“Wake me up when this is over.”

     "Oof!- Ahh.. My apologies.. I must’ve tripped over my footing.”

     “Ferid said you called for me. My apologies, I didn’t hear.”

     “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Pay more attention.”

   That question was enough to make her visibly totter, eyes flickering to either side of him, then briefly over him for any noticeable devices. After all, this could be a test. Surely, she was given freedom as a sort of test. Was this boy a part of it? Her hands twitched before curling into fists. Was this another one? Another person she had to eliminate? They aren’t people. They’re objectives. Only we are people. She had been told that, had it drilled into her head. She was a person when she was faced with having to murder faulty experiments, but otherwise, she was a weapon.     Lydia swallowed, twisting her fingers as a means to distract herself from looking directly at him. “My mother is dead.” The words were mechanical, as if she had to repeat them before, learn to say them without batting an eye, but the next words were carefully compiled. “Papa is.. very smart, a genius. And he’s really nice when I do good. Sometimes, he pats my head and says I’m a good girl. I really like that.” Careful. No one could make her consider that her father, the man who had taught her to call him Papa as a means to form an endearing bond, was a monster.

   “My name.. I don’t think I should tell you. I’m not supposed to talk to you, or anyone..” She hesitated, glancing at him only from beneath her lashes. “Will you be angry if I don’t tell you? I don’t want you to dislike me, Mikaela..”

     His heart grew sad for the girl but it looked like she was completely fine. Not even he was able to tell the story of his parents without wanting to cry but he would hold back his tears until he were alone so he wouldn’t cause an inconvenience which he had learned from his parents. “I’m sorry..” His eyes rested to the ground while the other continued on. The way she was talking about her father seemed off like there was definitely something wrong. This wouldn’t do. He needed to save her. Maybe if he was able to remember as much as he could of her appearance, Mr. Saito could find her.

   The speed of his lunge was unlike anything she had endured before, the pressure of his weight slamming against her, toppling her backward, and she braced for the tear of flesh, for the bite of fangs, the indescribable sound of blood flowing from her wounds into his mouth—there was nothing. His hands near tore the offensive object from the floor between them, tossing it with enough force to cut into the concrete walling nearest the bed. And when his grip caught her blood drenched hand, it was tight, whitening her fingers, even as the blood marred his pristine gloves. Widened eyes sought his out, horror christening her features as she drew in a shaken breath. He was worse than before. She had only served to INTENSIFY his suffering; he would deny her still.

   “But why, why are you—of all things—why do you have to do  T H I S?” It felt selfish to ask him to take her blood somehow, even knowing nothing of his incomplete transformation; it was selfishness, a desire to tether him to her once again, allow them to live beside each other once more, that had given her the strength to slit her own palm. Tears welled in her eyes, as she gripped his gloved hands, sitting up, knees finding the droplets of blood on the floor and smearing them into the fabric of her dress. “Mika.. why can’t you just stay as you are, why can’t you just do this?”     The gloves fell away as he stripped the sleeve of his uniform, of the beautiful uniform that fit him so well, wrapping it around her dirty, bloodied hand. She clutched it to her chest, tears rolling once more down her paled cheeks, as she stood, shoulders trembling, breaths hitching. “I-I don’t.. I just.. Mika, please.” The bed was too far from him, so far that she couldn’t touch him. After all this time, was she supposed to stay silent, stay still and witness whatever horrors he endured? Was this divine punishment? Her white knuckle grip clutched her wounded hand; her face flushed with shame. “A demon, you.. what does that even mean? Will you be yourself, or will you die? What will happen, if I just let you do this?”

   “Don’t, don’t make me an accomplice in killing you!” The first time her heart had broken was the day her father left, no note, no words, as if he had gone for groceries one day and never returned. The second was when her mother hired on a caretaker, the day their relationship ended; the small death of her mother. The third, when she saw one the news, her best friend’s parents’ car collided into another going an irresponsible speed; there was no sign of the son. Again, she felt her heart break when her mother’s hand went cold, blood a flower bloomed across her chest, soaking her favorite gown; when the world ended. And now, when she thought she had found a sliver of hope again, a shimmer of what had been a happiness in her life ( her father who had made her smile had left, her mother who had been her only relative had died; but her best friend had survived, had returned to her, and now.. ), he was going to abandon her.    Was this the only way to show her love: watching him die?

     "Listen.. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..” There was really no argument to him. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He’s hurt too many and Mikaela would be damn sure that this fragile flower that Elise is. Not even the most evil and malicious being could take that from her and he would bring hell to whoever dared try to change that or manipulate her. ”I won’t be myself. I’m hardly myself right now. When I turn, I will have horns and I will be taken away to be turned into a cursed weapon that will be given to a human to fight against a vampire. That’s if someone is strong enough to become my master.”

He wants to cry. He’s shaking, and that’s all he can manage to suppress his fear and sorrow into. He feels helpless that this is something that will happen, though that doesn’t change his current intentions because he wants to save them. He needs to save them. They’re his parents, after all, and he can’t let them just die. It’d be unfair of him, won’t it? To know that their death is coming and to not do anything about it…

Still, he manages to stay his tongue, manages to control his fear enough so he can listen to his elder talk some more, though not enough to prevent tears from forming at the edges of his eyes.

Attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat, he looks up at the other with wide eyes at the familiar name. “Hyakuya… so you took on that name?” It’s a given, it seems, and he’s cheered up slightly to know that there are more people for him to meet yet…

“Until?” His voice shakes on the syllables.

     “Yeah. You will love it. Trust me.” He offered the boy a smile. He could already see how miserable the other felt and it would feel one thousand times worse when the time came but, the orphanage was something truly to look forward to, despite the things that would happen to him without his knowledge. And this is where there was hope. The vampire would be sure that this young boy will do everything in his power to protect his siblings. Keep him from making the mistakes he made.

     ATLAS had abruptly cupped his chin without warning and turned his face side to side as if he was inspecting him. “Hmm.” He forced his lips slightly apart and couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. Fangs. Sure, demons had fangs as well but he didn’t particularly carry the presence of a demon. “Are you a vampire? Ah, well I guess that’s sort of a stupid question.” He raised a brow and closed the distance between their faces a bit more. "You know, you have a really beautiful face. Well, not that it’s uncommon but … still.”

Starter call !!