Chapter Text
I finally see you on the floor
Your heart's not beating anymore
My lust for you just cannot wait
Your skin, it tastes like chocolate
He was the campus prince.
You were a common student whose face blended with everyone else.
Today was supposed to be a normal day.
It wasn't.
___x___
Wednesdays were the days you visited the graveyard. With flowers in hand- daisies, petunias, lavender and red roses, your mother's favourite flowers- you had entered the gloomy, run down place just outside the edge of the town limits.
It was a particularly cloudy day when you had decided to visit. Just in case of a downpour, you brought along an umbrella to shield yourself with if it ever did come down to that. But in the past few weeks, you've been getting dreary weather like this lately. Not that it mattered, you spent most of your time indoors anyway, and the cool chill around your home was much appreciated as opposed to the scorching sun. Let's just say you aren't a big fan of summer and is more of a hibernating creature in the winter.
With a tug, you pulled your zip-up hoodie closed, shivering only slightly. It seemed that there was enough temperature difference from the air outside to the air you breathe out to warrant little puffs of white air to be visible. Still, you trudged forward over the uphill incline to reach the mostly abandoned graveyard, it's bent metal fences easily coming into view. Upon further inspection, the black paint on the fences was clearly chipped and peeling off from time.
Beyond the fence, one you could easily bypass by climbing over, was hundreds of gravestones, some worn and falling apart, a few nameless ones, and others still pristine and kept together by other visitors who manage to take out time from their day to visit the dead.
One of the more kept together graves was your mother's. It was farther into the graveyard, the part that was more wooded and entered the entrance of the forest. It was easily identifiable, from afar, white granite headstone gleaming and standing tall among crumbling and defaced others. You remember the day you came to visit only to find the headstone spray painted with obnoxious graffiti. You had to run all the way back home to grab a bucket of water, some cleaning supplies, and a towel. You spent hours on your knees in the dirt in front of her gravestone, trying your best to clean out the disrespectful depictions of phallic objects from its surface. God, you hate humanity. Eridan's genocidal tendencies were starting to make sense to you.
This time around though, it was clean, with even a slight gleam to it. But that was probably just your imagination.
You stood in front of her grave, crouching down to place the flowers inside the tiny vase you've brought out to the graveyard long ago. Once that was done. You procured a lighter from the depths of your jean pockets and lit the incense perpendicular to the vase of flowers.
It didn't take long for the scent of buttercups to fill your senses, a sense of comfort settling inside the chambers of your heart. With a sigh, you sat down cross-legged in front of her gravestone, smiling softly to yourself. And just like any Wednesday, you began talking about how your week has been so far when a noise caught your attention.
Being one of the few people who still visit the graveyard, it was easy to catch small noises around the forested area. You could hear every footstep crunching on crisp, dead leaves. Hear every note the birds sang from somewhere deeper within the wooded place.
You had rolled your eyes. If you were correct, the noise you heard was one of a moan. You're honestly not surprised if stupid teenagers thought a romantic rendezvous in an abandoned graveyard was a smart idea. It was a secluded place where they were unlikely to get interrupted for doing those types of things. But when you're here, trying to have a respectful conversation with your dead mother, you sure as hell are going to interrupt whoever it was making those noises, despite what you might walk in on. Shame on them for doing nasty things in a place of solitude.
With quick steps, you were up on your feet and following the noise to the nearest mausoleum, frown deepening when you slowly realized that the sounds were one made in agonizing pain.
You stood frozen at the entrance, staring down at the metallic knob covered with what looks like freshly drying blood. Your heart jumped to your throat and you had to fight it back down with a big gulp of cold air. You considered your options in front of you.
A), You could simply turn around and pretend you never heard anything, to begin with, and go straight home, cutting your visit shorter than it usually would be. Of course, you'll say goodbye to your mother first before leaving.
Or
B), Open the door and face whatever was inside the mausoleum, perhaps an injured person that needs immediate medical help?
You've never been one to abandon people when they clearly needed help. So, steeling yourself, you grip the other handle, the one that wasn't crusted with dried blood, and slowly twisted the knob, pushing it ever so slowly, the loud squeaking it made, made you cringe a little.
