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The Night	By : mewsomniac Category: Kingdom Hearts > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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The Night
Chapter V: почемучка (Pochemuchka)
The 18^th Century
            Life became foreign upon the moment Sora’s brother was sealed in their family mausoleum.
            Beneath the shiny rosewood lacquer of a coffin, his brother’s body laid against silk throws of nobility with a visage that bore more living aspects than that of a corpse. It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the working on the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death as little rude as might be. (1)  It was also perplexing to Sora that the marks [Au] [Au] [Au]  vanished; [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] -[Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] strangely they were gone just moments before his brother’s death.
            However, his parents refused to question it so he simply stayed silent. They needn't frighten others with the auspicious legends that terrified them as children and worse in adulthood. To bring up such superstitions was poison to reputations, and as a family of islanders they were already somewhat out of place in Transylvanian society. It was simply better to forget from that point onward.
            The stone doors shut with a gentleness that somehow still left a resounding echo in Sora's skull. Empty like the air, yet loud and clamoring.
   Life begins just as life dies, so they turned away from the crypt without a wayward glance. [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] [Au] Especially Sora, who had so many dreams to chase and a life to live.
            It was his 21^st birthdate that lonely year: his mother, so proud of her steadfast son for standing tall despite the weight of grief, awarded him the heirloom she had originally given to her eldest son. While receiving the shining item brought tremendous pain to his heart, it also brought a sense of undying pride. Sora was stepping in his brother’s footsteps while also making his own path for the both of them.
            After all, he was hell-bent on crossing the Black Sea at all costs. Many days of his youth were spent reading maps and history books until the early hours of the morn. In church he would sneak peeks at navigation manuals and astronomy notes between missals. One day the priest caught him, attempting to instill the fear of god in the young man. To the shock of many, he laughed at the notion and nearly got his family excommunicated—claiming god’s wrath could find him on the sea, and being dragged to hell was the least of his cares.
            His near-endless days of expressing a desire to seek the world was apparent to all who knew him. His late brother was incredibly supportive, but his parents pleaded with him daily to settle into a science or medical-related career—after all, they built their own fortune off of it. Even Sora’s fiancée, a girl from another wealthy family, thought it best for him to abandon his dream. In full honesty, Sora didn’t care for her opinion in the least bit; after all, their betrothal was simply arraigned by both their parents, despite his aggressive protest. Who was she, again? She meant so little to him that he doesn’t even remember her face or her name
            However, with too much pressure from multiple sides, Sora finally gave in to the demands.
            After nearly four years of studying, he abandoned his college courses on history and geography before taking up biology and machinery in their stead. Such a sudden shift in focus was truly grueling, and Sora felt himself become miserable. Still he had to please his family, and also his fiancée’s. A year of sorrow, depression, and the undying sense of soullessness…
            And then Sora took ill.
            It started with a sense of fatigue. Every time he stood, it was as if the world began to pirouette round his head and getting up was a monotonous chore. There were many mornings where he would have to force himself out of bed, looking pale as a ghost and just as gaunt. His neck ached, his limbs were weak; yet the lethargy seemed a suitable match to his emotional state, so he excused it as stress and did his best to keep an uplifted stride.
            One fateful morning he noticed the marks, tiny as can be, sitting perfectly adjacent to one another on his neck. He recognized them in horror and refused to look at his bare neck in a mirror from then on. Every day he tightly bundled his collar up so no one would take notice to the two small pinpricks of impending doom. Still, he tried his best to fake normalcy.
            While Sora would wake in his bed every morning as if everything were fine, his family and friends bore witness to odd behavior. At night, he would wander out of the house and travel all the way down to the beach where he and his brother once played as children. Since it didn’t affect his daily activities, Sora once more explained it away as more stress and leftover grief for his late brother… up until the memory loss.
            One moment he would be at the lecture hall in his college, the next he would be riding on a wagon heading back home. Witnesses claimed he seemed normal during these supposed haze-filled moments, but then there would come the constant drawing. All he would sketch was eyes, eyes, eyes; not a single sheet of parchment was safe when he entered these bizarre moments of hypnosis.
            As time crawled along, the more disturbing Sora’s symptoms became: mirrors reflected his deathly pallor, his skin was clammy to the touch, his eyes were sunken into their sockets, his breathing became labored, he was in a perpetual state of exhaust, the marks on his neck became deeper with raised, white edges… but no matter what happened, he refused help.
            Even when he woke up in his bed, after having passed out in the middle of the street, he still struggled to get up and continue with his life. Even when he found out it had been a week since he collapsed. Even when he wouldn’t admit to having forgotten up to two weeks prior.
            He demanded that everything was fine.
            It had to be fine.
            The doctor in the crisp-clean clothes talked about an issue with hypo-volo-something, and made a remark about his brother’s death. Sora didn’t listen, not even when they begged him to, not when he tried to desperately leap out of bed, not when they pinned him down to the bed and not even when they stuck the needle in him. He didn’t listen the next day when they searched for a specialist. When they failed miserably, his ears were off. When the doctor gravely announced that no more could be done, Sora was better off deaf.
            He remembers seeing his mother sobbing helplessly next to him on the bed. She wouldn’t stop saying “Not again, not again…” His father even cried with her. The last of their sons was not long for this world, after all. They’d have to bury him, just like his brother. They apologized profusely for making him miserable, but it really didn’t matter to him. He tried so desperately to make them smile; to see his mother’s beautiful grin and hear his father’s hearty laugh. He held himself even to the very end just for that, holding onto that one last goal.
