Robin x Vlad Oneshots (Young Dracula)

Forgotten, can't forget

Unconnected Short Stories
falsteloj
Ao3
302 words

When Robin Branagh was thirteen years old, he was obsessed with vampires. He knows because his mother loves to tell anyone and everyone he brings home. She pulls out a photograph album and points to a picture of two boys in capes and plastic fangs. Laughs as she recalls how Robin and 'his little friend' Vlad spent hours pretending to be members of the undead.

His friends always smile politely and crack an inane joke about going easy on the garlic in future. Robin just stares at the photograph and wonders why he can't remember. Why 'his little friend' is a total blank in his memory. Why the only relevant thought that ever comes to mind when he tries – and he has tried – to remember is 'vampires don't exist'.

When Vladimir Dracula was thirteen years old, he was obsessed with breathers. He knows, as if he could ever forget, because Ingrid loves to tell anyone and everyone who steps foot in the castle. She pulls out his old school photographs and points out two teenage boys. Scoffs and sneers as she recounts how desperately 'little Vladdy' wanted to be normal like his repulsive breather friend, Robin Branagh.

Their guests always smile politely – not everyone has the luxury of being a blood relative of the Grand High Vampire – and crack a lame joke about how it's always the ones you least expect. Vlad just stares at the photograph and wonders why he cannot forget. Why his 'repulsive breather friend' consumes his thoughts like nothing else. Why he still has Robin's cape balled up in the bottom of his wardrobe. Why, even with everything he's seen and everything he's done, he still classes the moment he was forced to convince Robin that vampires didn't exist as the worst of his entire life.