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Will had met his best friend for life on an ordinary night.
It was strange to find a child near the edge of the forest, a place no one ever dared to go. That was where Will had built his secret refuge, Castle Byers. And yet, there he was: a boy pale as moonlight, with hair as black as the shadows and eyes just as dark. He seemed to blend seamlessly into the mystery of the night itself.
Will did not approach; he had never been one to trust strangers. But the boy did. Step by step, he crossed the silence between them, his presence carrying the weight of something both unsettling and magnetic.
Will could still remember the words he spoke, in a voice soft but unyielding, like an oath carved in the dark:
"I'm Mike. Do you want to be my friend... for the rest of eternity?"
Years later, they were no longer children but teenagers, bound together in a small, tightly knit circle of friends. To the rest of the town, they were the odd ones. The strange, quiet group that never quite fit in. Yet Will never cared. As long as he had his companions, and above all Mike, he was content.
Still, he could not deny how much they had changed. Mike had grown taller, his frame lean and elegant, his skin pale to the point of translucence. There was something enigmatic about him, something even his closest friend could not unravel. Will would never admit it aloud, but that very mystery drew him in, like a moth helpless before the flame.
The most unsettling secret lay in the silence surrounding Mike's family. He never spoke of them, never invited anyone into his home, as though the Wheelers themselves were little more than a rumor. It was as if he had appeared from nowhere, unanchored to any past. And the more time passed, the more suspicion began to stir in Will's mind.
No one else seemed to notice, or perhaps they chose not to. So he buried his unease, locking it away with all the other questions that lingered like shadows between them.
The boy with light brown hair sat cross-legged on his bed, sketching as he often did on uneventful nights, when only silence kept him company. The wind outside whispered against the glass, its mournful cry like music in his ears.
Without meaning to, his pencil traced familiar lines. Sharp cheekbones, a marble-pale complexion, and eyes dark as the endless night. He hesitated when he realized who he had been drawing.
"I told you not to leave the window open." The voice made him jolt, hand flying to his chest. Spinning around, he found his friend standing there, wearing that insufferably smug grin.
"Mike! I've told you a hundred times to warn me before you break into my room." He flushed, sliding the sketchbook beneath his pillow before it could be seen.
"If you kept the window shut, I'd have to knock." came the amused reply.
"Right, right. Lord, how do you manage to move without a sound..."
A low laugh followed, and the dark-haired boy perched on the edge of the bed as though he belonged there.
"Drawing again?"
"Mm-hmm. Finished baking your cake for tomorrow, so I thought I'd get back to it."
There was a pause. Then his visitor's tone shifted. "About that... I won't be able to make the party this year."
"What? But it's your birthday." His brow furrowed in confusion. Every year, he planned a small gathering, friends only, because Mike's family always seemed... elsewhere.
"I know. I should have told you sooner." The words faltered, almost uncertain. "It's just... I need to visit them. Spend my eighteenth with family, you know?"
Will pursed his lips, disappointment flashing across his face, though he tried to hide it.
"Sure... I get it."
"Hey." Mike murmured, extending his hand until their fingers met. "We can celebrate when I get back. Just two days. No longer, I promise."
The smaller boy's expression softened, a reluctant smile breaking through. They talked until sleep pulled him under, his head sinking into the pillow mid-sentence.
For a long moment, Mike remained still, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. His hand brushed lightly through the boy's hair, a gesture equal parts tender and wistful. Shadows clung to him as he rose, and with a last glance, he slipped back into the night the same way he had entered through the waiting window.
The following day dragged on with unbearable monotony. Mike didn't come to school, just as he had said. He'd left before dawn, traveling—supposedly—to spend his eighteenth birthday with family.
Sometimes Will wondered what they were like, those elusive Wheeler's no one had ever met. Were they as pale and secretive as their son? Would they like him, or would they look right through him as though he didn't exist?
The questions were foolish, he knew, but he couldn't shake the curiosity. Mike was the one person he trusted more than anyone in the world, and yet at times it felt as if a wall stood between them, a hidden truth his best friend refused to share.
"Will? What's up, man? You're barely paying attention to the game!" Lucas nudged his arm. They were sprawled in his living room, the television flashing with the bright colors of pixelated battles.
"Sorry..." he muttered, biting his lip and forcing his gaze back to the screen.
"He's probably thinking about Mike." Dustin chimed in, appearing from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. "You know how they are like two halves of the same coin. He went off to see his parents, right? Funny, I thought he didn't... y'know, have parents."
"Hey! That's not true. He's just private about it." Will snapped back.
"Sure, sure. But it's weird, don't you think?" Dustin shrugged.
