(I Would Like To) Take You Home

When Kevin wakes the next morning, Mike’s gone. This doesn’t surprise him, but as he plods into the bathroom, the disappointment settles in his gut and refuses to dislodge itself. Sighing, he splashes water over his face and blinks hard, arms braced on either side of the sink.

Brendon can’t hurt him now. It’s okay. He’s safe. It’s all going to be okay.

He emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later and gets dressed, throwing on the jeans he was wearing yesterday and a t-shirt that looks vaguely clean. Then it’s sorting out his books, grabbing breakfast he can eat on the walk down to his first class, and he’s ready to go.

Kevin doesn’t move. He’s frozen in the middle of the hall, clutching the strap of his bag in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

You can leave now, Kevin tells himself, firmly, because his brain doesn’t seem to be getting the message. It’s morning. Broad daylight. Any vampire in their right mind – including, Kevin is assuming, Brendon – will be tucked up warm and safe in their coffin right now. Kevin is perfectly safe. Seriously. He is perfectly safe.

Yet still he doesn’t move.

He tells himself he’s being stupid. He tells himself he’s being pathetic. He doesn’t move. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and he just wants to crawl back into bed and stay there for the rest of time. His bed is safe. This world, this strange, terrifying world where Kevin could get his throat ripped out by angry vampires at any moment is not.

But then there’s the unmistakable sound of a key being fumbled in a lock and the front door swinging open and Kevin nearly jumps out of his skin when Zac walks in.

“You okay, Kev?” Zac asks, looking concerned as he sets his down his keys and approaches him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

Kevin shakes his head firmly a few times then forces himself to smile. “Yeah, no, I’m fine, you just took me by surprise is all. I thought you’d still be at Vanessa’s.”

Zac’s lips tug up into a goofy grin at the mention of his girlfriend. (They’ve been together since high school and they’re kind of adorable together, when they’re not making Kevin’s stomach clench with longing.)

“She kicked me out, said she had to get to class... which, speaking of,” Zac says, frowning, “shouldn’t you be gone by now?”

“Uh,” Kevin says, biting his lip, “yeah, totally, I was just on my way out.”

Zac nods and his mouth widens in a yawn. “I’m gonna crash, then,” he says vaguely. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Kevin blushes, harder when Zac winks at him, and tries very hard not to think about his roommate having sex with his girlfriend. Somehow, when he looks down at his feet, they’ve unstuck themselves. Kevin sighs and turns to leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.

***

When Mike wakes the next evening, William’s standing over his coffin with an unreadable look on his face. Mike doesn’t jump but he knows William knows he took him by surprise and he hates it, hates the vulnerability of unconsciousness as much as he craves the silent tranquillity of sleep.

“Brendon tells me you have a new pet,” William says, voice careful, measured.

Mike snorts; never one to beat around the bush, that’s their Bill. “That what he called it?” he mutters, pulling himself up and out. William still towers over him, though, perched elegantly on the empty coffin next to Mike’s, and Mike tries not to feel like he’s looking down on him.

William’s face shifts, but Mike still can’t read the vague frown traced between his brows or the slightly displeased quirk to his lips. “His words were not so complimentary,” he replies, and Mike rolls his eyes. “I hear you had an altercation last night.”

Mike’s eyes narrow. “He tried to take something that didn’t belong to him,” he says tightly, “and I stopped him. He tried to break the rules and I stopped him, William.”

“Oh really? I didn’t realise it wasn’t breaking the rules to nearly kill one of your own kind, Michael,” William says evenly.

“He tried to-”

“I don’t care what he tried to do,” William cuts him off. It’s as close as he’s ever come to snapping, losing the nonchalance that always seems to come so effortlessly to him, and Mike closes his mouth. “I don’t care if he fucked your boyfriend or ripped his pretty little heart out, you never lay a finger on one of your own kind. Do you understand that?”

Mike sets his jaw. “Yes, William,” he says, an edge of bitterness to his voice. “I understand.”

William regards him for a few timeless, endless moments, before saying, softly, “I don’t think you do, Mike, that’s the problem. Not any more.” He looks away, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening. “Do you think he’s your anima?”

Mike determinedly does not flinch. “He can’t be, William,” he says tonelessly. “I already have one.”

“Eternity’s a long time to stay with the same person,” William says, matter-of-fact, “especially when that person’s dead.”

“Brendon’s managed it,” Mike points out, unable to help the resentment that creeps into his voice.

“He’s been with Ryan for less than half a century,” William says dismissively. “That’s hardly something to boast about.”

“Still.”

William looks at him again, his gaze every bit as penetrating as before. “You still blame me for what happened to Tom,” he says softly, and Mike closes his eyes.

“No,” he says, but he doesn’t have to see William’s face to know he doesn’t believe him.

“You know why I had to kill him, Mike. It was for your own good,” William says, and Mike isn’t sure which one of them he’s trying to convince. “He’d gone mad with the knowledge of what we are. He would’ve killed himself if I hadn’t done it for him and he would’ve taken you down with him. I had to do it, I had to break the rules, I couldn’t let him hurt you. You understand that, don’t you?”

Mike opens his eyes, blinking away the image that seems to be permanently burned onto his retinas, of Tom’s broken corpse, of William standing over it. “I know,” he says flatly, and he does. It’s just a little hard to remember, sometimes. “Kevin’s still not my anima.”

“What is he, then?” William asks, despairingly. “What is it about him that’s so special you’d forsake one of your kind just to save his life?”

“Nothing,” Mike says, when the silence stretches out and he realises William is waiting – patiently; William is always patient – for him to reply. “He’s just a boy.” Mike shrugs. “His kind doesn’t know how to be special.”

William turns to fix him with an intense stare which Mike returns, unflinchingly. William smiles, steady and sharp, and then says, “Indeed,” with a wry little smile that strips the youth from his face and bares the ancient old man hiding beneath. “Humans are so frightfully mundane, aren’t they?”

Mike narrows his eyes because he can hear the tease in William’s voice and he doesn’t like what it’s implying. “Yeah,” he says. “Life is wasted on the living.”

“So when are you going to turn him?” William asks, casual, like he’s asking when Mike’s going to bring Kevin home to meet the in-laws.

“I don’t know,” Mike replies, his brain screaming never, I will never let him suffer this, not ever.

“You said that about Tom.”

“Exactly,” Mike says flatly. “I know better now.”

William’s lips curl and something gleams in his deadened eyes. “You’ll do it,” he says, with that calm arrogance all William’s vampires learn to perfect the first time he takes them out to hunt. “Now you’ve had a taste of his blood you won’t be able to stop thinking about it, about what it would taste like, about what he would taste like. And maybe you’ll resist the temptation at first but you won’t last, Mike, you haven’t got that kind of staying power.” Mike suppresses a shiver and William laughs softly. “You’ll give in, sooner or later, and it’ll be glorious and you’ll wonder why you waited so long, but you won’t let him die. You won’t be able to let yourself.”

(William is Mike’s sire and the only man who’s ever been kind to Mike, in life or in death. There is no one, living or dead, who knows Mike better than William does and sometimes, sometimes Mike loves him for it, loves him with a sharp, burning intensity that whites out the lingering guilt from all the blood he’s spilt at William’s command and, later, of his own volition.

But sometimes, sometimes Mike hates him for it, hates him with that same intensity that doesn’t leave room for anything else.)

“No,” Mike says, his voice tight and very carefully controlled. “I won’t hurt him, William. I won’t.”

William’s smile is positively beatific when he shrugs. “As you wish,” he says, unfolding his legs to step down from the coffin. “You should probably go to your pretty little pet now. Kevin will be wondering where you are.”

Mike narrows his eyes, a suspicious crease between his brows, but he takes the out for what it is and leaves, halfway out of the house before William has a chance to call him back.

***

Kevin goes to the library after class to finish an assignment he needs to have done for the end of the week and by the time he surfaces, weary with writing but pleased to be almost done, it’s getting dark outside. He stops to pick up a take-away on his way home – sushi; Kevin wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t live without it – because it’s his turn to cook tonight but he really doesn’t feel up to it. When he reaches his apartment, fumbling with the keys in the lock, all the light’s faded from the sky.

“Zac?” he calls, kicking the door shut behind him. “You in? I’ve got food, we can-”

He stops short when he catches sight of the person sitting on the sofa, his heart pounding a wild, staccato rhythm against his ribs.

“Hey Kevin,” Brendon says, lips drawn back over his teeth – and, oh, Kevin can see his fangs, drawn into sharp little points that dig into his lower lip – in a grin.

Kevin takes an involuntary step back, grip tightening on the bag of take-out food. “Where’s Zac?” he asks, voice shaking, instead of the obvious, instead of why are you in my apartment and how the hell did you get in? “Have you hurt him?”

