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Hange pushed their glasses up further on their nose, giving their companion a judgemental stare over the book they were reading. "I still think you're just speculating too seriously, Erwin. It's wishful thinking."

An ornate lamp dimly lit the brunet's library, hidden in their attic, away from prying eyes. It threw light on the nearest bookshelf, enough to see the titles of dusty old tomes, and was perfect lighting to see the pages of the novella in their hands. They were curled up in a bright pink bean bag, while their tidy blond friend opted to stretch across an old loveseat. The book in his hands read, Creatures of the Night, Volume 4: Lurking. It was one he'd read and re-read many times, and Hange merely roller their eyes and returned to their novella. They missed the insisting stare the large blond gave them in response.

"Wishful, Hange? Why would I wish for it?"

"Face it, Erwin, you're a nut. You live for that theory. I bet you'd chop off your right leg just to meet a real vampire."

He ignored that comment, knowing full well he really would. "Just look at the facts, Hange. Especially these recent cases - they're a dead giveaway."

Hange shook their head, heaving an exasperated sigh. "I'll agree when you find a real one and introduce us. Until then, you're crazy."

"When I was little - " Erwin began, but Hange cut him off.

"Yes, yes, Erwin. You've told me a thousand times all about the supposed vampire of your past." Hange rolled their eyes. "It was probably a fever dream, caused by the heat of the fire. Hell, it could have been a vampire, but that was over twenty years ago, Erwin. We were so certain they were extinct then; they definitely are now."

"I'm not crazy," Erwin grumbled.

He could see it like it was yesterday. The pale, ivory skin, the long, jet-black locks, the horrifying red irises that matched the crimson dripping from thin lips. The heat that consumed him as that monster brought him to safety. So muddled, even at the time, only clouded more with age, but he remembered those details clearly.

"Hopeful, perhaps. Speculating, definitely. But crazy? Far from it." Erwin sighed, leaning against the armrest and threading his fingers through his hair. "I just want answers, Hange."

"You have answers," Hange responded dully.

"It just seems like there's so much missing from the stories," Erwin pressed. "We have such little information on those creatures. There has to be more to it. To them. Don't you want to learn more?"

"I did," Hange said, "but it's impossible. They're all dead, vampires and war heroes alike. Any documents that may have existed on them have long since perished."

"But isn't it possible something survived?" Erwin tried. "Books like these - " He held up the one he'd been reading. " - had to have gotten their information from somewhere. Couldn't someone or something have slipped through the cracks and survived all this time?"

"For 200 years?" Hange scoffed. "Get real, Erwin. We'd have noticed them by now, and I mean more than your childhood fantasies."

That one stung, but Erwin would not be deterred. "Unless we've severely underestimated them," he argued. "There are traces of them. We have noticed. People have just dismissed them."

"Possible traces, Erwin. It's possible there are still vampires - a tiny, practically miniscule possibility. It's far from plausible."

Silence took over after their words. Erwin knew he would get nowhere with them. As open and excited as Hange was with nearly everything, for some unknown reason, vampires were the exception. They were completely against his theories, totally convinced it was all bogus. Erwin never understood why such an open, accepting person would close off so dispassionately at the mention of a myth. Erwin's theories ranged from the possibility of them being bored, to speculation about their mysterious, unspoken past.

Whatever the reason, he didn't think he'd ever know or convince them. The duo talked about it all the time, and the results never changed. So, instead of pressing the matter, he returned to his book, and their nightly reading ritual resumed.

He knew he wasn't crazy. He'd always known his encounter with that vampire was real, and not a figment of a young, traumatized imagination. Hange didn't have to believe him. They didn't know what they were talking about.

Erwin knew. He'd known since that fateful day.

"Erwin, where are you?! Erwin!"

He could hear his father's screams, begging, pleading his son to come out, to show up so he could save his child from the flames. But Erwin was preoccupied; even with the flames surrounding him, the heat licking at his skin and blistering his feet, he couldn't take his eyes off the woman before him.

She was beautiful, even as the blood dripped down her chin and stained the lacy white collar of her dress, even as he realized that was his mother's blood, even as he saw her grotesque corpse slumped on the floor. The woman was breathtaking.

"You monster! Give me back my son! Erwin!"

"Erwin," the woman breathed, her voice like an audible representation of the night, of the winking stars and the ethereal light the moon cast over the land. "I bet you're a wonderful son, Erwin."

"What is your son like?" little Erwin asked the beautiful woman, and pain flashed in her eyes.

"I don't have one. Would you like to be my son?"

"Sure," Erwin told her, and she smiled, scooping him up in her arms.

"Then let's go home," she said softly.

