring you.

You didn’t expect his absence to be just as distracting without any of the warm feelings you’d purposely ignored he gave you.

You had to do something, something big, something impossible to ignore. You had to do something Cook-like.

You thought back to his words from that day for what felt like the hundredth time, and for the first time, you grinned. You had your big move planned.

Cook's POV

He wasn't sure whose party this was, but it wasn't like it mattered anyways, he knew the basics, there was a party and it wasn't at his lonely room back at the college, so here he was. Ready to have a good time no matter what he had to do to get it.

He was jumping and dancing with a drink in his hand. All the bright lights blurring together making the room spin. Or maybe it was the alcohol in his system making him dizzy, who knew. All he needed to know was that the girl grinding on him this second was fit.

She probably wouldn't listen to him talk about why the college system was bullshit. She probably wouldn't argue back about how the rules are important to know how to survive in the real world. She absolutely wouldn't call him James like the idea that he could be more than Cook was anything remotely close to reality. She-

She was fit, and she was there. That's all he needed right now and it's all he would need tomorrow too.

He didn't miss some stupid forced tutoring sessions that made him feel he had something more going for him than he did.

Of course it wasn't the actual sessions that had done that, no, it'd very clearly been you. 

Since the last time, maybe he'd try to open a book and do some homework, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. When JJ had walked in on him all shocked at seeing him reading notes you'd left for him for the last assignment, he'd barely managed to convince him it was a prank, that he'd heard JJ walking by so he'd opened some bullshit to see his reaction.

The point was, reading and actual to God trying by himself sure hadn't left him with the same butterflies feeling in his chest that he'd obtain when you'd smiled at him after getting something right. If JJ hadn't walked in he would have ended up burning all the notes out of frustration and embarrassment anyways.

Why was he still even thinking about this, about you? He had everything he needed right here, a hot chick whose neck was getting properly treated by his mouth thank you, and a cold beer he was taking sips from whenever she danced a bit too far away. 

Yeah, Cook was living his best life, and he had no need to read some, he now knew was Shakespeare, to pass the time and answer some shit questions all so some pretty girl would smile at him and make him feel he wasn't screwing everything up for once.

With that in mind he continued dancing/grinding ignoring the empty feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of the girl's face or every time she moaned out “Cook” instead of James.

Ignoring how he just called you pretty in his head.

Your POV

‘This was a bad idea’ you thought for the millionth time while adjusting the length of your dress so it would cover a bit more of your ass for about two seconds before your hands let the fabric go.

“But it's necessary.” You whispered back to yourself. Putting your shoulders back and letting your chest be more visible than it usually was to the world. With a confidence that was more fake than you wanted it to be you entered the house.

Music you could already hear from the outside burst into your eardrums. You forced yourself not to flinch. The place was dark with some really shining, appearing out of nowhere, coloured lights reflecting the people dancing everywhere. You walked through the hallway where some couples (you assumed were couples) were making out. (You hoped was just making out)

You did not belong here on a good day. And it felt like everyone was going to notice any second now. The music would stop and everyone would turn to point and yell at the prude who wasn't even properly invited until she left as quickly as possible.

You took a deep breath. You refused to let your fear drive you away from this. You kept walking inside until you saw him. 

James Cook was in the center of the room, a place he clearly belonged in. He was stealing attention, jumping around, laughing loudly with no care in the world. It was like every pair of eyes at some point turned to look at him, whether it was to admire or judge didn't matter. It was all attention and that was all Cook needed to relish in.

You notice with some difficulty and a pang in your chest the beautiful girl he was dancing with. Practically dry humping in front of everyone. It drove heat to your cheeks to see him making out with her neck. At some points, the beat of the music would drop and the people around would stop shrieking with abandon. In those moments your trained ears fixated on him could even make out some moans coming from him.

You really shouldn't have come.

You wondered whether to just leave while you could when suddenly it was too late. He'd spotted you. You watched slowly his eyes widened and his mouth stopping its um actions to stare open mouth at you instead.