"Girls like mysterious guys. Maybe he's just working the angle." Lucas teased with a grin.
Will shoved him with an elbow, telling him to focus because they were losing badly. Outwardly, he laughed it off, but the doubt lingered like a shadow in the back of his mind.
The hours slipped away uneventfully. But as evening descended, rain began to fall in heavy sheets, trapping him at Lucas's house. Midnight had already come and gone by the time the storm eased, and though his friends protested, Will insisted on heading home.
He loved the solitude of night rides, the cool mist brushing against his skin. Yet as he pedaled into the darkness, the skies betrayed him. The rain thickened, blinding and relentless. Cursing under his breath, he turned off the road and into the forest, hoping to wait it out in Castle Byers. His and Mike's old sanctuary, still standing in the woods like a relic of childhood.
The moon was swollen and bright above the storm clouds, its light flickering through the branches as the downpour roared in his ears. He abandoned his bicycle and pushed deeper among the trees, drenched to the bone. That was when the sound reached him.
A scream. Piercing. Human.
His heart stuttered. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, but his legs betrayed him. Step by step, as though entranced, he followed the cry into the shadows. The forest seemed to close in tighter with every heartbeat.
Through the curtain of rain, he saw them: two figures. One tall, broad-shouldered, bent over a girl who hung limp in his arms. For a moment, Will convinced himself it was nothing, a kiss stolen in the storm. But then he saw her face, slack and lifeless.
And the boy's mouth at her throat.
He shifted his weight, and a dry twig cracked beneath his foot.
The figure turned.
Moonlight revealed what Will had refused to imagine. Blood glistened on familiar lips, staining the pale skin of someone he had known his whole life. The girl's body dangled lifelessly, crimson streaming from the wound at her neck.
Mike.
The world tilted. His vision swam, blackness closing in from every side.
Will awoke in his own bed. He bolted upright, eyes darting around the familiar walls of his room.
His clothes were no longer soaked through from the storm. Someone had changed him into a plain set of pajamas. There were no bruises, no cuts on his head from collapsing in the woods. No trace of the forest. No trace of blood.
For a moment he wondered if the night before had been nothing more than a fevered dream. Yet the memory clung to him with a vividness that dreams never had. He could still feel the rain on his skin, hear the scream tearing through the trees, see the crimson glistening on lips he knew too well.
His rational mind resisted, insisting it could not be real. Why would his best friend be crouched in the darkness with blood dripping from his mouth, a lifeless body in his arms? It was impossible.
But his heart told him otherwise.
The images were too sharp, too alive. The fear still coiled in his stomach like a living thing.
Questions pounded through his skull: Was it real? If so, why had Mike lied? Why hide something so monstrous from me?
And yet, the strangest part was not the dead girl, not even the horror of what he had witnessed. What terrified him most was the thought that his best friend. The one person he trusted above all had kept a secret from him.
If Mike was capable of that... what else was he capable of? Did he even see Will as a friend, or was it all an illusion carefully crafted over years?
The pale boy he thought he knew suddenly seemed distant, inhuman. Did he feel anything at all? Had their bond meant as much to him as it had meant to Will?
Fear whispered that, now that he knew, Mike might silence him forever. But another voice—a reckless one—dared him to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
Whatever his friend truly was, Will would not run.
Not until he had answers.
Despite the shiver that ran down his spine every time the memory surfaced, Will forced himself to act as though everything was normal and went to school. He needed a distraction, and more than that, he needed answers. The library would be his escape once classes ended, and if luck favored him, he might stumble upon something—anything—that explained what he had seen the night before.
It was impossible to believe he was the only one who had ever witnessed something like that. Could Mike truly be some kind of supernatural being, feeding on blood? A vampire? The word itself felt ridiculous in his mind, yet unshakably fitting.
As he walked through the crowded hallways, the atmosphere buzzed louder than usual. Students were restless, whispering and trading rumors. Before he could wonder why, Dustin appeared at his side, grinning as if he'd been waiting for the question.
"What's the gossip?" Will asked, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter than necessary.
"You really don't know? A girl's gone missing. Thammy. The head cheerleader."
The image of her face hit him like a stone to the chest. Thammy. He hadn't wanted to process it, but now there was no denying it. The lifeless body in the arms of his best friend. That had been her. Fear clawed at him, but beneath it, something darker flickered. Jealousy. The thought made his stomach twist, and his expression drained of color.
"You okay, man?" Dustin's voice cut through his haze.
"I'm fine." Will muttered. "Sorry. Where was she last seen?"