            When he finally did it, when they chortled as well as they could through the tears, he fell asleep.
            Those nights he dreamt so vividly of walking along the beach, staring at the moon, wolves howling in the distance… but most of all, he dreamt of gold and eyes. Deep, piercing eyes, redder than the fires of hell, and hot honey-gold.
Gold, gold, gold
            Gold, gold, gold
                        Gold, gold, gold,
                                    Gold, gold, gold
            The space he was in was dark, but soft and warm, and it was the warmest he felt in a long time. Muffled but audible were the sounds of soft crying, prayers, his mother’s tearful goodbye, and his father’s solemn farewell.
            It was Sora’s funeral.
            How?
            He laid helplessly as he felt himself being lifted into what he surmised was the tomb, beneath his brother’s coffin in a space he was too soon to occupy. He found himself wanting to shout and struggle against the tightness of the coffin.
            I’m alive, He thought. I’m still here.
            But he was paralyzed. It was as if his spirit was somehow attached to his corpse: aware, but stiff as a board. The mausoleum doors slid shut once more, this time with him inside. Was this God’s sick joke? Was this his eternal punishment for laughing at divinity?
            Oh, how little he knew then.
            He merely screamed in his head, for it was all he could do. He screamed and begged, and the sounds vibrated in his skull like bellowing church bells.
            Hours passed, perhaps even days.
            Sora had fallen into another slumber, this time dreamless, when he was awoken bythe sound of his coffin lid being ripped open. The splinters of wood fell about him, and his gaze caught the moonlight pouring in from the stained glass window; blurry details becoming more apparent as his eyes adjusted. Standing over him was the figure of a man who was strong and tall, but lanky. Eyes, red as fresh blood, flickered down at him from the darkness.
            Sora opened his mouth to speak to no avail, so the strange figure spoke instead.
            “Caution, my fledgling. You are still weak.” His voice was thick and toned with a fine accent, but it flowed from his lips like a gentle breeze.
            Searching the strange man’s eyes for answers, Sora could only splutter hopefully in response.
            “Wh… who—” Curtly, the man hushed him, and Sora felt himself unable to say another word.
            With a sharp smile that glinted in the moonlight the man declared, “I am Dracula, and I am your sire.”
June 11th, 2025
            It feels endless. The running, the pounding rain... Roxas’ body is on the verge of collapse at any second. His feet are numb, his chest hurts, and he is mildly surprised neither of them had slipped on the wet sidewalk yet. Time is an uncertain concept as they journey onward, fear fueling each step and each breath. Streets and buildings are no more than a blur streaking across his stinging eyes; desperately he hopes Sora’s sight or sense of direction is at least somewhat better than his. Anxiety tickles his lungs, but he refuses to let a sense of helplessness fog his brain. The literal mist of the downpour is trouble enough on it’s own without doubt impeding their progress.
            Just when he thinks he can’t take the physical strain of sprinting anymore, Sora whisks him into a tight alley and down to the bottom of a short set of stairs. Their backs are to the wall of dampened brick, bodies shielded from the rain by a short tunnel.
            Winded, they both try to breathe as quickly and quietly as possible. Sora tries to listen for Riku but echoes of the pouring rain and streams of gutter water make it near impossible to be sure where the werewolf could be based on distant sound. A spewing drainage pipe beside them muffles the sound of Sora’s growling stomach.
            Sora can feel his tremors getting noticeably worse, and the hungry knot in his belly is also becoming apparent in his throat. The cold and wet sticking to his skin make his thirst especially tangible. His mind rests on an old Coleridge line that his shipmates used many a time out at sea: “water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” (2)
            Meanwhile, Roxas is quite obviously trembling solely from his drenched body. His jaw is fixed shut in a grimace meant to stifle his chattering teeth. Deep down he curses the Organization's rules that made him leave his black, likely waterproof, cloak hanging unused in his closet. So much for his umbrella, too.
            The two shiver in the cold for a moment, with Sora peeking out toward the mouth of the alley and Roxas attempting to brace his body tight against the weather. Absently he notices that Sora is shaking, though not nearly as much as himself.
            Sora's voice drifts from the downpour, "How far away is your apartment?"
            "From here? I'd say..." Roxas remembers that he really isn't entirely sure where his place is from here, and he’s a little annoyed at Sora for asking. Although he'd learned the city fairly well at this point, he is pretty lost considering he’s focusing on survival and not direction. However, what also caused him to stumble in his sentence is what he realized Sora was asking. "Wait, are you saying I should escort you to MY place? Do you not have some sort of secure and fancy abode that we can somehow escape to?"
            Sora normally would have laughed at this and be happy to give a proper explanation, but he’s too hungry to focus on the retelling of his personal drama.
            "Look, everybody hits hard times, including vampires. One of the reasons I don't have a fancy abode is currently chasing us, so please bear with me. Think about what I’m asking. You're part of the organization right? You must be living with other members. We'll be safe if we both get back to your place.”
            Roxas eyes him suspiciously. "How did you figure all this out?"
