“The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service, please check the—“
Fen hung the phone up and ran his hands over his face to rub away the exhaustion and uncertainty. Of course, Vic lost this number, he changed it so often it was like clockwork, leaving him no way to let the man know he was alright, let alone ask for help. But the same thought occurred to him over and over; what exactly was he going he say? What did he expect Vic to do? And what’s stopping Gabriel from going after him like he did Kellen?
A disgusting feeling crawled over him like centipedes trying to find a way into his skin, and he rubbed his arms in an attempt to shake them off. The thought seeing Vic tore open made him sick, to be haunted by his dead eyes in the same way he was haunted by the look his mom gave him just before she left and never came home. But for eternity.
“You okay?” The waitress approached him from behind the counter of the restaurant and he was grateful her presence stopped him from getting upset in public. Especially this far uptown where high society was awake and busy; businessmen sipping shots of espresso, women in heels and pencil skirts ready to take on the world, and families enjoying themselves on a bright day. His waitress smiled warmly and refilled his coffee. “Still need the phone, hun?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine.” He said with a not-so-reassuring-nod.
She accepted it just the same and grabbed his empty plate before leaving to tend to her other customers.
Fen sighed softly and caught the eye of a well-dressed man who was staring at him with a certain pessimism. He shot a look at the man, an obvious what-are-you-staring-at look that seemed to work since he returned to his paper with the slightest rise of his eyebrows. Fen glanced back to his coffee, staring at the darkness in a cup. He knew he stuck out a little too much around here, covered in bruises and with the complexion of someone who hasn’t seen daylight in ages.
Maybe I’m already a vampire to them.
The clothes Gabriel had given him, a quarter sleeved black shirt and a pair of khakis with some shoes, fit a little too well, and he was positive they didn’t come from a store. When he first put them on, they were still warm and smelled faintly of cologne.
He didn’t want to think about where the man got them, but Fen had a feeling there was a naked corpse somewhere on this side of the city.
His mind flashed a series of images then—Gabriel’s silhouette crouched over Kellen’s dismembered body, the sight of a stranger’s neck-breaking, Vic’s smile just before they fell asleep the other night and the haunting deep-sea stare of Gabriel’s human façade. He tried to focus on other things; the smell of coffee, the sound of plates clattering together, the businessman who was insistently staring on and off again. But there was nothing that could take his mind off last night, nothing that would settle his nerves because he was either going to die or become a blood-thirsty monster.
At that thought, he paid the waitress for his meal and headed out the door.
“Good luck, hun!” She said, trying her best to be optimistic for him.
He appreciated it and hoped Gabriel never found her late at night after a long shift.
Outside, the sun was high in the sky but the wind carried a slight chill as he walked down the perfectly paved uptown streets. Gabriel had taken shelter in a hotel that wasn’t opened to the public yet but would be soon enough, which would explain the running water and working lights. It was tricky getting out, having to walk down so many stairs and trying to sneak past the men who arrived to work early, but he needed the daylight and air, so it was worth the risk.
It wasn't an odd need. Four years he’d spent in his own personal night shift and slept most of the days away since no one needed him with the sun was out. No one needed him at all if he wanted to be honest with himself. There would always be another warm body in the red-light district, someone else to exchange flesh for currency. He wasn’t anything to them but a preference, a means of escape from the reality that their fetishes aren’t always welcomed in the relationships they have—if they had any. And he stayed home, afraid of the streets, afraid of faces he might recognize that would drag him back to face his past or those same faces who might be the ones to recognize him as that selfish, privileged punk who killed his mother and sister. It was an accident, a mistake, a stupid fucking mistake.
He shivered.
And he agreed with Gabriel.
His life was darkness, it was suffering and guilt, sex and filth. He fell into a pit he couldn’t climb out of, too afraid to reenter society after the first rape and the last man to pay him. He almost laughed at the fucked up thought of considering eternal damnation over everything else. It felt like the easiest and hardest way out, not that Gabriel would let him live for long if he chose to refuse him. Or it was possible he'd enjoy watching someone else make the kill.
Sometimes there’s a bad choice and one that’s far worse.
