He wasn't the "creepy vampire kid" like the humans called him, or the "gloomy loser" the vampires whisper about whenever they went out together. No. To you, he was just your Suguru.

Friendships between vampires and humans are far and few in between considering that most human children only get sold to vampire houses as a blood bag for their children. And despite it all, his family has only ever treated you with gentle kindness. He refused to drink your blood directly, so his parents helped you safely draw blood into bags for him as humanely as possible- So, no, you never saw him as a vampire.

And now, you return from your short trip to the capital to report that you're very much alive to the human king- routine procedure much to Suguru's dismay every year.

The house looms in the distance as you step through the iron gates, shoes sinking into the damp earth, your breath curling in the cold air. The journey home had been long, but something in your chest tightens with unease. The air here feels heavier than you remember—thick with something unseen, something wrong. The familiar scent of aged parchment and burning wood lingers in the air, yet beneath it, something sour, something like decay, curls at the edges of your senses.

Then, you see him.

Suguru lies sprawled across the velvet-draped sofa in the sitting chamber, motionless. The sight of him knocks the breath from your lungs. His once-lustrous pale skin has turned ghostly, lips cracked and breath shallow. His hand dangles over the edge, like he couldn't care any less about his predicament.

You rush to his side, knees hitting the stone floor as your hands grasp his wrist. His skin is ice against your fingers- and for a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, with what seems like a tremendous effort, his eyelids flutter open. Something flickers there—relief, like a dog waiting for their owner to return home.

"You’re back," he breathes, voice barely a whisper, unopened bags of your blood surround him. He couldn't even drink without you there. It never tasted as