Erwin nodded numbly, unable to take his eyes off her face as she navigated the burning home. But before she could reach the exit, there was a cry of outrage, and his father appeared from seemingly nowhere, barreling into the woman and sending his son tumbling from her arms.

Like that, the spell had broken, and all Erwin knew to do was run.

"Erwin?"

Hange was staring down at him in concern.

"You were talking in your sleep."

"I was dreaming."

"What was it about?" they asked. "Same as always?"

"Yeah," Erwin said, furrowing his eyebrows. "And I still can't remember."

.-.-.-.-.

The sign of the nightclub was dim, and flickered slightly overhead. The bouncer gave Erwin and his friends a friendly farewell as they exited the building, laughing and joking, his scraggly buddy Nile hanging on two others' shoulders for support.

"Pixis has Nile's car covered," Mike said, pointing at the poor mess hobbling into the cab. "He'll make sure it doesn't get towed overnight and he can get it in the morning."

"That's good of him," Erwin replied, eyebrows furrowing in concern at his large friend's pink cheeks. "And you?"

"I got a cab here to make sure," Mike reassured him. He sure was talktative under the influence, Erwin noted. "Are you sure you don't want a ride with me?"

"Oh, no," Erwin told him hastily. "I'm sober enough to walk two blocks."

"If you're sure. Be careful on the way home, Erwin. I'll see you Monday."

"You too. See you Monday."

And with that, they parted ways, a taxi pulling up beside Mike as Erwin rounded the corner.

He pulled his windbreaker up slightly, ducking his head in the warm fabric to hide his lower face from the harsh, cold wind. It didn't help as much as he'd hoped, but he fought against the elements still. Clouds swirled overhead, and he hoped it wouldn't start snowing before he reached his apartment. At least the light buzz of alcohol attempted to keep his nose and ears warm, for which he was thankful.

It was dark and the street was mostly deserted, but Erwin had walked this area many times and was used to the silence. So, naturally, when a moan of pain reached his ears from a narrow gap between buildings, he had to go investigate.

The blond backtracked a few steps, peering wearily into the small, dark space. His eyes strained to adjust to the lack of light, but it was unsuccessful, so instead he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. It dimly lit the space, but the darkness was too overwhelming for it to account for much. Still, he could definitely see something in the dim light, a black mass huddled on the dirty ground a few feet away. Erwin inched closer, identifying it as a person and inwardly heaving a sigh of relief that he hadn't walked dumbly into some stupid raccoon attack. (Which he totally hadn't done before. Shut up.)

He knelt down, gingerly rolling the person over and checking them over. From what he could see, there was no sign of physical injury, but the dim lighting only showed so much. Gently, he reached out and shook the small form.

"Are you okay?"

Immediately, Erwin felt like an idiot. They weren't even conscious, as was made obvious by his poking and prodding. He looked over the body once more as he silently reprimanded himself, the internal beration only increasing when he realized with a jolt he should most definitely check for a pulse.

He picked up a thin wrist, wincing at the icy cold skin, and pressed his fingers to the vein, waiting in silence. Nothing. But perhaps their pulse was faint, he reasoned; he was no medical professional. So he hovered a hand over the figure's mouth and nose, waiting for that telltale breeze on his hand and watching the person's chest for signs of breathing.

After several moments, Erwin couldn't fool himself into believing they were alive. Sighing to himself, he stood, resigning to the fact that this person was beyond what he could do to help. He'd call emergency services and let them know what he found, and be on his way. This definitely wasn't how he wanted to end his night, but what else could he do?

"Mortal . . . "

Erwin's shout caught in his throat as an icy cold hand grasped his wrist in a vicelike grip, sharp nails digging deep enough into the skin to draw blood. Erwin glanced down and found brilliantly shining silver eyes, ones that pierced into his very being and commanded obedience, leaving him feeling vulnerable. The small body trembled violently and their eyes closed as they managed another word.

" . . . help . . . "

The grip slackened enough that the pain of those talons ebbed, but not enough for the hand to fall away completely. The person - no, thing - had fallen completely silent.

There was no doubt in Erwin's mind as he obediently scooped up the frail form and backed out of the alley, hurrying towards home. There was no sign of life. No breathing, no pulse. This creature was undoubtedly dead. And yet he'd seen it open its eyes, had heard its voice, grating and desperate, a demanding hiss to cover the pleading.

The realization that he was carrying a vampire - a creature of myth and legends whose existence he'd tried so hard to prove - was satisfying, but he couldn't help wishing he'd given up like Hange had told him to.

This thing was dangerous, and he'd be lyi

ng if he'd said he wasn't terrified.