Well….it started out as a regular vampire fic. And somehow it turned into a MelloxMatt romance. I'm still not quite sure how I managed that. I guess I'm just stuck on that couple…

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little one-shot. It's about 1000 words in all, something that still bugs me. I still haven't been able to upload a one-shot over 2000 words. I have one based on The Ring that has an alternate ending that might be over 2000 words in all…but it's not finished yet.

Well, enjoy Mello's romantic vampire story.

HIS BLOOD

I was six years old before I realized what I was. A monster. A demon of the night. And of the light depending on who you asked. Roger in particular could attest to that. I had always been small for my age. I never fit in well with others. I had a…bloodlust recognizable even at such a young age.

I don't remember my family anymore. I was only a baby when they were taken from me after all. But what I do remember. The only thing I remember from the day I became an orphan.

Blood.

So much blood. Enough to fill a swimming pool with. I remember everything about it. The iron-like scent wafting through the death-filled air. The thick, slimy texture as the liquid rushed over my tiny body. The deep sanguine color that stretched on for as far as my eyes could see.

And the taste. The delicious, heavenly pleasure that filled my body when I drank from the pool of blood.

When I was young, I didn't understand it. It had always seemed normal to me.

I thought differently when I met him.

Matt.

His family had died like mine. But he could remember his. So I asked him about it, late one night, as we were heading to sleep. He told me all there was to tell. His parents and his older sister had been shot, and he a witness to the massacre. Being only a child, small enough to be over looked, he had hidden in the nearby cabinet. The latch had been broken, and so he had a front row view to the tragedy that led to his presence here at Whammy's.

I asked him about the blood. He twisted his face to mine and looked confused.

"Why would you ask about that?"

Why? Why? Why wouldn't I ask? That was I remembered from my experience. And so I answered, revealing my memories of my own night. He listened carefully, turning various shades of greens as I neared the end of my tale. When it was over, he calmly-something that to this day I have no idea how he managed- nodded and spoke gently.

"I don't think that's normal. I felt sick looking at their blood."

I didn't know how to react to that statement. How could he have felt sick? Didn't he feel the pleasure at seeing the red juices flowing from their bodies? The tasty scents floating through the air?

We didn't speak anymore that night, both of us left to our thoughts, the conversation all but forgotten the next morning.

It took two weeks for us to speak about it again. He had done research apparently. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him when he mentioned this. Him? Do research? If he had the time to do this, you'd think he'd spend it studying for the tests a little more.

He showed me all the results he had found and one stuck out in particular. It continuously kept reappearing in the results.

A bloodsucker.

A vampire.

I never told him just what I felt when I heard that word. But at that moment. I knew. I was a vampire. A sliver of a memory, long since faded, had appeared in my mind. My mother, cold and dark, with shining white fangs glistening in the moonlight.

A vampire.

I smiled. So that's what I was! Well, after reading a bit more about the creatures, just to be certain, I finally answered Matt's questioning gaze with a nod.

He looked ecstatic that he had been the one to find my answer to what I was.

…

It's been eight years since that day. We are fifteen now and my fangs are bright and noticeable. He always says that he loves the way they seem to almost glimmer in certain lights.

We had made up the excuse that I had dental work done a few years back at Matt's insistence. He always told the other students how cool he thought they looked. Matt would always look on in pride, fooling the other students completely into thinking that I had gotten the fangs for him.

Not that I wouldn't have if given the choice.

He is my best friend. Matt, I mean. He has been there for me through it all. The first night I truly felt the hunger shining through, pulsing through my veins, he let me drink from him.

I had never been more touched that he trusted me with his very blood in his body.

I drink from him every night since then.

…..

Last year he became my lover. My chosen mate. I had known for many years already that I would never find another quite like him. I had waited for the right moment to ask him, and to my surprise, he beat me to it.

He had came to me one evening and confessed his love.

And I had foolishly thought that I couldn't love him anymore than I already did.

When we finally mated, something that I had made very clear on it description, he became mine and I his in every way.

We are always connected now. In a bond deeper than any human relationship could ever allow. I can feel him at any time, like a second heart beating in perfect sync with my own. He's told me that he can feel mine as well.

I'm overprotective, much more than I should be, about him. He's always getting himself into situations that need my help. I've taken to sticking beside him most hours of the day, something that, honestly, isn't much different that how it used to be.

I love him. And he loves me. He mentions this as often as he can. As if I would, could, ever forget such a thing. I feel the genuine emotions bubbling through him with ever beat of his heart.

I don't say it enough back, but I know that he feels it too.

We will always be together. Even if life takes us apart from each other, he will always be with me, and I with him. I'm not afraid of any outcome as long as he is in my heart.

And I know, that when it comes his time to die…

My heart won't be able to survive on its own any more and I'll join him.

Because we were always meant to be together.