Amor Sanguinum (Yandere Vampire Feitan x Reader)

5

You awake to someone shaking your shoulder, in the middle of talking to you before you're even fully awake.

"Huh? What happened?"

"Milo! Milo, have you seen him? He's not outside!" Louisa's voice shakes and as you sit up, you notice her parents are scrambling around. You take a moment to rub your eyes, stretching briefly. "Nobody let him inside?" "No!" She pushes a strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear, possibly a nervous habit.

More alert now, you stand up, following Louisa to the back door and to the yard. You stand on the wooden deck porch, looking into the foggy yard. There, Milo's chain lies slack. It's pooled around the stake it's connected to, so he must have gotten out. Mr. Fortner's also outside, calling out for his dog. "Damned thing must've got off his chain, ran after that fucker outside."

The thought of the thing, person, or otherwise that attacked you comes to mind; but that's ridiculous. You all would have woken up in the night if Milo was attacked, he wasn't a quiet dog after all. Besides, there was no blood or gore on the ground, no evidence of a brutal attack. Not here.

Not here. It echoes in your mind, but you push that thought away.

Milo probably got off his chain leash and ran after a squirrel or a badger. He was a big dog, he wasn't going to be injured out there by himself. Running off is what dogs do, isn't it?

You wouldn't say you overstayed your welcome per se, but you don't feel like sticking around while the family is scrambling to find their dog. Anne looks at you and you both make eye contact. "I think I'm going to go," You say to her quietly, and she starts nodding her head. With that she walks you to the front door, though before she lets you leave she hands you a plastic bag with a dish inside. "I made this for you hun, I'll come by tomorrow to check on you, alright?" She says, and you give her a smile and thanks. It isn't till another fifteen minutes that you finally leave and make the short walk to your house, it's too easy to get wrapped up in conversation with her.

-

When you get back home the first thing you do is flop onto your couch, careful not to apply pressure on your bandaged arm. Your own home has a sense of foreigness to it, knowing something had been inside. Nothing had been stolen, which was one positive of it you suppose. You hope it doesn't come back, especially with your window now being broken. You'd have to follow up with your insurance to see if you could get it covered without too much cost. For now, your closed shutters would have to do.

You decide to look at what Anne gave you, having left it on the kitchen diner. Opening the bag and lifting the dish top. Inside was some rice and chicken, which looked good enough to be your lunch for today. You pour it onto a glass plate, popping it into the microwave for yourself. You switch the television on, retrieving your lunch from the microwave and setting it on a small table by your couch as you switch through the channels. Not the news, not the history channel, no, no...

Finally you land on something that looks mildly entertaining enough to eat to. The show on the screen was just starting, some reality show involving dance competitions. Should be interesting enough. Apparently, it wasn't engaging enough to keep you from falling asleep immediately after your meal. A nap much deserved.

There's a sharp knocking at the door, dragging you out of your light nap. It was loud, you hope they haven't been trying to get a hold of you for long. You assume it's Anne or her husband, maybe they're here to tell you they found Milo. You pull yourself off the couch, heading to the door and opening it to see who's knocking.

A man with an umbrella stands at your door. His aura is a foreboding one, and you feel nauseous looking at him. The sky is grey, heavy clouds shield the sun. The weatherman said there wasn't much chance of rain, but perhaps this man missed the morning news. You open your door for him, wondering what he wants.

"Can I help you?"

He says nothing at first, eyes narrowing on the bandages on your arm. You're about to close the door in his face when he speaks. "Can I come in?" His words are almost choppy, you assume he isn't from here. Certainly not with that accent. His dull gaze bores into yours. If eyes are the window to the soul, then this man doesn't have one. You look behind him, you don't see a car or motorcycle, he must have walked here. You're about to politely deny him when a crash of thunder in the distance makes you jump. A gasp escapes you, and though his face doesn't change he seems amused. Almost immediately the rain begins to pour, hard. If not for his umbrella he would have been soaked.

The weatherman appears to have been wrong. You can't exactly deny him now, especially not with that man-eating monster still out there. ...Still, the polite thing to do isn't always the smart thing to do. The multitude of alarm bells ringing in your head has you less than eager to let him into your home.

"Er- Sorry, I ah-" You don't have an excuse ready, so you start to close the door on him. He maintains eye contact, sticking his foot out so the door couldn't close completely. He leans forward as if to insist you let him inside.

"You- you can't come inside." You tell him, lightly hitting his foot with the door once or twice (four times) before he finally concedes and takes back his foot. When the door is shut in his face you don't hear anyone walking away. You try to look out of the corner of the window, and he's still there. You quickly look away before he sees you. You pray to God he doesn't start knocking again. The thought comes to you that you should probably close the curtains to your other windows as well.

It appears you want to do this the hard way, which is a shame since Feitan was trying to go about this with some sense of civility. Part of Feitan is glad you aren't that dumb to allow a stranger into your home, but he'd never say that out loud.

You close all of your curtains, thinking about what you'll do tonight. You don't have to return to work for a few days, maybe you could stay up during the storm and watch a movie or two. Maybe you still have some popcorn you can throw in the microwave. You force yourself to think about your plans for tonight, trying to shake the feeling of being watched. Of not being alone. You go to the front door again, moving the curtain to the door window slightly to peek outside. The man is gone now, but it feels like he's still there. It feels like he's come inside.

You take in a deep breath, stepping away from the door. You can't call the police, not because you feel weird about some guy. Well, maybe you could if you played up your suspicions about him, but that would be causing trouble for nothing. You head to your pantry, deciding to focus on finding some popcorn instead.