I only made some grammar edits here.

As he sprinted back to his house, Jaune couldn't think of anything except what had happened in that alleyway.

The taste of that man's blood. It was the first thought which came to mind. How it tasted so sweet and delicious. Like Summer Rose's homemade cookies or his own mother's comfort foods. Nothing genuinely compared to such a fine and delectable ambrosia like what he had just experienced for the first time.

But that wasn't the problem. Actually, only a part of the whole problem.

Jaune had fucking killed a man without a second thought! Just murdered him and left him in the middle of an alleyway like a piece of trash! Jaune knew the man was dead before he even hit the ground, and he just took off like a bat out of hell.

The image of that man's face came to mind. His dark skin was almost grey in colour - cold and clammy, without any blood left to keep him warm. Those dead eyes stared up at the stars with no life left inside where there was once an ember. His neck was torn to shreds, covered in Jaune's teeth marks. Small strands of flesh hung from the open wound. His body lying in a pool made from his own blood, surrounded by stains splattered all over the walls as if someone took a paintbrush coated in paint and whipped it around, throwing long streaks onto a canvas.

It made Jaune want to vomit at seeing the image of his body once again.

He just wanted to bend over onto the nearby grass and throw everything up. The taste of his vomit would have been better than the taste of blood. At least the contents of his stomach would have washed the remaining blood in his mouth out.

Nothing about what happened in that alleyway was right.

Aside from Jaune killing that guy. The taste of blood was the worst of it. Jaune hated how it tasted to him. How sweet it had been. How he enjoyed the flavour more than anything else, he had ever come across.

It was all wrong... It made him feel so guilty that he had liked the taste of blood.

Jaune hadn't considered what happened to his chest, either. That knife had dug deep into the muscle. However, he couldn't even feel any pain originating from where he had been stabbed. Adrenaline must have been keeping him from feeling it. Yet he still expected it to be bleeding pretty heavily under his hoodie. Maybe he could wrap it?

Just take care of it when we get to our room... One thing at a time Jaune.

There were too many things going on for him to focus on. Jaune's priority was to find someplace where he could have some privacy. His room and, more specifically, Jaune's bathroom was the best place to do it. Luckily, most of his neighbours seemed to be retiring for the night. He would have some cover heading through the darkness.

As of now, he could see his house down the road. The lights were on. They originated from the front of the house and a few windows on the second story, casting a faint glow out onto the street and the front yard. Someone must have been awake still. It was only ten at night now.

Jaune slowed to a walk as he approached his house. He must have sprinted a few miles just getting here, and he really needed to take a moment to cool down. He couldn't let his family know something had gone wrong.

He didn't even want to consider what would happen if they saw him coming inside, covered head to toe in blood. They would think he got attacked again, and Jaune couldn't handle that kind of attention.

Jaune took a deep breath, wiping his face with both hands.

Let's just get inside and head straight to our room. Just act like you're tired and play it off...

He was terrified right now. Jaune couldn't lie about it. His hands were shaking, and the rest of him was on edge, feeling like something was about to attack him. His throat started to feel insanely dry as well.

He did the best he could to clean up after what happened. The nearest hose a few blocks away served that purpose well. At least to clean his face and hands-off. So, there was a chance nobody would see any blood on him.

Fortunately, Jaune wore a black hoodie tonight. All he had to do was get into his room, and then he could get rid of it and sit down.

Approaching his house, Jaune's heart rate skyrocketed. His breathing hitched and shuddered with every breath. The shaking became so much worse. Everything slowed to a crawl, enough that he could hear his pulse thumping in his ears.

Calm down, Jaune! You can do this!

Standing in front of his house, Jaune stared up at the building. He could see shadows moving in front of the windows on the second floor. None on the first. Maybe this was his chance to get inside without anybody noticing?

Slowly, Jaune pushed open the gate. Metal ground against metal, letting out a horrifyingly loud creak as he did so. The sound stood above the chirping crickets and gusts of wind. It felt like the sound carried across the neighbourhood like a firecracker being blown up out on the streets.

