This drawing. Took so long. I thought it was going to be the death of me.
But. Let it be known, that I almost quit. Multiple times. And that I cried. Once. And there was lots of angry yelling. And pillow throwing. And hair pulling. There was, literally, blood sweat and tears put into this nightmare drawing. There was also contemplation about whether or not bleach was the way to go. However, I have, miraculously, pulled through and achieved sweet, sweet satisfaction in completion of this gruesome and awesome task bestowed upon me (at this point you’re probably reading this in King Arthur’s voice from Monty Python). In conclusion. My companions. I advise you, remember to always save your work and, in turn, save yourself from the devastating heartbreak and anguish that is loosing your progress.
<b>Their Kid:</b> I'm bored daddy, make the car dance.<p/><b>Germany:</b> *sighs* Okay but only once. *gets out of car*<p/><b>Germany:</b> *lifts up car and starts shaking it*<p/><b>Their Kid:</b> yaaayyyy!!!<p/><b>Italy:</b> hOlY F-<p/></p>
We make decisions to write our own stories. Feelings, just like problems, come and go. It’s up to us if we want to face it or run away from it. Seven years ago, you, a hopeless romantic, made a decision that you thought would be worth it. You decided to face your feelings and confess. You’re in love with Choi Seungcheol, and he’s all that matters to you.
Hamilton wiped the corner of his lips, and placed his thumb in his mouth, licking the rest of the stray plasma off. He looked at the young woman on the ground, and grinned at the color leaving her body. He threw her over his shoulder, trying to find a spot to hide the body. He looked at the burning candles outside homes, enticing him to go and check to see what’s wrong. Instead, he forced his eyes away, searching for an open field. He spotted on, and ran, quickly making it there in a few seconds. He dug through the mulch with his bare hands, and threw the woman in the hole.
“You know, miss, your blood was quite bitter. Have you been drinking?” He said to the body, waiting for a response he was sure was not coming. He sighed, running his hands through his brown hair. “Will you not answer me? Fine, I will answer for you. Yes, you have, and yes, you should have listened to your father and stayed home tonight. It is a shame, you were a beautiful one.” He began kicking the dirt into the cavity, watching it cover her now blue cheeks.
“Too bad you were naïve. That is rather unattractive, you know. Men like a woman with intelligence.” He paused, “well, for certain some sort of reasonable thinking. Can’t have your partner running off with another, right?” He fully covered her body, and reached down, patting the dirt flat. “I am puzzled, though. You told me that someone was waiting for you at home. Yes, I was paying attention. Your screams are distracting, but I could tell what you were thinking. Now that, that was fascinating.”
There was yelling behind him, and he stood up, looking at torches approaching the field. He sighed, rubbing his face. “See, I told you to stop yelling. Now I must deal with townspeople chasing after me. What a shame.” Hamilton began to run, glancing back once at the bumpy dirt.
“Well, that is not inconspicuous at all.”
You cursed, spilling your ink jar on your work. “For the life of me, I cannot understand why my limbs are so ungainly.” You mumbled, reaching for an ink-stained towel that you kept next to you in your study. You pressed it on the table, waiting for the ink to seep into it. You heard your door open, and turned around, seeing your mother standing there.
“Good morning, mother. How are you?” She smiled, walking in. She placed a kiss on the top of your head, looking at the table.
“I am well. But it seems like you are having an interesting morning. What have I told you about spilling the ink, Y/N? We cannot afford to continue to buy you one every fortnight. Please be careful son.”
“I know, but my arms seem to fling out whenever I come up with a new idea.” You looked at the piles of paper on your desk, then looking back at your mother. “I have not slept in a few days.” She frowned, hitting the top of your head with a rolled-up newspaper. You winced, leaning away from her.
“I will hit you once more if I see that you have not had a day’s rest. But for now, I have someone here for you.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and you groaned, placing your head on the desk. “Y/N, what are you doing? Did you forget about the ink?” You quickly picked your head up, and touched your forehead. You stared at your fingers, seeing the black.
You were such an imbecile.
“How am I supposed to show this young woman her suitor when you have a mark in the middle of your forehead?” She placed her fingers on her temple, rubbing it in circle motions. “You are going to be the death of me.” You grinned, jumping up from your chair. She widened her eyes at your quick movements, and you kissed her cheek, running your hands through your hair.
“This is the perfect ensemble for a courtship. I will meet with her promptly.” Before your mother could grab your arm, you were already out your door, sliding on the rail to get down the staircase quicker. Your momentum was too fast, and you immediately landed face down, the hardwood floor probably bruising your cheeks. “Perfect.” You whispered, satisfied with your decision.
