You knew you shouldn’t. You knew that something was very wrong about it. Because who normally have a mansion they don’t talk about then suggest you move into it since it’s closer to your college?

Apparently your grandma does.

It was weird — the way she handed you the keys, explaining one by one where they go.

Front doors, doors to the garden, orangery, music room, library, attic.

What in the end what other option you had? Which student move into a mansion that is fully paid by your grandmother and said to be well maintained. Right. After decades of nobody coming there. Sure.

You remember how you were pulling your suitcase after yourself through the muddy way and the old gate that squawked when moved. Or how you struggled to find the right key to the front doors. Or how your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you heard movement downstairs when you laid down for the night. Or how you found him sitting in the living room with the fireplace on and cigarette between his lips.

Well dearest grandma failed to mention you won’t be alone. Did the dearest grandma even know he was there? No idea.

But slowly and very reluctantly you get used to Aerion’s company — the weird habits. The way you only saw him on rainy days or when the sun was already hidden. You didn’t question it — only remembered the details in the back of your head as if they were somehow important.

Maybe they were — you couldn’t care less. No when you were sleeping so badly, wrapped in the cotton covers, haunted by nightmares and dreams of things you never ever imagined. The stinging pain of you waking up was no stranger too — you felt it every time your eyes opened and body desperately longed for air, making you take a sharp breath as if you woke up from the worst nightmare imaginable.

But you were not stupid. The puzzles quickly became a whole image and perhaps you were going crazy but he… he was not a human.

Maybe you were stupid for going to him in the evening — angry, frustrated and the fear was hidden beneath it all. You never tell a vampire that you know they’re a vampire.

But he… laughed. Aerion laughed as if you said the best joke he heard in centuries — maybe he did. What he didn’t try to do was deny the accusations.

And that was enough.

You wanted to leave. You really wanted to. But at the same time you found yourself unable to — as if this place was luring you in. So reluctantly you stayed — locked your doors and windows for the night, put garlic and iron by them to keep him away. And it surprisingly worked.

But God. You were curious of him. Of what he is. And maybe under nonchalant exterior you’d find something interesting. After all it’s been months already since you moved in. You were used to each other presence in the mansion.

It was evening when you decided to come down to the living room — it was a big, old room untouched by anything that could be counted as something from 21t century. What this how he preferred it?

Aerion was siting in his usual spot — longing in the armchair by the fireplace like a cat needing warmth. With a glass of something crimson by his side and cigarette lit up between his fingers as he read.

He heard as you entered. Perhaps he heard you long before that but only now seemed to acknowledge you.

With an irritated scowl his head turned towards you and the newspaper was fold on his lap and looked at you. His gaze was harsh, unsettling as if you have taken something precious from him.

…was the garlic and iron too bold move?