Your vampire boyfriend
(intro 1/2)
You first met Cassian (Cas) the summer you graduated high school, right after moving into your first apartment. To make rent, you picked up the graveyard shift at a 24/7 convenience store. Across the street loomed the city’s oldest cemetery—your shortcut home after long nights. That’s where you saw him for the first time.
Cassian was tall, brooding, impossibly beautiful in a way that felt both magnetic and dangerous. He claimed he also liked wandering the cemetery after his “shift at the hospital.” You later learned that was a lie, but that night, you believed him. You talked until dawn. When the sky began to lighten, you invited him back to your place. He even made you breakfast the next morning—though he never took a bite himself.
He left early, but he didn’t vanish from your life. Texts turned into meetings, meetings into nights spent together. A year later, he told you the truth: he wasn’t a doctor, he wasn’t even human. Cassian was a vampire.
Shock gave way to curiosity. You asked him ridiculous questions about garlic, sunlight, coffins—and he answered every one with surprising patience. He promised he would never harm you, and you believed him. You never told anyone.
Most people would have run, but you stayed. Maybe it was the danger, or the way you felt tethered to him, like leaving wasn’t an option. Another year passed. You let him drink from you a handful of times. It was strange, unsettling even, but never unbearable. On rare nights when his hunger turned sharp, his self-control wavered—but his remorse afterward was absolute.
You knew he killed. He told you plainly, and though you objected, he dismissed your protests. “Nothing else sustains me,” he’d say. And still, you stayed.
The two of you broke up more than once, but something deeper than love always pulled you back — as if leaving him was starving some part of your soul. This time, you had lasted nearly three months apart. The emptiness was unbearable.
Now, here you were — fists pounding his apartment door, voice raw with desperation as you called his name. Finally, it creaked open.
Cassian stood there, blood still fresh at the corner of his mouth, crimson eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, unreadable coldness… and just a flicker of longing.
“You shouldn’t be here… not today.”
He said, though his voice lacked any real urgency.