Disclaimer: I NO OWN HETALIA NOR TWILIGHT!
(Yes, this has Russia/Romano, and this is only the first chapter.)
Warnings (for chapter): Russia/Romano (yaoi), stalker!Russia, Twilight (bashing?), confusing things that make you wonder what you've read, and... not-oblivious!Italy!
It was no shock to him when he ran into another human—it was a vacation hotspot. But the human's idiocy plus the sun put him in one of the worst moods he's ever been in. He hadn't had any blood, too, which already made him blood-thirsty (in more way than one). The human actually had to audacity to glare at him as if he was in the wrong, and not the other way. It only made his mood that much worse.
"I might have to kill them all~" He knew some of the people around him were fearful, questioned his sanity, but he didn't care as long as they knew he wasn't one to be fucked with. He also wanted to make sure that no one would bother to come up to him, and ask him out on a date—once, it happened in his home, Moscow, Russia, and he swore that the lady was delusional.
He was just walking on the beach when he ran into the human. At first, he wouldn't have paid any attention (this was a popular place crawling with the pathetic, useless creatures), but the human smelled better than he thought was possible. He really wanted to follow the weak human, just to taste his blood—he wanted to savor the feeling. More importantly, he was curious as to how the human looked so innocent while swearing at everything (and everyone) in sight.
It was then that he decided that stalking that delectable human would be in his best interest. If he played his cards right, he could stop the human, and convince him to allow him near him—he could then drink the human's blood without anyone walking in to find that he wasn't as human as he appeared. Then again, they never did consider him a human—he heard the humans whispering, calling him the devil. He had to admit the name fit him.
That day, he didn't do anything interesting—the human visited his brother, who called the human Lovino, and then Lovino went home to swear about a human that abandoned him. Once in a while, he would mention that human by name, and he would sometimes feel as though he knew the human (but he didn't know because Antonio is a common name.)
'Antonio…? Isn't that the human that's with Gilbert?' He shrugged to himself, muttering something about ex-boyfriends and their habits of introducing their lovers that he really couldn't give a damn about. He muttered too lowly for the human to hear him, but he still worried. He still worried that the human would find him, and force him to act quickly.
There was no evidence, not one that he could see, but he somehow alerted the object of his desire of his location (and his hobby). More often than not, he'd hear the brunette muttering something about creepy stalkers, and their (fucking) lack of morals.
While he didn't mind being insulted by humans (in fact, he relished that they believed he was below them), he was slightly disturbed by the wording. Lovino made it sound like he had stalkers before, and it angered him for reasons that he didn't understand. He told himself that he was only upset about that because it obviously meant that another one of his kind wanted his blood (and he planned on being the only one feasting on that blood).
It was because of those revelations (which he came up with on his own) that he found himself staring longingly from his spot. It was a bit weird having to hide himself, but he wanted to know everything about his victim—it made it easier for him to decide when he would drain the blood from his victim.
The justification that he used was a bit much, he had to admit, and he wondered why he was trying to justify his actions in the first place—he had no one to justify them to but himself. It wasn't as weird as he thought it would be, but it didn't sound like himself. Usually, if he chose a person who would be missed, he wouldn't even have to hide the fact that he was interested in them, and would attack at the first moment possible. Yet here he is now, reduced to having to watch his victim out of fear. He wasn't even planning his first move.
There was an edge to his unusual nervousness, he realized, as he found that his target would often move away—even more than before. He was visiting his brother more (and calling his brother's lover a potato bastard and other things that should never be said in public—he also found that the "potato bastard's" name was Ludwig), and he would often visit this blonde that he immediately didn't like.
He couldn't get close enough—it felt like something was blocking him, but he couldn't be sure—and he could tell that Lovino was getting more and more comfortable with each passing minute with the American. While he couldn't hear, he could read his target's lips, and he thinks that Lovino was telling the American about his relief of losing a stalker. The American looked like he replied with something off-handed, something that didn't really matter in the whole of it.
He also tried to tell himself that there was nothing wrong with the American getting closer and closer and closer to the Italian boy, but he knew that he didn't like it—not at all. He wouldn't have minded, if he had the ability to overhear the conversation, if he had the ability to hear what the humans were saying to one another.
He also wanted to see his Lovino (when he started to think of Lovino as his, or bother to remember the human's name, he would never know) without anyone else between them. He wanted to have the ability to influence the human, make him choose the "devil" (or vampire) over his own kind (the humans).
He also wanted to make sure that the human wasn't contaminated, and he wanted to see that with his own eyes. He wanted to be the one to steal the human's virginity right before killing him—all in the act that often offended the incubi (like Roderich and Francis). He wanted to be the one who convinced him of the existence of mythical creatures (excluding his own), and he wanted him to scream in fear for him.
"I don't want you to go to anyone else," he whispered to himself, thinking of the one that he allowed to get away from him. The one he thought of was none other than Yao Wang, who soon went off with another Asian (he thought the name is Kiku).
He shook himself out of his depressing mood, and went the Italian's house (since he just noticed that Lovino had left.) When he got there, though, he saw the American—the same one Lovino was talking to earlier.
He shook himself out of his depressing mood, and went the Italian's house (since he just noticed that Lovino had left.) When he got there, though, he saw the American—the same one Lovino was talking to earlier.
"So, you're the stalker," the American said.
He could see everything within his vision being tinted red, but he didn't mind—he relished the feeling of anger, and he loved feeling more powerful than he usually did. "What's it to you?"
"Lovino doesn't like it." He could see that the American honestly believed that.
With an insignificant part of his mind, he heard Lovino growling about the American (Alfred, he'd called him) telling his name. He could also hear the American replying that it didn't matter (since he probably heard your name being said by another person before this).
"Does it matter? I want to be with him," he murmured before baring his fangs.