Disclaimer: I do not own Square Enix’s Kingdom Hearts, nor am I making any money off this fanfiction. Artemis is © J.E. Jones. To use this character without permission of the author is illegal and will be punished by law.

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Author’s Notes…

So it’s been some time since I had last updated the old version of Requiem. I decided that I wanted to start it over again, this time with better characterization and, well, a grasp on the plot. In the last draft, said plot hadn’t been constructed until about chapter seven or so. This time, I hope to be able to do things much, much better, and I only hope that you’ll stick with me as we restart this journey.

It’s for the better good, I promise!

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Requiem

Chapter One

Lord Riku

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Sora had never felt so out of place in his entire life.

It was his twenty-first birthday, and his two friends—Tidus and Selphie—had taken it upon themselves to drag him out for the night. Though their hearts were in the right place, spending his night at a dance club wasn’t his idea of good, wholesome “fun.”

He’d rather be tucked up in his room at home with the door locked and the gun beneath his pillow taken off safety. Meanwhile, he could have chilled out on the computer or catch some late night flicks from the 60s.

Because God knew he didn’t want to deal with his parents after they’d succumbed to their evening doses of heavy liquor, with whisky thick on their breath as their fingers clamped like iron around any part of Sora they could reach—well. Sora had had enough bruises and scars on his body (where people wouldn’t be able to immediately see them) to last a lifetime.

He surveyed the many couples beyond his table grinding together in the beat of the music. Though he couldn’t dance (and by no means wanted to learn anytime soon), maybe the atmosphere would be able to take his mind off things. Or maybe not. The people here were intoxicated, too, though Sora was far used to the way alcohol warped the mind. The only bright side to this outing was that the people here generally tended to have good spirits in the throes of liquor—unlike his parents.

He raised the glass of blue liquid Selphie had gotten for him and watched the neon lights cast colors through it. It was like an entirely different world in that liquor… one he wanted no part of. Combined with the burn of sickly bittersweet smoke at his nostrils from a person who had just lit up beside him—and the pulse of the music so loud that the bass and treble were causing the very walls to vibrate, this wasn’t making for a very pleasant or wholesome experience. How could people stand to be in this type of atmosphere every weekend night?

Setting his drink down, he rose to his feet and started to make his way around his table and toward the place he had last seen his friends.

He didn’t want to break into their fun by being moody the whole time, so he was just going to call it a night. Besides, the couple could just continue on dancing like he’d never even been there. He knew that they were just trying to get him out of the house to enjoy himself, but… getting away from drunkards to be around even more drunkards wasn’t helping in the least (whether they were in good spirits or not).

As he reached the dance floor, he braced himself to wiggle his way through the mass of bodies. The flashing lights clawed at his eyes, threatening to make him blind for life, but he adjusted quickly enough.

That left the main problem the dancers—they were grinding up against him, and hands brushed over his chest suggestively enough that he started to blush. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand people who would throw away their inhibitions just for a good grope on the dance floor.

He declined a lot of offers and avoided the knowing gazes of most onlookers. He wondered how much of a virgin he looked and decided he didn’t care. He was about to leave. The chances of seeing these people again were very slim.

Still. He felt awkward and uncomfortable, and it was already hot enough in the club without his blush having to add to the temperature. He’d be a lot happier when he could reach the outside and soak up the chilly air.

He never made it there. At least, not on his own.

He had just made it past the bar when someone stepped into his path and pushed him back with enough force that he staggered. Dizzy, stars shooting before his mind’s eye, he looked up to see who had practically assaulted him. A few choice words were on his lips when they stopped halfway out of his mouth.

There was an angel standing before him.

Said angel was a tall man that looked to be around his age, and a smirk plastered on his lips as his green eyes—the color of the sea—glittered at him with amusement. If anything, this should have annoyed Sora, but he was too captivated staring at the man’s hair. Pure silver and sparkled in the colorful lights in ways he had never seen before. It was pulled back from the man’s face in a high ponytail.

He was on the slender side, though Sora could tell he was built by the way his bicep was flexed as he gripped at Sora’s arm to steady him from falling. Pale skin, full lips, long fingers—and the length of his throat outlined by the high collar of his shirt. Really, he was such a dream that Sora had to blink a few times to make sure he was awake.