            Sora mulls words over carefully in his head, not wanting to give off too much of a creeper vibe. However daring he is with his promiscuity, his interest for following Roxas is purely based on scientific curiosity. Mostly, anyway. Well… Partly. He’s super cute, okay? It really came down to three things: Roxas is a historical enigma, he is incredibly attractive, and Sora would never forgive himself if he let such a peculiar person slip by and get mangled by his friend. Oh, Sora realizes, Make that four. On top of that, if the Organization found out he was the cause of Roxas’ horrific demise—and they would, those people are freaks—they would put a fitting end to his unlife.
            After going on this mental tangent, Sora wonders, Who am I even trying to justify this to?!
            "Simple reasoning," He ventures, turning his head to keep watch out the alley again. “I know where all the Organization members are in the city. You aren't wearing a cloak, so you're new… figured you were dropping of a package, because they have all newbies do that. Most of the members room together or near each other for convenience, which means we’ll both be safe at your place."
            Roxas is not easily fooled; immediately he assumes Sora is trying to tiptoe around the fact that he had followed Roxas earlier and was able to put the pieces together that way. However, Roxas' intuition doesn't peg Sora as any kind of stalker, and knowing the implications of what would befall the vampire if any harm had come to Roxas were enough evidence to pin that his intentions were somewhat pure.
            Annoyingly enough, part of him is even inclined to probe for more information about Sora and his backstory.
            "I could just go myself." Roxas jeers, "I don't have to bring you along with me."
            Sora turns his head back to flash a grin, his trembling even more apparent now. "Tell me honestly. Do you either know exactly how to get home or how to properly fight off a werewolf?"
            "...fine." Roxas dissents, before finding himself asking, "Hey, why are you shaking? I didn't think vampires get cold."
            Sora can feel his head throbbing and his stomach clenching tightly, causing him to grip his abdomen in discomfort. His cottonmouth is insufferable, his temples are in a vice. He curses himself for not having the forethought to get some blood while he waited for Roxas at the bar.
            "It's not the cold, it's uh... it’s hunger. I ran out of blood a while ago, and I haven’t had a chance to get any."
            Roxas can't ignore the physical discomfort apparent in Sora's body language: wracked with tremors, the man is now holding a palm to his forehead and breathing shallowly. Roxas fears that the delay of trying to find blood will get them killed for sure, and is uncertain what he can do to quickly help and get them out of there—
            Suddenly, an idea strikes Roxas; one that he never imagined would ever run through his head. Strangely the thought process doesn't make him feel sick with trepidation, but anxious with exhilaration. There really is no time for another solution.
            Gulping, he quickly mutters “Mine.” Sora turns a confused look toward him, and Roxas clears his throat. “I mean, my blood. You could drink it.”
            For just a moment there were no words.
            "I won't pressure you. You can say no."
            Looking toward the moon, Roxas notices the pale light pierces through the rain, floods into the alleyway, and hits them both with an almost coincidental drama. He holds his breath.
            “Are you sure?” Sora asks.
            "Yes. Just hurry, okay?"
            Without skipping a beat, Sora whips his knapsack around to his chest and goes digging through its contents. Not a second later he brandishes a familiar-looking metallic tube, no bigger than a cigarette.
            “You know what this is right? They advertise them all over and give them out for free to whoever they can. Hand please.”
            Roxas searches his memory, releasing the grip on his right arm to extend his left hand. “It's a blood-checking device right?”
            “Exactly. Never can be too careful.”
            Sora wastes to time in grabbing a finger and pressing one end of the device to the side of Roxas’ thumbprint.
            “This shouldn't hurt too bad.”
            Roxas feels what resembles the sensation of a papercut and his face involuntarily twinges as Sora gives his finger a squeeze. A few seconds later a smiley face made of blue light appears on the side of the tube, along with a check mark; confirming his blood is clean.
            As Sora stands before Roxas, his body gives off a warmth that surprises the mortal man and he unconsciously welcomes it against the cold. With one hand hand Sora gently tilts Roxas’ chin toward his right shoulder while the other hand pulls down his shirt collar. Slowly and with expert ease Sora leans down, lowering his lips to hover precisely over Roxas pulse. The blond can feel his heart start to pump wildly when hot breath drifts over his skin, teeth scraping soft flesh…
            Then Sora pulls himself off the boy with a chuckle. "Not your neck. We don't want your friends to see you've been donating blood to a vampire, right?" Roxas didn't have time to retort as Sora holds up Roxas’ arm to his face, tugging the sleeve up mid way. “This’ll pinch.”
            He bites down on Roxas’ wrist quickly, fangs popping into skin with relative ease. The feeling of blood being drawn from his arm in such a way boggles the mortal man and he cannot look away from the sight before him. Sora is somewhat baffled by how rich Roxas’ blood tastes. What would normally be cold water to a man stranded in the desert is more like the juiciest of steaks to a starved wolf. Sora chalks it up to his extreme hunger and drinks with haste; distantly he’s disappointed there isn't time to feast even more. Roxas feels a tongue swirl over the new wounds and nearly jumps.
            It doesn't seem like very long before Sora pulls away, hiding the fact that he’s thirstily licking any excess blood from his teeth. That should be plenty for now, though the lingering tang of deliciousness on his tongue is difficult to ignore. Still holding Roxas’ arm, Sora uses his teeth to break the skin of his own thumb before smearing a bead of blood on the fresh bite marks and muttering something.