Brendon lets out a soft chuckle and rises from the sofa. Kevin takes another step back. “Relax,” Brendon says, still amused. “Your friend is fine. I merely suggested he go for a walk when he let me in and said I could wait for you myself.”

Kevin’s brow furrows with confusion. “Wait for- hey, how’d you know where I live?”

“Mike told me. He told me a lot of things about you when he got back yesterday.” Brendon winks at him then, eyebrows waggling, and Kevin can’t help the blush that spreads across his cheeks.

“Wait,” he says, frowning when what Brendon actually said sinks in. “Mike told you? Why would he do that?”

Brendon looks vaguely puzzled. “Why wouldn’t he?” He takes a step towards Kevin and this time, Kevin flinches away. Brendon frowns, the look of puzzlement changing to one of hurt. “He’s told you I want to hurt you, hasn’t he? He’s made you think that I’m the threat.”

“Um,” Kevin says, feeling distinctly guilty but not entirely sure why, “yeah. You did attack me, remember?”

“Oh, Kevin, I’m so sorry,” Brendon says, the level of sincerity in his eyes echoed in his voice. “I had no idea he’d try and deceive you like this.”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asks warily.

“I know I was rather forceful yesterday, and that probably wasn’t the best idea given the circumstances, but I was genuinely trying to help you. Mike’s the one who wants to kill you, Kevin,” Brendon says gently, with a little grimace like this idea actually physically pains him to contemplate. “He told me about how... how you smell, and how much he wants to taste you for real, to bite into your skin and drain you of every last drop of your blood. He told me he’d make it slow, he’d take his time killing you, just to make it last, just so he can-”

Kevin steps back, eyes wild, body shaking. “No,” he manages, shaking his head, “no, Mike doesn’t- he wouldn’t-”

“He does,” Brendon says gravely, “and he most definitely would. He’s a vicious killer, Kevin. He hunts people like you for fun. This is just part of his game.”

Kevin can’t believe it, he won’t. But at the back of his mind is Mike’s voice, saying, What if I were just playing with you too?

“Mike said he’d look after me” Kevin stammers, “he promised-”

“I can show you,” Brendon says, voice soft, and he takes a step forward to touch Kevin’s forehead, feather-light presses of his fingers to both of his temples. Kevin’s eyes flutter shut of their own volition and images start to flash behind his eyelids. They’re indistinct at first, just flashes of light and colour, but there’s one element to them that’s common to all: Mike. Mike hurting people, in increasingly colourful and creative ways.

By the time the images cease, Kevin’s legs are jelly and his stomach’s churning and he’s breathing hard through his mouth. Brendon steps away and he falls to the ground, whimpering helplessly, curling in on himself. The whimpers turn to sobs as Brendon’s footfalls start to die away, echoing around and around Kevin’s head.

***

Mike stops to feed on a homeless girl a couple of blocks away from Kevin’s apartment; he doesn’t want the temptation, not today, when William’s words are still ringing in his ears and he can’t bring himself to pretend they aren’t true.

When Mike gets to Kevin’s apartment, the door’s already ajar. He glances around, but he can’t see any sign of a struggle. This is extremely very not good.

“Kevin?” he calls out, tentative, as he pushes the door open all the way. He can feel Kevin in the apartment but he can’t feel where, and there’s a distinctly unsettling buzz in the air that’s enough to make his stomach churn with worry, as if the open door wasn’t enough of a sign that something’s wrong.

He finds Kevin curled up in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around the knees tucked into his chest. He’s tiny and shaking and so pitiful it makes Mike’s chest clench and his throat dry up and his veins burn with the need to hurt whoever did this to Kevin.

“Kevin?” he repeats, dropping to his knees beside the boy.

Kevin lets out a quiet moan of anguish and buries his head in his knees, pressing himself further back into the wall. Mike reaches out for him but he flinches away, mumbling something too jumbled and incoherent for even the vampire’s heightened hearing to parse into actual words.

“Hey, what happened?” Mike asks, trying to sound like he isn’t about to murder whoever did this. “Was it Brendon?”