Well, maybe he was more of an angel of fashion than anything else. That shirt was suede and sleeveless and clung to his torso and stomach in ways that could only be achieved through a personal tailor. There were slits up its side with silver buckles to hold it in place, and Sora was sure that it would allow glimpses of skin to be shown when the stranger moved. Complimented by a pair of leather pants and leather boots with even more buckles and laces up their front, he looked like he patrolled the club scene often.

Sora’s eyes went to the silver hoop earrings that adorned the man’s ears. Expensive, definitely.

Just as he was about to pull back with a mumbled apology, those green eyes caught his again. He stared into them, and as his throat suddenly grew dry at the intensity there, he swallowed. Holy shit. He was so floored that he couldn’t even begin to move his feet. He might as well have been an awkward statue.

“Ah…” Sora finally tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. God, how long had he been staring with his mouth wide open like that? “Sorry…”

“It’s all right,” the man assured him, and something inside of Sora’s chest eased. He didn’t know why, but he’d sort of been hoping the stranger wouldn’t be frustrated with him. But then, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to run into me.”

Sora’s head snapped up, and he glared at the newcomer. “Hey, you ran into me—”

Those eyes caught his again, and Sora forgot entirely what he was going to say. The color of those irises… so much like the sea… Sora could almost hear the rush of water along the shore and the screech of seagulls as they scoured the sand and waves for food… smell salt and seaweed and fresh air…

He’d never been to the beach in his life—but the image sprung inside of his head, like a forgotten fantasy.

“You’re a little bit underdressed for this crowd,” the man was saying, and Sora nodded helplessly along. Mr. Stranger tilted his head to the side. Sora was vaguely aware that his elbow was still being held by him. “Hm… you feel out of place here, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sora murmured. His body felt weak, his head fuzzy. There was a nice, warm haze settling over it, and he didn’t even mind. All that mattered in the world was that he paid attention to this beautiful, beautiful angel. “Who… are you?”

The stranger laughed, the sound low, rich, silky. It sent shivers running down Sora’s spine, and his eyes drooped heavily as gooseflesh rose along his arms. Being here, talking to this stranger… it was doing things to his libido that he hadn’t expected. And as embarrassing as that was, he was completely at ease. The stranger was the best thing that could have happened to him. He didn’t want to be in this boring, drab club. He wanted to be with this man. He could offer Sora proper company, maybe even take him far, far away from here if things went right—if Sora behaved just right.

“I’m Riku. And you’re Sora, correct?”

“Yeah…” Sora replied distantly, but… something seemed wrong with that response. Wait—what was it? It itched at the back of his mind—burning—demanding his attention—but… he couldn’t place his finger on it…

He replayed the conversation over in his mind, all starting from when he had run into this gorgeous man—“ran into me…” “Bit underdressed for this crowd…” “Riku…”—and then it clicked into place as the last whisper of their exchanged words left him. He hadn’t ever told his name to this “Riku”!

Shaking his head, he rubbed his hands over his arms to rid them of fresh goosebumps. Something uneasy was rising within the pit of his chest, and though he wasn’t quite sure what it was, he had always trusted his instincts. When they started screaming, he started getting the hell away from whatever was making them do so. “I didn’t tell you my…”

Their eyes met.

“Shit,” Sora breathed. His knees went weak, and he trembled. Before he knew it, he was unable to stand and was falling forward into Riku’s arms, who caught him with such ease it was almost as if the last few seconds had been rehearsed between them.

Though the embrace was comforting, Riku wasn’t warm. He was… cold, somehow. He was cold like a pair of ungloved hands in the middle of winter, and his body was hard, like granite or marble. It was odd, but it didn’t matter. No, Sora was just happy to be in his arms, to be touched, to be… appreciated, somehow, if that even made sense, which of course it didn’t. Did Sora care? Not at all.

Riku touched the back of his head and then buried those long, slender fingers in his hair. Sora snuggled deeper into his arms and turned his face into his chest, inhaling deeply. There was the scent of some nameless, expensive cologne there, and that didn’t really matter, either. There was no place in the world better than this… no place else he wanted to be…

“Let’s go somewhere private,” Riku whispered for his ears alone.

“Okay,” Sora replied in a dreamy murmur.

The other man pulled away, smirking, a mysterious glimmer held within his eyes. He grasped Sora’s hand and began waving his way through the crowd. Sora shivered at the cool touch.