Jaune stopped opening the gate, leaving enough space for him to squeeze through. He closed the gate quickly, avoiding attracting any attention by lifting the latch and setting it gently back into place. A small click emanated from their meeting point.

On the front porch now, Jaune could hear everything going on inside the first twenty or so feet with clarity. The rest was a muddled mess of sounds that had no discernable features. His mother and one of his sisters were in the living room, most likely watching TV. Another was in the kitchen getting a drink. The faucet started up soon after a glass touched the stone countertop.

Jaune grabbed hold of the doorknob. He hesitated to go inside. For what? There was nothing wrong right now. He was only feeling tired after pulling a long shift at work. Then he got lost walking back to the house.

Pushing the door open, Jaune was granted another bountiful cluster of stimuli to his olfactory system. The smell of boiled pasta and cooked beef with parmesan was the most noticeable. The subtle scent of a home-cooked tomato sauce meant spaghetti and meatballs were waiting for him.

Frankly, the smell made his mouth water the moment he walked in. But he wasn't hungry. He just needed to shower and pass out for the night. Maybe he would wake up early and get some homework done.

"Jaune, there's spaghetti still in the kitchen if you want some," a voice spoke up from the side.

Jaune turned to see his mother looking at him. Next to her were Saphron and Adrian sitting on the couch. The two were talking right now as they watched a show. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

That was how it was supposed to be. Nothing was wrong right now.

"No thanks," he quickly replied, heading up the stairs. "I got something at work. I'm just going to sleep!"

He quickly scurried up the stairs before anything could be said in reply.

[Jaune's bedroom]

Shutting the door and locking it behind him, Jaune fell against the mass of oak. He was finally somewhere safe. His room was devoid of anybody else, and now he had some privacy. A moment to think, at least.

Pushing off the door, Jaune started pacing back and forth in his room. He buried his face into his hands, groaning loudly into his palms. The subtle sounds of his footsteps echoed in the small room.

Fuck - fuck - fuck - FUCK!

I can't believe I killed someone. What do I do?!

Then there was what happened in the cafeteria and the crosswalk! I'm losing my fucking mind!

Jaune remembered everything that transpired earlier today. It wasn't him blacking out and forgetting where he was. Jaune was literally turning into another person. Some Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde shit! At least that's what he thought was happening...

It has to be that concussion. It's the only thing that happened in the last week that can explain it!

Sudden brain damage brought psychotic episodes where he lusted for someone else's blood. It was his brain playing tricks on him. But why did he suddenly remember everything after he killed a guy? Or what was triggering these episodes in the first place?

It really couldn't be that cut and dry, right?! If that was the case, then killing that guy could have also been a part of it. It could be a complete fabrication of his mind. Jaune may not have even killed someone.

The image of the man's body came to mind again. It was a sudden flashback playing the scene over again. The thoughts and feelings came with it. His skin felt so warm to the touch before it turned grey and cold. The heavenly passion to which his teeth tore into the prey.

The sensations of gorging himself on a human's blood washed over his tastebuds, making his hair stand on end. All Jaune could taste was that sickeningly sweet taste of the crimson life fluid flowing through that man's veins. It disgusted him with how wondrous it felt.

Jaune swallowed once to attempt to clear his throat. His head was beginning to feel slightly woozy. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, trailing down his face. Sudden nausea slammed into Jaune's skull like a freight train. He tried to swallow a second time, taking deep breaths to clear his head.

He couldn't do it. No matter how much spit he attempted to gather in his mouth, Jaune couldn't swallow. The saliva gathered in his mouth, in the back of his throat, clogging his oesophagus. The mucus drowned his uvula in an ocean of slime.

His throat spasmed once, forcing Jaune to gag loudly.

A feeling welling up inside him came up through his throat. He gagged a second time making the sensation all the worse. It intensified to an almost unbearable degree.

