Certain things become familiar after sometime. Before, echoes and silence and murmuring of people on the street below was what kept me company for so long. Now, heavier footsteps and art projects that filled a room and breathy giggles at early hours of the day followed by  hot breath, tongue drags, and extra body heat between thighs. The hallways and rooms no longer had an endless emptiness to them as Tao left behind sunlight where ever he went. The furniture was imprinted and stained with coffee rings where he worked, my clothes became heavy with his scent where he rested limbs over my body after pulling all nighters. His weight suddenly a natural occurrence in bed and the only way I could sleep knowing in the morning I’ll wake up to the clattering of some new project he found on the internet that he wanted to try (he favored the projects done by some small girl and her friend located somewhere in California). Decades, nearly a century of finding comfort in solitude was obliterated so easily, wiped away by Tao with a gentle caress between heavy kisses and marked up skin. Where I had once wished on whoever would listen that he may never appear before me again, that I may never become responsible for the teaching of another sick being other than myself, I now couldn’t imagine life without him being ever present. On nights he had to travel out for exhibitions and shows I hid large hoodies that smelled like his skin and cigarettes that he always tried to quit, falling asleep with them wrapped tightly around me. It took me longer to wash away the oil pastel stains left on my skin by his hands, sticking to me so I wouldn’t forget while he was gone.

A year passed like this, the receptionist stopped responding to his innocent flirtations and the security at the door stopped questioning who he was coming to see and hardly looked up when a tall, lean figured barely touched the door for it to swing open and glide over the cold tiled flooring. Though the mornings usual consisted of arguing over whether or not we were really lesser for our illness (he insists that we aren’t any different than those who were not sick like us, but I can’t help but think there must be something if we’re the ones under secret government experimentation). Otherwise, the days went by quicker and in a way I felt fuller than I had in a very long time.

It was a Wednesday, lost somewhere between a lap in my mouth and a grind, he mentioned meeting someone while on a trip.

"He’s pretty cool, does really nice work."

"Do you like him?" I couldn’t hide the drippings of jealousy that spread over my words. Tao propped up on his elbows, holding my face between ringed hands gently.

"He just left his girlfriend, he’s hardly ready to jump into another relationship. He’s not really my type anyway. Don’t worry about it." he kept mumbling between kisses. "Don’t worry about it. It’s just a collaboration piece."

So he wasn’t around as much. I’d stop by every other day and the boy he was working with would encourage me to come by more often, saying he wanted to hear what I thought of certain ideas.

"You know a lot about art. Actually, you know a lot about a lot of things," his deep voice filled the space even when he tried to keep it low as not to distract Tao. "I think you can give good criticism on it." 

His name was Chanyeol. Over six feet of limbs everywhere at once. His hair was always covered by some different hat in what seemed an endless collection and a smile too large for the average face was plastered on his at all times. He usually got yelled at trying to hide Tao’s cigarettes or at least make it harder for him to get into. He was friendly though, always available when help was needed and sometimes said things profound when he never meant to. He wasn’t particularly bright, but he could express a lot in an art piece, which seemed to be enough for him. It made me a little uncomfortable, having someone not sick, not in our position around all the time. It was scary thinking that at any moment we could easily rip him apart, drain him completely of every drop of blood that pumped through his body and never be caught for it and he had no idea. He played around with us and acted completely calm when he would cut himself on knives and glass and larger, sharper equipment while I had to rub circles into Tao’s back to keep him calm and collected. He’s not as practiced as I am. Tao was used to hanging around humans, used to faking it, though history has shown he has a bad habit of revealing his vampiric nature once he was comfortable with someone and there was no way of knowing Chanyeol would be accepting of the fact we both feed of people’s blood not even to survive but to avoid symptoms of an illness that has been the center of twisted pop culture either romanticizing our “loss of humanity” or making us out to be horrifying monsters ready to kill anyone for fun at any time (a more accurate comparison though again pushes the loss of humanity. I can assure you we feel guilt).

He also had a bad habit of walking into places without checking if it was occupied first. He’s walked in on us a few times and, though we never really got far along to begin with, it was enough to turn his ears red and bow out with a sheepish look. Chanyeol appeared at the apartment often as well, leaving at early hours with sketches and lists of items needed for the next step of their work. I would be lying if I said I knew what they were working on, to be completely honest I have no idea what it is when I look at it. Some pieces or it look sharp and I always get a little anxious when either of them are balancing near one trying to paint or attach a part to the work. Tonight I had walked down to the studio they were working in, sitting outside away from Tao’s music and Chanyeol’s endless talking. The nights were warmer, jackets an unnecessary burden to wear if you’re going to be moving around. Sometimes I missed my family on these nights, remembering having to watch them die out one by one over time as I stayed exactly how I was, hiding from them and pretending I wanted nothing to do with them. The only person I ever visited at their death bed was my mother, and I had insisted she tell no one I was coming and was alone when I did. I insisted that I will only come this once. She was the only person to ever know about me, what I had become, about what ailed me and turned me into the creatures of lore and novels. She asked me to end her life, asked me to drain her so I can be with her only child before she goes. I agreed, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her she had a blood type that wasn’t of my taste and I would never forgive myself of letting her have an ending at the hands of a bloodthirsty monster than of a natural death she deserved. I unplugged her life support and held her wrist at an angle so she couldn’t see me not doing as she asked. Her last words were a reflection of how painless getting blood drank seemed, why did movies and stories always make them seem painful? 