"They say at her own house. Parents swore she was in her room when they went to bed, but sometime past midnight they heard a noise. When they checked, she was gone. Window wide open. Creepy, right? Like something straight out of a horror story."
Another chill raced through Will. Why Thammy? Why her, of all people? Did Mike want her for a reason or was it just hunger? The question was sickening, yet it gnawed at him.
"My bet?" Dustin shrugged. "She ran off with her secret older boyfriend. Classic drama."
Will only lifted his shoulders in response and kept walking toward class. On the outside, he played indifferent. Inside, his thoughts stormed relentlessly.
When class finally ended, he ran straight for the library. The town was small, and a short walk brought him to its quiet doors. The receptionist greeted him with a faint smile; this place had long become his second refuge, after Castle Byers. He wandered through the aisles, hopeful that somewhere among the dusty shelves he would find something about vampires.
It wasn't exactly common to research such things. Some might even call it blasphemous but he pressed on, delving into the deepest corners, brushing aside neglected tomes until one caught his attention.
It was strange old yet untouched. The cover was black, adorned with silver embossing, and at its center rested an oval decoration. There was no title. An unsettling presence seemed to radiate from it.
Hands trembling, he opened the mysterious book. Strange illustrations leapt from the pages: figures shadowed in blood, fangs, eyes too dark to describe, and text in a language he barely recognized. As he flipped through, a single loose page fell to the floor.
He picked it up carefully, feeling a thrill of wrongness run through him. The notes were in English.
"Creatures of the night. At eighteen, they must consume human blood, or they will perish. Dangerous. Soul-bound. If you have seen one, your fate is sealed."
"What the..." Will whispered under his breath, eyes scanning the brief lines that revealed far more than they appeared to.
He was about to continue reading when a familiar voice drifted from behind him, cold and teasing.
"You'll become just another page in a melancholy book if you keep reading so much, Byers."
Will spun around abruptly, clutching the book behind him.
"M-Mike! For heaven's sake, stop appearing out of nowhere like that."
"Apologies," he murmured, gliding closer with his usual silent steps. Will's heart raced, hammering against his ribs. He tried to act natural, but the instinctive fear and something else he couldn't name made it impossible.
"What were you reading?" Mike asked, his voice teasing yet soft, like velvet brushing against shadows.
"Uh, nothing. Just looking for a good book." Will replied, forcing calm into his tone.
"In this abandoned section? Not your usual taste, Will. You're more of a romance guy, aren't you?"
"A boy can explore new things sometimes," he shot back, a touch more confident. Standing there, Mike looked like the friend he had always known. Yet there was an edge, something lurking beneath the familiar face.
"You weren't supposed to be at your parents' place?" Will asked cautiously.
"Came back early. I couldn't resist tasting the cake you promised me." Mike said, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Did you enjoy it?"
Mike raised one dark brow. "Enjoy what?"
"Well... your parents made a cake too, right?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, it was nice." He replied, brushing it off with a casual shrug.
"I bet it's not as good as mine," Will teased, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "You know how it is. My cake is irresistible."
"I'm sure it is." Mike replied uneasely. His eyebrow quirked slightly.
They lingered in silence for a moment, their gazes locked. The air felt charged, almost electric. There was something off. The way he looked at Will was familiar yet strange.
"You're not inviting me?" Mike asked after a pause, voice low.
"To?"
"To taste your cake." He said.
"Oh, right. Sure. Come on." Will said, slipping the book discreetly into his backpack, though he knew the other's eyes followed every movement.
With a careful mix of hesitation and determination, Will led his best friend, or perhaps something far darker to his house.
"No one home?" Mike asked as they stepped into the house, his voice smooth, familiar. The silence answered him, thick and heavy.
"My mom's still at work... and Jonathan's probably out on some photography gig." Will replied, though a strange flutter of anxiety gripped him. Being alone with Mike in the house this close and unguarded felt dangerous in a way he had never imagined.
The danger, though, sparked something hot and unnameable in his chest. Excitement? Desire? A cruel mixture of both? He couldn't tell.
Will shrugged off his coat and moved toward the kitchen. "I'll wash the dishes first. Mom will scold me if I don't."
A soft, low laugh followed him. Mike had perched himself on the counter, moving like a shadow that belonged in the room. Will knew, even without saying it, that Mike spent more time here than anywhere else he claimed as home.
"Miss me?" Mike asked casually, voice smooth as silk but with a sharp undertone.
"Almost died without you," Will said, a nervous laugh escaping him. "But seriously... you can have the cake now. But we'll celebrate later. Birthdays are... important. Nobody lives forever."
"Indeed." Mike murmured, eyes glinting like dark coals.