Gabriel seemed to balance being in and out of control, moments when he struggled with murderous instincts and the possible sliver of humanity that might still be hiding somewhere inside him. Fen wondered if he himself would know the difference between good and bad? Would he be able to make that decision or would the hunger make it for him? He didn’t want to die…not yet, but he didn’t want to kill other people for an eternity just to survive.
Yet, if he had to become a vampire, if he would want anything before the red hunger consumed him, he’d want to see Vic one more time and…thank him for everything. And the thought made his heart hurt.
When he realized he’d been walking in a trance he looked around, glancing at all the stores and restaurants, high-end boutiques and pricey cafes. He saw people eating brunch at small tables near the fountain at the center of the outlet, shaded by umbrellas and lost in their conversations and laughter. He saw groups of young women walking hip to hip with several bags hooked around their arms, and children running ahead of their parents as they walked down the sidewalks with ice cream. A small smile crossed his face but it withered away when the doors of the store closest to him had opened.
He saw a family; a couple and their two teenage children—a girl and boy—walking out with bright smiles and shopping bags. He stopped, staring at them as they passed. He saw Diana and himself, as content as they could be when they were together with their parents, enjoying the pleasantries that were provided for them, spoiled but happy kids. Before the parties, before the drugs, before the accident.
He watched them pass, following their movements until Diana and his former self disappeared at the ending of a memory.
He took a step forward and suddenly collided with someone in front of him. His to-go cup of coffee slipped from his grip and splattered across the sidewalk as the hands of a stranger steadied him.
“Ah, I’m sorry!” The person said.
Fen looked up and felt a slight flush on his face.
The man standing before him, holding him by the shoulders and making sure coffee hadn’t stained them both, was exceptionally good-looking. A clean-cut businessman who carried a slight pant in his between his soft breathes as if he were running late. The man noticed his hands were touching Fen for too long and a small blush of his own colored his cheeks. Swiftly, he lifted his hands with a smile almost as charming as Gabriel in his glamour. But this man was real, human and safe.
He rubbed the back of his neck in a small bit of embarrassment, a goofy-dad kind of half-smile crossing his lips. The kind of guy Fen would never see at his door.
“Jeez, can you believe you aren’t the first person I’ve run into this morning?” He chuckled softly.
Fen smiled, feeling strangely insecure with his appearance, and when the man suddenly looked down, he used his fingers to push his hair around, though it didn’t do much. Probably nothing at all.
“I’m sorry, let me buy you another coffee.” The man said, reaching into his back pocket.
“No, no, it’s alright, seriously, I'm fine," Fen said quickly when the man pulled out his wallet. “I just…had coffee earlier and I was starting to think the cup was part of me with how long I was carrying it without actually taking a drink.”
“Are you sure?” He asked again, hesitant.
Fen nodded, smiling more than he had in a while.
The man smiled back then looked down at his watch. “Damn, I have to go. And again, I’m sorry!” He passed Fen, but after a few steps, he turned back around and walked backward at a slower pace. “If we run into each other again…I’ll treat you!”
His back met a light pole and he flinched, quickly recovering with that goof-smile as he hurried off.
Fen laughed, the encounter leaving him feeling strangely warm as he went on his way.
He didn’t bother going into most of the shops, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. He bought more food, the only thing he really wanted after two days without eating, and carried his drink down the sidewalk, sipping it as he stopped at a bookstore and glanced through the window.
Inside, he saw most of the merchandise was anime or comic book related, and in the window was a small display advertising the remake of a show he used to watch.
“Do yourself a favor and just look away.”
Fen turned to the voice, seeing a girl with pink hair and two guys, all three around his age, standing near the door.
“Look away?” He asked.
“The Promiser remake, don’t bother. The first season was trash after they decided not to follow the manga and go off on their own fuck-it-all journey.” The girl said without a breath.
“For the record, Kotaro Yamaoka killed as the villain though so points for that.” The guy with freckles and too-cute dimples chimed in.
“Can’t relate, I’ve been watching Queen Slayer.” The second guy wearing glasses said as he tied back his dreads. “The art is amazing and I’ve had the theme song stuck in my head for three days.”
“Oh, yeah, jiggly anime tits and another your-everyday-normal-guy-meets-fantasy-world plot. Sign me up, please.” She said sarcastically with a heavy eye roll.
