~ coy !

With a small noise of discontent, Will takes his sunglasses off. Coy is clearer now, even offers Will a small smile in approval, but Will still itches to remove Coy’s respective sunglasses, reveal the ruby red eyes he’s trying to hide. He knows the consequences, but despite them, he wants Coy to hypnotize him, lure him in like any other of his prey.

Well, tonight, their prey.

“I was trying to be, like, supportive,” Will says with a shrug. “We’re both hungry. Just pretend that my eyes have also turned red, or do you think I can—”

Coy holds his finger up, silencing his boyfriend. Even though his sunglasses obstruct his face, Will can detect the rapid darting and careful concentration that’s occurring underneath. This can only mean that Coy senses someone nearby, someone with blood that appeals to his refined tastebuds. Honestly, Will just thinks that all of the time Coy has spent roaming this Earth has made him spoiled.

Will’s ears perk up when he hears a man rounding the corner to the alleyway, seemingly calling someone on the phone at this time of night.

“—right? It’s unbelievable how she would give it all away for some—” This poor, unfortunate man makes uneasy eye contact with the two of them. Will doesn’t blame him; he has every right to be freaked out when two men are staring at him in an alleyway in the middle of the night. The man offers a small wave. “Have a good night, guys.”

“Night,” Will says, offering his own little wave. His eyes flicker between the man and Coy; the man’s walking speed progressively getting faster as he walks further down the alley, whereas Coy’s jaw progressively gets tighter the more he’s driven by his appetite.

Will brings his voice down to a whisper. “He’s on the phone. They’re gonna hear. We can find someone else.”

“They’ll only hear if you’re sloppy,” Coy answers eerily, hushed and in a sing-song.

With this, Coy licks his lips and rips his sunglasses off of his face. There’s this crazed look in his eyes, which are the same crimson as the sticky substance he craves. His jaw twitches, and his mouth opens slightly, revealing his fangs. Will feels a little insane, knowing how much of a danger Coy is, yet he finds beauty in starved eyes and porcelain fangs anyways.

Coy leans into his ear, muttering, “Just think about how good he’ll taste.”

He gingerly grabs Will’s chin and forces him to look in the direction of the retreating man. And goddamnit, Will can imagine the taste flooding his tastebuds. All of the ways he could prepare the flesh, the meat practically dissolving on his tongue.

Coy looks at Will with a cocked eyebrow and a face that knows he won.

“Alright, baby,” Will relents. “Just don’t make a mess.”

Coy scowls. “When do I ever?”

In a blink, Coy’s gone, and Will hears the muffled screaming not long after. The whole ordeal is reminiscent of a dumpster fire: it’s horrible and tragic, and you know this for a fact, but you still cannot help but to look. So, Will looks, and he falls in love all over again.