Jaune turned on his heel, rushing to the restroom. A series of clicks from the bottom of his shoes followed. He threw the door open, going straight for the light. It flicked on, revealing the tile floors and tan sheetrock walls. None of which concerned Jaune.

He dove into the toilet, opening the lid as he did so. The ceramic plate smashed into the bowl, echoing in the small room. Jaune gagged once more before a dry heave. Another, some mucus with more dry heaving that followed soon after.

Upon retching a third time, Jaune vomited into the toilet. The sudden rush of bile forced its way out of his stomach and up through his oesophagus, landing in the bowl before him. Jaune only continued heaving and coughing as his body forcibly ejected anything left within.

An awfully sour taste took hold of his taste buds when he finished.

Gross...

Jaune wiped his mouth with his right hand, cleaning the last bit of saliva and whatever else remained in the corner of his mouth. The tiny bit of spit smeared up his forearm as he did so. Not that it bothered him in any way. At least he got it all out of his system.

Half-crawling away from the toilet and leaning against the wall, Jaune's eyes turned towards the bowl.

He was curious and quite honestly afraid of the truth. If he had killed that guy and drank his blood, there would have been some in his vomit. Jaune remembered swallowing a lot of blood when it happened. So logically, there should have been some in the toilet bowl.

Hopefully, that wasn't the case, and he could say this was a hallucination.

He peeked over the edge of the bowl, staring at its contents. Some remains of a muffin he snatched at work. What looked to be half-digested broccoli and green beans. But no blood. Not even a trace of red where there should have been plenty of it.

Maybe I'm just going crazy...

That would be good in this case. Vale had excellent mental health facilities where he could get treated. He would wait until morning and explain everything to his mom. She would understand... probably.

That feels like an awful idea now...

It did. If he were to tell anybody about what he experienced, his life would be over as he knew it. Jaune would be committed to a mental ward and stay there for the foreseeable future. He may also be locked up inside his house where his mother keeps the fine china.

Jaune groaned loudly. "This really sucks," he said to himself.

I'm seeing shit! Everything feels so off lately! What is going on with me?!

He headed over to the sink to wash his hands off. Jaune needed to check his chest to be sure there was nothing wrong there either. If both were fine, the entire thing was an illusion conjured up by his mind.

Washing his hands, Jaune let the warm water run over them for just a moment. He began to lather two spritzes of soap fervently until he deemed both as clean as he could get them. He had run into a dirty trashcan earlier and didn't want to risk anything.

After he was done, Jaune shook both of his hands and reached for a towel. The outline of his image stood in his peripheral vision as he reached over. Snatching the towel, he swiftly dried his hands and placed it back upon the rack.

Jaune let out another breath of air, placing both hands on the countertop. He needed this. A moment to rest after everything that happened. Some time to himself to settle his nerves before going to bed. That's if he managed to tonight.

Looking up at his reflection, Jaune let out a shriek when he was struck by the image before him. He took a step back, tripping and falling backwards. His back hit the door hard and slid down onto the floor, eventually ending up on his but.

What the fuck was that?!

What he had seen was enough to startle any normal human being. Jaune had nearly shite himself when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Oh, he had hoped this was another moment where his mind was playing tricks on him. Because if not, Jaune was going to freak the fuck out.

He grabbed the countertop and pulled himself to his feet.

Holding his eyes shut, Jaune could barely hope to crack them open after what he saw. His heart started racing once again to where it was almost beating out of his chest. The sound it made could be heard even in this small room. A constant thumping sound continuing on an ever-present loop.

This isn't real! This can't be real! I'm just inside some sort of coma dream or tripping out!

Jaune slowly opened his eyes, bracing himself for what he might see again. If it was real, none of this was a trick inside his mind.

He ultimately opened his eyes completely and stared directly at the mirror. His reflection was the first article in the field of view and everything else behind Jaune.

But his eyes...

His eyes were no longer those of a human.