People parted easily in Riku’s wake, as if he were something great, something to be worshipped. Sora would have been staring in awe with the rest of them, except he was too busy watching the way Riku’s pants clung to his ass. And what a nice ass it was…

Who was this mysterious man?

He found with a start that this time he did care, and perhaps this, more than anything else, caused him to dig his feet in and snatch his hand away. He glared at Riku until the man glanced over his shoulder, a concerned frown on his lips.

“What’s wrong, Sora?”

“I didn’t tell you my name,” Sora gritted out. He folded his arms over his chest and tried not to seem too indignant. Inside, he was terrified. Some stranger knew his name—without first getting it from Sora—and Sora hadn’t even cared! What the hell was wrong with him? He definitely wasn’t intoxicated (he hadn’t even drunk anything!). And normally he wasn’t this damn irresponsible.

God, it was time to bolt. Tidus and Selphie could wait until tomorrow for an explanation of why he had gone, and…

Riku’s eyes met his, and he smiled, but there was a hint of frustration to his features. “Yes, you did. You told me when I told you my name.”

Confusion touched the edges of Sora’s mind. “I… did…?” Shit, what had he been thinking about a moment before? He shook his head to clear his thoughts out of the chaotic jumble they’d abruptly fallen into. Maybe, if he just picked up one of them and started from there… the rest would fall back into place…

Riku ran the backs of his fingertips over Sora’s cheekbone. Sora’s eyes fluttered halfway shut, and he murmured something so incoherent that even he couldn’t make sense of it.

“Yes,” Riku said, “you did.”

The silver-haired man reached forward and slipped his hands over Sora’s hips as a song started up that sounded like a techno remix of some sort of tango. He pushed Sora forward with his body, and when Sora staggered, he curled an arm around the middle of his back and pressed his lips to the pulse in his throat. It made Sora shiver, his fingers curling into Riku’s silky shirt, flexing, curling again. Riku’s mouth was like a line of heat—every place it touched, his skin burned… as if Riku were branding him.

With the pulse of the music and the rhythm of the bodies partaking in it, Sora found all of his earlier apprehension melting away. It was hard to be nervous or scared when Riku was rocking his hips against his so sensually. His movements followed those of the music, and though Sora had never thought himself capable of dancing—at least well—he discovered it was easy enough to follow Riku’s lead.

Riku’s fingers cradling beneath his ass, against the backs of his thighs—Riku’s breath at his ear. Riku’s tongue a brief flash of wetness before his teeth bit down in a way that made Sora shudder with desire and contentment. The front of Sora’s pants were constricting with every careful, well-placed thrust against his groin. And as he grew aroused—and, in turn, felt Riku’s excitement—it became more and more difficult to concentrate.

One song melted away into another. Whoever the DJ was, he was quite capable. But that was the last thing on Sora’s mind.

He wanted to tilt his throat back with the groan that was rumbling from him, so he did. Riku left a trail of hickies down to his collarbone, and each bite and suckle made Sora more and more eager to find someplace private. Good Lord, how did people get this hot and heavy on the dance floor and manage to not rip one another’s clothes off?

“Sora,” Riku breathed against his neck. His fingers squeezed into Sora’s ass in a quick knead.

“Mnn… what?” Was it possible to feel this aroused?

“You smell good…” the other man murmured. Sora wasn’t sure how he could still hear him over the music, but he wasn’t questioning it.

Riku’s nose buried itself in the crook where Sora’s neck met his shoulder, and his cold fingers slipped beneath Sora’s shirt to play over his abdomen. He was pressing himself closer, until the length of their bodies were lined up together, and Sora snaked his arms around the taller man’s neck until his lips were nuzzled against his cheek. It felt cool and soft and hard, just like the rest of him.

“Why me?” Sora breathed.

Riku’s teeth raked over his neck slowly. “Mmm? What do you mean?”

“Never mind…” Losing the nerve to question how Riku found him so special when there were tons of better looking (and better dancing) people surrounding them, Sora instead just shook his head and brushed his cheek against Riku’s. “It’s nothing.”

Riku hummed agreeably. He seemed preoccupied with Sora’s throat again, and Sora wasn’t complaining one bit. This felt too good to protest to. Damn, he was ready to crawl out of his skin! No one else had ever managed to make him feel like this, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

And then—just when Sora was relaxed in Riku’s arms and perfectly fine with letting the man claim his neck all night long—he felt it.

