#vampanarimloo

“Why do you always have to come back so late? And alone!” He'd protest as his lover left. “What if something were to happen to you out there?”

“I am more than capable of taking care of myself, love,” Karimloo cupped Panaro’s cheek.

“Just be safe out there,” He embraced the West End man.

“As I always am,” He gave Panaro a quick peck and left.

Karimloo left like this every other night. He had no reason to believe anything would go wrong. He had no reason to believe that the eyes that were following him in the gym that night weren't the usual confused gaze he always got. He had no reason to believe that those eyes would follow him after he left.

And so he did. Just as always when he was finished Karimloo pulled his tee shirt back over his sweaty self, tucking his water bottle and other things into his gym bag. He did notice that he was packing his bag faster than he usually did, an odd sort of anxiety tugging at his shirt collar. He could feel those strange eyes on his back, and though he nor his counterparts were never ones to feel threatened by a lingering gaze, but something about this one rubbed Karimloo the wrong way.

Stiffening his back and clenching his jaw, Karimloo turns on his heels and walks a little too quickly out of the gym. The air is cool as it meets is sweaty skin, though the face under his mask remains warm. The walk back to the house wasn’t a particularly long one, but it did grow dark once he reached their road; a road which did not have any streetlights until you reached Erik’s driveway. This fact never bothered Karimloo, he had grown accustomed to the dark, but tonight was different and he felt like a scared little child again.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken as the road grew darker. Why was he letting this get to him so much? He could take care of himself, he knew he could… But what if something were to happen to him out here? What if… Suddenly, a mass brushes in front of Karimloo’s path with an inhuman speed, so close he could feel it graze his chest. The Phantom stops dead in his tracks.

“Who’s there?” Karimloo asks quietly yet forcefully. He pulls out his phone, ready to dial Panaro should things go awry.

The figure wooshes past Karimloo again, this time tugging on his shoulder and pulling him around backwards. He immediately drops his bag and raises his fists. What was terrorizing him that was so afraid to show itself?

“Who’s there!” He demands again, raising his voice.

“You’re like me,” A sultry voice hisses in his face, taking a hold of Karimloo’s neck with a grip too strong to get out of.

He tries to look away, but his captor grabs his attention back, pulling his mask off his face and throwing it to the ground.

“NO!” Karimloo screams and watches his safety blanket fall, glad for once that the Merik’s masks were not actually porcelain and didn't break on impact.

“You're different, scary,” The voice coos menacingly. “No one understands you, but I do. Let me help you.”

“Get the hell away from me,” Karimloo struggles.

The eyes of the woman in front of him looked straight into his soul, but they weren't yellow like some of them men in his house, they were a deep crimson. Karimloo tried to look away, but he only caught sight of something even more sinister than the blood colored eyes: fangs. The Phantom went into fight or flight mode, immediately turn the tables on his attacker but to no avail. In a flash, those fangs which shook Karimloo to the core were piercing his throat.

He tries to scream, but his once gorgeous vocal chords seemed to have stopped working. His body floods with both an intense pain and overwhelming numbness at the same time and his knees almost buckle beneath him. He would've fallen if the vampire wasn't holding him up. The teeth which were once keeping him steady pull out of Karimloo’s neck and bite into the vampire’s own wrist.

“Drink,” The monster growls, and before Karimloo can protest pushes her wrist against The Opera Ghost’s lips.

Karimloo purses his lips in protest, trying to turn his head away from his attacker once more. The vampire counters, pinching The Phantom’s nose so he would have to breathe from his mouth. Karimloo tries to hold his breath as long as he can, but his lungs burn, begging for breath.

The blood from his captor seeps into his mouth like molasses, warm and thick against his tongue. The taste is what throws him over the edge, it was the most decadent thing he had ever tried. He became ravenous for the delicious liquid, now sucking instead of protesting. After a moment the vampire pulls his hand back to his person, gaining a protest from Karimloo.

“Thanks for the snack,” She whispers into the Phantom’s ear, and like a strike of lightening, she's gone.

