#tbhc

Another night, another nightmare. 

Cold sweat covers you and the watery in your eyes threaten to fall down. You can't control your breath and your heart seems to explode in your chest, but you cling to it to try to ground yourself back again. To try to come back to reality and realize you finally woke up.

You glaze at the white light from the moon, reflecting on your skin through the open window, casting a haunting spell on your bedroom. 

It startled you. Not from the cold it let in, but because you knew it shouldn't be open.

You closed it before you went to bed.

You were sure you closed it.

That fact and the soft breeze that hit your bare shoulders felt sinister, throwing you back to an occurring thought:

There's someone in your house.

You have been seeing things lately. 

It started with strange shadows sliding through the floor, doors unlocking without your or the wind action. You could feel things moving behind your back, but when you turned around, it was nowhere to be found. Something, someone was playing a sick game with you. And, in the same way you felt paranoid, you wanted to chase after it. You wanted to stare at it and tell you caught it first.

But you were losing the battle.

Now, almost every time the sun comes down and the moon is born again, you have night terrors. You tried sleeping pills, chamomile tea, light comedy tv shows – useless to your perturbed mind, it didn't help in warding off the nightmares.

It was always the same dream. You were paralyzed in your bed, stuck into witnessing everything. You would feel that presence around, faceless and threatening. 

His presence around.

He never touched you, but he hovered over you close enough that he echoed a cold lifeless feeling that would hit your bones. Words never came out of his mouth, but his black tar shadow stood in front of your bed, watching over you as a compromise. As a prize to keep, as something precious.

As a prey.

But when he would finally hover on top of you, and you could start to tell apart what was the darkness of the room and what was him, he left. 

Every single night, as soon as he came, he left.

He left you stranded, trembling in fear of the unknown. But worst – desperate for more.

You tried to shake off the feeling, telling yourself that enormous amount of fear sometimes felt like something else. Those times after you come back from the state of dreaming, panting and still around the feeling of being trapped, your mind always runs to one solution.

With your shaken hands you got your cellphone, sending a message to your caller: your dear boyfriend, Alex. 

Alex, the only to get you, your brown haired lover. People told you you were going crazy, but never him. When everything feels too loud, he understands you, hugs you into his huge figure and tells you it was fine. That you weren't insane.

Quickly, your fingertips type on the keyboard, as if it was a distress signal.

al 🫶 r u there? can you come over???

You send it, and something eases on you when the green sign tells you that he saw it. He didn’t answer it, but he didn’t need to. Because you knew that, when you call, he runs to you. 

You should’ve suspected when he arrived too quickly, almost immediately, but you were desperate. So when you heard his steady knock on your door, you just wanted to open it and welcome him.

He was standing by your doorframe, with droplets of water from the rain covering his combed hair and the murk of the night accentuating his features. Before his mouth could say anything, you dropped yourself into his arms, taking in the smell of his strong cologne. One of his hands went instantly to your waist, while the other one brushed the strands of hair away from your face.

His mouth whispered sweet things to you, bringing you to him while you cried onto his neck. He closed the door behind him and guided you to your bedroom again, still holding you the whole time. When you got there, you finally had the courage to look him in his face. His beautiful and sharp traces looked worried, his usual nonchalant appearance disappearing until he was only your familiar Al. 

“Hey… You’re alright, love, you’re with me. Let me guess, another nightmare?”

You nod your head shyly to him, knowing your eyes and cheeks are all red. His touch was soft while caressing your head, putting you carefully in your bed as if you were his doll. When you laid down, feeling dizzy and safe for having him with you, the light from the full moon let you finally take a proper look at his brown eyes looking down on you. But deep in it, even if still holding the same concern and care, something different gleamed. A gleam that told you that he was holding himself from doing something, and seeing you so unwarned for him made it difficult for him to keep control.

The coldness of his hands contrasted with the warm glow in his eyes, burning with something dangerously close to hunger.

Something carnal.

You thought that the absence of mirrors in his apartment meant that he was insecure. You thought that when he avoided to talk about his past and family was because they lived far away. His pale skin, odd behavior, ancient vocabulary, and now the burning gleam in his eyes...

It was like a puzzle falling into place.

“Alex…?”

Looking up at him, you figured it all out. It didn't make sense, but you understood it.

It was him the one who watched you every night, the one that haunted your “dreams”. Your mouth fell open and your hands started to shake.

It was him all along.

As realization filled your features, he noticed what you got. So he gave you the answer to all your wonders.

Along the spark in his eyes, something else appeared. Standing out from the darkness around, you saw what you thought wasn't possible. Something that belongs to horror movies, fantastic dreams. Peeking from his mouth, a pair of two white shiny fangs stared you. Not only as a threat, but as a truth. A secret you shouldn’t know.

“You… It was you.”

The words sank in, more to yourself than anything else.

“Forgive me.”