You told your parents countless times that you would find love on your own. But they continued to insist that you court an eligible woman, someone who would carry the title of yours well. Of course, you could care less about how much money your partner would have, but they cared.
They cared immensely.
Since you could not convince them of your views, you made sure to meet your suitors with the worst manners and personality, making sure they would hate you to your core. And so far, it had been working well.
You walked into the parlor, a little wobbly. You saw the woman sitting there, wearing the finest silks and jewelry. You rolled your eyes at the attire, clearing your throat. She turned around, her gaze meeting yours. “Hi, miss,” You said, holding out your hand, “I am Y/N. A pleasure to be of acquaintance.” She placed her hand in yours, and you kissed it lightly. She took her hand out of yours immediately. You could tell she was disgusted at your outfit, and your stomach swelled with glee.
Step one: complete.
“Um, sir, do you need more time to get dressed? I can wait here.” She said, a sweet smile on her face. You felt guilty for treating her this way, but it needed to be done. You needed to teach your parents about how you felt.
“Is there something wrong with my attire?” You glanced down at your clothes innocently, looking back at her. She shook her head.
“Ah, no, sir. You look handsome.” This time, she did not smile. “Would you like to dine here? My father has caterers that are on their way.”
“Well, Miss…” You waited for her name, and she blushed, looking at the ground.
“Oh, I apologize. I am Anna Vermont.” She said, smiling at you. You nodded.
“Yes, Anna. I was thinking that we should go to a nearby park. It would get us to connect more, without the stares of our parents. Do you agree?” She hesitated, and you heard stomping behind you. Fingers dug into the skin of your arm, and you looked down, seeing the anger on your mother’s face. You smiled at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
She looked at you, fuming.
If this woman was not here, she would have killed you.
“I am sorry, Anna, but my son has not slept well in the last few nights, and he needs some rest. Do you mind if we postpone this visit for another time?” Anna nodded quickly, gathering her things off the furniture. She looked too eager to go, and you knew you were never going to see her again.
“Yes, that would be best. Y/N, nice to meet you. I will see you soon.” She curtsied to the two of you, and you walked her to the door. Once the two of you were outside on the porch, she turned to you, a sneer on her face. “What a poor excuse for a man. You do not even know how to greet a lady properly. I am sorry for the maiden who seeks your hand in marriage.” You raised your eyebrow.
That was a quick change in personality.
“Sure, Anna. I hope you can find a man who tolerates a gossiping woman. I heard that you were spotted at a brothel recently. Do you have an excuse for being there?” You said, grinning.
“Excuse me, sir, but doesn’t that seem-“
“Have a wonderful day, Anna. I hope to never see you near me again.” You shut the door in her face, turning to see your livid mother standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. You gave her a cheesy grin, and she hit you with the same piece of paper. You pouted, holding your face. “Mother, you are going to damage this handsome face. Then no one will stand to look at me.”
“I cannot stand to look at you right now, Y/N. How dare you speak to that woman in such a manner? I know your father raised you better than that.” She said, “Do you not want to have a wife? Do you not want to have children, to pass the family name down? Is this why you are so troublesome?”
There was a multitude of questions thrown at you, and you frowned. “Mother, you know why I refuse to meet with these women. I want to fall in love on my own, and I cannot do that with a lady who enters the house to just collect my money and live a life of luxury. I want someone who cares about me, who wants to sit outside and gaze at the stars at night. Someone who loves this clumsy man, who would give up the world to be by my side. Is that too much to ask for? For someone to love me for who I am?” You questioned, and her stern expression relaxed, and she placed her hands back to her sides.
“Love is such a childish emotion, Y/N. You should live in the real world. I did not marry your father because I loved him, I married him because he was the one my parents wanted me to marry. And I grew to love him. You can do that too.”
“How can you tell me that? How can you tell me to learn to love someone? I cannot force myself to convey an emotion.”
“Then you will never be wed.” She stated simply. “Is that what you want your life to be? Staying as an angry old man without someone to sit in a rocking chair next to you?”
She was not listening to a word you were saying. Seeing that this fight would never be won by you, you nodded slowly. “I guess I might as well sit on a pile of money and use it to wipe my a-“
“Y/N, if that word comes out of your mouth-!” You ran past her, grabbing your satchel.
“I’ll be back soon, mother.” She was able to catch you this time, and she reached into her pocket, taking out a small glass bottle.
“Here, just in case you run into a vampire, toss salt on the ground. They will unable to resist counting each one.” You shook your head at her superstitious nature, but took the bottle anyway, tucking in in your front pocket. “I’m serious, Y/N. A woman was killed yesterday-”
“See you later. I’ll be home a few hours after nightfall.” She sighed.
