I thought to write something for 'Kyoya is a vampire' trope. I wanted to post this after I would finish "The cunning", but my impatience got ahead of me, and I really wanted to share it with you all and see if you like it, and if it is actually worth giving a try. I am sure there are other stories with this trope, but I wanted to try one myself, and the idea lingered in my head and demanded to be written.

It was cold. The air had frozen and curved its flowery breath on the thin surface of the glass windows. His body was cold and, perhaps, far colder than the snow outside. He liked dreary winter days when there was no sun in the sky, and he didn't need to hide in the shadows. He liked cold because he didn't need to hide from it. He looked at the glacial patterns, covering the window and blinked lazily. He was hungry and tired: like he always was. He had never felt quite satisfied. His body was weak and was already breaking into pieces even though he was very young.

"Kyoya-sama," a maid timidly had spoken, popping her small head through the half-opened door, "your father had requested your presence at breakfast."

She looked terrified. Her body was shivering. He could smell her fear. He could sense the terror surging in her blood. He already was used to that reaction. Everyone feared him, especially those who knew his secret. He nodded silently, and the girl disappeared as fast as she could.

He hated mornings. He hated them because the sun was rising in the mornings, and he hated the ultraviolet waves it brought with itself. His skin would burn in pain if any of those rays reached him. When the first time he had experienced the sunlight touching him, he had thought he truly was being burnt alive. It was a real torture. He wanted to peel away his own skin, just not to feel the pain. He found it odd when he realized his skin hadn't burnt, even though it felt it did. These special type of radiation waves were invisible to humans and were hardly harmful to them, but they were horrendous torture for animals like him.

In summer days, there were thick, navy blue curtains cladding the vast windows of his bedroom to absorb all the light, but in winter time, the cold closed the windows itself, and he could enjoy being in an illuminated room without risking to feel tortured.

He got dressed in his school uniform, fixed his raven hair, put on his glasses, that were supposed to serve as a distraction from his eyes and protect them from the light. He couldn't wear sunglasses at school, so he had to settle for the fake prescription glasses. People rarely searched for his eyes anyways. It was good enough.

He hated mornings for he had to sit at a family table and try to have breakfast like the rest of his normal family.

He hated it with all his might. He hated the food, and he hated how he was throwing up later on everything he had eaten. Despite no longer being able to consume ordinary food, his father was insistent on him having breakfast with them. He didn't know why the old man punished him like that. He didn't want to be the way he was. He had inherited a rare family gene. It was a recessive gene and hadn't been observed active for the last 200 years. He was sure the DNA sequence of the said mutation was present in all the family members, but it was in a dormant state for them. Only he was born with active gene trait, and he couldn't do anything about it.

In the beginning, when he was younger, he could still consume ordinary human food. But then gradually his body started to change, and with age, it became more and more difficult to eat. His digestive organs had completely deteriorated. His body needed a different type of sustenance, something both his parents were reluctant to accept. They forced him to eat over and over again, and every morning he ended up puking the food his body wasn't able to break and digest. He couldn't just get any nourishment from food.

They tried to use animal blood. He ended up having a strong allergic reaction and couldn't even move for a week, until it was cleared from his system. Human blood―that was what he needed, and that was what was forbidden. He was raised as a human. He was raised as something he wasn't, and his morals were in conflict with his desire to survive. Yoshio Ootori ended up giving him blood from the hospital. So very little blood that only burned his desires. They kept forcing him to eat human food, as if thinking it will somehow create a digestive system for him. Quite frankly he didn't know why they were forcing him.

His great-great-grandfather was a doctor. He had been infected with a strange disease and had tried to cure it by very curious means, which resulted in him turning into what humans called a vampire―a blood-drinker. Kyoya Ootori was a vampire; the only one in his family.

Because of this, his father looked at him as if he was some burden, some family disappointment, something that they needed to hide and never show to anyone. He was the dirty secret the Ootori family had. And every morning he was reminded of that simple truth at a family table. He hated himself, he hated his miserable existence, his constant desire to feed and his growing hunger.

He walked down the stairs and went into the large drawing room. The maids were running away from him like he was going to grab them and murder him. He didn't know to laugh or pity himself. He was feeling too weak for food today. He didn't want to go through another episode of gagging, puking and retching. He felt very tired. He was so lifeless, he might as well just be a walking corpse. His heart was beating slower and slower. There wasn't much blood in his system to keep his heartbeats steady.

When he entered the room, his mother lifted her head to give him a concerned look. He knew that she felt sorry for him and that made him angry. He didn't want their pity, their fear or their sympathy. All he wanted was to be treated like others. He wanted to be seen just the way others were viewed. Even though he studied the best at school, always got the best marks and surpassed his elder brothers in their academic achievements, he was looked down, felt sorry for and ignored.