A tense, charged silence filled the kitchen. Will felt every breath between them, every flicker of movement, every heartbeat.
"You know... I had a dream last night." Will said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Really?"
"Yes... it was almost a nightmare. In the forest... I saw you... killing a girl." He didn't look at Mike, didn't want to see the expression twisting across that pale, unreadable face.
After a long pause, Mike finally replied, his tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of amusement. "Well that’s one funny dream. Pretty stupid." He laughed it off.
"Yeah... probably just a stupid dream." Will said, though his stomach churned at the memory.
"Hm..." Mike made a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Will's spine.
"Could you get the cake from the fridge? I'll set the dishes and cutlery." Will asked, voice soft, deliberately innocent.
Mike obeyed immediately. He opened the fridge, hands brushing the cold metal. He reached for the cake; but froze mid-step.
The scent hit him.
Blood.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned. Not calmly. Will stood there, knife in hand, a small cut on his wrist spilling crimson onto his palm. His gaze held a mixture of curiosity, challenge, and something darker.
"Will! Ugh, wash that immediately!" Mike growled, instinct and horror blending in his voice, his nostrils flaring at the sharp, intoxicating scent.
"You don't want it?" Will whispered, eyes wide and pleading. "You can... if you want."
Mike's eyes locked on him. Time slowed. Every second stretched into eternity. He had seen that expression before. But this... this was different.
How could he look at Will the way he had looked at that other girl?
"What is it? You hate my blood?" Will whimpered. "You don't want me, Mike?"
Mike's hands clenched the countertop, knuckles whitening. Fangs glinted under the dim kitchen light. Will's mind screamed: this wasn't a dream. This was real.
"Will... you don't know what you're doing!" Mike hissed, voice low and dangerous, trembling with the effort to control himself.
Will stepped closer, wrist extended, desire burning in his eyes. In an instant, Mike was all around him. Mike's body pressing him against the counter, warm and impossibly cold at the same time. Will had never realized how chilling the dark haired boy could be.
Mike's large hand grasped Will's wrist, holding it with both urgency and restraint. Blood trickled down, vivid and enticing. Mike's breathing grew shallow, lips inches from the fragile skin. Crimson eyes flared, fangs poised.
Then, in a sudden, heart-stopping motion, he released Will's wrist.
Will groaned, longing flashing across his face. Mike leaned closer, moving toward his neck. Hope surged in Will. Finally, he would be claimed, consumed, by the one he had loved for so long.
"You don't understand... how much I want you," Mike whispered against his ear, his body pressing impossibly close.
"Then... take me. I'm yours..." Will's voice trembled, eyes closing in expectation.
The world froze. Then, colder than the touch of death itself, it was gone.
Eyes snapped open. Mike had vanished.
Will remained, trembling, breath ragged, blood dripping from his wrist, heartbeat pounding like a drum echoing in the empty, silent kitchen.
Will had spent that night wide awake. Just as he had many others since Mike vanished. It had been a full week without seeing him at school, without catching even the faintest glimpse of him anywhere in town.
A hollow ache gnawed at his chest, a grief tangled with guilt. He kept replaying that afternoon, over and over, cursing himself for his reckless words. If he had only been more patient, perhaps Mike would have confided in him instead of disappearing into the dark.
Mike hadn't meant to hurt him. Will was certain of it. If he had been nothing more than prey, he would already be dead. Instead, he was left behind, alive, but consumed by questions that twisted tighter with each passing day.
And beneath the sorrow, jealousy burned. Was Mike out there now, sinking his teeth into someone else? Seeking comfort in another's veins? The thought churned his stomach with a strange, shameful longing. Why did his heart race not in fear, but in some dark craving for the closeness of his friend... even if it meant being devoured?
He had never been one for strange desires. He was steady, simple, careful. But lately, he felt marked, transformed into something he did not recognize. The intensity of it all was too much to be called love. It was deeper, rawer. An unsettling sense of belonging, as if his very soul had been claimed.
Unable to stay still, Will rose from his bed and dug the forbidden book from his backpack. Its blackened pages whispered like an obsession. He blamed it for feeding his thoughts, for driving him into this spiral. Yet he couldn't tear himself away. His cheeks flushed at the memory of his own desperate confession. He wanted Mike to take him, body and soul.
Cursing under his breath, he pressed the book shut and shoved it beneath his arm. He needed answers, and he would not find them alone in his room. Mike couldn't have gone far. If he still lingered near Hawkins, the woods were the most likely place to search.
The night was cruelly silent as he slipped through his window, coat pulled tight against the wind. The trees swayed like restless sentinels, their branches clawing at the swollen moon. Shadows seemed alive, whispering as he pushed deeper into the forest.
