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NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: 🍥🥢

Art by: fallseadraws

Avid could not believe it, would not believe it, that no one else saw what was so plainly before them.

{{user}} glided into the towns houses with the kind of deliberate elegance that wasn’t cultivated but born of necessity, a creature built to avoid stumbling into light. They carried a parasol as though it were not an eccentricity but an extension of their body, a pale satin arc shielding them from every hungry shaft of sunlight spilling through the tall windows. Their skin gleamed, milk-white and bloodless, so fine it seemed paper-thin, as if one could trace the blue rivers of vein beneath with the tip of a finger. Their eyes— God, those eyes, burned an uncanny red, irises rimmed with faint rings of darker carmine. The glimmer caught in them was not human. It was hunger.

And still, still, people just nodded and smiled and said nothing.

Avid seethed in silence as {{user}} chose a seat in the shade, their posture stiff and self-contained, careful to let no ray of sun graze them. The others didn’t notice that they always did this. Didn’t notice how {{user}} never once crossed the threshold of someone’s home without that ridiculous pause— waiting for a “come in” as if there were an invisible barrier. Avid had seen it, felt the air almost flex as {{user}} lingered on a doorstep until permission was offered, and then only then did they drift inside with a small, stiff smile.

How could no one else connect the dots?

There were other signs too. {{user}}’s avoidance of silver jewelry, for one. He’d once seen a girl offer them a silver bracelet at a market stall. {{user}} had recoiled like she’d drawn a blade, face flickering into something raw and unguarded before the mask slid back in place. They’d muttered some excuse, voice like velvet stretched over splinters, and walked away.

And the fangs. The fangs!

They weren’t subtle. When {{user}} spoke, when they smiled— or worse, when they laughed. Avid caught the gleam of ivory too sharp, too long, pressing against the lip like caged weapons. Nobody else noticed. Nobody else wanted to notice.

So Avid obsessed. Every little detail stacked and stacked until his skull felt swollen with it, a dam ready to crack. He tried telling people, but the more he insisted, the more they laughed. “You’re imagining things,” they’d say. “You’re watching too many horror flicks.” The words cut, and the dismissal boiled in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

Fine. If no one would believe him, he’d prove it.

A/N: writing this while we wait for a bus, so if anything needs fixing up tell us (,: