Chapter Text
Paul ''Jesus'' Rovia had been alive, or un-alive for about 300 years, give or take a decade. He'd seen it all - The American revolution, The French revolution, he'd seen Napoleon, different industrializations, The Civil War and The World Wars. He was turned in 1723, a long time ago, a time he doesn't even remember quite clearly. It must have been a dark autumn night, and he'd been out having fun, when he was pulled to the side of the Inn he frequented, feeling the excruciating pain in his neck. Shortly after that, everything fell into darkness. He'd seen images of his life flash before his eyes, thinking this was it, when he felt the hot liquid drip on his lips, down his throat. He felt his veins on fire, every fiber of his being was squeezed, hammered, sliced, ripped to shreds, as this liquid poured down. He screamed, threw around, cramped up in pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before, before being lifted by the mysterious unknown who just minutes before had effectively killed him - without Paul realizing at first, of course. And there he was, standing before Paul, face hardly visible, but what Paul could make out, were a pair of piercing red eyes and a strange grin, where canines were oddly longer and sharper than usual. He gasped, head still dizzy from whatever had just happened. He blinked and after a few minutes, that really seemed like hours, he was standing there alone, in the dark. He took a deep breath, but this breath was different. It almost seemed like he didn't need it, but did it out of instinct. He could feel the air fill his lungs, he could almost taste the air. He could taste the night, the laughter, the sex, the sweat - everything that this night was offering in 1723. He coughed out, supporting his hands on his knees, staring down at the ground in shock, not believing what he just experienced. He stared down at his feet in the dirt, seeing the dirt - for the first time in his life, really seeing the dirt, it's different color variations, it's textures, he was seeing the smell of it, he could swear he saw the many worms and bugs going about their night under his feet, under the dirt. He shot up, blinked in awe, rubbed his face a few times and slapped himself, as if trying to slap himself out of whatever he'd been drinking. He stepped out of the side of the Inn and looked around. He stared up at the oil lamp shining a light on the street and there it was again. He could almost feel the light burn into his skull, he could see the different variations of the fire flicker around, he could smell the light, he could taste it. He felt like he could see beyond the light and into infinity. He took another deep breath, which felt exactly the same, but this time, he felt the exhilarating adrenaline running through his veins, like he could do anything, like he was on top of the world, like he was the only person and nothing else mattered. He ran off into the night with speed he never possessed before.
That was all Paul remembered from the strange night, he never saw the man again and he was left to figure out what he was on his own.
Turns out the 21st century hid more vampires in the night (and day) than the common man would think. They were everywhere, in corporate jobs, underground clubs, discotheques, government jobs - they were everywhere. Vampires didn't burn in the daylight, but definitely preferred a cloudy day, a dark day and the darker autumn/winter seasons. They didn't need to breathe, or blink, but did it to hide themselves in today, they used all the modern technology and really took advantage of the amenities of today. They were odd creatures, with their bodies not needing the same things human bodies needed, but they enjoyed the human aspects of life. Paul definitely enjoyed the bodily pleasures of human life, and he couldn't be bothered with breaking hearts, relationships or any of the other long term arrangements - he just enjoyed bodies, male bodies to be exact. He was a strikingly beautiful creature, his big blue eyes brighter than any other pair of eyes, almost glowing in the dark. His skin was pale, porcelain-like and cold to the touch, but warmed up by a warm body quickly. His long locks hung past his shoulders, beard full and always neatly taken care of, not that he was actually taking care of it, it would grow back quickly, if he cut it, same with his hair - it would grow back, not instantly, but within a day. He looks exactly like he did 300 years ago and he was gorgeous.
He'd been hanging around Virginia for about 20 years now, and he knew he had to relocate soon, or he would raise suspicion with his never-aging looks. He'd become friends with 4 other vampires from the area and was enjoying their company and they had plans to meet up at the dive bar not far from his house at 8pm that night.
Paul's phone rang and he picked up.
''Yep?'' he asked, seeing that the caller was Tara, as usual.
''You're still coming right?? I'm DYING to go out tonight'' she snorted at her own dumb joke about dying. She was already dead.
''Yeah, of course, wouldn't miss it for anything!'' he answered and slumped into the couch.
''See you at 8, Maggie and Glenn are also coming'' she added excitedly, an other bonded pair of vampires they had met a while back.
''See you'' he answered and hung up the phone. He'd scroll his social media some, but didn't really pay attention. He got up and went to his bedroom to choose an outfit to fit tonight's vibe. These days, he'd go for a pair of snuggly fitting dark jeans, a long sleeved shirt, topped with a trench coat. Sometimes he'd wear a beanie, but not today. Instead, he threw his hair up in a bun and for a moment stared into the mirror, only to laugh at himself as he didn't have a reflection. Every time a part of him hoped, that this time he would see a reflection, but it never happened.
He walked downstairs, checked to see if everything was turned off and stepped out, locking the door behind him. The night was his yet again, just like it had been for the past centuries.
He arrived at the dive bar shortly after 8 and stepped in. He'd been taken there before and therefore had no issues stepping across the entrance, some of the old legends of vampires not being able to enter without invitation were definitely true, but Paul had 300 years of practice on how to get into buildings he wanted or needed to.
He eyed around, the smell of the pub just intoxicating, and spotted his friends by the bar already. Vampires could drink alcohol and it had an effect for sure, but not the same as humans and they never had a hangover the day after. It all came down to some clean blood at the end of the night, be it an animal or preferably, a human. Tara's girlfriend, who she was also bonded to, worked at a hospital and had requested to be assigned to the blood donor's program and as if by destiny, was chosen, so they never really had an issue with blood supply. She was working the graveyard shift, clearly, and couldn't join tonight.
He walked up to the bar and sat by his friends.
''Jesus! You made it!'' Tara claimed happily, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She was always so fun, alive and it made Paul happy. Maggie and Glenn were enjoying their drinks and the chit chat picked up. Tara was talking about something happening at work, with Maggie nodding seriously but Glenn hardly keeping it together.
Paul was listening but also looking around intently, just seeing the people tonight, who's new and who's a regular. Strangely enough, this place didn't get much fresh blood. He spotted a figure far from their seat, sitting down alone, with a beer in front of him.
He grinned for a moment
''l'll be right back'' he gestured to his friends and slid off the bar stool. He eyed the figure and walked towards him with his friends looking at him for a second, giggling, shaking their heads and continuing their conversation. They knew above all, Paul loved bodies and the warmth against his own.
Paul walked up to the table, poked at the empty chair beside the man
''Is this seat taken?'' he asked, eyeing the man and his movements, his breathing - he was human.
The man only grunted, not looking up and signaled for him to sit and Paul did in a heartbeat (if he had one).
''Hi, I'm Paul'' he chirped, hoping to see the face of this dark figure.
''Daryl'' came the low gruff as the man stared up at Paul for a brief second, eyes hidden by a couple strands of hair.
If Paul would actually be breathing, his breath would have been caught by the man's gaze, those beautiful, sad eyes staring into his for what seemed like eternity.
He swallowed and caught his voice ''Nice to meet you.'' He almost moaned back, mesmerized. This night was his, indeed.