The man looks at him for a moment. Caius feels like he’s being inspected.

“You’re in my apartment.” He finally says, folding his arms in front of him. Caius frowns. The more he looks, the more this man seems familiar. His face is pale and skimming the line of what could be considered gaunt - his eyes are sharp and slanted, and seem to glow gold in the warm light of the bedside lamp. The lenses on his glasses occasionally catch a glare as he turns his head. “You’ve been asleep for two days. You were in a bad state. Your injuries will heal faster than usual because of my first aid, but you still shouldn’t move around too much-”

Caius’s eyes widen in recognition.

“Professor Faust,” he says with surprise. He remembers now - the most popular professor from the history department he's been studying in for the last four years. He’d even tried to sign up for Faust’s classes before, but they fill up in record time every semester.

Faust sighs. 

“It’s-” He starts, but Caius inhales suddenly.

“Clete,” he says, looking around the room even as his memory returns. He sees, vividly, as though it’s happening in front of his eyes again, Cletus dangling over the red-haired vampire’s shoulder, his pupils blown wide with fear. “My friend. What happened to him?”

Faust watches him. Something flickers over his expression, but it settles in the next moment.

“He was taken.” He says, tone composed. “By the vampire.”

Caius closes his eyes.

“You fought him off.” He says, his lashes flicking open again, looking intensely at Faust. “There must be a way to attack a vampire.”

Faust looks at him oddly.

“Most people would take a little longer to accept the existence of vampires,” he says, his upper lip twitching in a way that’s either a scoff or a disbelieving smile.

“With the evidence in front of me, it would be stupid to argue.” Caius replies, rubbing one hand over his face. When he removes it, his expression is grim.

Faust chuckles.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” He says, nudging the stool back to its place beside the bed with his foot, the legs scaping quietly against the floor. “But you should focus on healing over the summer break, go back to your classes, and put all these thoughts of vampires out of your head, Caius. There’s nothing you can do.”

“I can’t do that!” Caius protests, then stops. He frowns. “How do you know my name?”

Faust points at the nightstand. Caius looks around - his wallet is on the table, next to his smartphone.

“It was on your student ID.” He says, and Caius feels slightly stupid for asking, but Faust continues. “And even a misanthrope like me knows the face of the highest-ranked student in the history department, even if I’ve never had you in my classes.”

Caius blinks.

“Huh,” he says.

Faust walks to the door.

“Rest,” he says, “instead of being nosy.” He makes a shooing motion at Caius, sitting upright in bed. “So you can get out of my business faster.”

He shuts the door behind him. Caius looks at the backside of the frame for a moment, only partially visible in the dim glow of the bedside table, and tries to settle his dizzying thoughts.