            “What are you—”
            “Healing properties. This will help your wounds close faster and make them easier to hide. That small amount should last me a day, and I definitely have enough energy to get us to safety. Know your apartment’s cross-streets?”
            “Cobblestone Way and… 3rd. They’re the Sierra Octavia apar—”
            Sora doesn't waste a second grabbing Roxas’ hand again and torpedoing down the alley. Although their time in the alley was relatively short, it’ll be impossible to hear the sound of Riku encroaching. Especially after they both drew blood, however little, the smell will be apparent to a werewolf even miles away. The rain is their only hope to eliminate the scent. It seems that it was just in time too: as they reach the end of the long alley to turn, Roxas, out of the corner of his eye, catches the glimpse of a silvery mass at the mouth of the alley. He hears a howl, but isn't certain because of the rainfall.
            They continue their escape deeper into the city, and after luckily managing to come across an unmanned trolley they are now stopped on a street corner. Roxas is exhausted, and Sora’s head is snapping to and fro in search of something. The vampire knows this is the perimeter for most Moonfall patrols, so his eyes carefully scan the area.
            “Progress?” Roxas asks, hopeful.
            Sora says nothing but continues to look. Suddenly he smiles and points.
            “Friend of yours?”
            At first it’s uncertain where Sora is pointing as the rainfall is disrupting the landscape, but Roxas’ eyes lock onto a familiar cloaked figure walking in the distance. The silhouette is obscure, but unmistakable. They both go running toward the Organization member who, upon sensing their presence, turns toward them. As always, the hood perfectly hides the face, but a voice manages out against the downpour.
            “Well now! Roxas, my friend. It’s Moonfall tonight, I thought you knew better than to be out.”
            “Luxord!” Roxas happily gasps, “It’s so good to see you. You won’t believe the night I’m having.”
            Luxord turns his hooded head to Sora. “Is this vampire with you?”
            Roxas cocks his head, “How’d you know he’s a vampire?”
            “It comes with the game, Roxas.” Luxord puts a gloved hand on Roxas’ shoulder and the blond jealously notices how the rain slides right off the hydrophobic material of his cloak. “We can catch up another time. It’s especially dangerous out tonight because of the low visibility, but fortunately this is a safe zone. Get home quickly, I’m sure Axel is concerned.”
            Just then, Luxord’s grip tightens and his body turns carefully toward the road. Sora and Roxas turn their gaze there as well, and at first the image seems like something out of a nightmare. A short distance away is the hazy outline of a werewolf. It marches close enough that details of the body are somewhat visible. Upon the haunches sits a triangular torso with muscular arms that are almost long enough to touch the ground while the lycanthrope stands; slick claws barely scraping along the road as it encroaches. The silver fur glistens in the rain and moonlight, and seafoam eyes glint murderously. It’s chest heaves, and a fog of breath creeps out from the monstrous jowls that are big enough to take a man’s head clean off his shoulders. The werewolf watches them carefully, rabid in appearance but clearly intelligent enough to realize the threat of the Organization member before it.
            Luxord is still, and Roxas is horrified. Though he had seen many an illustration or photo of such a beast, this is his first time he’s witnessed a werewolf in all of it’s terror. There is something sobering about the sight, and a sense of reality begins to creep up through his skin like warm needles. One day he’ll be in Luxord’s position, staring down a beast with no promise of survival, as if this were a fucked up game of rock-paper-scissors.
            Just then, Sora raises his middle finger at the beast and laughs.
            Mortified, Roxas braces for an attack, thinking Holy shit, we’re fucked!
            The wolfman snarls, teeth glinting... but he does not move.
            Luxord says, “Fun and games aside, time’s up boys. Go now! I’ll make sure this one doesn’t follow.”
            “He won’t.” Sora mutters, “Even like this, he knows better.”
            Sora and Roxas begin a more comfortable jog toward the apartment, the young blond still visibly shaken. The werewolf lifts his nose to the sky and lets out a mighty howl, one that rattles in Roxas’ eardrums and stirs his stomach. The eyes of the creature are burned into his memory, and he dare not chance a look back.

            It’s not much longer before the landscape starts to become more familiar to Roxas, which helps dissipate the fear of death significantly. Within a few moments they’re walking toward the Sierra Octavia complex; the red-bricked structure a welcome sight after such a grueling night. Roxas lets the feeling of relief wash over him, but Sora is still quite anxious. Though the vampire fully trusts the Organization patrols keeping Riku away, there’s no way to avoid an encounter if he’s out by himself again once the full moon is over. Riku has only gotten more agitated as the months have passed, and Sora has grown weary of running. There are so many things in his mind still left unanswered, and the appearance of Roxas in the picture has given him the long-lost sensation that he’s on to something. Considering this man is also on a path to join the Organization, being with him is the safest option right now. He heavily considers asking the blond to let him spend the night… realizing for the first time in about a hundred and fifty years that he has to ask and not tell.
            This certainly is a historical thing, Sora thinks facetiously.
            Now in front of the complex, they walk up a small staircase and toward the lobby door; Roxas fishes in his pockets for something.
            “Here you are, Roxas. Safe and sound.” Sora smiles and feins coolness, all while internally panicking. He isn’t sure he can bring himself to ask such a big favor when it was practically his fault that Roxas’ life was in danger in the first place.