Before you can even step into view, an alarmed voice shouted out, "who's there?" You freeze on the spot at the voice. It was one you recognized. Of course, you would recognize it. He practically never shuts up when you're in school, you're very familiar with his voice even if you wished you weren't.
Again, you feel your whole body paralyzed, your feet seemingly permanently stuck on the ground you stood upon. Your eyes locked with his, a first glance at what was behind those stupid aviators he constantly wore. Glowing red looked back at you, a sense of danger prickling at the back of your neck and making your hairs stand on end. It felt like your whole body was screaming for you to run away, but you were stuck in place. Like going into an operation completely conscious but not being able to do a thing about it. The fear felt like choking, yet you stood there, eyes never wavering from his.
"Vantas. Karkat Vantas, right?" He managed to gasp out, and you were snapped out of your trance. Approaching to get a better look at him indicated that he seemed to be suffering from a wound in his abdomen, blood soaking his white band t-shirt as he put a hand over it, trying to stop the bleeding.
"What happened to you?" You breathed out, surprised at your own lack of profanity. Something about the situation made you feel like that was unnecessary and repetitive. You were too caught up in what you’re seeing in front of you to even register that he knew your name.
He simply grunted in response and attempted to shift his position, only to wince in pain and grind his teeth together. "The fuck does it look like to you? If you're just gonna stare at me, you might as well fuck off."
In a moment, you found your body had started moving on its own before your mind can process what you were doing. You had dropped your backpack and slid your hoodie off, rushing to his side and wrapping the piece of clothing around where the puncture wound was, just tight enough to stop the bleeding. "C'mon. I can take you home, my house isn't that far away. Then I can call an ambulance." You found yourself saying.
He hissed through his gritted teeth when you made him put his left arm around you and while your arms went to his sides and hauled him upwards. "No, don't call an ambulance. I'll be fine. It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine."
You rolled your eyes at him as you helped him hobble out of the mausoleum, leaving your backpack atop the tomb. You can go fetch it later. For now, you have more pressing issues to attend to. "Like hell am I letting you bleed out and die on my couch. I'm calling 911 as soon as I can get you settled in. I know jack shit about medical shit so I can't help you on my own."
He seemed about to protest at this, only for his words to die in favour of groaning in pain when he stepped a particular way. "Holy fuck don't tell me you've also got a fucking sprained ankle. What the shit were you doing to sustain this much damage, Strider? I knew you were stupid but I didn't know you were this mind-meltingly stupid. What the hell happened?" You suddenly found yourself spouting, your nerves getting the best of you and making you ramble on a bit.
He didn't answer you, instead leaning all his weight against and panting quietly you as you walked in the middle down the empty road. No cars ever came in or out of Skaia very often so you were confident in following the white lines of the road ahead of you.
The two of you simply went on like that for a while, and you can occasionally hear the blonde mutter to himself in a string of words too fast for you to understand. You think he's rambling about the most useless shit since you heard the word 'hot shit' in the same sentence as 'corn maze' at one point. Or 'sexy presidential candidate' and 'sex on the beach' along with 'sandy ass crack'. You tuned him out after a while.
Like you had said yourself, it didn't take long for you to reach your home. It was one of the houses that were further away from the rest of the residential areas and stood almost in the middle of the woods. It only ever took a five-minute walk, but with a wounded Strider by your side, it took about ten more minutes to get to your front door.
The house itself wasn't too bad. It was a normal house that could house a family of four. The only problem was that you lived alone. You've lived alone for a very long time without anyone noticing and you refrained from talking too much about it with friends. Only a select few know that you've been taking care of yourself since you were fifteen, paying the bills for the house on your own with the combined money from your parents' savings account they left for you, along with your shitty job as a cash register at the local cafe.
Fishing around for your keys in one of your jean pockets once more, you opened the door and stumbled inside, letting the blonde crumple right on the couch. You cursed when you realized that you left your phone inside your backpack.
But your eyes quickly shifted to the home phone on the kitchen counter just across the room. "Alright fucker. Let me get you to a hospital to get you proper treatment." You hissed, acting like this was a huge bother to you. Which it was, but this is the most excitement you've gotten into years so you're not as sour about the whole situation as you let on.