Two pinpricks of pain.

“Ah!” he cried in shock. His hand flew up to his neck to clap over the irritated skin. His fingers met Riku’s hair instead, and for a moment, just a moment, he was distracted by the silkiness of the strands. “Mm… I think something bit me. Felt like a bee sting,” he murmured.

Riku didn’t answer. Sora longed to hear one of those amused chuckles of his. He opened his mouth to question Riku’s sudden silence—and let out a deep groan as his fingers squeezed hard in Riku’s hair and his lashes fluttered shut. There was something stirring inside of his blood, lazily coming to life and making Sora shiver with dark anticipation. It felt good, better than when they had dragged their hips together. This was pure euphoria.

Heat encompassed Sora, more surely than any of their previous actions had managed. It was as if he was drifting along on a cloud, and he even giggled. Had someone slipped him something? No, impossible. He hadn’t drunk anything since he had gotten here.

A wet suckle sounded in his ears.

“Mmm, Riku, I feel sleepy…” he murmured.

The pleasure left slowly, in its place that drowsiness. He melted into Riku’s arm, his limbs going limp, as if he were nothing but jelly. Like jelly donuts—oh, fucking hell, he was suddenly ravenous. He should have eaten before he’d gone out. Tidus and Selphie had warned him.

“Riku, I think… I’m ready to go home,” he whispered.

His feet left the ground. Riku carried him, but where, Sora wasn’t aware. He kept his eyes closed and tried as hard as he could to fight off the urge to sleep. He just wanted to be awake a little longer. Just a little longer…

Voices drifted in his ears, and he heard them through a haze. When he pried his eyes open, he caught glimpses of brown, of gray, of silver, of green. Then they swirled together in a sickening whirl, and Sora had to squeeze his eyes shut again. His head lolled to the side, his temple cradled by Riku’s shoulder.

“Mmm…” Sleep was so close…

“Cloud,” someone whispered.

“…took you so long….?”

Why did Riku sound so irritated? He didn’t want Riku to be irritated…

“…Sephiroth’s tribe—couldn’t get away easily…”

“…is… nasty werewolf… mortal to deal…”

…Werewolf…?

“…glamour him…?”

Glamour…?

“…several times, in…”

“…powerful…”

Wait…

Riku’s voice filled to the brim with that annoyance. “…watch other exit… breaks loose…”

“…sure this is…?”

Sora shook his head, attempting to clear it. He struggled to sit up in Riku’s arms, but that was a no-go. His body felt too heavy with sleep, as if he shouldn’t have even been dozing between the world of dreams and the world of wakefulness like this. He had the strangest inkling that he was meant to be completely asleep right now.

Still.

Werewolves? Glamour?

Had he heard that right?

“Positive, Leon.”

Riku’s next words popped inside of Sora’s head like a bubble. Whatever had been over his ears before left, and he could hear again, if he just concentrated enough over a loud ringing in his eardrums. He placed a hand to his forehead and winced.

He fluttered his lashes. They dragged open as if they’d been glued shut with sleepies, and he had to work really hard to keep them open.

Only, he was already being watched.

He recognized the gray he had seen in a blur earlier. It was the color of the pair of eyes locked onto his own. And the brown—hair. Shaggy, layered hair that fell to the man’s broad shoulders. The guy furrowed a brow when he saw that Sora’s eyes had cleared, and he looked to Riku.

“He’s awake.”

“What? Impossible.” Riku glanced down to find Sora watching him with confusion. Green irises widened to points. “How…”

But Sora was distracted with something else entirely. From this angle, as Riku bent his head over him and parted his lips, he could see a pair of incisors longer than what would be in a normal person’s mouth. In fact, they were sharp as hell, and Sora had the funniest feeling…

He placed his hand to his neck and stifled a surprised gasp when two tiny holes met his fingertips.

“Wha…” He had to work to get his voice going. “What is this…?”

“Sora, stay calm,” Riku whispered. There was a smile on his lips—but his eyes weren’t so friendly. In fact, they looked worried, stressed. “It wouldn’t be wise to panic.”

“Glamour him!” the man said, presumably the Leon Riku had mentioned earlier. There was an urgency in his voice that sent chills down Sora’s spine and knotted his stomach into nerves. He wanted to get away from both of them—right now. But he was still too weak to.

