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Fukase's skin was not typically described as soft or pleasing to the eye, which is why Oliver was genuinely surprised to discover its tenderness when he bit into it. His sharp fangs pierced the flesh easily, drawing blood almost instantly.
Fukase's arms tightened around Oliver's waist, holding him firmly to prevent any chance of pulling away. He shook. The unexpected intensity of the pain catching him off guard. For some strange reason, he had never fully considered just how painful this experience would be. Those cheesy teenage movies and crappy novels often glossed over this crucial detail, making the reality all the more shocking. It was nothing like Fukase had anticipated.
Fukase stifled a pained cry, nausea rising as his breakfast threatened to return. The sound of Oliver's sloppy, desperate sucking on the blood from his neck was almost unbearable, as if Oliver wanted not just to drink every drop of the red liquid but Fukase's very essence. Fukase clung to Oliver tightly, feeling Oliver's hands tracing soothing circles on his back meant to comfort him, but unfortunately it wasn't enough to distract Fukase from the pain.
"I'm sorry," Oliver murmured as he pulled away from Fukase's neck, then resumed drinking. The sensation was just hideous. Fukase was almost mesmerized by how the pain extended from his neck to his shoulders, chest, legs, and throughout his entire body. A wave of dizziness washed over him. Despite Oliver drinking for less than two minutes, Fukase felt on the verge of losing consciousness. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak.
A shaky whimper escaped from his lips in protest. He didn't want Oliver to stop; he knew Oliver needed this. But damn it hurt.
For a moment, Fukase wondered if he was going to get killed there. Huh, wouldn't it be funny? Killed by his own lover. How tragically romantic. Fukase had often daydreamed several times about giving his life for Oliver but he never imagined it would actually happen. In his fantasies he would usually be protecting Oliver from whatever dare harm him, but in reality he was being drained of his life little by little by the person he once vowed to cherish forever.
But Oliver yanked away, pushing Fukase against the wall. His mouth panting and watering and disgustingly stained with blood. Fukase’s blood.
"Goodness, I'm really sorry," Oliver said, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face, staining the pure white fabric with an alarming amount of red. "I tried to hold back, but you…”
"Do I taste that good?"
Neither of them could understand where the hell Fukase had gotten the force to even say those words, especially in his muribund state. Oliver gently smiled.
"More than you could ever know," Oliver replied softly.
Fukase took a moment to admire his boyfriend—his nonhuman boyfriend who had just drank his blood, leaving him sore and aching. His cheeks turned red for the first time. He had never seen Oliver’s natural blush before; Oliver usually wore makeup in public to avoid comments about his pale complexion. But this flush was real. His lips, stained red with blood, made him look strangely attractive, not to mention the way he gasped and panted as he tried to regulate his breathing.
He was beautiful.
Fukase smirked. I did that he thought. Suddenly, the pain in his neck felt even more worth it.
But as quickly as his grin appeared, it faded. Oliver teared up, and he began to sob.
"I'm sorry," he said, covering his face with his hands. "I'm really sorry."
"Hey-" Fukase attempted to reach out, but the soreness in his neck and the sudden blood loss made him dizzy, forcing him to sit back where he was.
“I hurt you,” Oliver cried.
Fukase wished he could ignore the sharp pain and embrace Oliver again. He made a slow, determined effort to draw closer.
"I'm okay," Fukase reassured him.
"But what if you weren't? What if I hadn't stopped?" Oliver looked directly into Fukase's eyes, his voice wrenching Fukase's heart. It had never been Fukase's intention to make Oliver feel this way. “I can't help it. Fukase, you taste so good, and I am afraid of what I can do to you!”
Screw it. Fukase used all his remaining strength to pull Oliver closer, his warm arms embracing the cold boy. The pain took a backseat when it came to comforting his lover. This was far more important.
"You were hurting," Fukase said firmly. "I wasn't going to let you starve. Oliver, I would do this and so much more for you, so please, when you're in pain, let me help you."
