Ryan stepped into the house, the old wood groaning beneath his sneakers.
Then he heard it.
Soft, romantic music drifted down the hallway. The sound was fragile, too delicate for the decay swallowing the house. His breath hitched as he followed the music, stepping carefully, eyes wide.
A warm glow spilled from a room at the end of the hall.
Ryan approached slowly, nerves coiled tight in his gut. The hallway was lined with peeling wallpaper, faded photographs crooked on the walls—faces blurred with age or water damage.
He stepped into the room.
And everything changed.
The space was completely different. The grime stopped at the threshold. Inside, it looked... lived-in. Clean, cozy even. Candles flickered on dusty shelves, light against freshly painted walls. A red blanket draped across the bed. A record spun lazily in the corner, playing something vintage and soft. Roses—dry and brown around the edges—sat in a chipped glass vase by the window.
It was romantic.
It was wrong.
But Ryan didn't see that.
All he saw was Lucas.
Lucas stood in the center of the room, back to him, swaying slightly to the music. He turned slowly, and his grin bloomed.
But Ryan didn't see that either.
"Hey," Lucas said softly
And Ryan, heart thudding, stupid in love, smiled back—completely oblivious to the red flags
"Ryan," he said, voice smooth and deliberate. "You came."
Ryan blinked hard and forced a shaky grin. "Y-Yeah. I mean, you told me the address. I figured… what the hell."
Lucas chuckled, stepping closer with an easy glide, like his feet barely touched the floor. "Brave of you. Or maybe just desperate?"
Ryan shrugged, trying to act unfazed. "A little of both, maybe."
His voice cracked slightly at the end. Lucas noticed.
"Still think I'm out of your league?" Lucas asked, tilting his head. There was no real curiosity in his tone. He already knew the answer.
"I mean," Ryan said, laughing nervously, "look at you. Look at this. It's like—fuck, man, it's like you stepped out of a dream or something."
Lucas's smile twitched. "Dreams can be dangerous."
Ryan swallowed. His eyes darted to the corner where something sharp glinted just beneath a velvet-draped table. He ignored it.
"I just wanted to see you again," he said. "You're... different. And not in the weird way. Okay maybe a little weird, but like, the cool kind."
Lucas stepped even closer. They were just inches apart now.
Ryan added quickly, "I—I mean, you didn't have to do all this. The candles and stuff."
"Oh, but I did," Lucas whispered. "It's our first real night together. Don't you want it to be… special?"
Something in Lucas's tone made the hairs on Ryan's arms rise. But he smiled anyway. His stupid, aching heart thudded so loud in his chest he was sure Lucas could hear it.
"Yeah," Ryan said. "Yeah, I want that."
Lucas leaned in, his fingers brushing Ryan's jaw, tilting it slightly.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for someone like you," Lucas murmured.
Ryan's throat tightened. "Really?"
Lucas nodded, eyes never leaving his. "Someone naive. Someone sweet. Someone stupid enough to ignore all the red flags."
Ryan blinked.
Lucas grinned wider. "Like candles in a rotting house. Or a spotless bed in a room with no windows open. ."
Something cold ran through Ryan's spine. His smile faltered, just slightly.
"I'm joking," Lucas said lightly, pulling back — but only just. "Sort of."
Ryan laughed, unsure. "You're weird, man."
Lucas leaned in again. "You still want to stay?"
Ryan hesitated… then nodded.
Lucas cupped his face gently. "Good boy."
Lucas tilted his head, his grin lingering as the romantic track looped again, soft strings bleeding through the air like a heartbeat. His movements were slow, deliberate, as he stepped closer to Ryan.
"Dance with me," Lucas said quietly, his voice low and syrupy.
Ryan blinked. "Huh?"
Lucas extended a pale hand. "Just for a moment."
There was a pause. Ryan looked around the room — the soft lighting, the dust dancing in the air, the fake romance of it all — and then back at Lucas. The fear that had prickled earlier dissolved under the strange spell Lucas always cast over him. Like gravity. Like obsession. He took Lucas's hand.
Lucas pulled him closer by the waist, one hand resting lightly on Ryan's back, guiding them slowly in a makeshift waltz. It was awkward at first, Ryan's breath caught somewhere in his throat, until he forced a smile.
"You know," Ryan muttered, nervous laughter breaking out of him, "I never pictured you as the dancing type."
Lucas didn't laugh. He just watched Ryan, eyes glazed and strange — like someone watching prey that didn't yet know it was caught.
"I wasn't," Lucas said, fingers tightening a bit. "But lately I've been… exploring."
Ryan swallowed. "Exploring?"
"Mhm," Lucas hummed, eyes drifting lazily around the room before settling back on Ryan's. "There's something inside me. A hunger. It's like… I want to keep things. Preserve them. Special things. People, sometimes."
Ryan chuckled weakly. "That sounds… intense."
Lucas tilted his head again, as if studying the tremor in Ryan's voice. "Do you think it's wrong? To want to collect something beautiful before it spoils? Before it forgets you?"