He growled a low guttural noise that made you pause in your dialling of the phone number to look up at him. There it was again, that sense of danger when he narrowed his crimson red eyes into slits, glaring a hole into you. "I said. Don't. Call. A fucking. Ambulance. I'm fine. Just takes a little bit to heal, as soon as the-"
He suddenly cuts himself short, looking away and biting his lip, expression guilty. Like he was just about to say something you weren't supposed to know. "As soon as the what, Strider?" You demanded, putting your hands on your hips and trying to look as patronizing as you can with your short stature. You willfully ignored the goosebumps on your arms.
"Nothing. Not like you'd believe me anyway. Not like this anyways." He drawled, eyes cringing in pain when he tried to shift to a sitting position on the couch all by himself.
"Really? Fucking try me, asshole." You retorted, moving closer to him and pushing him back down on the couch. "And stop moving so fucking much. My hoodie is only a temporary hold before you start bleeding out again. Which reminds me, I have a call to make-"
As soon as you were about to turn away to continue dialling the number you intended to, his hand shot straight out and grabbed you by the wrist in a vice grip. His gaze on you was as intense, making your breath hitches involuntarily when you stared back for too long. "Look, if you're so concerned, just fucking do what I tell you and I'll be fine."
You bite your lip, but you feel compelled to do what he said. When his grip slackens, you realize he's left a bruising ring around your arm. You clench your hands around the phone until your knuckles were white to hide the trembling in them. "Alright. Fuck. Jesus, what the hell do you want me to do?"
He simply smirked, and you can't fathom how he's able to be so smug at a time like this. "Got apple juice? I'd like some apple juice." You stared at him for a moment, expression dumbfounded before shifting to get what he asked for.
After sifting through your pantry, you found a box of apple juice with a straw glued to the back and went back over to offer it to him. He takes it with ease, grinning. It's the most expressive you've seen him be. "Hell yeah. Thanks, Vantas."
You take a moment to take a peek outside the window above your couch only to see that it was already raining pretty hard outside. You can just retrieve your bag back when the rain stops. If it does persist all night, you could always put it off until morning. Being a little late to homeroom wasn’t that big of a deal.
This time, he picked up on the fact that he called him by his surname. "Wait, how do you even know my name?" You inquired, an edge to your voice you did not mean to have. Something about the other male was setting you off.
You tentatively took a seat on the other couch across from him, watching him carefully rip off the straw from the box and tear it open before stabbing it right into the small foil in the top part of the box. His movements were fluid, and somehow, you can't seem to take your eyes off of him. You only snapped out of it as soon as he spoke once again, eyes lifting to his face. It's so unusual to see him without his shades. Perhaps it's one of the things setting him on edge.
"You're in most of my classes, right? I'm not oblivious to the world. Your name is right below mine." He casually answered, voice cool and even, as if he doesn't have a gaping wound in his stomach.
The lack of any action to help him with his wounds was really putting him on edge. Perhaps that's it? But something in your head was telling you to be afraid, very afraid, to run or hide. You don't understand the lingering fear making your stomach twist and turn. Something about him was just... unnatural. You can’t pinpoint it.
You abruptly stood up once again. "Seriously. At least let me fucking try to bandage you up? Let me get the first aid kit-" He cuts you off by sighing dramatically. You're starting to get really ticked off.
"I told you I'll be fine. Just let me crash for a few hours and then I'll be out of your hair. I'll be pirouetting out of that shit real quick like some ballerina performing in the play 'Nutcracker' with thousands of people watching. I'll pirouette so hard the masses will be standing in a permanent standing ovation the whole time on I'm on that stage that is your hair. It'll be the quickest fucking show they've ever seen but they'll fucking love it. So much so that they'll be throwing roses on my way out. Shit wouldn’t even know what hit them it’s so fast." You stared at him, eyes slowly narrowing. You opted to ignore that shittingly weird as fuck analogy.
"Fine. If you die, I'm hiding your dead corpse under the floorboards. Like shit am I gonna come forward if there's a chance I could be a suspect to your death." You muttered, strolling into the hallway in the general direction of your bedroom. "I'm gonna go take a nap. Try not to fucking die on my couch you tone deaf ass canoe."
"Nice insult, Vantass." He called after you.
___x___
Hours later, you roll out of bed to the ringing of your alarm clock. Your alarm tone was set to the opener of 'the fresh prince of bel air', something you wouldn't admit in front of anyone else.