"Mike?" His voice broke the quiet, small and uncertain. "Mike, are you here?"
Nothing answered him but the wind.
He pressed forward until a familiar structure appeared through the gloom: a crooked shack of weathered boards, its roof sagging beneath years of neglect. A broken sign leaned against the doorway, the faded letters still spelling out Castle Byers.
He stepped inside. The air was cold and damp, carrying the scent of mildew and rot. The silence pressed down on him as though the forest itself were holding its breath. He sat in the dark, waiting, certain that if Mike would come to him anywhere, it would be here.
Minutes stretched into hours. No footsteps. No voice. Only the aching stillness and the groan of trees shifting in the wind.
At last, his exhaustion betrayed him. His eyelids sank, the cursed book slipping from his hands as he surrendered to uneasy sleep.
When Will finally stirred awake, his vision was still blurred, but he immediately sensed he was no longer alone.
Mike sat a few feet away, lounging casually on the floorboards of the small shack, thumbing through the very book that had slipped from Will's hands. The sight was surreal; he looked so calm, so composed, as though he hadn't vanished like smoke just days ago.
"You've lost your mind," Mike said flatly, not glancing up from the pages. "Wandering into the woods alone at this hour..."
Will pushed himself upright, refusing to show fear. "As far as I know, the most dangerous thing I could run into is sitting right in front of me."
That finally drew Mike's eyes. His irises glimmered faintly crimson in the dim light. "This book... it's surprisingly accurate although there are some errors. I wonder who wrote it. Strange that it ended up in a public library."
"Can we skip the small talk?" Will's voice was sharp. "You owe me answers."
Mike's tone hardened. "You're trespassing into a world you don't belong in, Will. You knowing the truth was a mistake. One I regret more than you realize."
"So you intended to hide it from me forever?" Will's chest tightened. "To keep me at arm's length, while pretending nothing was wrong?"
"It isn't a lie if it keeps you safe."
"Safe from what?" Will's eyes narrowed. "From you?"
In less than a heartbeat, Mike was on him. The movement was too fast, too brutal for human sight. Will hit the floor, breath caught in his throat, pinned beneath Mike's cold weight.
"I could end you right now." the vampire growled, fangs just inches from his throat.
"Then do it." Will challenged, trembling but unyielding.
Mike's jaw clenched. "You don't understand what I am."
"Then help me understand!" Will's voice cracked with desperation.
For a long moment, the only sound was the storm of their breathing. Then Mike pulled back, retreating to the other side of the shack. He lowered himself onto the battered blankets, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
"I'm a creature of the night." he admitted finally. "Humans call us vampires. I'm barely more than a fledgling in my kind's terms."
"So you've only lived eighteen years, not eighteen centuries?"
A dry laugh escaped him. "Correct. My family exists somewhere out there, though we don't live in packs. Solitude is essential... until we find our eternal partner."
"And you know where they are? Was Thammy yours?"
"Yes... and no." His voice faltered. "I haven't found mine yet. My family left me here when I was eight, told me to survive, to grow. I spent two years alone in these woods, feeding on animals, studying the texts they gave me. Then one day, I saw a boy building this shack." His gaze flicked to the rotting walls of Castle Byers. "The rest you already know."
A small smile tugged at Will's lips despite himself.
"But when we reach eighteen," Mike continued, "we're no longer sustained by animals. We require human blood. If we resist, we lose control. The hunger consumes us... and eventually, we'll tear apart whatever attracts us most. I couldn't let that happen."
"That's why you—"
"Yes." Mike's expression darkened. "That's why I killed that girl."
"Isn't there a way to feed without killing?"
Mike averted his gaze, uncharacteristically hesitant. For the first time, Will saw a flicker of shame in his friend's features.
"There is," he admitted quietly. "But it's... complicated."
"How?"
His voice was almost a whisper. "Through intimacy. During intercourse. Otherwise, the victim doesn't survive."
Will swallowed hard. "And you've...?"
"No." The answer was quick, firm, almost defensive. "But that's the truth. Now you have what you wanted. Stop putting yourself in danger like this."
"And how do you plan to feed, then?"
"I'll leave," Mike replied, eyes fixed on the floorboards. "It draws less suspicion if the victims aren't all from one place."
"And abandon me?" Will's voice cracked with grief.
"Will... I swear I'll come back when I can. But I can't stay by your side the way I used to."
"No. I won't accept that." Will crawled closer, seizing the collar of Mike's shirt with trembling hands. "Then do it with me. Feed from me. Take me instead of leaving."
