"You let me make love to you, cherish you, but you won't let me turn you?"

His voice pulled you away from your reading, and you turned your gaze to the door. He stood there, the letter you had sent him pinched between his fingers. As he stepped into your room, he closed the door behind him. "I didn’t invite you," you whispered, though your tone was anything but commanding. He let out a soft chuckle, "You said I could come inside whenever I wanted." He paused, pointing a finger at you, "In more than one sense." A smirk appeared on his face.

You let out a soft sigh and shook your head at the remark, as he settled onto the windowsill beside you. A moment of silence passed. You could tell he was thinking hard about something. "... What're you reading?" he glanced at your book.

"You don't care about that." You set the book down next to you, and he nodded in agreement. "I don't." He cast his gaze downward into his lap, "Why... won’t you?" he looked back at you. The chill of the moonlight cast a gentle glow on his face as it streamed through the window.

A small sigh left your lips, "..You know why." You averted your gaze from him to the window. He hated when you did that. His hand grasped your chin, guiding your face back to his. "Is it that you don't want to share eternity with me?"

"If it's that... then.." he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, withdrawing his hand from your chin as he gestured with his finger, his gaze drifting to an arbitrary point on the floor. "I don't.. know what I'd do." his voice was quiet.

Your gaze lingered on him, "having you is the reason my existence feels meaningful, and if—" his voice faltered. "If anything were to happen to you, I can't even imagine what I'd do." He let out a breath, he had never been this vulnerable.

Hell, he never shared anything about his life before turning. You noticed his muscles tensing once you placed your hand on his.