“I can’t!” Riku snapped. He tore his eyes away from Sora and focused them on Leon instead. “If I glamour him anymore, his mind will break!”

Sora squeezed his eyes shut, willing his limbs to move. He was paralyzed from the shoulders down. Or maybe not paralyzed… just heavily asleep. His body was practically comatose. How was he supposed to escape this freak show if he couldn’t even get his body to wake up?! He just needed his body to move…! Just a little—even wiggling his toes would be a progress. Then he could leap out of Riku’s arms and hightail it for the door.

Riku tensed—Sora could feel his slender muscles bunch up against his arm. “Sora, you said you wanted to go home, right?”

“Yes…” Oh, God, is he going to have mercy?

Riku began to carry him again, though where was still unknown. Sora had the awful feeling that it didn’t matter where Riku was taking him, because he would be forced along for the ride unless he could break out of this “glamour.” Glamour! Sora had only heard that word once before, and it was when he had visited Selphie’s occult shop one day. She’d mentioned it in undertones to a customer with heavy black eye make-up, and Sora had politely looked away so he wouldn’t stare.

“Glamouring is really hard to accomplish in witchcraft…” she’d said.

But Riku had fangs—did witches have fangs? Hell, why the hell was he even contemplating this? Werewolves, glamour, fangs…! All of it, just a messed up dream. He needed to wake up! And he needed to wake up now!

“I’m sorry, Sora, but—you’re going to have a new home,” Riku murmured. “One that I think will suit you more than any you’ve had in your entire life.”

“What…?”

“You’ll stay with me. You’ll be happy there, don’t worry.”

“What…?”

“I’ll make you feel loved and appreciated. You won’t regret this. Trust me.”

“Wha—trust you? I don’t even know you!” Holy shit, this was so bizarre! Who the hell was this bozo? Going on and on about a new home, a new life, and—beneath the anger, beneath the part of him that wanted him to rebel against these words and get the hell away, he was terrified. Terrified because he couldn’t. He was stuck here, because some power he couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, had turned him into a prisoner.

“You will in time,” Riku said in what was probably meant to be a reassuring voice, but it just made Sora panic all the more. “You see, everyone causes you so much pain.”

“And how would you know that?” It was a struggle to get the words out. He felt like his throat had been coated in syrup, his mouth stuffed with cotton. “How did you know my name…?” God, his head was spinning. He tilted it back against Riku’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The glamour was probably trying to drag him under again, and Sora had the uneasy notion that he might not be able to wrestle control of himself again if that were the case.

“I’ve been watching you,” Riku said, his voice soft, tender. “For a very long time.”

Oh, that explained everything then.

Cool night air rushed over Sora’s cheeks, and when he shivered, Riku just held him tighter. He was most likely trying to offer Sora warmth—which was ironic; the man (was he a man?) was so cold himself.

“Why…?”

Riku sat him against a wall, and Sora’s wrists fell limply against pavement littered with gravel, pebbles, and bits and pieces of trash. His eyes rolled in his head—he caught the sight of stars studded in the sky and a half moon surrounded by ghostly white clouds—and it might have banged back against the brick wall if not for Riku’s hand settling over his skull. Sora coughed. His lungs constricted, eased.

Darkness pulled at the corners of his mind. His lashes fluttered heavily, and he would have given in to the urge to close them, except Riku wasn’t allowing that. A gentle shake on his shoulders, and he was awake again, though barely.

“Hmm…” Green eyes appeared before his own, taking the place of that eerie sky. “I made the sleep glamour a bit too much… and combined with the blood I took…” He trailed off for a moment, his expression lost in thought, before he continued. “But you were really fighting it strongly in there.” A smirk crossed his lips.

Sora just peered at him absently. He swallowed to get his throat working again. “What… do you want…?”

A laugh left Riku; it was sharp, almost mocking. “What I want? What I want… Hm, what I want is to win this stupid war.” He eyes slid back to Sora, slits of green. “And you’re just what I need to help me.”

Confusion stirred through Sora’s mind, not for the first time. He coughed again and managed to furrow his brows at Riku to show the other man his puzzlement. “What… are you…?”

