Miss Me? - A Continuation of "Tell Me, Love" (Darkiplier X Reader)

The Next Morning

You awake the next morning, well rested. You haven't woken up feeling this good in quite awhile, actually. Between tossing and turning, sleeping wrong, or just plain insomnia, it's admittedly not always easy to get a good night's sleep. You envy those that can pass out the second their head hits the pillow.
"Strange" you think, but certainly not unheard of. The thought quickly passes as you shed the covers, shrug a robe over your shoulders and head downstairs for a cup of coffee.

The coffee splashes against the bottom of the pot as you press "ON" and you excuse yourself to the bathroom for a moment to start your morning routine while it brews. The familiar creak of the bathroom door sounds as you push it out of the way and step towards the sink. Your thoughts drift back to the bedroom-to the night before. You open your toothpaste and put a dab on your toothbrush preparing to brush the morning breath away. You furrow your brow as it occurs to you that you don't particularly remember falling asleep. Or dreaming. You can't remember what show you watched before bed. Or were you on your phone? It hadn't really occurred to you how much was missing until this moment. You're worried for a moment, but try to shake the feeling. After all, people forget what they had for breakfast when asked later in the day, right? And you had just woken up moments before.
"Must've slept HARD" you think, finishing with your teeth and moving to your face. You gather your hair into a disheveled knot at the top of your head and slide on a headband and that's when you see it. Two small red bumps sit side by side just above your left collarbone. You move closer to the mirror to get a better look as confusion stains your face. You slide your fingertips over the the bumps, prodding the tender skin. A chill rushes over you and your breath catches in your throat. You grasp the sink with your free hand.
"Weird" you think. Worry floods your mind. Not really a normal reaction to touching a blemish, but you shake your head as if to shake the brief moment of panic away. They are sore to the touch, but closely resemble small bug bites that you've begun to scratch raw.
"Bug bites" you think definitively, remembering that mosquito season is in full swing. Heat always brings bugs. You do entertain the "looks-like-a-vampire-bite" idea for just a split-second, as every person does when bug bites happen to pop up in this way, but in no kind of serious manner.
"People are strange" you think. You shrug to yourself and begin washing your face, though you catch yourself glancing back to the irritated skin.

* * *

You finally pull yourself of the couch- out from under the cozy throw blankets that litter it- and trade the comfort of your robe for your favorite pair of sweats. Still comfy but not as good. You prepare to actually start your "work day", as if you could call it that. You work from home, freelance writing and working on a paid-blog. It's a pretty good gig, but finding motivation when you're your own boss is a struggle some days. Little things like getting dressed and moving to your work space do help things along though and you are thankful for the freedom.
You walk to your desk, your neck a little sore from lounging, and sit, opening the appropriate pages. You begin to type and lose yourself a bit, writing about your struggle with insomnia and ways you've found to counteract it. You feel accomplished- as if you're helping people with your same issue and before you know it you've finished the post. Easy-peasy.
You take a well deserved break, excusing yourself to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. You pour the dark liquid into your mug and sigh deeply. You add the cream and sugar and take a delicious sip, closing your eyes. You open them and suddenly- without warning- you're light-headed, dizzy even. You slide your hand along the counter, taking shaky steps across the kitchen, your coffee spilling a bit as you sit it down. You make your way to the couch and collapse into the throw blankets you left strewn about hours before. You close your eyes once more and try to take deep breaths.
"I'm just hungry" you think. You hadn't had breakfast, only coffee. You take another deep breath and blow it out slowly, trying to regain control, but you feel yourself drifting. Sounds become distant. Your ears start to ring. You open your eyes and jump, startled by what you've seen. A familiar form peers over you, it's dark eyes pierce you. You can't lock on, your eyes becoming blurry. You try to blink through it to no avail. As you slip further away, the figure speaks.
"Miss me?" asks a sultry voice. You try, in vain, to speak as everything fades to black.