The clinking of keys is put to a stop as soon as Gerard places them on the keyring beside the stairs, hand letting the metal drop to silence.

As soon as Patrick enters the house, he blinks and slowly shuts the door behind him. It's a moderate house, the entry floor has nothing to it besides a set of stairs going upstairs and another downstairs. Gerard immediately leads him upstairs, Patrick following suit with a limp. His feet land uncoordinated on each step, hands gripping the railing upstairs. The whole place has a dark brown theme with white here and there. The walls are white, but the railing is a dark oak of some kind, the door as well. As they go upstairs, Patrick looks to his left to see a small living room, a seven cushioned tan couch turning at the third cushion with a TV at the end wall and a footstool in the middle along with a fairly large bookcase at one end. Patrick spots the Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes. All fairly classic books.

His attention is soon taken from the living room, though, and taken straight ahead from the stairs. Gerard leads him through the entryway to the kitchen with black and white kitchen appliances, and a few cupboards here and there. Patrick swallows nervously when Gerard just sighs and turns, his overcoat still over his shoulders and his gloves still on his hand.

"Who are you? What are you?" Patrick asks almost immediately, "I've seen you for the past two? Two years and you saved me each time. What's going on? How are you just... always there when I need you? Two years ago, remember when you flew me to the hospital? How the fuck did you do that? Is this some kind of... of voodoo magic or something? How did... How did you fly?"

Gerard chuckles, and Patrick nearly punches him for that, Gerard only pulls off his overcoat to reveal a hoodie and once he has his gloves off his hand and the whole thing placed in a closet to the right of the stairs, Gerard looks back to Patrick.

"Those are good questions, Patrick, but... they should be saved for another time," Gerard replies with a small sigh, "Can I take your hoodie?"

Patrick shakes his head. He doesn't know this guy. Who the hell even is he?

"Alright," Gerard nods, "This is the kitchen. You can take whatever you want, you don't have to pay me back. Back there, as you can tell, was the living room."

Patrick nods cautiously, still uncertain about Gerard.

"Sunroom is just through there, I spend most of my time there. And of course there's the balcony," Gerard points to the room past the kitchen that veers to the right and most likely meets up with the hall to the right of the stairs before the kitchen. The balcony goes to the left and it has a beautiful view, Patrick can already tell. It captures most of downtown Chicago and late at night as it is now, the lights are already brightening his mood.

"Your bedroom is down the hall, the second door on the right if the first door is the closet. The bathroom is the door on the left, my bedroom is all the way down, and the spare bedroom is between yours and my bedrooms." Gerard explains. Patrick blinks but nods, thinking he has an idea as he peers down the hall then returns to Gerard.

"What do you need for rent? I can get you anything you want," Patrick asks.

"I don't want anything for rent. I just want to help you," Gerard chuckles. Patrick glares.

"I'm paying you rent. I don't care if you're just being generous. If you don't let me pay rent, I'm going to leave."

Gerard frowns at Patrick, "What do you mean? What the hell, Man?"

"I mean nobody does this for free," Patrick replies, "Does 300 a month sound alright, or do you want more?"

Gerard blinks, "I'm not taking your money."

"Then I'm not taking a room. How much do you want? Nobody gives out shit like this just out of generosity. That's not how the world fucking works," Patrick nearly laughs. To be able to live at a stranger's house? For free? With an unlimited supply of food? It's crazy. There's no way Gerard is just gonna give this away for absolutely nothing. Everybody wants something. Sex, money, drugs, revenge.

"I could pay you in money and sex," Patrick continues, "I have 3 years of experience. A-and even drugs if you want. I have a friend."

"Patrick, stop," Patrick flinches when Gerard rests his hand on Patrick's shoulder, "I'm not having sex with you. I'm not gonna do any of that with you. 300 a month sounds fine if that's what you want to pay. I... I've already paid off the house, though, and I don't need food or transportation."

"Why the hell don't you need food?"

Gerard bites his lip but quickly lets go, "Another question for another time."

"No, stop it," Patrick immediately replies, "Tell me what the hell is going on. You're not answering any of my questions and it's not normal for someone to just be able to go without food or... or disappear into thin air or fly. What the hell is going on? Why won't you tell me?"

Gerard sighs softly. He knew Patrick would ask soon enough.

Without a second thought, he passes his hands over Patrick's eyes, watching them close almost immediately and his body fall into Gerard's arms, chest inhaling and exhaling slowly, fast asleep. He carries Patrick through the kitchen and to the left, down the hall where he takes a right and opens Patrick's bedroom door.

The man sets the other down on the bed and straddles him, turning Patrick's head to the side to reveal his neck and that one vein pulsing with blood. Gerard lowers his head down, pressing his lips to Patrick's neck before parting them, feeling his canines grow out a little at the scent of blood.

So, so close. Just one puncture and it'll all be over and Patrick will transform and Gerard can leave him out on the street. Maybe he'll kill those rapists from just a couple hours earlier...

Just one bite...

Gerard squeezes his eyes shut, mouth watering as he tries, he tries so hard.

But he fails.

Patrick doesn't change that night.