“Be safe, my son. I’ll be waiting for you to get home.” She kissed your cheek, squeezing your hand. You did the same, running out the door.
Hamilton paced the sidewalks, looking at the groups of people walking down the blocks. He had his hands tucked in his slacks, scanning the crowd for his next victim. As he was distracted, a hard force hit the side of him. He stiffened, freezing in his spot. He looked to his side, seeing a man on the ground. He raised his eyebrow at the mark on his forehead. Why would anyone leave their house in such condition?
The man on the ground moaned, holding his head. He was lying back, staring at the sky. Hamilton stared at him. Why did he not get up yet?
After a few moments, the man struggled to get up, with no help from Hamilton. He jumped once, looking at Hamilton. He gave Hamilton a crooked smile, his hair a mess. “Sorry, I was distracted and I was running. Such a bad combination, don’t you agree?” The man said, rubbing the side of his head.
Hamilton stared at him, silent. There were many thoughts running through his mind, most filled with his need for the substance pumping in this man’s veins. The man’s scent was different from others, much sweeter and mouthwatering. The man coughed, noticing Hamilton’s gaze on his neck.
He found his next victim.
Hamilton smiled, holding out his hand.
“Alexander Hamilton. A pleasure to meet you.” The brown-haired man said, his eyes crinkling. You looked at the outstretched hand. Now he offered his hand to you?
You took it nonetheless, shaking it once. “Nice name. Very strong and masculine. Mine’s Y/N, my mother gave it to me.” You said, immediately regretting it. Goodness, your mother was right: talking and writing words were two very distinct things.
The man’s smile never left his face, and you could not help but notice how attractive he was. His face was well-structured, and his hands were soft. You blushed at the very crude images forming in your head. You tightened your eyes, forcing them out of your brain. You stared at the man. There was something off about him, especially the smile that has not left his face for the past minute or so.
You shrugged off your doubts, nodding at the man once. It was getting dark outside, and you needed to be home before your mother sent out search parties for you. “Well, I better be on my way. It is getting quite late, and I need to be home.”
Hamilton’s smile never left, but it turned into a smirk. “Ah, is your wife waiting?” He asked, and you noticed an edge to the statement. You shook your head at him, slowly walking forward.
“I’m not married, um, Alexander. And I only wish to be married to someone I love, not someone who is forced to marry me. How about you?” You asked, noticing that he began walking next to you. You tensed up.
“I was married, once. Her name was Eliza Schuyler. She died recently.” He said, leaking out some emotion with that statement. His face dropped when he said her name, but he shook out of it instantly, looking back at you. “It was a murder, someone killed her.” His fists tightened. “They staked her because they believed she was a vampire. How idiotic.”
You did not realize the way this conversation was going, and you regretted asking him about himself. Vampires? He sounded like your mother. It was not that he was not an interesting person, you just felt like you should run in the other direction. The street was empty, the two of you walking alone.
“I am sorry for your loss. Please send my condolences to you and yours. I better be on my way, Alexander. Nice to meet you.” You began jogging. After a few moments, you glanced back, noticing that he disappeared from the street. “Hmm, where did he go that fast?” You turned back, bumping into a man once more.
You face was throbbing, and you knew you would have bruises all over your body by tomorrow. You looked up from the ground, seeing Alexander in front of you. Your heart dropped.
Was he not just behind you? How did he get there so quickly?
“Ahh, Y/N. You did not let me finish my story. How can you leave before that?” His irises were pitch black, and you widened your eyes. What this man on some sort of substance? Was he sick?
“Are you okay, Alexander? You look pale and your eyes are dark. Would you like me to walk with you to the nearest hospital?” The smile on his face dropped, and his gaze flicked between your eyes, confusion on his face.
“I am fine. You should be concerned for yourself right now.” He grinned, showing sharp incisors protruding from his lips. You scrambled back, now terrified. You struggled to get off the ground, but finally did, hopping onto your feet. He walked slowly towards you, his hands behind his back. “You are a really interesting fellow, Mr. Y/N. Why aren’t you running? You know, the chase is always fun.” He winked at you, and you could have sworn you almost urinated.
“Um, hey! Officer!” You yelled, looking behind Hamilton. Hamilton whipped his head around, and you ran full speed, almost tripping over your own feet.
Hamilton turned back, seeing that the man was already a few hundred feet ahead of him. He grinned, licking his lips. He crouched down on the ground, touching the place where your blood dripped off a scratch. He rubbed it between his pinky and thumb, looking up at your retreating figure. He sniffed it once, then licked his digits, standing back up.
This will be fun. He thought.
