Thrown against the wall of the alley.
Two sharp, searing pains in his throat.
Fire engulfed his body.
He screamed.
A sadistic laugh sounded above him.
~ * ~
"Why did this happen to me?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to kill whoever did it."
Mello touched the two holes on his throat. He'd been attacked by a vampire. A fucking vampire. He and Matt had spent their whole lives killing those repulsive creatures, and now he'd become one. His heart beat was long gone. His skin was pale, rock-hard and ice cold. His eyes were a blazing, almost-glowing red. He had two razor-sharp, needle-pointed fangs where his canine teeth had been. He couldn't see himself in the mirror he stood in front of. His blood had evaporated.
And now he needed more.
He hadn't told Matt this, but he was on the brink of snapping. It took everything he had in him not to tackle the redhead to the floor and drain him of every ounce of blood he had.
But he wouldn't do it. He refused to kill his lover. Because biting him would kill him, and if it didn't, it would make him suffer a fate much, much worse.
He too would become a vampire.
~ * ~
Mello bit his pillow. His new teeth stung, like he'd just had braces put on or something. His throat was dry, although he'd been drinking water all day. His stomach growled impatiently, though he'd eaten everything in the fridge.
His body was craving blood.
His sensitive ears twitched when the bathroom door opened. The smell of human skin, lilac conditioner, and rose-and-freesia body soap assaulted his nostrils and taunted his libido. Damn Matt and his love of floral washes.
The intoxicating collection of scents traveled into Matt's room, and then it changed direction. Mello tensed, frozen in place. The smell was headed straight for him.
Matt, clad only in a soft white towel around his waist, came into the room. He thought Mello was asleep, because his face was pressed into the pillow and he was laying down.
"Jesus, Mello has to stop bringing the clean laundry in his room. He should know my stuff's in here too...ah!"
And a new scent, something more overpowering than Matt's skin-and-floral-soaps smell. Much more.
It was a mix of every delicious thing in the world. Drool nearly began pouring out of the blonde boy's mouth. He dared to steal a glance at Matt, and when he did, he realized just what was making him so thirsty.
Matt had cut his finger on the broken laundry basket. Blood was slowly seeping out of the small abrasion, and onto the rim of the basket.
"Ah, damn it. And we're out of banaids too..."
Matt grabbed the shirt he'd been looking for and walked out of the room, closing the door in his wake.
The second Matt had gone, Mello leapt soundlessly out of his bed and to the basket. He opened his mouth, and very carefully, licked up the drops of Matt's blood from the dark green plastic.
The taste almost sent him into a seizure. It was perfection. It was the purest vanilla. The cleanest water. The sweetest chocolate. The most untainted air. It was addicting.
And Mello needed more.
Especially when he thought of where the blood had come from.
He made zero noise as he exited his room. He made zero noise opening Matt's door.
Matt was sitting at his computer, wearing some gray sweatpants and a black tank undershirt. His headphones were clamped onto his ears, and the volume on the internet game's music was so loud that Mello could make out the words perfectly from his distance. Matt would never hear him.
He placed one hand on the armrest of Matt's computer chair, and slowly slipped the other over Matt's eyes, the black leather glove blinding him completely.
He then climbed up onto the swiveling chair, straddling Matt's groin, and attatched his lips to Matt's succulent skin. He sucked hard, drawing blood to the surface. The smell was overwhelming.
He bit down.
That perfect liquid spilled over his tounge almost immediatly, and his vampiric instincts took over. He kept sucking, and more and more of the crimson delight washed into his mouth. He could vaguely hear Matt's cries, and feel hands pushing at him, and a small part of him screamed;
"STOP! STOP IT! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!"
But he paid no mind to it. His bloodlust was overiding his brain.
He only stopped when no more of the heavenly taste would go down his throat.
He opened his eyes, and Mello was Mello once more.
Matt was limp on the chair, pale as Mello, with the exeption of two bloody holes in his neck. His head flopped to the left, eyes shut serenely and lips parted slightly, as if he were whispering. He was breathing, but only slightly. He would be dead within ten minutes.
Mello's eyes widened, and pain enveloped him at the sight of what he had just done. He hadn't been able to stop himself. Matt was dying. And Mello was the one who killed him.
"I'm sorry..."
He pressed his forehead to Matt's, letting crimson tears fall from his eyes. He was crying Matt's blood onto Matt's dying body. How fitting.
"I'm so sorry..."
Another voice, just barely audiable, met his ears.
"I forgive you."
And Matt was gone.
