The sound of the cathedral doors opening is what catches Nanami’s attention as he stands at the front of the congregation, the early sunlit jewels of the stained glass casting you in an array of colours. He stiffens imperceptibly as he continues to speak to the congregation who are rapt with his words — he’s a well-loved priest, his family running the cathedral for centuries and he’s just taken over his father as Head Bishop. The parishioners love him, love his hentlr smiles, his calming presence, and the way hymns roll from his tongue like honey.

The cathedral is sacred and yet there you stand near the back, eyes on him, staining the sanctity with your presence. Kento’s eyes go back to his flock, his expression not changing even as a shiver runs down his spine at the sight of you. An hour later, he’s carrying out Communion, handing out bread and wine and sees you linger behind the pillars, just watching. You look so normal, bathed in the rainbows of light. He knows better.

Nanami talks for a while longer with his parishioners, offering advice and making polite chat, his smile tense and fingers twitching and finally he manages to slip away behind the pillars, through the stone walls and white marbled floors, cassock swishing slightly as his eyes flit around and slips into his office. And there you are, sat on his mahogany desk, casually thumbing through one of the religious texts he’d been reading earlier, one leg crossed over the other.

Vampire.

“Back so soon?” Nanami mutters as he enters, his jaw clenched right, his high collar tight around his throat, concealing marks. Your marks.

“Father Kento,” you purr as you look up and he hates when you call him that; like you have any right. He says nothing as he moves closer to you, yanking the collar of his cassock free, and there over his pale throat are bite marks.

“Hurry up and feed blood sucker,” he grinds out. Because that’s what it’s come to — letting you feed on him when you need instead of on the innocents that inhabit the town.