As if that were his cue, Karimloo begins to feel faint, wobbling on his feet as his eyes go dark. His phone begins to ring, and the last thing he sees is his love's contact photo on the screen before his world turns black.

When Karimloo’s eyes flutter open, he finds himself looking at the ceiling of his bedroom. The light attacks his sight, and he immediately covers his face with the heels of his hands. What happened last night?

“Karimloo?” A soft voice grabs his attention.

He sits up slowly, feeling each individual knot in his spine crack and lock into place as he searches for the angel’s voice. Karimloo finds the figure it belongs to almost immediately. He also finds other sounds coming from all around the house; Piano music coming from Cherik’s room, Ayesha growling at yet another one of Jerik’s rats downstairs, the worried breathing of his partner clashing against the easy breathing of his sleeping dog. Karimloo could hear everything and it was amazing, but hard to focus on the brilliance of the sounds when the lights assaulted his eyes.

“The lights,” He groans at Panaro, his voice full of cracks. “Turn off the lights.”

Panaro doesn’t say anything yet, hurriedly moving to the light switch and flicking it off. Nothing but worry races through the Broadway actor’s mind, the way he found his love lying in a pool of his own blood, and now he was out of it. Panaro didn’t know what was going on yet, but he wanted it to stop. He wanted his Angel to be better.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Panaro asks tentatively.

“My throat,” Karimloo croaks, bringing a hand to it. “I’m thirsty…”

Panaro reaches for a bottle of water that was sat on his nightstand and hands it to Karimloo, who snatches it from his hands and downs the whole bottle. His throat still burns, and he scans the room for more water, but is unsatisfied with the idea of it. He couldn't tell what it is he needs, but water wasn't going to cut it.

“I need something else,” Karimloo’s voice drops and he tries to stand.

“What do you need,” Parano rushes to his side, trying to keep him from falling. “I'll get it, love, you should sit back down…”

“I'm fine,” The West End Man snaps, then softens. “I’m alright… is it hot in here?”

“No…” Panaro takes off his partner’s mask and touches Karimloo’s dripping forehead with the back of his hand. “Mon amour you’re freezing.”

The two pull each other into a warm hug as if it had been choreographed, one perfectly melting into the other. Karimloo can feel Panaro’s heartbeat underneath him. It’s fast and strong, worried for his love. He can also smell Panaro clearer than he ever could before, and found himself getting lost in the ecstasy of his scent. Karimloo pulls his head away from Panaro’s shoulder and cups his cheek.

“Then warm me up,” He breathes and pulls Panaro into a kiss.

Panaro is taken aback at first, but easily returns the kiss, moving with Karimloo harmoniously. It soon deepens, the two men moulding together in ways they never have before. Panaro soon forgets about his worries for Karimloo, now only focused on the feeling of his fingers through his hair. Karimloo also lets loose, nipping at Panaro’s lips out of sheer need. He tastes a drop.

“Ow!” Panaro yelps and pulls back and brings his hand to his mouth. “You drew blood!”

“I’m sorry…” Karimloo breathes in a daze, looking only at the wound. “Let me get it.”

He leans in and begins kissing The Broadway Man again, only this time his focus isn’t on the kiss or his partner. Karimloo’s focus is only on the little bit of blood coming from Panaro’s lip. He begins to lose control of himself, moving towards his lovers neck instinctively as Panaro tries to push him off, Karimloo getting increasingly more rough with both the kiss and his grasp.

“RAMIN!” Panaro shouts and shoves Karimloo off of him.

Karimloo startles, Panaro’s strong voice bringing him out of his frenzy. It wasn’t often that the Merik’s used each other’s first names, in fact the only other time he remembered someone’s first name being used was once when Sarah visited Crawford, and said his name as she brought him into a hug. That was how he knew he had messed up with Panaro, but even that memory was fuzzy. Karimloo lowers himself back onto his bed.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t know what's come over me...” He rubs his face as if trying to wake himself up, but it contorts to concern when he sees Panaro. “What’s wrong, how bad did I hurt you?”