Where his sclera had initially been white. They were now black. Not just any black, but as dark as two pieces of coal. Smooth and dull like matte paint that did not create any reflection. Red veins carried his blood across the surface of both eyes as they should have been, yet these stuck out - almost glowing compared to their backdrop. The capillaries seemed to begin from his iris, spreading outward like rivers of lava spewing from a volcano.

Jaune leaned forward into the mirror to get a clearer look at his eyes. He needed to do a double-take to see if this was actually happening. Jaune spread his eyelids wide open, causing his pupils to contract. His hands shook as he did so, not letting him get any better of a look. Eventually, his eye spasmed from the discomfort, forcing him to let go.

Wiping his eye from the sudden moisture that built up, Jaune looked back up to the mirror. He traced the outer edges of his eyes, following the largest capillaries up to his iris. When he reached it, all Jaune could do was stare at it.

His cobalt blue iris was no longer there. Both irises were dark orange - shaped like any other iris, with crypts and furrows running along the edge of his pupil. Those depressions in the layer of tissue were merely a darker orange or completely black. Each of his eyes slightly glowed in the mirror, flaring up almost as if they were on fire.

No-no-no-no-no-no!

Jaune backed away from the mirror, starting to pace back and force. He ran a hand through his hair, combing the locks backwards in one swoop. The sound of his shoes clicking on the floor filled the small room. Jaune's shaky breaths followed.

What happened to my eyes?!

His gut was tossing and turning in an anxious frenzy of emotions. It was like a knot twisting and pulling tighter with every thought running through his head. It almost felt like it would snap, and he'd just break down crying on the floor.

Fuck!

Jaune slammed his hands down on the countertop. He was pissed off, especially with his emotions running wild as they were now. Things were falling apart around Jaune, and he finally realised it.

Everything that happened tonight was real.

Jaune looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes hadn't changed colours at all. He didn't even know if they would go back to normal or if they would just be stuck like this forever. The latter of which concerned him greatly.

As he continued staring at himself, Jaune's eyes trained themselves on his chest. Everything else around him became blurry as both of his pupils focused solely on his hoodie. He was waiting for his brain to come up with anything he could use as an idea, and that's when he saw it.

There was still a hole in his hoodie.

One of Jaune's hands came up to where the hole was. It was a small tear in the cloth exactly where he had been stabbed. Yet to his loss, the cut was exactly the same size as that knife.

However, as he ran his hands over the cloth, Jaune couldn't find any trace of blood. Not even a little dried blood, given how long it had been since he was stabbed.

Why is there no blood?! There should be some blood right here!

Jaune tore off the hoodie, stripping himself in less than a second from the heavy cotton. It hit the ground, and soon after, his shirt as well. Both were cast about the room wherever they may land. Jaune didn't care either; he just needed to see.

What the fuck?

Without a top on, Jaune was bare to the world. His skin was exposed to the lights hanging just above his mirror, reflecting a small amount of it. However, not a single drop of blood.

There was not even a cut where there should have been one. Jaune expected to have some stab wound that might need stitches, but there was nothing. Just smooth pale skin. No blood pouring from a puncture wound. No scar, either.

Why?

I felt the knife! I pulled it out! Why isn't there any blood!

This couldn't be real, then? If there wasn't a stab wound, all of this has to be my imagination.

The pieces were not falling together accordingly now. Jaune knew he was stabbed! It hurt like hell when he pulled it out. But there was nothing there. There was a tear in his hoodie, but without a knife wound, nothing indicated anything that happened was real.

What happened to his eyes must have been some form of hallucination. Still, Jaune had no clue what was going on. Maybe it was some sort of coma, or he just saw things?

That can't be it! Jaune pushed off the counter, turning towards the door. There's a hole in my hoodie right where I was stabbed! The shape's the same too.

I have to know... I have to know if this is real or not!

Jaune rushed over to his desk. His eyes scanned rapidly for anything sharp he could use. He opened a drawer and began rummaging through it, pushing pens, pieces of paper, and other random junk aside. Eventually, he found what he was looking for.