At Brendon’s name, Kevin lets out another moan and shudders all over. Mike’s fists clench at his sides and he almost aches to hold Kevin, to soothe him, to make this all better in any way he can, but he doesn’t think that would help either of them at this point.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, careful to keep his voice even. “I could look into your head and-”

“No,” Kevin interrupts, forceful, his eyes wide with terror. “No, I’m not having one of you in my head again, I can’t, I can’t-”

“Again? Kevin, what did Brendon do?” Mike demands, abandoning all pretence of calm. If Brendon’s hurt Kevin in any way at all then fuck the rules, fuck William, fuck all of them, Brendon is going to die. Painfully.

“He told me you want to kill me and you’re just pretending it’s him who does so I’ll trust you,” Kevin says flatly. “I didn’t believe him and he- he showed me.” He closes his eyes, something flickering behind his eyelids. “He went into my head and showed me things... things you’ve done.”

Kevin swallows hard, body shuddering. He opens his eyes to look up at Mike, something awfully vulnerable in his gaze. Mike’s stomach clenches and he takes a moment to wonder just how much Brendon showed him, how many of the images that haunt Mike are going to haunt Kevin now too. Idly, he wonders how long it would take for Brendon to die if Mike were to rip his limbs off one by one, leaving his pretty little head ‘til last.

“You said he couldn’t hurt me,” Kevin whispers, and Mike glances away, unable to stand the faint accusation in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kevin,” he says, the apology trite and useless on his lips. “I didn’t think he could. I didn’t expect him to try something like this.” He should’ve, though, he should’ve fucking seen it coming a mile away. Brendon likes to play with his food before eating it. He knows this, he knows it, but somehow he didn’t realise what it really meant.

Kevin’s quiet for a long time before he speaks again. “It was all real, wasn’t it?” he says softly, still staring at Mike. He can feel the burn of Kevin’s gaze on his skin. “Everything he showed me, it was all real.”

“Yes. Probably.” Mike swallows before continuing. “I don’t know what he... yeah, probably.”

Kevin exhales slowly. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? You were going to, before, weren’t you? When you... but you didn’t. Why didn’t you? Why haven’t you?”

“I- I don’t know. I guess I- I don’t want to,” Mike manages, and it’s true. Maybe Kevin is his anima, maybe he’s just a boy Mike’s gotten suddenly, unreasonably attached to, but whatever the reason, Mike doesn’t want to kill him. The desire to taste Kevin, to split him open and drain him dry, it hasn’t vanished as such, but there’s something else in him that burns stronger than it that wants nothing more than for Kevin to stay alive for as long as possible (which in all honesty isn’t very much, especially if Brendon’s still in the equation, but Mike’ll take what he can get here.)

“You aren’t going to hurt me?” Kevin asks, so small and vulnerable Mike suddenly wants to hug him tight and never let him go.

“Never,” he says fiercely, and that’s a promise, even if it’s only to himself. He won’t let himself hurt Kevin, he can’t, not after this.

“Okay,” Kevin says, more an exhalation of breath than anything else. He swallows, hard, then looks up at Mike. “Okay.”

Mike lets himself hold him then, lets himself wraps his arms around Kevin’s frail body and pick him up off the ground. He feels weightless cradled in Mike’s arms, almost like a doll, but Mike doesn’t dwell on that image for too long before he carries Kevin into his bedroom and lays him down on the bed like he did last night. There’s no way Kevin’s getting to sleep as easily this time, though; he’s twitchy and restless and shifting on the bed and he’s making these tiny, pitiful little noises that are making Mike want to hurt something.

“You need to sleep,” Mike tells him, carefully, so he isn’t tempted to force it. “I can help, if you want.”

Kevin shakes his head. “Later,” he says, his eyes sharp with intent, “I’ll sleep later.”

This time, Mike is entirely unprepared for it when Kevin tilts his head up and kisses him. He makes a soft noise into his mouth and tries to pull away but Kevin doesn’t let him; his hand comes up to cup the back of Mike’s neck and tug him down, resting lightly at the base.

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” he murmurs, licking at his reddened lips. “You aren’t going to hurt me and I trust you so please, Mike, please.”

Mike wavers for all of a minute, wrangling with what little he has left of his conscience, before leaning down and kissing Kevin back. He’s never been very good at doing the right thing and Kevin’s just making him worse but Mike- Mike’s not so sure he minds, especially when his teeth graze Kevin’s lower lip and the boy moans, his mouth opening to deepen the kiss. Mike gives up on holding back altogether, then, and after that everything is a blur of skin and lips and lips on skin, of frantic kisses and helpless thrusts, and, and-

And Mike feels more alive than he has in years, even with a stone cold heart and nothing pumping through his veins.