            Roxas laughs, “Yeah… Barely!” then taps a keycard against a small glowing screen, which unlocks the entrance door. He pulls it open.
            Shit. It’s now or never… Sora gulps, blurting out, “Before you leave!” and Roxas stops mid-step to look at him. The vampire averts his eyes and scratches the back of his neck. Once again, he chooses his words carefully. “I, uh, I’m sorry to bug you more… but can I ask you to pretty please let me sit by your window? I’m totally happy to stay in the rain. I’ve done it before, plenty of times. If you could just leave it open in case Riku strolls by and I need to hop inside, I will be eternally in your debt.” He clasps his hands together, looking at Roxas with earnest. “And you know it’s eternal because I’m a vampire!”
            Roxas cocks an eyebrow, “Outside my window?” He scoffs, “That sounds incredibly creepy. Also, you know this complex has a lobby, right? I’m about to walk into it.” Sora immediately feels deflated, but before he can say anything, Roxas melodramatically sighs. “But I guess you did get me home safe, so I do kinda owe you one. Also I’d feel guilty leaving you completely soaked or without a pillow to sleep on. Come to my window, I’ll let you stay the night in my room. I don’t want any of my roommates to see you, for your own safety. Obviously.”
            It’s Sora’s turn to feel relief as he takes Roxas’ hand, holding it close to his chest. “Eternally in your debt.”
            The blond blushes, “Okay, okay, I get it. Eternally.” He shakes off the grip and points upwards. “I’m on the third floor, and my window is on the left side of the fire escape. Do not go into the window with the ashtray on the sill.”
            Sora smiles, “Aye aye.”
            Roxas enters the empty lobby of the complex and doesn't waste a moment going up the stairs, despite the protest of his leg muscles. On the short walk up, he questions his own sanity. Maybe this behavior is expected of most young adults; sneaking a crush into your room late at night for a secret sleepover is not a new concept. Except it’s a vampire he’s sneaking in, on a night where he was chased by a werewolf, under the nose of people who probably hunt these creatures as a job—
            Wait, Roxas thinks, Crush? Did I really just think that?
            He excuses the lapse in thought as mental fatigue. When he reaches his floor, he practically wobbles over to the door, tapping the keycard against the knob to open it. Not mere seconds after he enters the apartment, he feels himself being fully embraced by a tall figure.
            “What the fuck, Roxas?!” Axel shouts, squeezing the smaller man in his arms. “Holy shit, you’re completely soaked! It’s Moonfall, and you didn't answer a single phone call!” Roxas grimaces, realizing he didn’t once have the opportunity to check his phone during the night. “I was about to go out there and look for you myself! What if something out there got you?!”
            Definitely don’t want to tell him about Sora just yet. Roxas decides.
            “Sorry, Axel…” Roxas grunts out, “I got a late start and didn’t even realize what day it was. I was rushing home so I didn’t check my phone, but I managed to run into Luxord on patrol and made it back okay.” He already feels guilty, but it was then that he notices the musty smell of tobacco is hanging in the air, meaning Axel was breaking Namine’s rules and chain smoking in the living room out of stress. He groans into the redhead’s shoulder, “It was… a rough night. I’ll tell you about it it the morning, I promise.”
            Axel releases Roxas, sighing. “I’m just glad this didn’t happen sooner. You’re safe now, your training is almost over… just learn from this and let’s call it a night. Got it memorized?”
            “You know I always do,” Noticing that his other roommates haven’t come to greet him yet, Roxas asks, “Are Demyx and Namine out on patrol?”
            “Yep. They’re more useful than I am when the weather is like this anyway. Besides, I had to stay home and make sure you made it back okay.”
            “Okay, papa bear!” Roxas says in a childish tone, gesturing mockingly with his hands. “Will you tuck me in and read me a story?”
            Axel laughs, “Absolutely not, you little shit! You’re grounded!” He ruffles Roxas’ hair, like he always does. “Love ya, dude. Get your ass to bed and get some rest! Don’t forget you’re meeting another member tomorrow.”
            “Thanks Axel. Love ya, too.”
            Roxas walks passed the kitchen, down the hallway, and over to his bedroom on the right side of the bathroom. He goes inside and clicks the door shut securely behind him, locking it. The moon, of course, is angled in a way that light fully illuminates the room, and Roxas distantly wonders if it’s been following him all night on purpose. He glances at his window and spots Sora sitting on the sill, leaning against the frame with his body turned partly toward the glass. When he locks eyes with Roxas, he waves happily. Roxas notices the vampire is still drenched and hurries over to gently unlock and open the window. As he does, he holds a finger to his lips, and Sora moves like a cat into the room without a making sound; closing the window silently behind himself.
            Sora takes a cursory glance around the barren room. On the right there’s a mattress and box spring covered with plain white sheets and a comforter, and next to it is a simple floor lamp. On the left is a hamper and closet with a sliding mirror door, which is already halfway open to reveal a small set of drawers inside. There are a couple articles of clothing on the floor.
            Roxas whispers, “My roommate is still up, but I’m going to put our wet clothes in the dryer.” He points to a corner. “The bathroom isn’t attached so we’ll have to change in here.”
            Sora winks, whispering, “Try not to stare,” before approaching the corner.
