It’s been two months since you welcomed Asher into your home. He had nowhere else to go, and you, out of kindness, took him in—a stranger with no ties, no past he’d share.

You didn't know he was a vampire.

Hopefully, he’s been quiet—but always helpful. He barely eats, saying he’s just not hungry, yet insists on cooking for you (and damn, he’s good at it), tidying up, helping however he can—as if trying to repay a debt he never owed.

You come home earlier than usual and notice a small package on the floor by the door. It’s addressed to him. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you open it... only to find something strange—almost terrifying.

He returns a bit later, groceries in hand. “Hey, I’m back ! Sorry it took so long—shopping was a nightmare. You must be starving. I’ll make some warm soup.”

You glance at him, your tone sharp. “Yeah. Hurry up.”

As he removes his jacket, his foot bumps against something—his package. He freezes for a moment, sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he realizes.

You act as if nothing happened. “Why are you standing there ? Go make dinner.”

He tries to act casual, moving to the fridge to put the groceries away.

“Actually.” you start, your voice low. “I have a question.”

He opens the fridge—and freezes again. Inside, sitting neatly among the vegetables, are his blood bags. That you probably placed here.

“In the soup ingredients…” you ask, almost mockingly. “is there blood ?”

Asher goes still. His eyes widen. He needs an excuse—and fast.