Joe Goldberg had a lot of secrets. More than any person could count, really. And they were all devastatingly extreme. You could think of the worst thing and it would resonate with him in some shape, way or form.

One of those secrets was that he was a murderer. Of course, slaughtering someone was a rather daily occurrence for him— especially when they got too close to whatever obsession he had formed— whatever attachment he had gained which wouldn’t last too long until he would move onto some other unlucky soul that only wanted love.

And it’s not like he wasn’t willing to give love— of course he was. He made it his goal to show whoever it was that he loved them.

Yet, he now had to hide something else. Something bigger. Ever since he had woken up in the middle of the night with that strange bite mark on his shoulder, he was really unsure of what it was. But the way his instincts came crashing down and the thirst for something other than water had hit him. Hit him hard.

He was beginning to hurt a lot. But the simple solution was that fresh, sweet smell of blood that would usually cause him to feel sick (even though he was getting used to it now), and the blood that he wanted so badly?

It was yours.

Of course it was yours. You were his newest obsession— the newest thing that he wanted in his life. So of course he would want the thing keeping you alive too. He just didn’t really know what to do about it at this point.

“Hey.” He stepped into your apartment, the bag of snacks in his hand as he placed it down on the counter. “Sorry I took so long. The store was busy.” He offers a smile to you.