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The sky was clear, and Mason was worried sick. The day had been perfect, the night was peaceful in a way it had never been before, but Mason couldn't even bring himself to sleep.
Ptolemy was missing.
Missing, as in, radio silence missing. Missing as in, he hadn't even left Mason a gift on his doorstep, like he usually did when he went MIA.
Missing as in, Mason hadn't seen heads or tails of him in weeks.
Mason couldn't help but worry.
Had Ptolemy been caught? Taken? Had he been eating properly? Was he safe? Was he thinking of Mason? What was he doing?
The worry was driving him mad.
His pacing was rubbing a hole into his carpet, but he couldn't care less. When would his lover come back to him? When would he see him again?
…would he ever see him again?
Would he ever again see those beautiful eyes? That sharp smile? The slight dimples on his cheeks that only appeared when he smiled with his full face?
Would he ever again hear his smooth voice? The way his voice went high pitched when he was embarrassed?
What if Ptolemy was dead somewhere? What if he ran away? What if-
There was a knock at the door.
Relief flooded Masons body, moving through his skin to his bones to his veins. It had to be Ptolemy. It just had to be.
His feet were faster than his mind was, and he swung open the door to see his lover standing there. He looked run ragged. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot.
He looked wild.
But Mason didn't care. That didn't matter. What mattered was that his Ptolemy had finally returned to him. That was all he cared about. That Ptolemy was alive.
"Ptolemy? Oh thank God you're ok-"
"I'm hungry." Ptolemy said with a voice that was so much sharper, so much deeper than it usually was. Mason took a half-step back, his brow furrowing.
"What-? Pto, I don't want to play around like that right now–" He reached for his lover.
"I'm. Hungry." Ptolemy said with a growl. Masons hand flinched back before it even passed the threshold of the door.
"I'm so terribly hungry. Won't you let me in?"
Mason sighed, frustration creeping in on him. "Pto, you're always allowed inside. You know that, righ–"
Ptolemy was in him before he could even finish, going straight for Mason's neck and mouthing at it.
"…Oh." Mason chuckled, wrapping his arms around the taller man. "You must be really hungry, huh? You've never done this befORe-!"
Ptolemy bit down on Masons neck, on the very same spot he always did, reopening the scars.
Mason groaned.
"Well.." He grunted. "That's alright. Drink all you-"
Ptolemy bit down harder. Blood gushed out of the bitemark, welling up in little pools.
"Wait-! Pto, too hard, too hard–!" Mason tried pushing the vampire off, tried hitting him, yelling at him. Ptolemy only bit down harder.
Mason struggled. Ptolemy– he never bit this hard. Ever. It hurt so much, it felt like he was lit aflame. His nerves screamed.
Mason struggled as much as he could in the vampires hold. "Ptolemy! Stop! please-!" He tried begging until his voice went hoarse, but as the minutes ticked by, he could feel his energy leaving him. His hits were slow and soft. He couldn't do this for much longer.
His eyes felt so heavy…
Maybe..maybe he could just close them, for a little. Ptolemy had to stop eventually, right?
…Right?
"Ptolemy…" He said, trying so hard to fight the exhaustion. "..why?"
His eyes slipped closed against his will before he could get an answer.
———————————-
Masons body dropped to the floor with an unceremonious thump.
Ptolemy stepped back, putting his arms around his body to stop the shaking. The taste of his Masons blood, usually so sweet and delicious, tasted like tangy ash on his tongue. He tried to spit it out.
He needed to spit it out. It coated every surface of his mouth, every wall, every taste bud. It was like silk, a film he couldn't rid no matter how hard he tried.
He spat nothing onto the ground. The taste didn't fade. The feeling didn't either.
He'd just…he'd just been so hungry…
Shamefully, he forced himself to look at Masons body. Twin rivers of blood ran from the holes on Masons neck. There was so much of it. So, so much of it. It ran down from his neck, to his chest, disappearing from view underneath his shirt.
It ran so far, Ptolemy could see rivers or red on Masons fingers.
He took a shaky step forward. Masons chest moved slowly up and down, as if he was peacefully asleep, and not laying in a small pool of his own blood.
He was still breathing. Shallow, scary breaths, but he was still breathing. Ptolemy needed to act, needed to get him help before he died–
Ptolemy's feet sounded like drums as he ran.
He ran in the rain that had only just begun moments ago, yet was pouring down with large droplets of rain that hurt the vampires skin as they landed. His back still hurt from where Mason had hit him, over and over and over and over and over–
Yet still he ran. Ran away from Masons building, away from Masons apartment, away from Mason. Away from the love of his life who was dying alone.
Running away to that stupid hold he called home like a coward.
Ptolemy's tears mixed with the rain falling down his face. Why couldn't he do anything right? Why couldn't he be good? Why couldn't he keep his promises?
Was he that much of a failure?
He promised to keep Mason safe, and he failed.
He was pathetic. Pathetic as he cried with the clouds in the sky. Pathetic as his footsteps mixed with the singing of the rain to create a terrible cacophony. Pathetic as he ran back home, leaving Mason to die.
He'd only wanted to keep Mason safe, and happy, and healthy. That's all he ever wanted. That's it.
Such a simple task, and he couldn't do it.
What a pathetic, dangerous, failure he was.