His mother always looked sad, mournful. She looked at him apologetically, as if she was guilty of the way he was born. He always wanted to see a smile on her face when she would look at him. He wanted her to smile at him, just the way she could smile at Akito or Yuuichi. His mother thought he was the ugly duckling―the odd one, and she felt pity and guilt for him.

"Can I excuse myself today?" he asked after a polite bow, daring a glance at his father, "I am not feeling well."

"Ootoris have more will and determination," was all his father muttered. When his mother gently stroked her husband's hand, Yoshio added reluctantly, "you can leave if you must."

Kyoya clenched the hems of his jacket and politely bowed, taking his seat at the table. His father's face remained indifferent. And foolishly he thought he would impress him if he stayed. The next thirty minutes passed like hell. He had looked down the toilet so many times for the last few months, he already was used to ending up there, emptying the harsh rough food, that wounded his throat.

He never felt cold. At least not the way others did, he suspected. They needed to dress into so many clothes and had to rub their hands all the time and didn't like touching the snow. He didn't feel cold. It was soft and tender and welcoming for him. He always wondered what was it like to feel cold. He would have asked his brothers, but they rarely stopped to talk to him. They didn't exactly fear him, but they felt awkward and strange around him―uneasy even.

"Kyoya-sama," the old bodyguard smiled at him and handed him a small parcel, "Yoshio-sama asked me to give it to you."

He blinked at the man and then nodded, accepting the parcel. He knew that Tachibana-san was looking after him. He knew that the man would frequently tell his father about his worsening condition. Sometimes he wanted to spill his heart to the man, but Ootoris had more will and determination.

He gulped the small content in the plastic tube. His heartbeat grew faster, and his pale cheeks turned slightly blush. He could feel how energy started to burst in him, but it was not enough. It was not enough, and he was getting weaker.

The car had parked near the school gates. The yard was cleaned from snow, but there were a lot of icy tubes hanging from the roofs of the Ouran Academy. They glistered in the dreary morning light. They looked sharp and dangerous, even though they were just frozen water drops. They were just like his fangs―acute, threatening, but in reality were just made of something normal and ordinary. He never smiled. He still remembered the hysterical sobbing of a little girl in the kindergarten, who had noticed his fangs and wanted to touch them.

Kyoya had thought back then that it was nice that someone wanted to touch his strange teeth, the ones that only he had and no one else did. But it ended so very badly, when the sharp spikes had cut into the girls flesh as she pressed them harshly against his fangs. Yoshio had lectured him for hours and ordered him to never show them to anyone. It became part of his personality not to smile. He could only stare at people blankly and coldly or give them a small smirk that didn't involve him opening his mouth.

The school was loud as usual. There was the Tamaki Suoh―everyone's favourite. He hated the light-haired boy with all his heart. Not only was he the only heir to his father, but he was shining like a ball of sunlight since he appeared in the Ouran a year ago. The girls were swooning over him, and everyone was generally finding him charming. He was an annoying idiot, and Kyoya couldn't stand the likes of him. He would smile at him all the time, greet him and generally try to be an annoying, obnoxious idiot. He had made a small club since the year had started and recruited all kinds of idiots from Ouran. The twit had tried to get him into his silly club, but Kyoya refused. He couldn't be part of anything like that, not only his father wouldn't approve of it, but also he couldn't pretend to be swaying girls, for who he had no interest.

He greeted him with a flashing smile as usual, and Kyoya curtly bowed and took his seat next to Megumi Kanoya. She was a quiet girl, with long, sleek hair who found her gratification in helping others. Kyoya felt comfortable, sitting next to her, because he couldn't smell her. It appeared as if she didn't have blood, which was strange, but he was glad he could sit in the class without getting distracted by the smell of someone's blood. That was another reason he hated Tamaki Suoh. He smelled really good―sweet and inviting. It was disturbing whenever he was close, and Kyoya had to ran away from the blonde idiot not to get swayed by his smell.

The teacher soon entered, and everyone stood up to bow and greet. The class went calmly, boringly. His essay had scored the highest points, Suoh was right after him. It didn't appear he studied very hard. But he did quite well at school. After all, he was chairman's son, and Kyoya guessed that much, at least, was expected from him.

Kyoya hated breaks. He hated them, because he didn't know where to disappear. He couldn't stand seeing others eating. He couldn't stand any of it any longer.

"Kyoya-kun," he heard Suoh's voice, who decided to grant himself the permission to address him informally, "would you like to join us for lunch. You always sit alone."

