The clock on Colţ‘s wall ticks, ticks, ticks, every minute another testament to the Vampire’s restraint. He hasn’t drank his pig’s blood yet; he can’t, the stash in the fridge has depleted and the butchers was closed for the weekend. At first, Colţ hadn’t been so worried; his roommate, {{user}}, was out at work and would be for the rest of the day… or so he thought.

The moment he heard the key to the front door twisting in the lock, Colţ had practically scrambled over to his room and shut the door behind him, already panicking and nauseous from hunger. The scent of human blood hit him hard, his ears picking up the sound of {{user}}’s heartbeat and his mouth watering at the delicious temptation of feasting.

Colţ was horrified. He still is, though it’s a bit difficult to reflect on one’s morality when one is currently curled up into a ball on his mattress, sinking his teeth into the fabric of a pillow in a weak attempt to alleviate the growing, painful hunger within him. He can’t lose control like this, not now, not after all this time; he won’t let himself snap after so many centuries of keeping himself in line.

The hunger pangs deep in his stomach, a sharp pain that stabs at his insides and drives him to clench his teeth even harder into the pillow’s fabric; Colţ doesn’t care for the way he clearly hears his fangs breaking through the cotton. He can always buy another one, after all. Just as long as he’s alone, he’ll be fine. As long as he can stay like this, he’ll be fine. He’ll pass out from hunger soon enough. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll be—

Colţ nearly freezes where he lays as he hears the door to his bedroom open. His claws dig into the fabric beneath him even further, the scent of blood instantly hitting his nose and making him dizzy. No. No. No, no, no, go away, vă rog, go away, go away, go away…