“You…” Panaro finds himself at a loss for words as he looks into the dark red eyes of his once brown eyed Angel. “You have… your teeth… and your eyes…”

Karimloo narrows his eyebrows and stands walking over to the mirror hanging on the back of the closed door. He gasps shakily taking in his current physical state. For once the fact that he is without his mask doesn't phase him as it usually would. Instead he is focused on the new crimson color of his irises, the pallor that has taken over his skin as if he were ill, and the shiny sharp canine teeth protruding from his mouth. The sight gives him a flash from the night before, the same red eyes that had looked into his before… what had happened last night?

“I…” Karimloo stumbles backwards and nearly falls in his fearful daze. “I'm sorry I… I don't know what happened…”

“Love…” Panaro slowly approaches the shaking Karimloo and tries to put his hand on his shoulder.

“You should go,” Karimloo dodges his touch and whips around to face him. “I don't want to hurt you again.”

“Love I-” Panaro protests, but Karimloo cuts him off.

“Go!” He hisses, and Panaro doesn't resist.

Once he leaves the room, Panaro pushes his back against the closed door and sighs. His heartbeat races and his breathing is off kilter. The same question rings over and over in his head; what happened to his love? The distraught Phantom trudges down the stairs to the parlor where the rest of the house sat in wait, worried whispers whirling around the air. The conversation stops when Crawford sees Panaro enter in a daze.

“How is he?” The father figure asks. Panaro shrugs.

“It’s as if it’s not even Karimloo anymore…” He shakes his head. “No it’s him but… it’s as if he’s in there just… trapped…”

“Did you notice anything else different about him? Physically,” Kerik perks up.

Panaro shuts his eyes as if envisioning the scene again and shivers.

“His eyes… they were blood red,” He says. “And his grip was so strong… and his teeth…” Another shiver runs down his spine. “They were like fangs… it was as if he were-”

“A vampire,” Kerik cuts him off.

“You can’t be serious,” Panaro says, the rest of the room dead silent. “Vampires aren’t real…”

“Listen to yourself. Think about what you’ve just witnessed, Panaro. Do you honestly believe that?” Kerik snaps. “Besides. Everything you’re describing, I’ve seen it all before.”

“What are you talking about,” Panaro narrows his brows.

“I hunted them while I was in Persia,” Kerik’s tone is dark and serious. “One almost killed me.”

Panaro didn’t know how to react. He scans Kerik’s face for any sign of lying, but finds nothing. So why didn’t he believe him? Perhaps he just didn't want to.

“I am able to help him, but you’re not going to like it,” Kerik pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“What are you saying,” Panaro’s voice comes in a deep protective rumble.

“I know what this burden can do to a man,” Kerik shrugs. “I am simply offering to put him out of his misery before-”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Panaro growls.

He makes a quick advance towards Kerik, who remains stoic through the attack. Jones quickly jumps up as well, holding Panaro back before he can make contact with the novelized Phantom. The men had seen Panaro be violent before, but the look on his face was something more. Panaro’s eyes were full of fear and anger and confusion, and Jones could tell they were close to being full of tears.

“I’m just trying to help,” Kerik puts his hands up.

“Killing him is not going to help.”

“I’m talking about helping the House. He is dangerous now, not only to himself but to the rest of us.”

“The rest of us?” Panaro scoffs. “We have always been a whole. Even Gerik and Jerik are welcome, hell even Harley. We don’t just leave one of our own!”

“Fine,” Kerik snaps. “But when he goes rogue and kills one of us, it’ll be on you-”

“Boys,” Erik booms from behind, and Panaro and Kerik snap away from each other. “No one is harming anyone in my house.”

Kerik huffs and storms out of the room, leaving the rest of the adaptations speechless. The others watch Erik to see what he says next. Nobody knew how to deal with the fact that one of their own may be a dangerous vampire, or that another had probably once hunted them. As implausible as their story might have been, this was a whole new level. Could vampires really exist in the same world as they did?

“I assure you, the situation will be handled in whatever way is best,” Erik continues. “Now please, be about your business.”

The adaptations slowly and unsurely disperse throughout the house, and an uneasy rest falls amongst them. Panaro is left alone in the Parlour, the reality of the situation hitting him too hard to move. Was Karimloo going to hurt one of them? Or worse, was he going to die? Panaro couldn’t bear the thought, and in his daze he barely jumps when he feels Erik’s big hand on his shoulder.