A small buck knife was hidden among the various items inside his desk. It sat there in front of Jaune as he contemplated his next series of actions. The brass and wooden handle shone in the light, gleaming at just the right angle.

There you are...

Jaune reached out to grab the knife. Before his hand could graze the small toolset, he stopped in his tracks. Something was not allowing him to proceed with his plan.

Am I really going to do this? Jaune couldn't believe he was. He couldn't know if he didn't, yet his fear kept him frozen like a statue.

I have to! I saw that knife stuck in my shoulder! Jaune grabbed the knife and started heading back to the restroom. If this is real, I should have a cut from this knife.

Jaune stomped into the restroom closing the door behind him. The last thing he needed was someone walking in while he was going to do this. It would just be another challenge to have to explain everything that happened. He would have to tell them what transpired in that alleyway.

They might just think he was crazy. Jaune would have to agree with them. He was about to slice open his hand to see if this was some sort of weird hallucination. To anybody else, they would have thought Jaune was going mad.

He flicked open the knife in one motion, setting the blade into its lock. A small click originated from their meeting. Despite the metal's dull texture, the silver-coloured steel gleamed just barely in the light. A perfectly clean blade, never used for anything besides cutting paper.

Jaune took in a deep breath. He was honestly nervous about doing something this extreme. But desperate times call for desperate measures, right? Especially when you get stabbed with a knife, and suddenly there's no wound an hour later.

Ok, let's do this!

He pressed the blade against his finger, not cutting the skin, merely laying the steel against it. He still had some apprehension about cutting himself like this, but he needed to know.

With a little more pressure, the blade sank into the skin. It hadn't even started piercing the flesh with a small amount of pressure applied. He applied some more, depressing the skin even further than it had already been.

Come on, just do it!

Jaune began drawing the blade across his finger. The fine edge combined with the pressure behind it, was enough to dig into the flesh. A small trickle of blood began spilling out from the start of the cut, running down the skin as Jaune moved further along the side of his finger.

His heart started beating out of his chest as he kept going. A burning pain radiated outwards from the cut as Jaune dragged the blade along its entirety. Eventually, this pain spread up his hand and his arm as more flesh was rendered in twain.

Fuck, this hurts!

More blood had begun pouring out from the wound with every millimetre taken with this cut. It was no longer a mere trickle but now flowing like a river from the gash in his finger. Most dripped off the tip of the digit and into the ceramic basin in front of Jaune, staining the white countertop.

As he reached the end of the blade, Jaune pulled back the knife and dropped it into the sink. The metal clattered as it landed and danced around the bowl, sliding around the sides with blood acting as a lubricant.

The boy himself clenched his right hand, trying to stifle the pain. He let the blood drip from his finger while he controlled himself. It would run down the drain, so there was no longer an issue. Jaune just had to catch his breath and make sure he didn't pass out.

Jaune took a deep breath, calming himself so he could think.

He knew this wasn't a dream. The cut was still there and was bleeding quite heavily. Not enough to need to go to the emergency room. Jaune could wrap it and leave the wound to heal on its own.

Well, at least I know...

Jaune looked down at the cut on his finger. Most of his left hand was now coated in a fine layer of blood. It all cascaded down his fingers and into the bowl. Only a tiny trickle came down his wrist and soon his arm.

Maybe I was just seeing things?

He reached for a dark coloured towel to staunch the flow of blood. There was no point in ruining his good towels by staining them. Jaune only needed something to keep himself from bleeding all over the place while his cut sealed itself up.

Just before he could wrap his fingers, Jaune noticed something happening to his hand.

The blood had stopped flowing. It was no longer dripping off his pinky and into the sink. Jaune stared at his hand curiously, surprised at how quickly that happened.

That's weird... Usually, it takes a bit longer to stop.

As he continued to stare, the remaining blood seemed to move independently. It was no longer advancing with gravity and down into the bowl. It wasn't drying and sticking to his hand.