"What?" Mike froze, wide-eyed.
"I'm offering myself. I can't live with you wandering the world, touching strangers while I stay here waiting. You'll kill me faster by leaving."
"Will..." Mike's voice was tight with conflict, his hands braced against the floor as if restraining himself.
"Am I that disposable to you? Do I mean nothing?"
"You mean everything," Mike burst out, his voice breaking. "That's why I can't. That's why it would destroy me to risk you."
"Then I'll never forgive you if you feed on anyone else."
A long silence fell, broken only by the faint rustle of trees outside. Mike's crimson gaze softened, his expression torn apart by something that looked dangerously close to despair.
"Look," he whispered, glancing at the sliver of dawn pressing through the cracks in the shack. "It's nearly morning. I'll take you home."
"Not unless you promise me."
"Promise you what?"
"That you'll stay. That you'll be min- i mean with me forever."
Mike looked back at him then, truly looked, as if the boy beneath him was the only anchor left in a world that threatened to devour him whole. "I promise," he breathed. "I'll stay. You have my word."
Will smiled softly, relief washing over him as he wrapped his arms around Mike's cold frame.
"Then take me home."
"Always," Mike murmured, holding him close. "For you, always."
Dustin was pacing furiously across the school courtyard the next day, his arms flailing as he ranted. "You're telling me you can't make it to another D&D session? Again? Come on, guys!"
"We've got plans, Dustin. We'll be there next time, relax.." Mike muttered, sounding only half-interested.
"You just got back from your trip, and this might sound kinda gay, but I actually missed you, man..."
The other three nearby snorted with laughter, and Lucas finally spoke up. "So what exactly are you two doing instead?"
"Library." Will answered simply, not looking up from the sketch he was shading in his notebook.
"That's so boring!" Dustin groaned dramatically. "One of these days Eddie's gonna kick you both out of the club for ditching us to read dusty old books."
Mike only hummed in response, but his gaze lingered on the page in Will's lap. The boy's pencil moved steadily across the paper, shaping the outline of a mouth; fangs gleaming, predatory and sharp.
When Dustin and Lucas eventually wandered off toward something else Mike didn't care to notice, Will finally broke the silence.
"Why do we even have to go back to the library? Can't we just skip straight to the... action?" His tone was impatient, almost playful.
Mike let out a quiet laugh. "Patience. I need to check if there are more books like the one you found. That thing was surprisingly accurate, though it had errors. If too much truth is exposed, it could put my kind at risk."
"Risk of what? You're basically superhuman. You could kill anyone if you wanted."
"Not a human." Mike's expression hardened. " And it's not about strength. We survive because we're discreet. Because there are so few of us."
Will pouted faintly, returning his attention to the drawing, though the curiosity in his eyes was still alive.
After a moment, Mike leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Will, you do understand what we're about to do... right? It's not exactly something friends usually do."
Will met his gaze, wide-eyed and unwavering. "Of course I do. Friends help each other. And that's what I'm doing. I'm helping you."
"Then you're ready for anything? You won't panic? You won't run?"
Will's lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "Mike, I was the one who came looking for you. You're the one who ran."
"That wasn't... you." Mike murmured under his breath, almost too quiet to catch.
Will blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." Mike stood abruptly as the bell rang, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Come on. I'll walk you to class."
Will nodded, though his thoughts still buzzed with questions. There was something Mike wasn't telling him; something that lingered in the air between them like a shadow waiting to pounce.
Later that day, the two of them found themselves tucked away in the far corner of the library. No one ever came here; the shelves were old, the air was heavy with dust, and it almost felt like another world; quiet, secretive. Will sat cross-legged against the wall, sketchbook abandoned at his side, while Mike searched the shelves with restless hands.
"Hm. Looks like there was only that one copy." Mike muttered finally.
"This one?" Will pulled the dark, battered book from his backpack.
Mike's head snapped toward him. "You shouldn't carry that around so carelessly. Give it here."
Will clutched it to his chest. "No. It's mine."
"You can't even understand half of what's written in it."
Will pouted, and Mike leaned closer, voice lowering into something conspiratorial. "If you hand it over, I'll read it to you. Every word."
Will hesitated, suspicion flashing in his wide eyes. "I don't know if I trust you. You've been keeping too many secrets from me lately."
"You don't trust your best friend?"
"You're not gonna guilt me with that 'best friend' pass."
A short laugh escaped Mike. "Fine. No more secrets, then."
"No more secrets." Will echoed.
Mike cleared his throat and sat down directly in front of him, gaze sharp and unwavering. "I've followed you everywhere since the day we met. I watch you sleep, every night."