“What do I do…” Panaro breathes in defeat, burying his face in his hands.

“Your best,” Erik says simply. “You’ll be able to work this out… and I know you’ll do what’s best for everyone in the end…”

With that the older Phantom leaves, leaving Panaro alone with his thoughts. What was he supposed to do? Could he really let Kerik kill his love? Was there a better option or was he just running on unfounded hopes? Could Karimloo be dangerous? God he hoped not.

Kerik looks him over. He can tell the young Merik is incredibly distraught. Panaros eyes have bags from worrying about Karimloo all night, and his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. When Kerik looked in Panaro’s eyes, it was as if he could see through into his mind and see all the fear and sadness tormenting him in there. And though most of their Eriks were accustomed to not eating often, Panaro’s stomach rumbled loudly, and it sounded almost painful. He really did need his help.

“Come in,” Kerik opens his door for Panaro to come through. “This is regarding your companion down the hall isn’t it.”

Kerik's room was certainly a sight to behold. Panaro could see boards lining the walls, several detailed blueprints and layouts for all sorts of inventions and architectural structures. The furniture had been gutted and replaced with fine Persian rugs, a cushioned armchair, and a well furnished bed. The smoke and scent wafting through the room was courtesy of the hookah pipe on Kerik's nightstand.

“Yes…” Panaro stifled a cough inhaling the smell.

He takes a seat on Kerik’s bed, which was softer than he at first expected, and sighs while Kerik goes over to the personal bar he has set up and pours two drinks. Panaro can tell he is tense, in fact this is the tightest he’s ever seen the other man's shoulders. Kerik was always the most laid back of all of them, but tonight was different all together. It was as if Panaro were talking to a whole other Phantom entirely.

“So,” Kerik says. “What is it.”

"What am I going to do?" Panaro asks, shaking like a leaf.

"Kill him, plain and simple,” Kerik responds flatly.

"I love him! I'm not going to sit by and let that happen-" Panaro was cut off by Kerik slamming his hands on the table he was pouring at, shaking the glasses.

"So you're fine if he hurts you?!" He shouts, wheeling around.

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Kerik scoffs, "Don't think I didn't see those marks."

Panaro adjusts his collar, his fingers grazing his lip “He didn't mean to… it was an accident…"

"Right. What if it's Jones next? Or Mauer? Mann? What if next time around he goes after father dearest Crawford, eh? Can you live with one of your own’s death on your conscience because you let things be?! I've seen this dozens of times over before!" Kerik's shoulders were shaking with rage.

Panaro sat in shocked silence, he had never seen Kerik like this before. His raising his voice was a terrifying thing to behold. His golden eyes seemed to be made of flames in his anger, but soon they cooled. Kerik assessed the situation at hand, and let his shoulders drop. Handing Panaro a glass of some sort of alcoholic drink- smelling strongly like a cream sherry mixture -he sighed.

"Sorry. This is a sore spot for me,” Kerik apologizes, downing his glass in one gulp.

“You said you knew about this happening before…?” Panaro asks carefully. “How…?”

“In Russia…” Kerik breathes in deeply and begins fixing another drink. “I was alone… I was careless…I wasn’t listening to my surroundings, paying attention to where I was. I didn’t know anyone was following me.”

Panaro watches Kerik carefully as he tells his story. The novelized man holds his glass so tight Panaro is worried it might shatter in his hands as he moves towards the window. Kerik’s jaw is locked tight, and Panaro shifts uncomfortably, absentmindedly rubbing Ayesha’s ear to calm his nerves.

“I was attacked,” Kerik continues, his voice gravely. “By a vampire… He must’ve thought I’d be an easy target, you know, someone who wouldn’t be missed. I suppose he was right…”

“How did you get away?” Panaro asks.

