Chapter Text
Another night, and still no glimpse of a blood-sucking, throat-ripping, white-haired vampire. Only the forest - vast, breathless, and hungry, pressing in around him. The wind hissed through the trees like it carried secrets meant for sharper ears than his.
Avid told himself, again, that this was better. Better to be alone than scorned by those he once trusted. Those who couldn’t even stand up for him against Owen. He choaked out the lie into the darkness, hoping it might sound true if spoken aloud.
But it didn’t.
If there really had been a massacre in that “castle,” someone would have said something. Someone would have warned him. Surely, he would have heard the rumours carried on the tongues of travellers, or the scribbles of historians, or even the slightest rumour from a drunken patron of some pub he once frequented. Right?
And yet the woods remained silent. Too silent. Except for the distant, hungry wail of something that was not the wind. Avid needed shelter - somewhere warm, somewhere he could breathe, somewhere the night couldn’t keep whispering at the back of his skull. But shelter meant nothing if his stomach kept clawing at him from the inside. He needed food. Real food.
He was starving.
He used to think that feeling would dull eventually, that his body would grow numb to the emptiness. But it hadn’t. If anything, the hunger had sharpened becoming something feral, restless, almost intelligent. Like a living thing gnawing its way up his ribs.
He fumbled with the little pouch at his belt and yanked out a bulb of garlic.
A bitter comfort.
A human comfort.
He tore into it with trembling teeth, trying not to gag as the acrid burn coated his mouth. Half of what he’d collected was gone now, his one life saving food source reduced to shrivelled scraps.
And still - nothing. No relief. The gnawing only grew louder. Angrier. Hungry. Gods, he was so hungry.
Avid pressed a shaking hand to his sternum as if he could quiet the hunger by force. His knees buckled, and he leaned hard against a tree. The bark dug into his palm, grounding him for a fleeting second. Cold air seared his lungs. His breath came out in ragged, pained, hacks.
The forest around him seemed to pulse. Not with wind. Not with life. But with him. The frantic thump of his heartbeat echoing through the night like a warning. He needed to move. If he stayed still, the hunger would tear him apart from the inside.
He pushed himself forward, stumbling over roots and dragging his feet through frost-bitten undergrowth. The woods felt unfamiliar tonight sharper, louder, predatory. Every shadow watched him. Every sound curled into his bones.
Then, Something hit him. Not a scent. Not a sound. A pull. A warmth in the distance, spreading through the cold like spilled blood.
Avid froze. His breath hitched painfully.
He shouldn’t be able to feel something like that. He knew he shouldn’t. But the warmth called to him, throbbing at the edge of his senses with a rhythm that matched his own heartbeat, beat for beat. His chest tightened. The hunger surged viciously, twisting up his throat like a scream. Before he realized what he was doing, he followed.
Branches snapped under his feet. Trees blurred past in a smear of shadow. His fingers curled uselessly at his sides, bitten-down nails digging into his palms. The warmth grew stronger.
Closer... Alive?
He stumbled down a shallow ridge, catching himself on his hands. Dirt packed beneath his nails. He didn’t even feel the pain. All he felt was heat, radiant and agonizing, like the promise of salvation just out of reach.
Then it hit him. The smell.
Warm. Thick. And Metallic.
His entire body shuddered.
Avid’s mouth flooded with saliva so suddenly he gagged. His vision haloed red around the edges. Tears streamed hot down his face not from pain, but from desperation.
He was terrified. And he couldn’t stop.
The thing inside him - the hunger, the instinct, the monster dragged him onward.
He pushed through the last curtain of trees, breath breaking in his chest.
There, moving slowly in the clearing was something large, alive, unaware.
A heartbeat thrummed through the air. Avid swayed, gripping a tree trunk to keep himself upright. His heart pounded so loud it drowned out every thought except one:
Eat.
He couldn’t remember when the world tipped sideways. One moment he was in the trees, breath trembling out of him in short, white bursts the next, everything smeared together like wet paint.
His own heartbeat pounding too loudly in his skull. Shapes moved around him. Branches? shadows? — Stretching and shrinking like they were breathing. His vision pulsed in and out of focus, the edges tunnelling, then widening, then tunnelling again.
He stumbled. Or fell. Or maybe he floated his body felt too light, too distant, like it wasn’t really connected to him anymore.
Just noise.
Footsteps?
No. his own heartbeat?
No. something else.
He couldn’t tell.
His lungs dragged in air that didn’t feel like it was reaching him. His fingers tingled, numb and buzzing all at once. Every sound felt both far away and painfully close. The world kept flickering, like he was blinking without actually closing his eyes.
Something warm brushed against his senses faint, steady, rhythmic.
A heartbeat? He didn’t know. He didn’t care.
He needed… something. Anything to make the ache in his chest stop.
Then everything dissolved again.
A flash of movement. A thud under his hands. A low, frightened noise maybe from the animal, maybe from him. The scene kept ripping apart and reforming, pieces missing, pieces wrong.
He tried to speak, tried to beg, cry, anything! But the words tangled in his throat. Maybe he said nothing at all. Maybe he screamed. It all sounded the same in the static filling his ears.
He didn’t remember grabbing at anything. He didn’t remember forcing anything down. He didn’t remember the moment the struggle stilled.
Just… quiet.
Cold, deafening, quiet.
When the world finally steadied, for the first time in what felt like hours, Avid blinked slowly and the clearing returned to him in fragments.
The cow lay on its side beneath him, unmoving. Its breath was gone. Its warmth was not.
