𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝐶𝑎𝑡 | rowan laslow

first day anxiety

 Vampires generally don't like change. It's a preference they develope as they go through the decades of unaging. The reason why a lot of them don't transfer out of Nevermore, other than convenience of course, and why they stick together like a rat king. Overly dependent lot.

To you, that clique is like a family in all the best and worst ways. You could always fall back on them when you're tired, when you can't muster up the energy to make connections with people you know will disappear in a few years. They'll always have your back and they don't ask you to clarify when you say, not this year.

They're always there. Unchanged just like you.

That fact is unsettling. Maybe you're the odd one out for thinking that.

"Is someone sitting here?" you grin a bit too wide, showing off your well groomed fangs. The new student stammers something incoherent, a yes or a no and a maybe. You don't wait for him to gather himself before the intrusion and take the seat anyway, knocking your knee against his as you barge into his space. You offer your name freely like it holds no power over you and very politely ask, "What about you?"

"Rowan," the way he's so reluctant about it is cute. You hum at that.

It's clear the closeness unnerves him. The fast thumping of his heart is loud and the scent of perspiration clouds him like expensive perfume. He's nervous. It's funny. "You know we don't need books in the first week, right?" he takes way too long to conjure up a sentence so you push on before the silence could become awkward. "If you're trying to look busy, you should borrow a novel from the library. It's free. Better entertainment too. I can take you there later if you want? There's this one classic that's my absolute favorite,"

You blabber on and on and on during the teacher's introduction, he forgets he ever wanted the ground to swallow him up whole in the first place. As if he never ducked so low from imagined sneers his neck started feeling sore. Your presence is so distracting it chases away his thoughts before it could even take root.

Then you stand up, introducing yourself in a tone he never thought would have come from you if he wasn't already watching you to begin with. Bored and clinical, reciting an old script told so many times it comes almost natural. It snaps him out of the bubble you unknowingly put him in. Reminds him he's still in class and actually a student that does student stuff.

You pat him on the shoulder as you sit down. The constant physical touch is a foreign concept he doesn't really know what to do with, so he ends up just letting you do whatever you want. "I'm Rowan Laslow, I'm 16 and my hobbies are-" fuck if he knows. "Reading." good enough.

His heart thrums in his ears, coming down from the adrenaline rush of having to stand in front of a bunch of people and talk loud enough so the teacher doesn't tell him to repeat himself but not so loud it's booming in the silence. It's a tightrope. He hates it.

"So, do you read or did you just say that because nothing else popped up in your mind at the moment." Jesus, it's like talking to his therapist.

"Are you reading my mind?" he half asks, half wonders out loud.

"That's a stereotype all made up by that one movie- what's the name? I know it has an S in it." you wave your hands around, trying to remember.

"Twilight." he doesn't mention the fact it doesn't have an S in it.

"Yes, that. " you move on to your point with no shame. "A lot of transferees usually go for reading when they don't have anything else to say just to get it over with." like him. Neither of you say it, but it's there. "And I know you're wearing glasses but you don't seem like a nerd. Kinda more like a loser actually, but not a nerd."