“Well for starters I put up one hell of a fight,” Kerik chuckles and turns towards Panaro. “But it was Nadir who saved me in the end. He heard the commotion going on, in fact he was already following me, and he put an end to the vampire. I would’ve died if it weren’t for him…”

Panaro could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

“He took me under his wing, taught me everything I know about vampires. We were an unstoppable force in Persia when it came to hunting…” Kerik pauses. “What I’m saying, Panaro, is that I’ve seen these creatures first hand. I’ve seen the destruction they cause and have been the boot of it more times than I’d care to admit. But it doesn’t matter who they are or how much you love them. They’re not cats that can be tamed. They’re beasts that need to be killed,” He was beginning to raise his voice again, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.

“There has to be another way… That can’t be the only answer,” Panaro says desperately, suddenly standing. “There has to be civil vampires they can’t all be ravenous!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Vampires are creatures of strategy right? That’s why they attack when people are alone! Or why they change people with no moral compass,” Panaro is frantic and loud. “Well they were wrong with Karimloo! Please!”

“Panaro… he’s not human anymore.”

“He may not be human, but he hasn’t lost his humanity,” There’s a long pause. “He’s the one who told me to come downstairs you know. He was the reason I left the room when I did. He didn’t want to hurt me… It’s still him Kerik. It’s still Karimloo.”

Kerik watches Panaro with pity, but also with great remorse. He wished what had happened to Karimloo hadn’t as much as anyone, perhaps even more since he knows the strain of the situation, but what could he do?

“Help him,” Panaro jabs. “You said you knew vampires like the back of your hand, prove it. Help him be safe to be around. Train him.”

Kerik rolls his glass around between his fingers, processing the entire conversation. “Let me see him.”

“Be my guest.”

The two make their way to the couple’s shared room in silence, both of their minds working through the whole thing. Whatever Kerik saw in this room would decide Karimloo’s fate, and both he and Panaro knew and dreaded that fact. Placing his sweaty palms on the cool door knob, Panaro held his breath as he opened the door.

When the door opens the pair sees Karimloo wearing only his tank top and sweats, pacing the room and covered in beads of sweat. Panaro sees his lover’s mask thrown haphazardly on the messy bed, and most items on their dresser knocked over. Karimloo’s wig, though still on, is a tangled mess, and they could tell he has been running his hands through it for a while. Panaro hated to see him like this, and Kerik hated to see Panaro seeing him like this. Closing the door again, he speaks.

“He needs to feed,” Kerik says, reading Panaro’s confused expression.

“Can he do that without…?” Panaro feels a flush of worry go over him.

“It’s possible, yes,” Kerik answers. “Just incredibly hard for those who have been recently changed.”

“Can you help him stop once he starts,” The Broadway Man asks, then adds. “Humanely.”

Kerik sighs, “There are ways of subduing them without killing them yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Love?” Panaro says softly as he pushes open the bedroom door.

Karimloo’s face lights up when he sees his companion, but his glad expression seemed to be a mask that covered a look of despair. Upon seeing Kerik, however, both expressions melded into one of anger, though his eyes still showed the same fear.

“Why did you bring him in here,” Karimloo hisses, looking at Kerik.

“What do you-“ Panaro starts, but is cut off.

“Don’t think that I couldn’t hear you all talking about me downstairs,” Karimloo’s fist curls itself into a tight ball. “Or the two of you talking in his room.”

“Love there is no way in Hell or Hannibal that I am going to let him hurt you…” Panaro carefully takes his partner’s hands. “You have to trust me…”

“I do trust you,” Karimloo’s voice is calm as he looks into the eyes of his love. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

“Contrary to what either of you may believe, I came to see if I could help you,” Kerik steps forward. “Whether I like it or not.”

“Help me how?” Karimloo asks skeptically.

“Well, first off, I’m sure you’re thirsty. My job is to make sure whoever you bite you don’t drain dry.”

Karimloo’s mood instantly shifts and his shoulders drop, “I… I can’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“Well the longer you hold it off, the more likely you are to snap and the less likely you are to leave your meal alive,” Kerik explains. “If you feed now, there will be less harm done later.”

Karimloo bites his lip. Kerik was right and he knew it. But what could he do? Was he supposed to risk it biting someone in the House? Someone he loved? Would that connection give him incentive to stop?