"…Collect?" Ryan's voice cracked. "You mean like… like a hobby?"
Lucas smiled wider, that glazed-over look still fixed. "Not exactly."
The music played on, eerie now in its softness. Ryan tried to step back, but Lucas didn't let him.
"You're so warm, Ryan," Lucas murmured, hand drifting slightly higher on his back. "You have no idea what it's like—to crave that warmth but know it won't last. To know you're supposed to be something else. Something that devours."
Ryan's chest rose faster. His pulse thudded.
"What're you talking about, man?"
Lucas leaned in close, voice brushing against his ear. "The monster in me… it likes you."
Ryan stiffened. "Lucas…"
"It wants to bury you in glass," Lucas whispered. "So you'll never rot. So you'll always be mine."
Ryan shoved him back — or tried to. Lucas didn't move.
"I–I should go," Ryan stammered, stepping toward the door. "I got the wrong idea—"
"You did," Lucas said, his smile fading. "But it's too late now."
The door at the end of the hall creaked shut by itself.
And Lucas just stood there, head low, smiling again.
Ryan's pupils widened as he stumbled back, hand clumsily slapping at the side of his neck where he felt a sting like Lucas plunged a needle in his neck.
"What the hell—" His voice cracked, the world already tilting sideways. His limbs were turning heavy, slow.
Lucas staggered back from the force of Ryan's shove, nearly hitting the wall—but he didn't look angry. He grinned, wild and flushed with something close to ecstasy. His chest rose and fell as he started laughing, the sound bubbling out of him like he'd just heard the funniest thing in the world.
"You're stronger than I thought," Lucas purred, glancing down at the empty syringe in his hand. "But you were always going to fall."
Ryan blinked hard. His knees buckled. "What did you do to me?" he slurred.
Lucas crouched beside him as Ryan collapsed to the floor, body twitching as the drug flooded his system.
"I made it," Lucas whispered proudly, almost like a kid showing off a science project. "It slows the nerves. Melts the resistance. But only in the prettiest ones."
The room blurred in and out. Ryan tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't listen. Panic set in fully now—just as a new figure appeared from the shadows behind Lucas.
Boots stepped into view. Dimitri. His expression unreadable, eyes shadowed. He walked up to Lucas, who beamed and held out the syringe like a gift.
Dimitri took it without a word.
Lucas's smile grew unhinged. "It worked," he said breathlessly, then leaned up and kissed Dimitri's cheek hard, leaving a smear of red from his own lip. "Did you see him? He wanted to run."
Dimitri chuckled, low and soft, brushing his thumb along the syringe's plunger as if admiring the craftsmanship.
"Not bad" he murmured shyly
Lucas turned to look back down at Ryan, whose eyes were wide but fading fast, his breaths shallow. Lucas tilted his head lovingly.
"He was my first," he whispered, brushing Ryan's hair out of his face. "Firsts deserve a little extra."
Lucas rose to his feet, walking over to the old record player in the corner. His fingers danced over the needle before placing it gently down. The room filled with soft, haunting instrumental music — something slow and melancholic, like a lullaby for the damned.
The light overhead buzzed faintly.
Dimitri lingered in the corner, arms folded, eyes fixed on the floor. He didn't speak.
Lucas glanced back at him, smiling faintly as he turned to Ryan's limp body. "You're not gonna help me tie him up?" he teased softly, nudging Ryan's leg with his foot.
"I'll lift," Dimitri muttered, pushing off the wall.
They both moved in sync now, a strange, practiced silence between them. Lucas took Ryan under the arms while Dimitri grabbed his legs. Together they carried the body— heavy with unconsciousness — to the bed.
Lucas let out a little hum, as if pleased by the weight of him. He laid Ryan down gently, brushing back his hair again in mock tenderness.
"Soft music makes it easier," Lucas whispered, reaching beneath the bed and pulling out thick, black restraints — leather, cracked at the edges. "Like a dream."
Dimitri stood by, silent, watching as Lucas moved to secure one wrist, then the other, humming with each knot he tied.
He didn't speak until Lucas reached the ankles.
"You're really going to do it this time?" Dimitri asked, voice low.
Lucas looked up at him, a flicker of joy and something darker lighting his face. "You still think this is just a fantasy?" he asked, cocking his head. "No. I'm doing it, Dee. He's mine now."
Dimitri didn't respond. He just turned his eyes away, letting the music wash over him as Lucas fastened the last strap. The knots were tight, practiced. Lucas had clearly done this before — even if no one had seen it.
Once finished, Lucas stood over the bed, admiring his work like an artist stepping back from his first canvas.
"He's perfect like this," Lucas murmured.
From the corner, Dimitri's jaw clenched in jealousy—but he said nothing.
The music continued to play, soft and eerie, as Lucas brushed Ryan's cheek with the back of his hand.
"You don't have to watch," he told Dimitri without looking back. "But don't leave. I want you here."
Dimitri sat in the corner chair, his expression unreadable. "I'll stay," he said quietly.
And Lucas smiled.