“Oh, Sora,” he hummed. Cold fingertips grazed over Sora’s jaw and tilted his head up as it tried to droop down onto his chest. “You haven’t figured it out? What do you think felt like a ‘bee sting’?” The fingers squeezed, hard enough to drag a hiss from Sora’s throat, and turned his face again so that he exposed the long line of his throat. “How do you think I managed to glamour you?”

“Don’t know…” Sora croaked. Again, he recalled that past whispered conversation between Selphie and the weird Goth girl. “…witch…?” He cleared his throat, tried again. It was a struggle just to keep his eyes open, and talking was taxing the rest of his strength. “Witchcraft…?”

Riku looked surprised for a brief moment—and then thoroughly amused. The smirk twisted itself into a clearer picture. “A mere witch couldn’t pull off glamour—at least, not one of the pretend ones.” He shook his head, and his laugh was back, this time softer, quieter. “Besides, a glamour for a witch, and a glamour for a vampire are two entirely different things.”

Sora’s breath hitched in his chest. “Vam… vamp…” Though he couldn’t say it out loud, the word screamed through his mind. Vampire. It was sort of what he’d been expecting, but… still quite a shock. A part of him, the part of him that knew the world as it was and didn’t want to believe in anything that would change that view, couldn’t quite digest that revelation. The other part of him, the part that had seen the fangs and experienced the glamour first hand… and that bite… well…

That bite.

A surge of heat suffused his body at the memory, and a groan dragged itself from his lips. He could hear the pulsing music, taste the cigarette smoke; he could feel each grind of Riku’s hips against his own. He wanted desperately to be back into that crowd again, just to experience that dance one more time. To be with Riku, like that, one more time. To feel the press of those fangs against the column of his throat…

His clenched his fingers, raking his nails across the cold and damp pavement beneath him. “Riku…” He sighed his name.

Riku nuzzled into the hair at his temple. “What is it?”

Sora opened his mouth to respond, except nothing came out. He reached for the vampire, pulling him into a loose embrace and digging his fingers into that silky silver hair. Riku’s fangs grazed his neck again, and heat lanced down his spine in steady waves. God, he was already hard all over again. Riku managed to get him into such a state so effortlessly.

“I need you,” Riku murmured. Every graze of those lips to his skin was like that earlier fire all over again. “I need you with me, for eternity. To help end this war. To have you beside me.”

A dim piece of Sora struggled for the surface.

“Maybe you’ll come to hate me, Sora, for not giving you a choice in this… After all, I didn’t get much of a choice when this life was presented to me, but…” Soft suckles filled the air as Riku’s fangs sank back into his neck and he began to draw more blood.

Sora dragged his nails down Riku’s back—he arched against him. Pants left his mouth, broken every few spaces by a deep, wanting moan. It was insane how something could feel so good, yet Sora didn’t fight it. He went along for the ride, more than willing to get every bit that he could out of these pleasurably wicked sensations. And as his knee jerked against Riku’s hip, and the sleep that had tugged so ruthlessly at his eyes before began to return in ten times the strength and persistence… Sora whispered over and over that he wanted more, needed more.

He never wanted to stop feeling this good.

Things started to grow dim around the edges, and Sora smiled drunkenly as a ghostly image darted before his eyes. He reached out for it, wanting to curl his fingers around the crown of red hair, but it was gone before he could. Who had had red hair again…? Oh, yeah… Kai—

“Sora, I will never like you like that. I’m sorry. I just—I can’t.”

Kairi…

He swallowed hard, feeling his smile fade, and the darkness pressed closer, carrying with it unwanted memories of his past. Everything whirled together in a chaotic jumble, occasionally throwing a particularly painful memory in front of him and then speeding away again to join the never-ending circle. The things that stood out the most were his seventh birthday party, which had been cancelled because his parents had been too drunk to throw it. And he had sat there, staring sadly at his crushed birthday cake. His father had thrown his fist into it when his parents had begun to argue.

Fourteen—Kairi had rejected him earlier at school. He was sitting alone, crying, not caring if anyone found him. He just wanted to die, to bury himself deep into the ground with this humiliation, this grief, this shame, and never have to deal with anyone ever again.

