Snippets [boyxboy and girlxgirl shorts]

Fresh Blood

Rating: V for VAMPIRES!! And N for Not romantic :(

Pairing: There isn't one but all the characters are gay

Based off of: A good friend of mine has been writing a vampire novel for like a year and a half and I had to get in on that

Other notes: I wrote this almost 10 months ago!! Also lots of swears as usual yikes

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Fucking Hell. Why am I such a fucking idiot?

Two weeks ago, Vincent told me about a really cool party he was going to. I didn't pay much attention to it. That was my first mistake. He talked about how a bunch of college kids were going to be there, and how there was gonna be a banquet.

I was such an idiot. A "banquet?" That's such classic vampire code. But I was too caught up with Gemma and her werewolf bullshit to pay attention.

She and I have been friends with Vincent since forever. Since we were kids. Before she turned, and before I turned, and before we became this strange group of friends made up of ⅔ monsters and ⅓ an oblivious human who has no idea.

After the party, when Vincent didn't text all night, I didn't worry about it. I knew he was alone with strangers at a party and I didn't even care that he didn't keep us updated; I was at Gemma's house brewing a spell to erase her little sister's memory of seeing Gemma turn.

I wish I had paused for a moment to fucking think. We're the only family Vincent has; his deadbeat mom wouldn't notice if he was dead in a fucking gutter, and his big brother basically forgot Vincent existed the nanosecond he moved out of the house. Vincent always texts us when he goes to places alone. I mean, he's a 6'3" black guy with an eyebrow scar, so Gem and I never expect anyone to jump him, but we're still a little protective.

But that night I let it go, and kept brewing. By the time Gem and I had slipped some of the potion into her sleeping little sister's mouth, it was three in the morning. I figured Vince was already home in bed-- he's not the type to party all night. He has the sleeping schedule of a 60 year old man: Early to bed early to rise and all that bullshit.

The next morning at school, he kept bitching about how sore he was. Gemma and I laughed, joking about how he shouldn't have come to school with a hangover. He kept insisting that he didn't drink a drop of alcohol.

I remember him looking me directly in the eyes with the most frightened look. "I think somebody drugged me, Iris. There's like, an hour of time of last night that I have no memories of. And soreness can be an after effect of a date rape drug, yeah?"

Gemma and I laughed and laughed. I want to bang my head against a wall remembering it. The whole situation might as well have been packaged in an envelope that read "VAMPIRES!" on the front, and still I was missing every fucking signal.

The soreness didn't go away. He kept complaining about it, day after day. Somehow, in a feat only an oblivious dipshit like yours truly could pull off, I kept laughing it off. He's a bit of a hypochondriac, yeah, but he looked so... scared.

He didn't tell us about the other symptoms, but I should've noticed anyways. As the week kept going, he bought less and less food in the lunch line, and he kept leaving the block after lunch to go to the bathroom, and then he would come back looking queasy. On Friday, he didn't even buy a lunch.

He was so scared. He must've been terrified. I kept catching him looking off into space, eyebrows drawn together. Once, I almost saw him start crying for seemingly no reason. I can't imagine the torrent of things he was feeling.

Wait.

Yes I can.

At first, you feel a little hungry. You keep trying to eat, but nothing is filling. Then, you start throwing it all back up. The hunger gets worse, but there's nothing you can do. You start worrying that you're dying. Then... You start having all these fantasies. You think that you can hear the heartbeats of people around you. You fantasize about reaching into someone's chest and ripping their heart out. Maybe the other organs, too. Blood. You think about so, so much blood. You feel disgusting, and terrified, and you keep thinking, maybe I should give in, maybe I should try it, maybe that's what I'm actually hungry for... And then you snap back into reality, and you feel the most intense shame and horror that you actually considered what you just considered.