Not the Ordinary Type //Frerard/Peterick/Ryden/Petekey

Two

 He should've been scared. He should've wanted to run as far as he possibly could away from there, but he just... didn't.  

//

Ryan awoke to complete darkness. What was going on? Where was he? He felt smothered by something on top of his face. He was in bed. When? He couldn't remember going to sleep, or going home for that matter.

All he could remember was the open mic night he, Patrick and Frank had performed at and then...

They had been ambushed in the street... by those things. That was the last thing he could remember. After that, nothing.

There was no way that could have actually happened. Was it all a dream? It definitely must've been. Those glowing yellow eyes seemed to be ingrained into his head, though.

Maybe they'd just walked home together and he'd got to his house and gone to bed. When you wake up, sometimes you can forget about what happened before you went to sleep.

He was sure it'd come back to him after a few minutes.

Ryan moved the blanket from his face, closed his eyes and breathed in some of the fresh air. It felt so good, having been under the covers god knows how long.

He sighed; but that was cut short when looked around the room, realising that this was not his bedroom. It was far from it.

He sat up as quickly as he could; his body was still heavy from sleep. The room he was in was pretty dark. There was one window on the opposite wall which was blacked out with what looked like paint and boarded up from the outside. There was fancy patterned wallpaper on the wall, it was different shades of black and grey in a sort of paisley pattern, from what he could make out in the dim light. It was nice wallpaper, well, had been. It was extremely faded and was peeling along the edges. Definitely looked old. There was also an antiqueish mahogany dresser along the wall, that the only source of light in the room was sitting on: a dusty silver candelabra with only half of the candles lit. The rest of the room was sparse, the floor was made of stone tiles and a thick layer of dust over everything which made Ryan badly want to sneeze.

How the hell did he get in here? Where was he?

"I see you're awake then," a voice said.

Ryan almost jumped out of his skin.

There was a man sitting at the end of his bed that he hadn't seemed to have noticed before, and looked to be one of the things from his dream, or from what he could tell from what he'd seen of them.

Maybe not a dream then. Shit.

Had he just been abducted by vampires? Patrick and Frank... oh god. Patrick and Frank. Where were they? Were they okay? Were they alive? What if they'd been drained of all of their blood and all that was left was just empty husks... he shuddered at the thought of his friends' lifeless bodies.
Ryan suddenly felt very self conscious of his exposed neck. He threw a hand up hastily, checking for the bite that could very possibly be there.

He couldn't feel anything, just his skin, and his pulse. Phew, he hadn't been bitten. Yet.

"Patrick and Frank?" Ryan inquired, looking as intimidating as he possibly could. "Are they okay?"

"Yes, they're fine," the stranger said, his voice even. It sounded friendly, almost. Not the cold, soulless voice Ryan had been expecting.

He took in his features. The man looked to be around his age, and was deathly pale, and had a sort of greyish pallor about him. He had dark hair; almost black and brown eyes. His mouth was closed, so Ryan didn't get a look at his fangs, if he really had them. He wore all black; black jeans, black shoes, a black shirt and a black jacket. Ryan had to admit, he was very attractive. But he was a vampire. Not exactly boyfriend material, really.