That was almost fifty years ago and sometimes wonder if she knew I never fulfilled her wish. There was shouting in the studio, which was normal, they often fought over where a part should be in their strange painting/sculpture combo. The shouting kept going though. For a moment I could hear Chanyeol say Tao was “just like her.” I tried to listen over the music for the rest of the statement. There were a few beats of silence before a loud snarl was heard and the music stopped abruptly. The snarl was from Tao and it was clear it was the kind made when you cross someone’s territory, either during a feed or you belonged to some other colony. Panic rushed through my nerves as I stumbled over my feet to push the door open, the last thing I see is Tao leaving ribbons of blood on Chanyeol’s cheek before being pushed into one of the protruding pieces of the art. Tao gasped breathlessly as Chanyeol clocked in the jaw and pushed Tao further down the piece until it ripped through his chest. Radio buzz filled my head as whatever grip I had over myself slipped away. I can’t quite remember what I did, but where one moment I was staring at Tao, impaled and panicking, the next I had Chanyeol under me with a grip on his throat, nails digging into the skin.

"You’re the same, right?" he croaked out, managing some look of satisfaction. "ing bloodsucking ." half of my attention was lost to Tao’s deep and desperate gasps for air.

"Is this what you wanted?"

"What?" he spat. "To kill your buddy? He isn’t the first one, don’t think he’s so special. You’re probably only upset because he won’t be able to you. He’s gonna be dead! You can do what you want with him!" his breath caught as soon as I tightened my grip.

"Don’t you ing dare suggest a thing like that." he tried his best to laugh but only small huffs of air came out. He tried to swing an arm at my face but instinct grabbed it and twisted until a snap a cry rang out. The broken arm fell limply onto the floor as his other hand tightened over my wrist. "Is there anything you want to say before you go." if there was, he had no air to say it with. His face was turning blue but the mockery and pride still shown in his eyes. I was sick of it. I dug my nails in until my fingers began to slip under the skin and ripped out his throat. Not so much as a sound came out of him, he just laid there staring blankly at th ceiling above him.

I rose and dashed over to Tao, who’s breathing grew weaker. I lifted his head, apologizing under my breath for getting blood on him. Tears streaked his face with his own torrent of apologies.

"I shouldn’t have said anything. He said his girlfriend had been sick and all of her symptoms sounded the same as ours. I thought-" he in air through his teeth as I wrapped my arms around him and started pulling him off the piece. He began hitting my arm, repeating stop over and over.

"I need to get you off."

"No, it’s better if I stay put."

"Tao, you need to get off the ing-"

"Stop crying." I hadn’t noticed my gross sniveling and the sob chipping away at my voice. But he did. Of course he did. He always did. "Stop. Lu, listen. I’m gonna be okay. You can’t save me, you have to go." I started shaking my head violently.

"No. Nonononono. I’m not leaving, I’m getting help-"

"So what?" he was exhausted. "They can see we’re both sick and take you? I won’t live but I can’t let them use you for the search immortality, what kind of-" he winced as he shifted a bit. "what kind of ty boyfriend would allow that." I shook my head again. He was growing impatient.

"Why won’t you ing go!"

"Because I promised you I wouldn’t leave you." Tao just stared at me, struggling with every inhale. I took his phone, full of mystery and confusion so long ago, and dialed the police. I answered what I could, Tao whispering what I didn’t know. He gave up fighting me on the subject. 

There’s a special word for vampires that government officials know. They use it when it’s clearly a crime committed by one of us. Technically we are not supposed to know about it, but there is always a spy in any group of people and if the price is right they will be more than happy to tell you everything you want to know. It spread quickly, now it’s one of the basic things you learn in case you ever get in a situation where a case is violent enough to get you landed in the public eye. All I had to do was say it. The operator went silent for a while and Tao had gone back to slumping his head down, concentrating on trying to keep breathing. She said they sent a car out and hung up. There was probably a whole secret team coming out with an over the top arsenal and scientists and medical doctors sitting in the back all hyped up like school children over the idea of new subjects. 

I threw the phone to the floor and shifted to Tao’s side, wrapping my arms around him and pressing his head to my shoulder. I stayed in this position even after his breathing finally stopped.