The girl he was ‘dancing’ with clearly didn't appreciate the pause, turning to look at him. Which for some reason staring at her made him wince in response before he said something you couldn't hear. Then she shrugged and continued dancing while Cook moved quickly towards you.

You saw his eyes glancing up and down your body, clearly surprised at the outfit you'd put on to blend in. His eyes showed something else but you couldn't figure it out with your panic.

You ignored your brain screaming at you to flee, instead you stood straight, watching calmly the man you liked approach you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

You forced a casual air and shrugged lightly. “Oh you know, just enjoying the evening.” You mentally hit your face repeatedly.

“Enjoying your- what the fuck are you on about” He's clearly frustrated, his voice raised enough few people turn to look.

You try not to blush in embarrassment, you keep your casual air. Though you let some tension sweep into your tone. “I'm just here to have a good night Cook, why is that a problem?”

He seems hurt by something “So it's Cook now eh?” Damn it, you figured he'd like that. “Besides, since when do you have good nights?” He jokes.

You refuse to let slight hurt seep in. You shrug again. “Since I have free time from my tutoring I guess.”

You see him hide a wince, but he recovers quickly. 

“You're not gonna make me feel guilty over that sweetheart.” He defends, then attacks. “Guess I'm just too cowardly to continue.”

You don't hide your wince, but you take the chance to do what you've been trying to do for days now. “I'm… sorry about calling you that, I got too angry which I partly blame you for, but I should have handled myself better, besides I was wrong, you're not a coward Cook.” You look into his eyes so he can see the sincerity in yours. “You're anything but.”

You see him soften inside, like he's been carrying tension you just took from him. 

He looks at the floor embarrassed. “Whatever, it didn't matter.” He pauses for a second then looks up at you again. “Just like the things I said.” 

It's the closest you'll get to an apology and you let it warm your chest.

He suddenly points at your outfit up and down “Is that all you came here to say because you didn't have to dress like that and come here for that.” He jokes, his signature smirk back on his face.

You smile back kindly. “I already told you, I'm here to have a good time.” You let him look confused for a few seconds longer before admitting. “Though it's not without its nefarious purposes.”

“What?”

Your smile turns sly. “Don't remember? ‘The only thing less likely than me getting a passing grade is seeing you at a party actually enjoying yourself.’”

You see his eyes widen in recognition before clouding again in confusion. You take a deep breath while looking into his eyes, ready to be more vulnerable than usual, if someone deserves that from you, it's him.

“I'm not letting you go so easily, Cook, I figured I would take the challenge.” 

Yours words do something to him though you're not sure what, something heavy lies in his eyes. 

“That wasn't a challenge princess.” He argues. Then counters before you can say something. “Besides we both know this isn't your scene.” He smiles sarcastically at you.

You snap back. “Well I'm making it a challenge, no.” You shake your head. “I'm making it a bet.”

He leans in interested.

You smile then explain. “I last longer than you enjoying myself tonight and you take your tutoring sessions back up, and I prove to you you can get a passing grade for any subject.”

“You think you can last longer than me here, tonight?” Cook clarifies, his tone shocked.

You nod.

Mostly he showed up late, when he did appear he was clearly high/drunk, not really giving a single fuck about Hamlet and the themes of the play. You figured he would at least read some summary of the play or watch part of a movie adaptation, pretend he was trying when clearly not. But it seemed even you had given the boy too much credit, when he first named the author as Dickens you really thought he was joking, but no, he clearly had payed fuck all attention in class. 

This was going to be harder than you thought.

“Come on James, you know this we’ve been over it” You tried keeping the frustration out of your voice to some but not enough success. “What are the themes of Hamlet? You don’t have to say all the teacher was listing in class, just say two or three you can expand on.”