            Unable to hide his smile, Roxas rolls his eyes and walks over to his closet. He hears muffled footsteps in the hall and a door clicking as Axel goes into his own bedroom. The blond presumes that the older man will have a quick cigarette then go to bed, and once he starts his usual obnoxious snoring he and Sora will be fine to talk if they want to.
            Sora has already removed his jacket, so Roxas starts to take off his hoodie. In the closet mirror he inadvertently peeks as Sora, who is facing the mirror, starts to peel the shirt from his tan chest. Unbeknownst to the mortal, Sora is intentionally doing this very slowly, hoping to get Roxas’ attention… and it works. Against cold skin, Roxas feels his face searing with the reddest of blushes as Sora exposes a happy trail with a perfect V snaking into his jeans, which have barely slipped to reveal the dark line of his briefs. Then there’s the lean muscles of his abdomen, dampened from the rain, that reveal the vampire is incredibly fit. Roxas also takes note of Sora’s well-toned arms and barely manages to tear his eyes away as the brunet finishes shedding the top.
            “Made you look.” Sora coos gently from across the room, and somehow Roxas’ face burns even hotter.
            Roxas resists the urge to make a snappy comeback and waits until Sora has turned around to start taking his own clothes off. He ventures another glance in the mirror to see Sora’s back is just as attractive as his front, but quickly looks away again so as not to get caught a second time.
            Of all things, Roxas thinks, It had to be a hot guy in the rain, right?
            Meanwhile, Sora has tilted his head back in such a way that he himself can catch a glimpse of the blond in the mirror. Roxas has a skinny build with muscles that are just starting to become defined. His flesh is light, and the deep blush on his face is apparent against his fair skin. In the quiet of the room, Sora can distantly hear the sound of Roxas’ heart thumping rapidly and his mouth starts to water. He pushes the carnal thoughts away, but can’t help probing his tongue around his mouth for the lingering taste of Roxas’ blood. It’s been quite a long time since any blood he’s had was so savory, but he doesn’t want to ask for any more.
            I shouldn’t be a rude houseguest after all this.
            When the two are done changing, Roxas carefully rushes their clothes out to the dryer next to his room, which begins to moan and groan obnoxiously as it runs. When Roxas reenters, he locks the door and sighs.
            “There.” He says softly, moving toward his bed to snag a sheet and extra pillow off of it. “No need to worry about making too much noise. I have to go to bed but uh… make yourself comfortable I guess. There’s an outlet by the window near my closet if you need it.”
            “Thanks.”
            Roxas tosses the bedding to Sora, who catches it and places it by the aforementioned window. Roxas slides under the comforter, facing away from Sora, and snuggles into a comfortable ball under the heap of fluff. The brunet digs into his knapsack and unearths what looks like a rectangular piece of glass with a thin cord dangling from it. He settles down on the mass of bedding, plugging the cord into the outlet so it illuminates to reveal a phone screen. He unfortunately has a very expensive taste in technology, which has become quite problematic considering he’s constantly having to swap around phone plans any time his coven tracks down his new number. Yet he can’t bring himself to just get a cheap-o burner phone. He stares down at the illuminated rectangle, trying to this of something to do; the small amount of blood Roxas donated him gave him more energy than he realized, so he isn’t even slightly tired. He starts to idly flick his thumb across the screen, doing nothing in particular—he feels awkward just sitting in the room and isn’t sure how to pass the time.
            Meanwhile, although Roxas’ body is exhausted, he can’t bring himself to shut his eyes for longer than a blink. The light of the moon is still pouring into his room, and his mind is abuzz with the events of the night. Mostly he’s blown away with the fact that not a few feet from him is what fairy-tales describe as a bloodthirsty creature that skulks like a human in the daylight, but is ready to tear his throat out once the sun’s away and he’s asleep. That could partly explain the inability to keep his eyes shut…
            However, these fears are entirely irrational, especially considering that history has been aware of nightwalking creatures for many generations; spellcasters even longer. Although witchcraft has been present all throughout human history, there have been records of it as far back as King Arthur coming into power, with the most detailed accounts coming from Queen Aurora and Queen Snow White’s rule. All supernatural beings have experienced peaks and valleys of acceptance and discrimination, with the current climate representing a rising peak.
            Still, the concept just now seems to be finally settling upon him. He’s been wandering this city for almost a full year now, and it was only today that he had, not one but, two direct interactions with nightwalkers. Distantly, he hears the rumble of Axel’s audible snoring and feels some relief. Unable to quiet his mind, he gently flips himself under the covers and peeks over his comforter to look at Sora. He curiously watches the vampire for a long moment, wondering if he’s on his phone looking for a blood bank. In the moonlight and the glow of the phone, Roxas studies Sora’s eyes: they’re a blue not unlike his, but there’s something about them that’s... unnatural. The color is hypnotizing, and the irises almost seem to swirl like drifting whirlpools pulling him closer and closer toward the center. Thinking back, he remembers how eye contact was enough to pull him into the vampires “glamor”; wondering if the secret to the trick is in those supernatural eyes.
            Meanwhile, Sora wonders how long Roxas is going to stare at him before saying anything.
            As if sensing this, Roxas blinks rapidly out of his momentary stupor and brings himself to ask “Hey, Sora. How old are you?”
            Unable to hide the joy of being able to speak, Sora plops his phone down and happily turns his gaze toward Roxas. “Me? Well, if you count the years I was ‘alive’... 175.”