Avid sat over it, knees in the cold dirt, hands resting uselessly on his thighs as he stared at the animal with wide, unfocused eyes. His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. Slow now, heavy, echoing strangely in his chest.
He didn’t remember what he’d done.
Not clearly. Only the panic. Only the need. Only the world going dark and sharp all at once. He swallowed, throat tight, and tried to breathe.
The cow didn’t move. Avid didn’t either.
He just sat there, trembling, staring, waiting for the rest of him to catch up with what had happened.
Avid didn’t know how long he sat in the cold dirt, staring at nothing, mind splintered.
Then, a twig snapped.
Avid froze, breath catching in his throat. By instinct, he ran. Not thinking where he was going nor why. He just ran. Eventually landing himself inside one of them many tombs scattered around Oakhurst and its cursed lands.
The tomb felt like it was shrinking with every inhale. His thoughts were slipping again, too fast, too tangled.
He hadn’t heard Scott enter. No one ever did. One moment the tomb was empty save for Avid’s shaking breaths, the next the air shifted. Subtle, cold, predatory. A faint scrape, like bone against stone, whispered from the far corner, followed by the slow, deliberate sound of someone stepping out of a place no living thing could’ve stood. Scott emerged from the darkness behind an ancient sarcophagus, as if he’d been woven out of its shadow, pale hair catching the torchlight in a way that made it seem less like hair and more like frost. His eyes reflected back a dim, animal shine. He looked wrong in the tomb. Too still. Too quiet. Too knowing. And yet he wore that familiar, irritated expression, as though watching Avid fall apart was more inconvenient than concerning.
“Oh my gods,” Scott muttered. “You’re doing it again.”
Avid’s voice cracked. “Doing what?”
“The whole...” Scott made a wide, mocking gesture with his hand, “...hyperventilating, rambling, collapsing thing. It’s exhausting. For me.”
“I hate you,” Avid rasped, fingers trembling against cold stone. “I really, truly hate you.”
“Well, that’s mutual.” Scott pushed off the wall, stepping closer with a slow, irritated prowl. “But if you’re going to keep falling apart, at least do it coherently.”
“I-I can’t- you don’t-” Avid swallowed hard, throat tight. “Why does it matter to you what I did? Why follow me here? Why not just… leave?”
Scott’s expression sharpened.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” he said flatly. “You think you get to walk off after I catch you gnawing on livestock like some kind of back-alley feral.”
Avid flinched. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”
“Save it.” Scott stepped forward again, too fast for Avid to recoil. He grabbed a fistful of Avid’s shirt and hauled him upright, slamming him back against the cold stone pillar.
Avid gasped, the breath knocked out of him.
Scott leaned in close, fangs visible now, not threateningly, more like he’d lost patience with pretending he was harmless.
“You’re not allowed to leave now... Not after that.”
The vampire snarled, gripping onto Avid’s stained shirt.
Avid’s heart stuttered violently.
Scott’s eyes glowed with something furious and cold, not pity, not concern, just a razor-sharp possessiveness born entirely from annoyance and low expectations.
“You think,” Scott said through gritted teeth, “that I’m going to let you stumble around the woods leaving crime scenes everywhere? Absolutely not. If anyone’s going to figure out what sort of disaster you’re becoming, it’s me. Because clearly you can’t be trusted not to eat the entire countryside.”
“I DIDN’T- ” Avid’s voice cracked in humiliation and rage. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t even remember-”
“Yeah. That’s the concerning part.” Scott gave him a small, irritated shake. “Blackouts? Starving? Acting like a kicked dog? You’re either dying or turning into something incredibly inconvenient, and either way I am not letting you wander off and make it worse.”
“I don’t want your help,” Avid hissed.
Scott’s lip curled. “I didn’t offer.”
Avid shoved weakly at his chest, but Scott didn’t budge. His own breaths were spiraling again, fast and shallow, panic clawing up his throat. His knees trembled so violently Scott had to brace him by the shoulder to keep him from collapsing.
“Oh for the love of... Avid, breathe,” Scott snapped, like he was yelling at a misbehaving dog. “I’m not picking you up if you faint.”
Avid’s breaths came sharper now, jittery, almost painful. “Let go,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Scott-! just let me go!!”
Scott’s grip tightened.
“No,” he said, voice low with dangerous finality. “You’re stuck with me now. So stop shaking and tell me what the hell is happening to you.”
Avid’s vision shimmered, hot and prickling. He hated this- no, hated Scott, hated the tomb, hated everything. The words spilled out of him in a broken rush, too much, too fast.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Avid finally choked. “I’m starving all the time, and I can’t sleep, and I feel sick, and everything hurts, and I’m scared and I- I blacked out and I didn’t mean to.. I didn’t do anything on purpose, I swear, I swear-!”
Scott stared at him.
For the first time all night, some of the cruelty slipped from his expression. Not gone. Just… eased.
“Great,” Scott muttered. “Fantastic. You’re turning into something and you don’t even know what.”
Avid’s breathing hitched again.
“Scott-”
“Don’t.” Scott released him abruptly, stepping back. “Don’t look at me like I’m your therapist. I’m just the unlucky bastard stuck dealing with you.”
Avid slid down the pillar, shaking all over, breath ragged. He didn’t look at Scott. Couldn’t.
Scott ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Okay,” he said. “Fine. We’ll figure this out.”
Avid scoffed bitterly, wiping his face with a trembling hand. “We?”
Scott rolled his eyes dramatically. “Unfortunately.”
And then, softer, but only barely:
“You’re not allowed to fall apart again. I am severely underqualified for this.”
Avid glared up at him.
“I still hate you.”
Scott smirked. “Good. That means you’re still you.”