With a grunt of annoyance, you rolled out of bed and quickly turned off your alarm. Memories of what happened earlier flood back to your mind and you reluctantly leave the warm covers of your blanket, slipping on your slippers to check on Strider.
Checking on your alarm clock, you find out that it says it's already six fifty-three in the evening. Last you checked it, was right after school around three pm. Meaning you probably fell asleep around four to five, leaving you with either one to two hours of sleep. Not too bad. But it'd probably take a shittingly long time for you to go back to sleep later in the night.
Strolling from the hallway that contained too many doors that led to empty rooms, you emerge back into the living room with your open concept kitchen. It's already dark outside, plunging the whole house in darkness if it wasn't for the dim lights you've put all around the house. They were orange in colour, giving your home a relaxing ambience.
On the couch was the blond fuck head, with his eyes closed, expression peaceful. There doesn't seem to be any blood leaking on the floor so it's safe for you to approach and assume that he's just asleep. How he's still alive with the amount of blood he seemingly lost earlier, you don't know.
Carefully and quietly, you leaned over, examining his facial features. He was gorgeous up close, so you weren't all that surprised with how popular he was around the school.
Dave Strider had always seemed like the epitome of cool. You mostly tried to ignore his existence around the campus, but that was kind of hard with how loud he was with the other girls and guys that naturally gravitated towards him. He was the unspoken king of the school.
You? You were just an honour student with a scholarship whose tanned face blended with everyone else. You were nothing special, and you liked it that way. You liked staying on a low profile with a few friends to enjoy the rest of your high-school years. You were a junior. Just one more year and you're off to college.
You bit of your lower lip, you realized you've been staring at his face, while being uncomfortably close, for much longer than appropriate. You gulped down the lump in your throat and force yourself to look away. Your eyes land on his feet and you suddenly feel compelled to check on his sprained ankle.
Quietly, you shifted to sit at the edge of the armrest where his feet were perched, hanging loosely at the end. You carefully pulled the denim up around his left ankle, frowning when you found that there was no sign of having been sprained or broken at all. No bruised skin or any hint of purple or green hues. Your guts twisted inside your stomach, a sense of dread weighing your whole body down.
You shifted back to his torso, hands hovered over the bloodied hoodie you hand lent him. Fear lurched to the forefront of your head. How would you react if you did indeed find what you suspect? Do you even really want to confirm it? You close your eyes for a moment, making a silent decision inside your head.
With cautious movements, you undid the tight knot of fabric, pushing it away from his body without waking the other up. So far so good.
Your lips were dry, and you lick it to get it wet, hands trembling lightly. You grit your teeth and clench your hands again, taking a moment to stabilize it before continuing, taking the edge of his bloodied shirt in between your hands.
With a shuddering breath, you pulled the piece of fabric up, eyes widening at your discovery.
Suddenly, a hand grips your wrist once again and moving your eyes, you make contact with red glowing eyes in the dark once again. Your flight or fight response was suddenly turned on, yet once again, you felt paralyzed, like your whole body had suddenly turned to stone. You barely even registered the loud thumping of your heart and the persistent buzzing and ringing in your ears. All your body was telling you to do was run.
His eyes had a steely quality to them, and although he smirked and said things to keep it light, you know you've crossed a line. "Undressing me already, Kitten? You haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." He drawled, obviously purposefully prolonging his speech. “I’m not surprised. Half the school population seems to want to do the same thing. I don’t blame you.”
You couldn't offer a single response, mind seemingly stuck on the discovery you've made.
He looks you up and down as he pulled his shirt back down. "I wouldn't mind a one night stand with you, honestly. You're pretty charming, I'll give you that Vantas." He purred, eyes locking onto your own once he was done giving you a once over. You couldn't care less about that at the moment.
"What the hell are you?" You finally spoke, croaking out each syllable almost painfully with how dry your throat was. You're well aware of the scratchy quality of your voice, tinged with fear.
His grin only widened, slowly sitting up, hand still gripping your arm. Suddenly, he pulled you down with him on the couch, your body loosely falling to his lap, yet your eyes never left his. It's like you couldn't. As if you had no control over your body anymore. Fear spiked inside you and it took all of your power not to cry at that moment. You were so very very afraid.
It's like you were at the funeral at fourteen years old once again.
Like when you stood alone inside an empty home and the silence could cut through steel.
"Hey Kitkat, you never offered me dinner. I'm getting hungry and I haven’t eaten all day." He droned on, cupping your cheek with his free hand and bringing your faces so close that you breathed the same air as him. "I might just have to eat you instead."
It would've been incredibly sexual and sexy if you didn't have the sinking feeling that he was being literal with his words. And when his sclera turned jet black and his teeth slowly protruded fangs, you know he meant the words he whispered to you. Yet you couldn't muster the strength to struggle against him.
It's like you've already accepted your fate. Like you've always known you were going to get to this moment. Like this was your purpose all along.
You closed your eyes, those glaringly intense ruby red finally disappearing. And everything around you was plunged into darkness.
But you could still feel everything.
You could feel his hot breath on your skin, just below your jaw, where your neck meets your head. You could feel the texture of his tongue as he drags it across the sensitive skin there, the heat making you flinch momentarily before going slack in his arms once more.
You could feel his hand around your wrist, guiding it to rest around his shoulders before continuing to glide down your form, setting itself down on your waist. You could feel his other hand supporting your head, warm fingers teasing the nape of your neck.
Then you hiss as when pinpricks sink into your skin. You could feel the life being sucked out of you. Feel the warm droplets of blood roll down past your collar bone. And only moments after, you feel his tongue trace the same path of the droplet before sinking his teeth into you once more.
Your body has never felt weaker than it does right now.
It felt like it dragged on for hours, but you couldn't get yourself to care.
It felt like-
A dream.
___x___
You had accidentally let him fall back once you finished feeding, his head making a loud thump! noise as soon as it hit the floor. You bit your lower lip guiltily and sighed, easily picking up the boy's small form.
The guilt that wedged itself inside your gut threatens to spill over and spread, but you manage to keep control of it. You were on strict orders not to feed on unwilling participants from Dirk, but then again, he wasn’t completely against being fed on. He could’ve put a fight, made you feel even more terrible about what you’ve done, but he hadn’t. It’s more of a dubious consent. Maybe Dirk can let you off easy this time when you explain what had happened. Plus, it’s not like he’ll remember this encounter anyways.
You don't entirely regret the encounter either. He had been so cooperative, unlike the others you've had the displeasure of feeding on in the far past (Which will never be mentioned again as long as you have a say in it). And he didn't taste bad.
You might even go as far as to say that he's the best catch you've had so far.
He tasted like chocolate.
___x___
You woke up somewhat fatigued. It was bright outside, golden rays of the sun filtering in and blinding you with its brilliance. Seems like you forgot to close the blinds last night. Odd, that’s usually the first thing you do before you go to sleep to avoid this exact situation from happening. You hate the sun.
For a moment, a flicker of something bubbled up to the surface of your mind. Like a distant memory. You tried to reach back into your memory about what happened last night but… you come up with nothing. It’s just a cloud of black in your head.
But you do remember Strider. You remember the peculiarity that was his wounds. Well, lack thereof. You remember pulling his shirt up and finding porcelain white skin, missing an ugly gash on his side. You’ll have to find him and ask him about it today.
Or maybe you won’t. He’s always constantly surrounded by people. The ‘cool clique’. You doubt there will ever be a time where the two of you would interact once again. You’ll just forget what happened.
That’s what people did when something outside the logical comprehension of their mind happens, right? Maybe you had been wrong in the first place. Maybe you just dreamt that up while you were napping. Your life has been so painfully boring that you were creating illusions of impossible things to make up for it. So much so that you were confusing reality with your dreams.
Maybe, his wound wasn’t as severe as you had thought it to be. Maybe the stress of the situation just pushed you to think it was worse than it really is. Maybe his leg actually wasn’t hurt in the first place, after all, you never checked before that night. He never confirmed having any problems with walking either, you just made that assumption after one painful expression on his face when he stepped on that leg.
Although, you do feel weaker than usual and there’s an ache in your neck that you can’t get rid off. It seems like there’s nothing wrong when you looked at the mirror though.
So you went on with your daily morning routine, but deep in the pit of your stomach, you feel like something is majorly wrong. It gives you anxiety, but you fight it back, chasing the thoughts to the very back of your mind.