Oliver teared up. Fukase's words made him feel profoundly loved yet overwhelmingly guilty. He had always been a perfectionist about his diet, ensuring he had plenty of extra blood stored in his fridge. But the sudden shortage was beyond his control, and that uncertainty filled him with fear.
"I am scared," Oliver finally returned the hug and nuzzled close. "I am so scared, Fukase."
"You don't have to be. I'm here with you," Fukase whispered.
"That's the problem," Oliver cried out. "I don't... I," he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "I don't want to take advantage of your kindness. You're too kind."
Fukase didn't mind. Whether he lived or died was irrelevant as long as Oliver was okay. Maybe it was selfish to think that way, but when it came to Oliver, his priorities were clear. He wanted to comfort his lover and assure him that this was a one-time incident and wouldn't happen again. They could soon find another blood bag before Oliver needed to be fed again.
But in case they didn't...
Fukase hugged Oliver tighter and let him cry. His words wouldn't reach Oliver in this state.
There was so much he needed to learn about vampires. He knew Oliver was different. Oliver would never kill anyone to feed. He always chose the safest, most pacifist option. He was aware of his nature but rejected it, not wanting anyone to get hurt.
He was terrified of killing.
But Fukase...
Fukase was not terrified of being killed.
Damn, Fukase thought with a slight grin. He needed to stop devaluing his own life so much. Oliver would definitely not appreciate him dying just to let the vampire boy live.
“Remember the time I had an argument with my parents, and they kicked me out?” Fukase began softly. “You let me stay at your place as long as I needed,”
Oliver blinked, astonished. “What?”
“Or that one time I forgot the deadline for that college application, and you reminded me so I could fill it out at the last minute?”
Oliver was confused. Why was Fukase bringing up these old memories?
“Yeah,” Oliver whispered, still resting his head on Fukase's shoulder.
“And,” Fukase paused, struggling to find the words. “When you found me on the edge of the bridge at midnight.”
Oliver's breath shook. He remembered that moment clearly. He had searched for Fukase for two hours around the city, knowing something was wrong the moment Fukase had sent him a mysterious message. Oliver feared it would be the last one he ever received from him.
“I remember.”
Fukase smiled, and Oliver allowed him to see his face again. Their eyes met, precious scarlet eyes filled with emotion.
“You have saved my life so many times,” Fukase said, reaching out to wipe Oliver's tears with his thumb, accidentally getting some blood on his sleeve. “So, I thought I could try to save yours at least once.” He laughed awkwardly and looked away. “Pretty weird, huh?”
Oliver's lips trembled. His tears didn’t stop, but a smile returned to his face.
“You are weird,” Oliver giggled softly, wiping his own tears. “But that's what I like about you.”
Relieved that Oliver seemed to calm down, Fukase took his lover's hands tenderly. “I want to be there for you, Oliver. You don't have to suffer alone. And if there's a chance you don't have to suffer at all, then I want to be there to help you.”
Fukase’s mind wandered to the countless times Oliver had been there for him, offering support, shelter, and hope. Oliver had given him reasons to keep going, to find joy in life’s little moments. Now, Fukase wanted to return that happiness. He wished to give Oliver the opportunity to live another day without fear or harm.
A moment of silence settled between them. It wasn’t uncommon or unbearable; the atmosphere was pleasant and comfortable. Fukase knew his words had reached Oliver.
“I don't even know what to say,” Oliver replied, his cheeks flushing again.
He was so cute, the most adorable person Fukase had ever known, and he felt incredibly lucky to call him his lover. He would do anything for Oliver. Anything.
But he couldn’t let Oliver know that.
“Then you don’t have to say anything,” Fukase responded softly. He reached out and embraced Oliver once more. He was warm. Warm with his blood.
Deep inside Fukase wished this wasn't the last time. Despite the pain he had been ignoring to comfort Oliver, Fukase thought it would be a nice thing to do once in a while—to have his own blood inside Oliver, nourishing his beloved who deserved nothing but the best. Fukase would try his hardest to give his best.
“I love you, Fukase,” Oliver whispered.
“I love you too.”
But Oliver... He surely wouldn't approve a second time.
Would he?