Watching Tidus and Selphie hold hands, leaving Sora to feel like the third wheel. The bullies that had glued his books together or the ones that had strewn his paperwork all over the halls, and he had had to apologize profusely to his teachers to explain that he didn’t know where that homework assignment was… Sitting alone at lunch because his only two friends didn’t share the same lunch break with him… Graduating high school and not having his parents to greet him at the end of the ceremony, and then having to find them later at home, staring drunkenly at a badly flickering TV screen…

Sora slumped in Riku’s arms, his body feeling weak… So weak… And Riku slid slowly with him to the ground, cradling Sora in a sweet embrace, one hand reaching up to tread fingers through his hair. Everything still felt pleasurable, and memories were still flitting before his mind’s eyes, but… the two battling feelings were making him torn up inside, and… those images were slowly growing darker and darker and darker, threatening to swallow him whole…

“Riku…”

Riku pulled back, licking his lips and fangs, and Sora blearily stared up at his blood-coated face. His vision blurred, and he watched Riku zoom in and out of view. It was making him faintly sick to his stomach. He shifted to roll over onto his side, only to remember that he couldn’t move anymore. It was worse than before. Now, instead of feeling like he wanted to slip into a pleasant sleep, he was left with the urge to never wake back up again.

“Riku…” Sora rasped again. “…’s wrong with me…?” I feel so weak…

“You’re dying, Sora,” was Riku’s gentle response.

Sora’s lashes fluttered—opened—saw stars—silver hair—fluttered—closed again.

The scent of copper filled his nostrils just before something wet pressed to his lips that tasted just the same.

Sora instinctively tried to turn his head away. He wished that he could push Riku away. He wished that he could just fall asleep… really, it’d be so much better than this…

“Drink, Sora!” Riku hissed impatiently. “You’re wasting it!”

“No…” Why was he protesting?

“You’ll die if you don’t drink it!”

“Go…” Sora swallowed. He couldn’t get his voice to rise above a whisper, and he didn’t care. “…Go away…”

But his mouth was suddenly being forced open. He could feel fingers digging into the pits just beneath his jaws, and he shrieked in pain. For a moment, he was surprised that he even had the energy to put up a fight or to make a noise like that. It seemed that his body was taking over for him, though, and he thrashed his head this way and that. Anything to get away from that dripping blood.

A droplet hit his tongue.

He swallowed and grimaced against the taste. “No…!”

“Sora, stop!” Why did Riku sound like he had an accent now? Something faintly exotic… “Drink!”

It was as if the drop of blood that had made it into Sora’s mouth took a mind of its own. There was a faint pulse inside of him, followed quickly by fire, fire, fire, and then… power. The urge to do what he’d been told.

He opened his mouth wide, and when a bloody wrist pressed to his lips, he obligingly summoned up the strength enough to lean forward and clasp his hands around a lean forearm. More blood pooled down his tongue, metallic tasting and bitter. But he found himself eagerly swallowing the stuff, and the more he drank, the more he consumed, the better its flavor became. What was once salty was now sweet.

Sora hummed happily in his throat, and as he inhaled more greedy mouthfuls of blood, his strength began to slowly return. The veil over his mind began to peel back… the darkness that had crept along the edges of his vision left, chased by a vibrant light that left him not tired anymore, no, wide awake.

Riku drew his wrist away, his brows furrowed in pain. “Ah, damn…”

Sora licked his lips. “More?”

The vampire’s smile was weary, but true. “Indeed. There is indeed more to come, Sora.”

-o-o-

It was the hunger that woke him.

Sora’s eyes fluttered open. Pitch darkness greeted his vision, and he swallowed against his dry throat. The cotton mouth sensation seemed to have migrated from his mouth. He swallowed again, and again, until he could open his mouth enough to run his tongue over his cracked lips without it hurting. God, his head hurt like hell. Had he banged it on something? No… He didn’t think so. Then again, he was having trouble recalling the night’s events.

He shifted, and then stopped. There was a cold body beneath him, but worse than that, he could feel the press of something even colder against his back. In fact, that something was pressing in all around him.

Where the hell was he? His fingers twisted into the silky fabric beneath him. Felt like clothes… He was definitely lying on somebody. Again, that wasn’t his first concern.

Claustrophobia that had been nonexistent until that moment sprung within him, and he stifled a gasp and fought to take deep, steady breaths. Wherever he was, he could get out of it. No problem.

His stomach suddenly clenched from sheer hunger, and he cried out in shock. It beat against his temples, his heart, gnawed at his insides until he felt he could give another scream. He’d never felt this starved in his entire life.