The two simple words flowed almost imperceptible in the air. He didn’t truly mean it. And in the same way he did, you knew it.

He didn’t like the thought of you being terrified of him, no. But he couldn’t help it. 

You were the first one to truly stand by his side, who saw him as someone other than a monster. He let himself get closer to you, getting used to the different kind of life you provided for him. A one with someone by his side. He didn’t deserve you, but he couldn’t pull you away.

When you started to date, he thought that it would be enough. That he already had you, even if in the most normal way. Soon he went after more. He became more obsessed. He hid in the shadows, watched over you secretly. At night, when he knew he was unrecognizable for you, he grew bolder and drew closer to what he wanted the most – to you. Yet, it wasn’t enough. Again. He was growing more and more needy.

Needy for you, for your blood.

He didn't want it to get to this point, but he couldn't help it. Not when you smelt so pure, making him aware that you would taste so sweet on his tongue. He told himself he didn't want it, but maybe, that was what he was looking for all this time. 

And all those hidden feelings for all this time were about to break.

You told yourself that the rapid beating of your heart meant fear, but you were ecstatic, overwhelmed. By the truth, by who you were trusting yourself so willingly all these months.

You should be scared of him. 

He's been watching you.

He’s been chasing you. 

He’s been craving you.

He’s a blood sucking creature – a vampire.

Even then, there's no use to pretend you felt anything other than attraction for him.

Anything other than love for him.

You wanted to say something, but you felt it was useless. He already knew everything going through your head.

Carefully, he leaned into your neck, as if testing a boundarie. Your heart started to go faster. You didn't know if it was fear or anticipation, or which one was worse to feel at that moment. He looked up at you with his big eyes, who begged for permission. Not that he couldn't do it without it, but because he wanted to hear it from you. 

“Can I?”

The room felt too quiet, the silence that would change everything forever.

“Yes.”

He lowered your shirt until it rested on your shoulder, exposing the bare skin of your clavicle. He kissed slowly right into the pulse point in your neck, and a wave of unwanted excitement went through your body. It was the sweet before the sour. A preparation for you for what was about to come

The cold of his lips against your skin was his way to say “I love you”. 

The next moment you knew, his fangs were already deep inside of you.

A loud gasp escaped through your lips. Your body tensed and your pupils dilated. You felt it everywhere – in the shiver down your spine, head to toe. It burned like hell, and you felt you were going down in it. A feral growl escaped from him by the contact with your liquid, and his knuckles went white by his grip on you. 

You could feel him sucking you, now not holding back any part of him. His hands were all over you, his posture hard. The pain was unbearable, but in some way, pleasant.

He was disheveled, raw for you. And even if you couldn't totally process it, you liked the power you had over him.

You were enjoying it.

You were barely awake, the pain overcoming the limit of realness and transforming into something… different. You were lucid, but at the same time afloat. Your hands were gripping the sheets under you, your back arching like a cat stretching.  

Your trembling legs and the gut in your stomach started to drag you over the edge, a sensation dangerously close to the one you felt when he looked up at you after he was done, with his mouth gleaming from something different from blood.

The feeling started to get more familiar.

The pain became pleasure.

Somehow, you couldn't be afraid of him. Not when his fangs hit so deeply into your neck, but his hands held you as you were sacred. How could you be afraid of him when he murmured low praises under his breath between his work on you? He tells you that you are too good, even sweeter than he imagined, that he will make you his forever, with red dripping from his mouth and tenderness tied to his words. And you would just whimper and nod, pretending you could process anything else at the moment.

Anything other than how his mouth felt against your neck.

Anything other than him.

When your eyes weren't hardly closed, you would see stars hanging by the ceiling, with your finger interlocking harder on his scalp. He thought you would fight back, kick and try to break free of his grip on you. But to his surprise, you weren't pushing him away, and he took that as a sign to keep going. Actually, you were pulling him in, as if you were allowing him to enter. 

Allowing him to be a part of you, as you became a part of him.

When he felt you were on the edge, he let go of your neck and you whined at the hollow left there. He licked the red clean and kissed the bruises, until his wet lips reached your open mouth for a deep and messy kiss. You felt your own taste in his mouth, sweet and iron. He looked up at you, with his disheveled hair and chin drenched in blood.

His wild eyes gazed at you, apparently calm, but with worry hiding behind his eyelids. 

You never saw him so vulnerable.

So yours.

“You'll be alright, I promise you.” He kisses your forehead sweetly, whipping your tears while caressing your cheek. “I’m right here, I won't leave you. I won't ever leave you.”

His hands, his promises, it was all too soft for what just happened. Still, you let yourself sink into his touch, finding comfort in the concerning moment. Knowing that his words are sincere.

“Just let yourself sleep, love. This pain won't be forevermore.”

You felt his cold hands covered in warm hold you tightly, protecting. 

The last thing you saw before your nights turned sleepless for eternity was his comforting brown eyes on you, and the feeling that you felt the same way as him.