#i planned this out fall 2020 when i was getting recertified for CPR LOL

[cudan2]

Vampires Aren’t Part of the Curriculum

Spring Break Shadowing Part 6.1

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 3,185

Summary: Finals have come and gone, and it's time to bid farewell to another year of college. As fate would have it though, a certain doctor unexpectedly reappears in your life again.

Warning: Death, implied canon-typical violence

A/N: I don't typically write things that warrant a warning, so feel free to let me know if anything else should be added/tagged!

Masterlist

XXX

If there’s one thing you never hear living in the city, it’s silence. Even if the semester is over and your roommates gone for summer break, the reliable cacophony of cars honking, police sirens wailing, never-ending chatter from the sidewalks, and the unmistakable thumping coming from your neighbor’s bed above will always be there to keep you company. At least they waited till finals were over.

Your phone vibrates on your bed where you tossed it earlier, and you groan from two feet away. Lying on the floor in your apartment bedroom is the first real break you’ve had this whole week. You roll over and stick an arm up high enough to grab your phone. It’s a message directed at you in the group chat with your friends.

Y/N what’s the ETA? We’re all at the restaurant.

In the midst of getting back from your last exam and attempting to simultaneously pack and clean your apartment, the small get-together everyone planned the week prior had slipped your mind. Shit. You scramble up from the floor, tripping over your open suitcase in the process and stubbing your toe. Pain radiates from your toe up through your foot, and you let out a string of incoherent curses. Double shit.

A few minutes later, your outfit is changed, your hair is semi-presentable, and you no longer resemble the bum you were earlier. You throw on the first jacket that you find in your closet and grab your keys and wallet on the way out the door with your phone in hand.

Sorry guys! I’ll be there in 20!

Even though exhaustion slowly creeps up on you, you’re glad to have spent your last night as a college junior with your friends. After dinner, the party migrates back to one of your friend’s apartments where you end the night with a movie and some board games.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you to the station?”

It’s nearing 11:00 pm. The night is still young – for college student standards, that is – but you really need to finish packing up everything before heading home tomorrow afternoon.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine! It’s only a ten-minute walk from here,” you tell everybody. Your friends look skeptical, but you reassure them. “Really, guys, I’ll be fine. It’s not that late out yet, so you can keep playing without me.”

“Okay, but text us when you get back to your place!” You agree and shrug your jacket on before giving everyone one last goodbye.

The route home is simple: walk ten minutes to the 14th Street/6th Avenue Station, and the train would take you directly from the Village back to Bowery where all you have to do is walk another two blocks to your apartment. Despite the simplicity of it though, the exhaustion you felt earlier is pushed away by a gnawing sense of foreboding by the time you are halfway to the station. The hairs on your body stick up, and there’s a sinking feeling developing in the pit of your stomach. Something feels off.

You stop dead in your tracks and look around. Greenwich Village is fairly lit from restaurants still serving people or closing up for the night, and there are enough people walking about for you to not freak out… yet.

Nothing around you is overtly suspicious, but you can’t shake that gut feeling that something is bound to happen. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to walk back alone after all.

You start towards the station again, better to get home quicker than to make yourself a target anyways. Sticking your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you feel the comforting plastic of the pepper spray attached to your key chain. There is also a slip of paper in the pocket that you never had the courage to remove.

Doctor Cullen’s – Carlisle, you have to remind yourself – phone number still remains where you first placed it. There were plenty of times where you considered sending him a text in the last two months, but there never seemed to be a good reason for it. Carlisle is a busy doctor, and busy doctors shouldn’t have to waste precious time over frivolous things like messages from a college student with a stupid crush.

If it weren’t for the bout of uneasiness that sprung out of nowhere, the urge to facepalm for even thinking about him again would have overwhelmed you. He is a surgeon you shadowed for a week – nothing more, nothing less. Or, that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself. You like to believe life would be easier if the god-like doctor wasn’t popping up in your thoughts every now and then like… like a bad zit.

Great, now you were comparing Carlisle to a pimple of all things. The sentiment does serve as a good distraction from the otherwise less appealing option of anxiety though.

A block later, you see the signature globe lamps at the top of the subway stairs and nearly let out a sigh of relief. Abandoning the growing darkness of the Village behind, you make your way into the bright fluorescent lights of the station.

Flying past faded advertisements as you navigate to the correct platform is second nature to you at this point. The distinct smell of sewage and the questionable water dripping down from the ceiling reminds you of a dungeon, an image only further maintained by the variety of rust stains splattered across the rundown tile walls like a mosaic. The only thing this station is missing is its own Pizza Rat.

At the platform, there are a number of other people waiting for the train along with you. You breathe a little easier knowing you won’t have to stand here alone, yet the gut feeling still won’t dissipate. Could it be the exam you took earlier in the day? Did you forget to lock your apartment door? Your mind jumps to a dozen different reasons as to why you’re possibly feeling this way, but nothing clicks in your head.