"Thank you, Suoh-san," he said indifferently, but with a reserved bow, "I am busy unfortunately. I need to visit the library."

Tamaki's face fell, and the bright smile disappeared from his lips. Kyoya almost felt smug about making the idiot unhappy, but then he turned and left, and emptiness and loneliness stayed with him. He walked slowly. He didn't want to get to the library so soon. He wanted to savor his time. Some daft bints had turned the library into a cafeteria, anyways. He didn't want to smell the nasty smell of their awful perfume and the putrid odor of the decaying food in their stomachs. Smells drove him crazy. Especially the smell of those who had just started to digest the food they had eaten. It was a real nightmare when he would smell something bad, but it was even worse when his nostrils would meet with some sweet cherishing smell of blood.

When he entered the library, he realized there was something new. Some new smell he hadn't smelled before. It was sweet, fresh and satisfying. He concentrated his senses, trying to find the owner of the smell. He had never ever smelled anything like that. It felt soft. It felt like a gentle stroking to his senses. It calmed his nerves and put his mind at ease. He looked around. Where was it? Who was it? Why did they smell so good? He was going to faint. The smell of something so satisfying being so close weakened his body, and he could see black spots in front of his eyes. He was losing his consciousness. He had bleached if it was possible for him to be anymore paler.

The smell suddenly got very closer, but he was too faint to see anything. He felt someone's warm hand on his shoulder. It felt strange.

"Are you alright?" a clear, female voice asked.

He used all of his strength to turn to face her. His eyes widened. It was her. It was her smell. She was a small girl, with short, badly cut hair and ugly clothing. She smelled good. She smelled strangely good. He looked at her shocked and tried not to inhale her smell. He could feel her blood flowing in her veins.

"I..." he hesitated, "I am alright, Miss."

"You don't look so well," she smiled, "I am sorry for insisting, but are you sure you don't want to visit the nurse's office?"

Her voice was clean. It was soft. Her flesh looked soft too. He wanted to lean forward and grab her. He wanted to pierce his fangs in her creamy skin and drink her. She looked so sweet. She smelled so sweet. His face twisted into a disgusted expression as the thoughts passed through his head. Her heart was so close. He wanted to reach and touch her chest, behind which her sweet little heart was beating.

"It must be fatigue," he said absentmindedly, "I didn't sleep long enough. Thank you for your concern, Miss."

He would laugh to see the expression of pure terror on her pretty face, once she found out what he was. She wouldn't look so concerned. And why was she bothering anyways? Who was she? Didn't she already know that Ootori Kyoya was the ice cold, pale guy, who was better to be avoided.

"Yes," she said, waving her hands, "it's quite loud here. You must have exhausted yourself, trying to concentrate on studying. I still am trying to find a quiet spot for studying."

He looked at her with interest. She wanted to study. That was unusual for someone attending Ouran. Girls usually came to start flashy connections and set grounds for their future marriages. She was different, too simple and alive. Her smell was driving him insane. He was scared if he inhaled more of her essence, he would just snap and drink her blood in front of everyone.

"I am sorry," he apologized, "I need to go."

He ran away like a coward. Ootoris had more will and determination. His father's words echoed in his head. Ootoris, perhaps, didn't run away, but he was not an Ootori, he was a weak, starved beast that lusted after the blood of a girl he just met. He wanted to drag her by the hair to the nearest corner and drink her blood, until nothing of her but an empty shell, a lifeless, dry husk was left. He was a pitiful animal, hiding behind the mask of a human. Nothing more than a leech, who couldn't make his own food.

When he got far away from her and could no longer smell her treacherous smell, his weakened knees buckled. He sat on the ground, undid his tie and cupped his face. How long could he survive like this? If he was not born, his father would be a proud father of three brilliant children. His mother wouldn't cry and look guilty. His siblings wouldn't have to have a freak for a brother. He was a mistake. Mistake the mother nature made, one that was romanticized and thought beautifully about only in books. In real life he was a parasite, a disgusting monster, drinking human blood.

He stared at his snow-coloured hands. They felt numb. His blood wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to flow to his limbs. It took him a lot of effort to walk back to his classroom. The remaining classes passed like he was in limbo. He couldn't feel or think anything. He was weak. His eyes fell on the transparent icicles hanging from the roofs. One of them had melted enough to break. It fell down with a thud and broke into thousand pieces. He gulped. He too very soon would break like that icicle.

And the first chapter is done. Tell me what you think? is it worth continuing? I realized that writing one-shots is not that bad and I have some multi-chapter stories. 😺