“Look babe I know that you really care about this” He started with that tone of voice that irked you so badly, the humorous ‘This is hilarious for me even if you can’t see it’ tone, that made everything into one big joke for him. “And don’t get me wrong, it’s cute! You truly care about this bloke and his daddy trauma, but, and no offense with this, some of us have better things to do with our day than focus on some dickhead’s revenge and how girls go crazy and kill themselves.

You took a deep breath, ignored the tosser parts of what he’d just said, how he implied you didn’t have a life and how funny he considered the idea of caring about something, and focused on the hopeful parts. 

“Thank you.” You struggled to reply.

He dropped his dopey smile and looked at you confused. “What?”

“Revenge, suicide and of course the articulate ‘daddy trauma.’” You recited then explained. “Three themes you clearly are aware of enough to judge therefore enough to expand on about the play Hamlet. Now all you need to do is tell me a little bit about each and we’re done for the day.” You looked up at him and smiled tiredly but happy nonetheless.

You saw his expression slowly drop the confusion as he realised he’d done something right. His eyes lit up while his smile from before came back tenfold. No longer a smile formed from mocking you and the world at large or whatever narcotic he’d taken this time, but a smile inspired by pride at himself.

“Ooookay let’s not get too cocky just yet, you still have to word them better next time and prove you understand right now.” You tried to be tough but seeing him actually getting some joy from studying… Well, it was nice to see someone understanding they could do something they previously had zero hope for.

Someone, anyone, not this man in particular, no sir. -----------------------------------------------------------------

Cook’s POV

It took a few lessons, but Cook quickly realised he was wrong about his assumption of you. He figured you were like every other nerd he’d met, some studious ‘I’m too good for this place and definitely too good to talk to you’ brainy person, who needed a reality check probably in the shape of a fist to realise the world was a joke, and taking it and yourself so seriously would only hurt you more in the long run.

Was Cook projecting a bit? Maybe, he’s not entirely sure what the word means anyways.

But he was wrong. Sure, you clearly care way too much, and you're too busy studying all the time to enjoy any aspect of life, but, he never catches you judging him too harshly. He never sees you up on a pedestal of your own making, too busy feeding your high horse to help him understand whatever it is you're trying to get him to read this time.

You don’t roll your eyes when he questions something, only when it's clear he's not paying attention, if anything him questioning things thrills you? It makes no sense. But he's happy enough to not be saddled up with a judgy person to care too much. 

More than a few times you’ve made him genuinely laugh with your comments on whatever bullshit you’re reading now for English or how the teacher is doing with the class.

He even gets things right sometimes! You're very good at grabbing whatever it is he said or did correctly for once and help him shape it into something the teachers of this place would have no choice but to pass as correct.

It's kinda fun to see you work, not nearly as fun as it is to watch you get frustrated though.

“You're thirty five minutes late!” Your voice immediately starts the second he walks into the classroom. Shrilly in that way it seems only he can make it. “We only have ten minutes before the period is over, what is wrong with you?!”

Cook holds his hands up in a sign of innocence, though the smirk rising on his lips defeats the purpose. “Woah there sweetheart, I just came in, no need to shout so loudly, there's people studying next door you know.”

You frustratedly heave a sigh, letting out an adorable little growl instead of whatever yell you had prepared in the time he was gone no doubt. If you were a cartoon you'd be tearing your hair out right now, which would be a shame considering how nicely it suits you. 

Wait what?

“We don't have time for your jokes today James, we're supposed to be studying. There's a final in our near future, a final that counts for 35 percent of our grades, ring any bells?” You're clearly trying your best to let out each word slowly but sure of itself, not too angry, for you know by now he only finds it more hilarious and less important when you show how rageful he's made you.

“Why do you do that?” He suddenly asks, surprising even himself. 

You're clearly caught off guard and scrunch your face (cute) in confusion. “Do what?”

Cook wasn't planning to get into this with you but it has been on his mind he guesses. “Call me James.” He explains.