“So, what do you watch?” Too-Cute asked and they all waited.
“Um…well.” Fen tried to dig his brain for an answer. “I used to watch The Promiser, but that was a few years ago. I haven’t really revisited anime in a while.”
“See? The Promiser was so bad it ruined anime for him for life.” The girl said before they all laughed, which made Fen smile a little.
“So, did you get into a fight or something?” Glasses asked.
“Wow, rude-fuck much?” Pink said quickly, shooting Glasses a sour look.
“It was concern,” He said defensively and looked to Fen. “I’m concerned.”
“No, it’s cool,” He responded. “It…was a fight, but no one got hurt…much.”
The trio seemed pleased with his comment before they started headed inside the store.
“You coming in?” The girl asked.
“Oh, no, I have somewhere to be.” He said.
“Well, I’m Emma, that’s Sid and Reuben” She said.
“Fen.”
“If you’re ever around on Saturdays, we’re normally here checking out the new shit.” She said with a wave and the three of them disappeared inside.
Fen lingered for a few seconds before walking off, finding himself enjoying the brief moments of normalcy, of smiling. It was hard to pinpoint the emotions running through him, maybe it’s just been too long since he had conversations and interactions that didn’t feed his anxiety or feel like strangers forcing themselves to be friendly. And even if it wasn’t possible to completely push away the problems weighing him down, they didn’t seem as heavy at the moment.
The day passed like a dream he never had, and he spent the rest of it overlooking a lake near the hotel. Joggers rushed past him, parents gathered their children up, and snack vendors called it a day. The last of the sunlight was disappearing behind the cityscape, spreading gold and violet colors across the sky and falling into darkness that surrounded the moon. The small happiness today brought was dangerous, it gave back all his uncertainty and anxiety about any kind of decision because, for the first time in a while, he didn't feel like a burden on society. He wanted more of the sun and he wanted to live in it.
And after the last of the work crew left for the night, Fen jumped the fence and headed around back. The door he used earlier was still open, the missing lock had gone unnoticed, and he walked inside, shutting himself in the dark.
The only light was a single blue glow coming from a fuse box on the wall, one that guided him to the door he needed.
He only took a few steps before someone grabbed his shoulder.
Fen jumped away from the grip, damn near ready to fall over from a heart attack, and turn to the one who grabbed him.
His eyes went wide.
Gabriel was standing there; panting thickly, the clothes beneath his coat were painted with red splatters. However, one of his arms hung out of the coat sleeve and laid at his side severely burnt, creating wisps of smoke and glowing embers against the charred skin. His eyes were water and blood, both trying to overcome each other while Gabriel bared his much-larger fangs during his heavy breaths.
“What…happened…?” Fen managed to ask.
“Left…too soon, sunlight,” Gabriel said and somewhere in his voice there was...pain.
The vampire leaned forward like was going to fall, prompting Fen to quickly reach out for him, but he was surprisingly heavy and they dropped back to the ground. Gabriel falling on top of him, shifting in pain and hissing darkly.
“Are…you going to heal? You can do that right?” Fen asked, but why was his heart beating so fast? Why would he care if Gabriel was in pain?
“Not at the moment.”
“When?”
“After I feed.” Gabriel managed to lift himself above Fen and looked down at him for a few too-long seconds, giving a brief glance at Fen’s chest when he must've heard his heart skip.
Gabriel only looked away when the coat shifted over his burnt arm, a slight look of irritation crossing his face when he thought it might get dirty, or Fen assumed so.
Carefully, he reached up and helped the man out of it.
There was no way to describe Gabriel’s look when he was helped, possibly confused, but when that look returned to Fen, his eyes shifted and red had won, spreading like blood across a clean surface. A look that crawled out of the darkest part of his erotic fantasies and choked him with every ounce of fear and arousal his body had.
And when the man spoke, the tone of his voice wasn’t harsh or loud, in fact, it was almost a whisper. A few words in a single soft breathe, the gentle command of a man—no, something far more dangerous than that—who wouldn’t be ignored, refused, or met with the slightest bit of resistance:
“Show me your neck.”
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