            “Wow! What age did you… you know…”
            “Die?” Sora interjects, unperturbed by the concept. “23. As you can imagine, I’ve spent 152 years being disliked.”
            Roxas chuckles lightly, “Good one. Um… how does it work anyway? Immortality I mean.”
            “Honestly? It’s still a very tricky subject. Nobody really knows… anytime my brothers and sisters—er, fellow vampires I mean—find an answer, something happens and sends things back to the drawing board.”
            Roxas was blown away by this. “Seriously? Even after all this time?”
            Sora nods solemnly, “We can predict, down to the millisecond, the death of a star. We have technology that goes above and beyond our comprehension. Yet we still do not know why a human dreams, or how a vampire can even exist. Our scientists are just as baffled as yours... probably even more, all things considered.”
            Roxas sits up, “Werewolves too?”
            “That’s right. Any immortal being is still partly an enigma to science for that reason.”
            “Wow. They never really taught us that in school.”
            “Probably ‘cause they didn’t want all their students running off and becoming immortal themselves. It’s like abstinence-only education, and that’s how you end up with teenage pregnancy or places like Dusk City having a nightwalker boom.”
            “I’m guessing that’s why you’re living in this city. It’s one of the few places nightwalkers are accepted.”
            Sora shrugs, “It’s a long story… the short version is that my friends came here about 50 years ago, and so did my family’s descendants, so I took it as a sign to come here too.” He rubs his neck, chuckling lightly. “You already met one of my friends.” Roxas ponders for a second before his mind flashes to the gnashing teeth of the silver-haired werewolf. His jaw drops, and Sora practically reads his mind. “Yep, that one. His name’s Riku and he’s been chasing me for a few months now.”
            Roxas throws the comforter back and scrambles down to sit on the floor across from the immortal man. “Seriously? Are you crazy?! Why not just leave the city if you're trying to get away from him?”
            This is an interesting game of 20 Questions. Sora thinks before further mulling the question over in his head.
            Honestly, Sora had thought about this himself many times while he'd gone looking for answers at the beach. Deep down inside he always had a strong intuition telling him exactly where he needed to be, like a basic instinct drawing him to any given destination. No matter how many times he tried to leave this damned city, something kept pulling him back. There is definitely something big about to happen, and he can feel it. Remembering being a disciple of Dracula and his mind starting to piece together imagery of his brother both began happening in this metropolis of monsters. Dusk City is the epicenter of something massive. Fifty years seems like an eternity of time for him to stay in one place, but it was building up to something.
            And now, there’s Roxas. For his entire unlife, Sora has looked into a countless number of eyes… and Roxas’ have a spark in them that are rarely seen in a mortal. There’s something waiting to be found there, and he can feel himself gravitating toward it.
            Finally, Sora answers, “Would you believe me if I said I was following my heart?” Roxas scowls at him, and Sora puts up his hands defensively. “Okay, hear me out. That’s why I wanted to talk to you today. Meeting you was the next huge thing to happen to me. I’ve been wandering this planet as a vampire for 152 years where not a single person or nightwalker has been able to resist my glamor since I fully mastered it—all except for three of my very dear friends, mind you. Then you waltz into the picture and you just so happen to be part of the Organization. Piled on top of all the other things happening to me, it’s gotta be a sign… this is historical levels of crazy coincidence.”
            Roxas has to give him that. Meeting Sora has also been the next amazing thing to happen to him after his arrival in the city, and the coincidence was indeed strange. Even Roxas can admit that his own heart feels strangely comfortable with the vampire, and none of his instincts are suggesting possible danger. Still, he doesn’t want to just let Sora completely win on intuition alone... he has to come up with some kind of leeway to balance this situation out.
            “Alright, how about this: I’ll help you avoid your werewolf friend… I’ll even keep giving you my blood if you want.” Sora does his best to stifle a hungry gulp at the words ‘my blood’. “However, don’t forget you’re still eternally indebted to me, even after that. What can you do for me that’s worth keeping you around?”
Sora grins, “Wanna hear about the time I was a pirate?”
            Roxas can’t hide his intrigue, “Wow, really?! Wait, wait. Huh. Well, maybe later… but what is in your vampire prowess that’s worth keeping you around?”
            Sora taps his chin, mentally building an interesting resume for the mortal. “As far as mind control goes, I’m basically a key to the city. I can find you the best drugs, get you into the best clubs, comp all your meals, get free rooms at all the luxury hotels… I also can get you any information you want.”
            This piques Roxas’ interest. “Any information? Can you find specific people in the city?”
            “Luckily for you, vampires take up most of the bureaucrats in the city so I don’t need mind control for that. I even know where the census bureau building is.”
             “Yes!” Roxas gasps, “Let’s go tomorrow—shit, wait… I can’t… I’m meeting the rest of the Organization this week.” He sighs. “But I do want to go with you. I need to.”
            “Well there’s a plus and a negative here. The negative is that I would go on my own but I don’t think the stunt I pulled with Riku will go over well if I run into him again. The plus is that one of the Organization members makes their bed near that area. Who have you met so far?” Roxas describes the current flock of members he knows, but Sora shakes his head at every single one. “That’s ten so far, right? That only leaves two, so it’s gotta be one of them. I’ll do some recon in the area with you from a distance to see what I can find.”