“Oh.” You're clearly surprised by the turn of the conversation, looking to the side like you're trying to figure out yourself why you do that. “Well it's your name isn't it? Why is it weird that I call you that?” You sound unsure of yourself, something quite rare, Cook is displeased to find he doesn't feel pleasure in making you sound like that. “Unless you'd rather I didn't?”

He's also a bit disappointed by the answer and quick to reply. “Nah you can keep calling me that, just not used to it I guess…” he trails off thinking about the time he beat up a kid in year 4 that refused to stop calling him James, and that fit girl he stopped sex with midway through it once because she kept moaning it, and every teacher he'd had that he'd explain his name was actually Cook. 

He despised people calling him James. And yet, there was something about you saying it, he didn't mind so much. Probably the tight angry way it was usually uttered amused him. Plus the fact that no matter how badly he screwed up an answer it was never uttered with any real disappointment, like he'd fucked up too much.

Yeah, that must be it. -----------------------------------------------------------------

Your POV

“You know what your real problem is?” Okay so you were done. This had been an infuriating session, more than usual. It seems Cook was in a really bad mood and was doing his hardest to drag you down to his level. It wasn’t like usual where he would find which buttons were funnier to push, no, this was just mean. Even he wasn’t finding this amusing. It was like he was just mocking you to punish you for dragging him to study today.

So you were done.

“You think you’re so cool, and bad, from doing the most random dangerous stupid shit possible every day. You think caring makes you an idiot and not trying makes you a god because you’re living life without worries.” You copied his usual sardonic smile. “Well guess what asshole, children don’t have worries, after a while you grow up and realise that Shit. Changes. nothing stays the same and the only way to control something is to care enough to try.”

You took a deep breath, trying to regain it after finally saying something you’d wanted to since maybe the first time you really saw him. Maybe this is what he needed, someone to see him and push him, you’d tried to be the nice tutor, the fun tutor, hell you’d tried bribing him before just to give you the correct answer you’re sure he knew. Maybe the tough tutor was something he’d respond to.

And respond he did.

You wish you could see what he was thinking/feeling in that moment, but all he was giving you was a condescending sneer. “You wanna know what your problem is?” He started copying your question from before.

“You think you’re better than us peasants because you’re so grounded and caring. You think if you try hard enough, if you focus just enough you can control everything around you. Well guess what princess, you just said it, ‘shit changes, nothing stays the same’ and there’s not enough books to read that will change that.” 

Cook laughs, a mean spirited laugh. “What the fuck is the point of caring and making yourself miserable when you can stop and actually have fun? You think being this sour all the time is so profound but when’s the last time you actually had a good time?”

You couldn’t answer his last question so you focused on the other thing that most bothered you. 

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone! I don’t even think I’m better than you! The guy who still can’t even bother to write his name on his essays but tattoos it fine on his hand for eternity. You want to know why?”

You throw your hands in the air and finally get to the root of your problem with him. The real reason him not trying gets your goat so badly. 

“Because you have so much potential!” His sneer drops, but you’re too heated to stop now. “Potential you’re just actively throwing away, you forget unlike most, I've seen you try! You could be good if you just took the time to focus and organize the thoughts in your head but you don't because it's easier to not even try and always fail than actually attempt to succeed for once, you're not a rebel, you're a coward.”

You may have gone too far.

For a second he looked stunned. Then his sneer came back, just a bit turned down, like you’d sucked a bit of his energy out.

“Well, sorry not all of us can be the weirdo with no friends that tries too hard all the time. Sorry some of us don’t get all horny in our panties from being the sad loner who never leaves her house at night.”

You could feel an angry and embarrassing blush crawl up your cheeks. “I don’t-”

“I think it’s for the best if we stop these studying sessions, yeah?” Cook cuts you off. “The only thing less likely than me getting a passing grade is seeing you at a party actually enjoying yourself besides.” He smiles once more but this time the coldness of it chills you. “We both knew this was a waste of time anyways.”

He leaves the classroom while you’re too busy staring hurt and upset back at him.