It was flowing backwards. Jaune's blood was heading upstream, leaving his lower digits for the upper ones. Slowly, the pinky and ring finger were entirely clean and devoid of any blood. The rest of his fingers were found to be in the same cleanliness moments after.

Jaune stared at his hand in utter silence. He couldn't even manage a thought as he watched the blood that had once spilt out from his finger had climbed back up his hand. This did nothing more than leave Jaune completely dumbstruck about what just happened in front of him.

As the blood had gathered on his index finger, it appeared to flow right back into the cut from where it had left the body. More and more of it quickly crawled back into the wound, disappearing from view entirely. Finally, all of the blood that remained on his hand was gone. It was either in the sink or had just vanished.

The image was almost resemblant to a movie with some sort of nanomachines involved. How they almost flowed like water in some instances yet were able to direct their travel with a conscience. Except, this was real life and not some sci-fi flick. Jaune's blood had done something similar to a terrifying degree.

"What the fuck was that," Jaune asked himself out loud.

The wound didn't even stop there. It slowly closed from the end of the cut to where Jaune had plunged the blade in the first place. This in no way resembled any realistic healing process. The skin pulled itself back together from start to finish, skipping any sort of scabbing or ugly discharge.

And before Jaune knew it, the wound had closed. There simply was no sign of where a knife had cut into him. Not even a scar to indicate there had ever been a blemish on the skin.

"What the fuck was that," Jaune asked himself again. This time with more emphasis.

No way had that just happened. Jaune couldn't believe what he had seen with his own eyes. There was no way this was real. It couldn't have been.

This was just some weird dream that he was in. It was one where Jaune had a healing factor, and he was some kind of mutant. That was the only thing he could explain this away with.

Jaune swallowed once again to clear his mouth. A generous amount of saliva had built up when he stared at his hand with a slack jaw. Some even flowed down the side of his lip and onto his chest.

He brought a hand up to his mouth and wiped it away in one move. As he rubbed his hand along his lips, Jaune felt something else graze them. It poked into the skin and roughly dragged itself along his arm.

Jaune pulled his arm back and looked down at his hand. There was a narrow red line where something pointy scratched his skin. This mark, too, disappeared quickly like the cut on his finger. Although more naturally than the blood which had defied gravity.

Was that from my teeth?

He looked into the mirror again. To his misfortune, both of his eyes had not changed one bit yet. They were still black with their orange iris. A sight Jaune was never going to get used to if he had to see it again. That's if they ever changed back to their normal blue.

Well, my eyes are still fucked up. That's nothing new...

Jaune turned his attention back to his mouth. He needed to see if there was something wrong with his teeth. Had he actually used them to bite something, there might have been a chip on one of them. They usually were never this sharp, not even his canines.

Let's see here...

Pulling back his upper lip into an almost snarling expression, Jaune had a full view of his teeth. His pearly whites seemed virtually unchanged. A slight bit of plaque build-up from the day, but nothing out of the... ordinary.

Jaune could see them plainly. His canines. They were... larger, so to speak.

They were both nearly double their original length. Closing his teeth together made that much more obvious, given how they surpassed his lower jaw and touched the gums.

They were now fangs. That's what they were.

Jaune shook his head, turning his gaze downwards. Both hands came up, cupping his mouth and lower jaw. He let out a tired groan, realising what had truly happened. Everything had finally explained itself to him, and he had all the answers.

Fuck my life...

I'm a vampire.

I really killed that guy. I literally drank his blood.

For the last week, Jaune's senses were no longer that of a human's or faunus. They were more sensitive to stimuli because he was a goddamned vampire. He was smelling his friends and family like a predator would a gazelle.

Jaune turned around and walked out of the bathroom. His tired legs carried him all the way to his bed. When he reached it, Jaune merely flopped down onto it face first. After all, he was tired.

Maybe I'll wake up, and this was just a dream all along...

"What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams."

Werner Herzog

Jaune . exe has shut down.