With a start, he realized what he was hungry for.

Blood.

Uneasiness settled over him. Desperately, he tried to recall what had happened last. At first, it was like prodding at an unmoving wall. Whatever had transpired, his mind was protecting him from finding out. But he needed to know. He had to know. What the hell had started this unnatural urge inside of him? He prodded harder and harder at that wall until it collapsed and everything jumbled into his mind so fast that it made him dizzy.

Sitting alone, feeling sorry for himself… his decision to leave… the meeting with Riku…

Riku…

The images came faster, until he could distinctly recall the sweet taste of blood on his tongue as Riku taught him how to feed after his human body had died. Human body… oh, no… no, no, no… He was—he was—he was something that wasn’t supposed to exist!

His mind didn’t want to believe what it was discovering. One second, he’d been lying in the alleyway for dead. The next, Riku had transformed him into some sort of bloodsucking creature of the night like Count Dracula or something. How was this even possible?! How did reality change on you so swiftly? How could you go from one thing into another in the blink of an eye, almost?

“I don’t have a coffin for you yet, but you can sleep with me in mine.”

Was that where he was now?

A coffin?

Sora didn’t get to have much more time to ponder that. The lid of said coffin suddenly slid away, allowing dim light to pour into his eyes. He sat up quickly, and when he blinked, he found himself crouched on the far side of some sort of room. A brief glance around revealed dreary surroundings, as if he were in a basement. Well, underground was a good start. If he really was a vampire—no doubt about that now, really—then sunlight was probably something he didn’t want to encounter. The further away, the better.

An important question rose to the forefront of his mind. How had he leapt all the way across the room?

There was a surprised man standing beside his abandoned coffin. Sora was awed to discover that he could see the details of his face so clearly even though they were more than several yards away. Brown eyes the color of mahogany blinked at him, and the man swept black hair back from his forehead before he arched an eyebrow.

“…Oi,” he said. His voice was thick with a British accent. “You must be Master Riku’s fledgling.” The surprise melted away into a warm smile, and the man held out his hand. Another vampire? Had to be… that coffin lid he’d lifted so effortlessly and set to the side looked to be marble. A normal person wouldn’t be able to move that without a lot of help. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Artemis.”

Sora said nothing. His throat was closed up and didn’t seem to want to get anything out.

“Are you excited?” Artemis’s hand dropped when he noticed Sora wasn’t stepping forward to extend his own. “I would be. After all, it’s not every day that Master Riku decides to turn someone such as yourself into a vampire. In fact…” He tapped his chin, his eyes gazing skyward. “You’re his very first fledgling. It must feel like such an honor.”

“Uh…” Sora took a step back.

The vampire standing across from him was tall, at least compared to Sora. His black hair, Sora found on further inspection, was glossy and pulled back into a French braid, though his bangs had been left to cover his forehead. He was slender and looked more feminine than anything, but in a different way from Riku. Whereas Riku had been hard muscle beneath his attractive looks, Artemis was softer, his jaw not quite as pronounced as a normal man’s.

What made Sora certain to the fact that Artemis was a vampire was both obvious and not. The obvious bit was that the man’s skin was pale enough that Sora could see blue veins running beneath it. And less detectable was… some sort of feeling he got. Like Artemis was as dead as he was. The thought made him swallow hard, and he looked down.

“Listen, I…” He wetted his lips. “I’ve got—I’ve got a job to get back to. And… and friends. And a home.” Though it had certainly never really felt like one.

“Oh, you’ll be fine.” Artemis waved his hand in an absent manner, and he even shrugged. A grin spread across his face. “From what Master Riku’s told me, you won’t miss a thing. Really, Sora, life in Master Riku’s manor will be far better than when you were a human.”

Sora’s mouth gaped open, and he stared at the vampire across from him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was honestly expected to just drop his old life and make way for this new one?

“In time, you’ll forget them. We’re much better company, anyway, I promise.” Artemis laughed and turned away as he danced his fingertips across the edge of Riku’s coffin. “Besides, humans are so boring. They’re not much better for anything than food, you’ll come to find. It’ll be hard at first, but once you get used to being a vampire…”

He paused and glanced up to see Sora’s expression, but the fledgling was already gone.

Artemis raised his eyebrows. “Was it something I said?”