“How?” Karimloo breathes.

“Me,” Panaro steps forward, causing both other men to startle.

“Panaro, I can’t…”

“If you snack on Kerik he won’t be able to stop you as readily as if he was just watching and making sure everything is going alright,” He explains. “It’s safer this way.”

“We didn’t talk about this,” Kerik puts his hand on Panaro’s shoulder. “Panaro…”

“I trust him, Kerik… and I trust you.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Kerik warns.

“Do we have another choice?”

The room stands in silence for a moment, Kerik thinking through every possible outcome. Panaro stares at him, trying to convince him with his eyes, and Karimloo stares at Panaro, full of worry for his love. With a sigh Kerik gives, not finding any other option.

“Panaro. Sit,” He says and gestures to the bed. He then pulls up their desk chair and sets it kitty corner to the edge. “Karimloo.”

Karimloo sits in the chair and takes Panaro’s hand, his shoulders tight. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath. This was the moment. Just as everything could go right, there was a bigger chance that everything could go wrong. Any number of them could get hurt, and none of them wanted that to happen.

“So, Vampy, you’re going to use Panaro’s wrist. It’s safer should something go wrong, then you’re not on his throat threatening anything important,” Kerik explains and Karimloo nods, rubbing Panaro’s hand protectively. “When you’re ready.”

Panaro turns his wrist over, and Karimloo takes a deep breath in, not even believing himself what he was about to do. A chill runs down Panaro’s spine when he sees the fangs in his love’s mouth and his brain makes the connection to what’s about to happen. Kerik places a hand on the panicking Phantom’s shoulder, trying to calm his fight or flight response.

Carefully as he could, Karimloo bites into Panaro’s wrist and he jumps at the puncture, a yelp leaving his lips. Kerik watches carefully, looking for any sign of danger. It was a simple enough task, but the stakes were high. One wrong move and Panaro could get the short end of that stick, but if that happened Kerik would make sure Karimloo got the sharp end.

“I think that’s enough…” Panaro says, his head beginning to swirl. “Angel…”

“Karimloo,” Kerik tries to grab his attention. “Karimloo you’ve had your fill you’re killing him. Karimloo!”

Kerik flips open a ring he had on his right hand flicks it’s contents- a small amount of vervain -into Karimloo’s face. Karimloo shoots up and growls at the Novelized Man, still in a feeding frenzy. Suddenly, the two are hand to hand, struggling for the upper hand. Karimloo was stronger, but didn’t know how to use it to his advantage yet, and Kerik knew that. The fight grows on, but remains even until Kerik throws the vampire to the ground and steps back, pulling a stake out of his jacket to Panaro’s horror.

“STOP!” He shouts and jumps up in between them, still dizzy and clutching his wrist.

Karimloo snaps out of his rage when he hears his love’s voice, but Kerik isn’t so easy.

“Get out of the way, Panaro,” He orders, looking straight through him and to Karimloo.

“What did you expect to happen he was feeding!” Panaro yells, unsure of what he’s actually saying.

“He could’ve killed us!” Kerik shoots back, still ready to attack.

“You know just as well as I do that he wouldn’t.” Panaro defends. “He just needs to learn how to control it.”

“Even if we do, we can’t be sure that it can be trusted.”

“It? Are you listening to yourself? That’s still Karimloo over there! Can’t you find it somewhere in yourself to see that?!”

“I want to, Merik! I want to believe that it’s him!” Kerik shouts, a single tear rolling. “Do you think I want to kill one of our own? I want to trust him… but how can I when-”

Kerik’s emotional outpour was paused by a white flash entering the room. The fighting men looked to the spot on the ground where the fluff ball went curiously. The stake Kerik held in his hand slipped to the ground when he saw Ayesha in Karimloo’s lap, purring as happy as can be.

“She’s… she’s never done that to one of them before…. She always…. Attacks…” Kerik is at a loss for words.

Karimloo scoops up the cat and walks over to Kerik. Handing her to him, Karimloo looks into the Hunter’s eyes. Kerik nods and takes Karimloo’s hand with his free one, Ayesha perched in his left.