You were panting, unable to run any further. You cursed at your body, looking for anywhere to hide. You noticed a pub that was open, and dragged yourself over. Before you could open the door, the ponytailed man stood in front of you, his arms crossed against his chest.
“You are a runner? Have you ran away from vampires before?”
You suddenly remembered the salt in your pocket, and took it out, throwing it on the ground. He widened his eyes, looking at you.
“Oh no. You sick human, you-“ He crouched down, unable to resist counting the grains of salt. You smiled, and you heard a chuckle come out of the man on the ground. He stood back up slowly, raising his eyebrow at you. “That is just folklore, my friend. And by the way, that makes no sense. Why would my weakness be salt? Did you try to bring garlic too? What about iron, do you have that in your bag?”
Even though you were in a life-or-death situation, you could not help the tone that came out of your mouth. “You are a really terrible being. Why are you so pompous? Are you going to kill me already? Because your talking might kill me instead.” Hamilton grabbed you by the neck, pulling you behind the cottage. He held you against the wall, the whites of his eyes now completely black. This time, you took him seriously, shivering.
He glanced down at your neck, and touched it softly. He gave you a sideways grin, his eyes still trained on your pulsing vein. “You know, you have the sweetest smelling blood. As long as I have been on this Earth, I have never smelled anything like yours.” His face moved closer to your neck, and he sniffed, licking the skin.
You shivered, and definitely felt some warm liquid come. Hold yourself together. You thought.
Hamilton laughed, moving away from your neck. “You know, I think I like you.”
“What are you even saying?” You said, and he tightened his hold on your neck, and you clawed at his hand, trying to pull him off. “Stop, Hamilton. You’re better than this.” You gasped through breaths. He stopped grinning, looking at you.
“I’m sorry, have you met me before? Were we acquaintances in a former life? I’m sure I would have remembered your face.” He stated.
“It does not matter if I met you or no-“ You coughed, your head becoming dizzy. You felt his grip on you loosen, and you took a deep breath. “Thank you.” You mumbled, looking at him. The dark color in his eyes was lowered, but he still had some left. You were amazed at what he could do.
Is this a dream?
“Do not thank me, Y/N. Tell me what you were going to say. I want to know before I end your life.” He said, glaring at you. You chortled, rolling your eyes at him. He frowned. “What is so funny?”
“You. You are trying to act like this robust, threatening figure, but you are not. I can see through you.” He slammed you against the wall once, but you continued talking. “You are lonely. Even the slightest affection towards you scares you, because you have never felt that before. Everyone in your life has hated you.” He held both of his hands around your neck, his hold still the same as before.
“Shut up.” He hissed, the black slowly leaving. You were unceasing, talking again.
“I could see it when I questioned if you were alright. You immediately jumped on that sentence, it puzzling you. You need someone to care about you, and for a second, you thought it was me.”
“Stop.” He grumbled, his hold loosening. You were glad that this speech was distracting him. His fangs were still there, peeking out from his top lip.
“If you wanted me to stop, you would have killed me a long time ago. Isn’t that right-“ His teeth sunk into your neck, piercing the delicate skin. You attempted to scream, but he covered your mouth with his hand, muffling the yelling. You were going cross-eyed, you barely able to keep them open. Your hands grew limp on their sides, and he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you closer towards him. Before you passed out, you whispered one last thing.
“There is someone out there who cares about you. You just need to find t-“ Your voice faded, and your head tilted to the side.
Hamilton retracted his lips from your neck, looking at your pale figure. He widened his eyes, feeling something leak out of them. He touched his eyeball, and squinted at the substance.
What was this? He rolled the liquid around, and tasted it. He frowned. Tears?
You were unconscious. Hamilton did not kill you, but he drained enough blood from you to keep you alive longer. He picked you up, carrying your body bridal style. As he walked towards the town, he examined your face. You were a handsome man, no doubt about that. But you were strange as well, the ink staining your forehead, and your clothes looked like you’ve slept in them. He found a bench, and laid you across, sitting down next to your head.
As he looked at your ragged breathing from the rising and falling of your chest, he wondered what it would be like to hug you. To touch you. You were kind, even when you thought you were going to die.
He snickered, running his hands through his hair. What have you done to him? He never saved anyone, always killed his victims.
But you, you were different.
You were funny, you were intelligent (to an extent, of course), you were friendly, and you listened to him when no one else would. And you were right.
Hamilton was lonely.
He stood up, placing your satchel under your head and pulling up your collar to cover the bite mark on your neck. It would disappear in a few minutes, but he had to make sure no one saw it until then.
He took one last look at you, and then walked away, disappearing into the night.