Will blinked. "What?"
"And when you scraped your knee in gym class, remember? I insisted on treating it. I kept the tissues soaked with your blood and licked them clean."
Will's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God!"
"Truth enough for you?" Mike extended his hand, palm steady. "Now give me the book."
Flustered, cheeks burning, Will surrendered it. "So you're basically a stalker."
"Close. I'm a creature that survives on human blood." Mike corrected, flipping the book open. His tone carried both mockery and gravity. "First line says humans should stay far from us. Sensible advice, really. Though I know one idiot stubborn enough to chase after me."
"God forbid a boy who actually cares about his so-called friend," Will shot back.
Mike's smirk curved darker. "And when I finally wreck you... will we still be friends then?"
Will's blush deepened. "M-Mike! What's wrong with you today?"
"You're acting pretty shy for a boy who basically climbed me last night."
"I didn’t- fine." Will huffed, though his voice shook. "Yes, we'll still be friends. Even after that." His gaze dropped for a beat, then flicked back up. "Could you... could you turn me into one too?"
Mike's fingers stilled on the page he'd been skimming. He read aloud, voice low, almost reverent: "'Only a vampire's eternal partner may be transformed.'"
Will's jaw tightened. "If you ever find this so-called eternal partner, I'll kill them."
Mike nearly laughed. "Please don't."
"You're defending some random person over me?" Will jutted his lip in another pout.
"I wouldn't replace you, Will. Not ever."
"Except with Thammy."
"That was... an extreme measure." His expression soured. "Besides, her blood wasn't even good."
"What about mine?"
Mike's eyes glinted, dark and hungry. "Haven't tasted it yet."
"Then why don't you?" Will leaned in boldly, sliding onto Mike's lap and brushing his fingers against the back of his neck.
"You really are shameless." Mike murmured, hands closing around Will's waist.
"I'm just... doing what's necessary."
"No..." Mike whispered against his throat, tongue grazing the skin in slow, deliberate strokes that made Will shudder, "You're desperate. Desperate for me."
Will bit down on his lower lip, his chest rising in uneven breaths. Mike's mouth ghosted upward, tracing the line of his throat with agonizing patience; sharp nips and fleeting licks that left Will trembling. Every brush of cold lips against overheated skin felt like a question, a warning, a promise.
When Mike finally reached his jaw, he lingered there, teeth grazing just enough to sting. Will shuddered, a strangled sound escaping before he could stop it. The vampire's lips curved into the faintest smirk against his skin, as if savoring the effect he had.
And then, at last, Mike's mouth claimed his. It wasn't gentle. It was slow, deliberate, consuming; like he was testing how much of Will he could devour without breaking him.
Will moaned into the kiss, desperate, clawing at Mike's shirt to pull him closer, closer, until their bodies molded together. His entire being burned and froze all at once, caught in the contradiction that was Mike Wheeler; deadly cold skin against his own frantic warmth.
Mike's fingers threaded into his hair, tugging harder this time, sharp enough to make Will gasp into his mouth. The sound only seemed to drive him further, his kiss deepening with a hunger that had nothing to do with blood; though the sharp scrape of fangs against Will's lip made it terrifyingly clear how close danger truly was.
For a suspended heartbeat, Will didn't know if Mike wanted to kiss him harder... or sink his teeth in. And part of him didn't care.
"I'll ruin you." He whispered against Will's mouth.
"Please..." Will breathed, trembling.
Their bodies were so close, separated only by a thin layer of clothing. Sitting there on the library floor, Mike's large, almost predatory hands gripped Will's waist and hips in a way that would surely leave deep marks; the boy was losing all sense of control.
The thirsty kiss continued, and with it, a pleasurable friction between their bodies grew increasingly intense. Will gently pushed forward so that his penis rubbed against the other boy's, drawing long moans from both of them.
In a sudden movement, Mike lifted them both, with supernatural strength suspending the green-eyed boy between the bookshelves, and took control of the situation, beginning to simulate thrusts, abandoning the kiss and starting to suck and kiss the other boy's milky neck, who continued to pant.
"Mike... Harder. Bite me," Will pleaded; the sensation he felt was certainly not normal. It was as if his mind was completely clouded, and the only thing he could think about was the boy with the tied-back hair and the desire to have his sharp teeth sunk into his neck.
The vampire continued his ministrations, the neglected penises of both of them still leaking pre-cum inside their tight pants, and it was almost maddening. Mike kept his hands on the boy's ass, squeezing each time he thrust his body forward to intensify the friction.