Once you were all dressed up, your usual hoodie in the laundry- you still don’t know how you’re going to get those stains out- you made a detour to the cemetery. There, you picked up your backpack, wrinkling your nose in distaste at the bloody spot on the concrete that Dave had left from the previous day. It was dark, almost black. That’s never going to go away and people will wonder what happened.
There was a little curious voice in your head that was also curious as to what exactly happened to Strider, why he was bloody, and where his shades were. You never did get to ask.
But it seems that those are questions that will never be answered. And you’re completely fine with that.
That’s what you kept telling yourself on the way to the school anyway. But seeing the tuff of blond hair among a sea of black hair and brunettes, your heart skips a beat.
What was wrong with you? Your friend, Terezi, answers everything for you.
The first period just finished and although none of you were supposed to go to your lockers in between classes, nobody seemed to respect that rule and almost everyone broke it. She had slammed into the locker next to yours, the loud noise the metal made making your cringe only slightly. “Heyo Karkles. I didn’t see you this morning? Did you come in late?” She had inquired, grinning practically ear to ear. It was her default expression. It was kind of creepy in all honesty.
“Yeah, I had to do some stuff last night and I left my bag at the cemetery. I had to make a detour to go get it since I couldn’t yesterday with the rain and all- will you stop fucking sniffing me? It’s really fucking weird. Normal humans do that.”
She bristled, frowning for only a moment before breaking out into a grin once again. Somehow, her teeth managed to look sharper than they were when she did that. “You know I’m no ‘normal human’. That shit’s for normies, and I ain't-a normie. Are you calling me a normie, Karkat? Shame on you.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes. “No Terezi. Just- I just told you not to sniff you fuckass can’t you get that through your pea-sized brain? ” You snapped, flicking her in the forehead when she leaned over and tried to sniff your neck once more.
She crossed her arms. “I could tell on you to the principal for bullying. I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bully a blind girl! Shame on your cow .”
“Terezi, I don’t have a cow. Or any goddamn pets. And that was a poorly placed Disney reference. Although maybe I should get one, it has been pretty lonely around the house since you never visit me anymore…”
She shook her head, waving her hand away. “Anyways, we can talk about puppies and kittens and how you’ll guilt me into coming over after school later. There’s a more pressing issue at hand, Karkles.” She began, suddenly turning serious. You immediately stand on attention. Terezi’s intuition has yet to lead you wrong.
“You smell like iron and metal. Did something serious actually happen to you yesterday that you’re not telling me, Karkat? You smell like blood. Huge amounts of it too. Were you bleeding profusely?”
You suddenly stand rigid. You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t do harm to tell her about what happened yesterday. “No. I just- it was weird. I found Dave inside a mausoleum yesterday, all bloodied up and stuff. He never told me what happened, he just kinda left while I was asleep. Maybe that’s it?” You offered, but she doesn’t seem to be satisfied.
Suddenly, she pulls you with her down to the boy’s bathroom. “Terezi, what the shit are you doing?! Girls aren’t allowed in here-”
“Are you going to tell on me?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. It’s empty anyway.” She remarked, voice smug. She then turns you to face the mirror- you still have no idea how she can know where things are without having to feel for it- and runs her fingers through your neck. You shivered at the touch.
“Terezi, we talked about this. Didn’t you say that we were-”
“Hush. Don’t jump to conclusions.” She simply snapped before laying a hand flat around your jawline. “Aha! Found it.” She exclaimed, before pulling her hand away and pushing you closer to the mirror. “Look at it and tell me what you see.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes, complying to her whims. You’re already late anyway and you’re only going to be later if you refuse her. You leaned over, craning your neck to see.
And then your whole body paralyzes once more and you suddenly remember everything that happened last night. You can’t help the flush of red that shows itself on your face from anger, embarrassment, and shame.
Right there on your neck, previously hidden by your dark curly hair- was 4 red spots- two perpendicular to each other- that looks like it was just recently punctured. God you are going to kill Strider. After you get some answers, you’re going to kill him for this.
So everything that had happened last night… It was all… Real.
It wasn’t a dream.
The consequences of this realization have yet to fully sink into your brain. The discovery was just much too big to comprehend in the morning of a school day. But you can’t help the feeling of being violated creep into your body, making you shiver.
You’re definitely going to kill him.