You dragged the unconscious boy inside the Murder House, where you lived.
You were starving.
You were a vampire and had been since 1994.
You unleashed your fangs and sank them into the boy’s neck.
You drank until you were satisfied, forcing yourself to let the boy live.
You weren’t stupid enough to let the boy die, too much of a mess.
You compelled him to forget what had happened and go home.
You sighed as he left.
You had been living in the Murder House for a month now.
Your dead best friend used to live here, back in 1994. When you saw the house up for sale, of course you bought it.
It had been the first time you had fed inside it.
“I needed that,” you muttered to yourself, wiping your mouth.
“Y...Y/N?” you heard someone stammer.
You turned around, baring your fangs and on alert.
Tate Langdon stood before you.
You gasped and allowed your fangs to hide themselves away in shock.
“What the actual fuck?” you asked.
“You’re a vampire?” he asked.
“You’re a ghost?” you replied.
“Have been since 1994,” he shrugged.
“Me too,” you muttered.
Tate sat on your couch, as if he was welcome to.
“Why are you here?” you questioned, standing in front of him.
“I can’t leave. Once you die in this house, you can’t leave,” Tate explained.
You tilted your head, thinking his response over.
You nodded once, sitting next to him.
Tate sat closer to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close to him. You didn’t mind, you just wrapped your arms around your neck and breathed in his familiar scent.
“God, I missed you,” he whispered.
“You have no idea how much I missed you, too,” you whispered back.
“I was gonna tell you something that day,” he began, “I love you. More than a friend, more than anything. Y/N, I love you. And I can’t help but see this as our second chance.”
You bit your lip, shock filling your mind.
“Say something, please,” tate asked, nervously.
You just pressed your lips gently to his.
“I feel the same, Tate,” you told him.
He smiled and reconnected your lips.
Maybe there is life after death.