"I want you so much, you have no idea. I want to use your blood to lubricate you and shove my cock deep inside you," he said, his voice full of desire, and continued rubbing against the other boy, feeling like he could come at any moment.
"Mike!" In a particularly strong thrust, Will shouted. "Do whatever you want to me." He remained in that submissive state, he would do whatever the other boy wanted at that moment.
The dark-haired one continued to trail kisses up the boy's neck and jawline until he reached his mouth, taking him in another passionate kiss. His tongue sought entry, which was immediately granted, Will's mouth completely ready to accept the pleasurable invasion.
Will scratched the other boy's back, his body so limp, so light, so carefree. While his heart pounded and his cock trembled with desire, his mind was so calm.
"Can I bite you, my love?" The other's voice was almost distant, Will's unfocused eyes and clouded mind barely able to understand.
In a rough movement, he felt a hand grab his face, firmly, as if demanding he look at him; there he found the crimson eyes of his best friend, who seemed as out of it as he was.
"Can I bite you?" He asked again, his breathing uneven and his hip movements calmer. Will just wanted to feel that good sensation in his cock again, so he nodded quickly.
But the answer wasn't what he expected; he received a hard slap across the face. His eyes widened, and he looked back at his best friend, his eyes filled with tears; the pain was both pleasurable and degrading at the same time.
"If I asked a question, you should answer it with words," Mike growled.
"I'm sorry. Yes, please." The smaller boy barely recognized his own voice; it was so whiny and choked up.
Tears began to stream down his delicate face, and these were licked away by Mike's tongue, who gave him a little kiss on the cheek before starting to move them down to the human's inviting neck.
His pale hands moved up to the boy's slender waist, squeezing there and causing the other's neck to arch further, leaving the area completely exposed. The kisses turned into violent sucking, and the thrusts intensified, the boy's fangs becoming increasingly visible, seemingly begging for a place to latch onto.
He began to rub his sharp teeth against the other's soft neck, who brought his hands to his dark hair, as if encouraging him. Unlike what Will had thought it would be like, he wasn't afraid, and the adrenaline he felt in that brief moment before finally being marked by the other was delicious.
Mike, unable to hold back any longer, sank his fangs into the other's neck hard, brutally; he had never felt anything like it. The electrifying sensation and the taste of blood were addictive; he groaned and tried to bite even harder. At that moment, both their cocks exploded in a simultaneous ejaculation, filling the inside of both their pants with semen.
They groaned in unison; it was long, as if they were in an almost eternal ecstasy, both bodies spasming, and Mike tried to prolong the orgasm by continuing to rub against the boy, but his legs weakened, something he had never felt before, and he ended up lowering the boy there on the floor between the silent shelves at the back of the library, remaining on top of him and continuing to suck his sweet blood.
"Mike. Mike. Mike." The younger boy cried out; the pain was delicious, and the sensation of the blood leaving his body was indescribable.
He gripped the other's hair and continued moaning as if he were being stimulated on his member, even though the ministrations had already ended.
It was as if his neck had become an erotic point, and the sucking made him feel the same sensation as being penetrated. Eager tears continued to stream down his face; he never wanted it to end.
When the fangs withdrew from his neck, he noticed how wet everything was, as if a lot of blood had flowed. Before he could pay attention, he felt a hungry mouth on his, tasting his own blood.
Mike continued licking the inside of the boy's mouth, pushing the meradic taste into it. He brought his hand to the other's nape, pulling his head back and focusing on the other's open, submissive mouth.
He fixed his red, hungry eyes on the human's, and opened his own mouth to pass his blood-soaked saliva into the other's mouth, slowly a thick thread of saliva connecting them. They continued to gaze at each other with desire, and before Mike could kiss the boy again, they heard a distant voice.
"Is anyone there?" The voice was old; both recognized it as the librarian's.
In a swift movement, Mike stood up and took off his jacket to cover the boy's bloodied neck and shirt. Will noticed that the boy's clothes were also slightly stained and his eyes widened in despair, making distressing hand gestures. But as soon as he blinked, the dark-haired boy had vanished as if he had never been there.
"Anyone?" The voice spoke again, now closer.
Coming out of his shock, Will spoke. "Hi, it's me."
The woman turned the corner, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I heard some noises, I came to check. Where's Mike who came with you, dear?"
"O-oh... He left first..." She replied, trying to regulate her breathing and holding the boy's jacket close to her body, trying her best to hide the bloodstains.
"Really? I didn't even notice." She gave a disbelieving little laugh.
"Yeah... He's quite sneaky." Will swallowed hard.
The librarian simply nodded before leaving, leaving behind a confused Will, bloodied and with an uncomfortable cum stain on his pants.