Vampire Next Door ⋆⟡⋆ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Ch. 9 Beginnings of Someone Else ⋆｡𖦹

Miguel sleeps beside you, facing you. His breathing is soft, warm on your skin. You never imagined you'd be this close to him.

You savor it

... until you feel the pressure on your bladder.

You slowly pull the blankets off of you and head to the bathroom on your tiptoes.

After you flush, you see a drop of crimson beside the toilet. You crouch down, investigating.

There's a bigger puddle in the corner, at the base of the bathtub.

It's... blood. Has to be. Dark, dried up blood.

You rush to his bedroom, then softly tap his shoulder.

"Mig, Miguel," you whisper.

He wakes up, "What? What's wrong?" He stands up suddenly, looking around, the tinge of crimson in his eyes brighter, canines sharper, moving perfectly fast enough to go unnoticed.

"Jesus, calm down! It's just a– in the bathroom, there's... on the floor... it looks like–"

"What? What looks like what?" He's panicked, trying to read your face.

You pull him out of his room, and push him down the hall and to the bathroom.

You point at the bathroom floor.

"There. Mig, what the fuck is that?"

"Oh. Oh. That's– I cut myself shaving."

He's lying.

"What? Mig. You shave on the toilet?"

"I was in a rush for work a few days ago, and I uhh shaved in the shower, then I cut myself, you know, started bleeding, and got out. It's just a little blood, Y/N," he shrugs, nonchalantly.

He crouches down to grab disinfectant spray from the cabinet under the sink. You watch him clean the puddle of blood. You aren't buying it. It freaks you out.

You start to think about the nightmares, the screams; maybe they were a warning, and maybe the nightmares were real. Maybe Miguel isn't the person he was in university. Maybe he's a serial killer, or a druglord, I mean he's rich. Maybe he's just a man, a cold-hearted man who's fooled you into thinking differently. Maybe you were right to lose trust in everything and everyone you've ever known. Maybe you should've left this dream in the past, along with everything else.

Your heart is in your stomach, but you don't want him to see that, so you mutter, "Think I'm gonna get going."

He turns up at you from his cleaning, and looks at you confusedly, "What? I was gonna make us breakfast."

He stands up slowly, now towering over you, and the naivety that's been blinding you is lifted; you now see him as the threatening, huge, manly guy you should have seen him as this whole time. How could you trust him? After everything...

"No, it's fine, Miguel. I agreed to get coffee with a friend, and umm I also gotta check up on the maintenance work. I have a super busy day, so umm I'll be heading out."

He looks at you, head tilted, eyebrows scrunched, "Okay... okay. I'll catch you later then."

You leave his apartment, and lock your door.

****

Ash's jaw drops.

"Y/N, you know what this means, right? He's a serial killer,"

You scoff but there's truth in her words.

"Or even worse,

he's sleeping with someone," she says before sipping her coffee.

"I hate you. I really do. This is serious."

"And I'm being serious! Blood? Could be intense BDSM. That or he's a serial killer," she shrugs, lightly.

"God, Ash, so helpful. Those are two completely different possibilities. How am I supposed to figure out which one he is? No, no, he told me he wasn't sleeping with anyone. I have to trust at least that."

"Y/N. Blood. You still trust that man? I mean, the noises at night, a puddle of blood on his bathroom floor. Sex addict or serial killer. You choose."

"Enough with the sex. God, it makes me ill to think he could be sleeping with someone, right there in front of me. Even worse, he could be killing right in front of me, and I've been too oblivious to even notice."

"I wouldn't blame myself. You read too much into everything. It's not your job to investigate him, or play detective. I would just keep my distance."

"But he's not just my neighbor. He's... he's Miguel. You remember back then, how much–"

"God, yes. How could I forget? I remember how heartbroken you were when Kat Nilson walked with him after class, or when he didn't write anything on your midterm paper. I know what he meant to you, or what he means to you. I don't want you to get hurt, Y/N. This is a man, and right now, we don't know if he's a serial slut or a serial killer, so I think you should keep your distance."

You sigh. Your stomach hurts. Maybe the blood on your fire escape and the blood in his bathroom were just the beginnings of a monster, one with a double life, someone else.