The deep rumbling of the train soon arrives and you board, taking a seat in the corner of the car. It thankfully ends up being a more uneventful subway ride, but the sense of foreboding grows with every minute that slowly crawls by. Fifteen minutes pass for the train to finally pull into your station. By then, you’re ready to tear out of the subway and just get the hell back home as fast as you can.

You realize a little too late that your station is virtually empty once stepping off the train alone and facing nothing but the sounds of cricket chirps and the mechanical clanging of the subway that quickly grows further and further away. Clenching your hand around the pepper spray again, you warily take a deep breath and try to ignore the resounding thumping of your heart. The fluorescent lights flicker above you, and every step you take towards the exit echoes off the walls of the empty halls.

Then, a loud thump slices through the silence.

You freeze on the spot. Alarm bells go off in your head. You’re on edge more than ever now, and every fiber of your being is telling you to run. And yet, you don’t. Your feet refuse to move from where they are. There’s a part of you – the part that aspires to help people and save lives, the part that yearns for the chance to make a difference in this world – that part wants you to seek out the source of the noise. Your brain releases epinephrine, sending you into fight or flight mode. You know you’ll regret it if you don’t check things out though.

“Screw it,” you mutter under your breath. You only hope this doesn’t backfire on you.

Around the corner is an alcove in the wall where you spot the crumpled body of a woman on the floor. Time slows around you.

For the first time that night, you feel a sense of clarity. You aren’t one to believe in fate, but something deep inside you knows that every decision, every choice you have ever made, led you to this very moment. There’s a reason the universe brought you here and you know that reason is to save a life tonight.

You jump into action.

The steps to providing first aid run through your head at the speed of light, and you’ve never been more grateful for your CPR training. The cold tiled floor of the station collides with your knees as you drop to the ground to roll the woman onto her back. Despite no visible signs of injury, her body, still warm, remains lifeless. You shout and tap on her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her from unconsciousness.

She doesn’t wake up.

Your head moves of its own accord, tilting an ear towards the woman’s mouth to listen for signs of breathing while your eyes are trained on her chest, looking for the rise and fall of her lungs.

She’s not breathing. You pray she isn’t dead already.

Calling 911 is the next priority. Your phone is in hand before you even process it, and you’re about to dial the last digit when a silvery voice you haven’t heard in two months diverts your attention. He doesn’t need to say more than your name before your head snaps around, relief washing over you like a wave when you see him standing there in the grimy subway station hallway with you.

If the situation wasn’t so dire, you would’ve thought you were imagining things.

“Doc– Carlisle!” Words tumble out of you before you even get a chance to think. “I found this woman unconscious, and she won’t wake up. She isn’t breathing, I–” Carlisle cuts you off, but what he says isn’t what you expect at all.

“You need to leave.”

You need to…

His words almost don’t register in your head, but when they do, it sends you reeling.

“What?!”

And that’s when you finally see. His hands are balled into fists by his side, his jaw is clenched, and the golden eyes you sought out in your dreams avoids the body on the floor. You realize he has no intention of helping.

“You need to leave, now. It’s not safe for you here.” He takes a step closer to you and offers you a hand, reminding you of your first day of shadowing with him. “Please, Y/N, I beg of you.”

You want to acquiesce, oh how you wish you could give into his pleading eyes, but you can’t understand why Carlisle is refusing to provide the help this person clearly needs. Your brain grasps at straws for an answer, even for possible excuses, anything to make sense of what he’s saying.

“How can you leave someone here to die?”

His lips press into a thin line, a pained look passing over his features. “This woman is already dead. Over fifty percent of her blood volume has been lost, and her organs have already begun shutting down. There is nothing more we can do. When the authorities discover her body in an hour, she will be declared dead on arrival.”

You don’t want to believe him, but the same gut feeling that led you here to begin with tells you otherwise. You turn back to look at the woman, and his words hit you like a wrecking ball.

Already dead…

The clatter of your phone hitting the floor reverberates through the emptiness of the station. You gasp and fall back off your knees, your hands meeting the ground behind you as you try to scramble away from what you now recognize as a corpse.

A strangled “How?” slips out of you. You don’t know what answer you’re looking for exactly; there are too many questions running through your head. How did she die? How does Carlisle know? How was he even here to begin with?

Within a blink of an eye, Carlisle crouches in front of you, effectively blocking your view of the woman. His voice is low but clear. “I know none of this makes sense, and I wish there was more I could tell you, but your safety is of the utmost importance right now. Y/N, I need you to listen to me. I need you to stand up, and we will leave here together. Can you do that for me?”