            “I’m just glad I’ve got somewhere to start. I don’t think the Organization has that kind of information, and nobody has been willing to give me any answers so far. Even Axel has been keeping me in the dark and he’s my best friend.”
            Sora is mostly just relieved that he can stay in Roxas’ company. Not only does it ensure safety for him, it also gives him time to study the blond and maybe even figure out what’s so special that destiny has brought them together.
            “Well Roxas! I’m glad to be of service, and I promise you we’ll get you that information.” He sticks his pinky finger out toward the blond, “Eternally indebted!”
            Roxas smiles, reaches out, and entwines their pinkies. “Eternally indebted.”
            “Now then, down to the other debts.” He releases their fingers, but grabs Roxas’ hand to pull him forward. “Let me take you out to thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
            There’s the heat in the face again…
            “Wait… Are you asking me on a date?”
            “Do you want it to be a date?”
            “I mean, you said comped meals and free hotels right?”
            Shit. I said that out loud.
            “For you?” Sora’s voice is low, and Roxas feels his gaze being pulled deep into those whirlpool eyes. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
            Roxas’ heart flutters, and he jerks his hand away, averting his gaze. “If…” He desperately searches his head for an excuse, “If your story about being a pirate is cool enough, then I’ll consider it.”
            Sora smirks maliciously, knowing he has this completely in the bag. He raises his pinky again, eager to shake on it.
            “Deal.”
            Roxas is wary of the mischievous look on the vampire’s face, and he reluctantly engages in the second pinky promise.
            “Deal.”
            “Have you heard of Captain Barbossa The Undying?”
            Roxas gapes, dropping his hand to the floor. “Get the fuck out.”
            “That’s right. Who do you think helped keep the legend alive? This one day, we were being hunted. I can still clearly feel the sea spray on my face... and through the crashing waves Barbossa yells, ‘Soooraaaaah! Hoyst tha colouuuurs!’ I looked to the horizon, and there was an enemy ship approaching: it’s after us. There was a bounty out on our heads, and it was kinda my fault... Anyway: all together, the crew shouts ‘Hoist the colours!’” He clutches at the air, squinting upward, “My eyes stung with salt, but I grabbed the rope, and I hoisted the colors, Jolly Roger flapping wildly in the wind—”
            “Wait,” Roxas interjects, “How can you remember all that even if it was so long ago?”
            Sora blinks and drops his hands, “I guess they don’t teach you that in school either. Once you become a vampire, you remember everything. Every little detail of every single moment, as long as you’re alive. That’s why we’re keepers of history… we can’t forget.”
            Roxas stares, completely unable to fathom the idea. “Absolutely everything? Even before you were a vampire?”
            “Well… not exactly… it’s hard to explain.”
            “How about this,” Roxas says, as he shifts to sit a little closer. “Tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”
            Eyes wide, Sora responds, “What? Are you sure? It’s a really long story.”
            “And if it’s a really interesting one, I’ll let you take me out tomorrow night.” He smirks, “So lay it on me, mister ‘keeper-of-history’.”
            Sora grins, “Alright, you asked for it. The first thing I remember…”
Exeunt

A/N: Roxas is forever my tsundere waifu!!!
Anyway. Hi. This story is cursed. I swear. Every time I try to pick it back up, something bad happens. I’m not comfortable sharing the details, but I’ll tell you there’s been a lot of terminal illness, death, and cheating exes. It’s fucking bizarre.
I thought I might never finish The Night, and I gave up… but then it started to haunt me. It all started after I got a Kingdom Hearts tattoo. I started to have dreams about this fanfiction, and oftentimes I would randomly come up with things to add. Recently, it’s been a nonstop torrent of brainstorming and if I don’t get my thoughts down I go into panic mode. I read Dracula two more times and I now have three annotated copies of it. I realized if I can finish this goddamn fanfiction then maybe I can finally start writing an actual fucking original novel. I don’t want to be on my death bed with this story still floating around my head, demanding to be written.
In summary, I should not be this invested in a damn fan fiction… but here we are. Womp womp.
As I’m writing this, Kingdom Hearts I.5 and II.5 was just released on PS4 in celebration of it’s 15th year anniversary. I refuse to let this fanfiction become a decade old! I’ve decided I’ll let myself get my next tattoo ONLY IF I complete this monstrosity. The rest of the chapters will be posted every two weeks. Copies of it will be posted to Archive of Our Own, tumblr, AFF.net, and wherever else I can upload it. I don’t know if the wait will have been worth it, but damn it, I’m going to at least try.
References and Inspirations:
- 1: Dracula, chapter XIII.
- 2: From Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- It probably goes without saying that the vampire lore in this story has almost exclusively come from Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with my own tweaks.
- The term “nightwalker” comes from the anime Nightwalker: The Midnight Detective, one of my all-time favorite animes and one of the biggest inspirations for The Night (and Things That Kill in the Night, where Shido makes an appearance.)
- Werewolves are based mainly off of those featured in the MtG set Innistrad.
- почемучка (Pochemuchka) is the Russian word for “why”, but it’s also used to refer to “a person that asks too many questions.” It seemed fitting for this chapter and my unexpected hiatus…
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Happy Halloween!
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Please favorite, follow, and review! I will also happily take positive constructive criticism! I am always looking to improve my writing. Thank you!
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The Night