Against your better judgement, against all common sense, you go with what you heart wants, and your heart has always told you to trust Carlisle. Foolishly, and perhaps even dangerously, you nod meekly and accept his frigid hand to pull yourself up. He hands you your phone.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved. This never should’ve happened,” you hear him say. What did you get involved in? His firm grip on your hand tightens, as he urges you towards the exit. “Come, we must hurry before–”

“Before what? Please, I…” You want to demand answers from him, but your voice falters. You’re far out of your element here. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

And just like that, his finger is on your lips, shushing you into a forceful silence. His eyes widen, panic striking across his features. Suddenly, he turns around. The hand you held lets go and pushes you behind him away from the exit.

Over Carlisle’s shoulder, you see a man that wasn’t there seconds before. He’s wearing a haphazard collection of worn-out clothing that almost appears to be held together by threads at this point. He stands casually, unconcerned with the heavy tension that lingers in the air, with a blank expression. He takes a step forward into the direct lights that illuminates the pallid, ashen tone of his skin. It’s the way his eyes are a shade of unsettling red and the streak of blood on his chin that sends the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You unconsciously wrap your fingers around the pepper spray in your pocket again, but you have a strong feeling that it won’t do much here.

Carlisle is the first to speak. “My name is Carlisle. Allow me to extend an apology for interrupting your meal; we’re not looking for any trouble.”

Meal? Your eyes dart from the other man to the one in front of you, boring holes into the back of Carlisle’s head. The beating of your heart thunders rapidly in an incessant crescendo. You desperately want answers from him now. You want the missing puzzle pieces to what you conclude is a game that you never signed up for because no… there is no freaking way Carlisle is implying what you think he’s saying.

The other man purses his lips in mild contemplation. “Consider your apology accepted.” His lips curl into an unsettling smile, and you inhale sharply at the sight of his blood-stained teeth. “Excuse my manners, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure to meet. I’m Theo. Now,” his crimson eyes flicker over to you briefly before meeting Carlisle’s again, “I’m not personally one to play with my food, but if you’ve brought dessert, I don’t mind sharing.”

All color drains from your face. Not only is it bad that you’ve managed to stumble across a dead body, but now a cannibal too? Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. To make it worse, Carlisle is somehow involved in all this, shattering your illusion of the perfect surgeon you thought him to be.

There isn’t time to dwell though. Once hearing what Theo had to say, Carlisle lunges into a low defensive stance. His movement is faster than anything you’ve ever seen, a speed that shouldn’t be humanly possible.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I suggest you keep your hands off what isn’t yours.”

Theo puts both of his hands up in mock surrender. “Tsk, no need to be so aggressive. If you don’t mind leaving me to it, I have unfinished business,” he nods over to the body on the floor.

“Of course,” Carlisle regards him coolly, the dangerous inflection in his voice never wavering. He grabs your free hand and starts moving towards the exit with you in tow. Before you ascend the station stairs to the street, he stops and turns his head back to Theo. “Do clean up after yourself. The last thing we would want is for the Volturi to descend upon the city.”

“Duly noted.”

Silence is something you never hear in New York City, but after going through the deafening silence of that subway station, you were ready to welcome the noisiness of the surface with open arms.

Your self-preservation finally kicks in when a car horn pulls you out of autopilot mode. You’re nearly to the end of the next block in the opposite direction of your apartment by the time you realize your hand is still in Carlisle’s. A chill runs down your spine, and you try to yank away from the man leading you to the unknown, if you can even call him a man.

“Carlisle, stop!” You refuse to run blindly anymore. It takes another few attempts of tugging until the cold fingers wrapped around your own let go.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carlisle lets out an exasperated sigh, the present crease between his brows deepening as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you hurt?”

Beyond all the fear and anxiety, anger flares within you. “Hurt? No, I’m not hurt. What I am though is confused as hell!”

“I know. There is much I promise to explain, but there are far too many eyes and ears here for me to do it now. Do you have anywhere safe to go?”

Carlisle managing to ignore the elephant in the room yet again does not escape your notice, but you humor him anyways. “My apartment is three blocks away.”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head. “That’s too close. Is there anywhere else?”

You don’t say a word. What could you even say? Your roommate was gone, your actual home is no where near here, and you can’t bring whatever this is upon your friends.

He takes your silence as a no and says, “I see.” There’s a brief interlude, one that Carlisle spends in deep thought before asking, “Y/N, can you find it in yourself to put your trust in me one last time?”

Could you? Would taking the plunge into the deep end be worth putting everything you’ve worked for so far at risk? You’re angry – angry at the situation, angry at Carlisle for not doing more for the poor woman, and for not telling you anything. Above all else though, you are most angry at yourself because despite every red flag and what all logic dictates, you still hold a sliver of trust in him.

“Fine.” The word falls off your tongue before you can even stop, and you can already imagine the headlines: NYU Student Gets Eaten by Cannibals.

“Please close your eyes.”

And so you do.

XXX

Tag List - Please message me if you would like to be added or removed to either this series or the rest of my fics!

Carlisle Cullen

@jelly-fishy-babie @anxiousgoldengirl @mindlessstories

@floweringashore

Spring Break Shadowing

@justine-en