Andres was easy to talk to.
Shane swore he spent just as much time over the next week messaging them as he did waiting impatiently for his vampire’s nightly visits. It was like Andres’s conversation with him at the Fishnettery had never stopped, their engaging mix of relaxed banter and thoughtful analyses dragging Shane in like a moth to the light. He found himself going deeper than he had with anyone in years—not that the bar there was particularly high.
As he splayed across his couch in the late afternoon, the feline heathen lounging between his legs, he casually explained his hopes for his future as a journalist and his fears that after so long in the content mill, no one would ever see him as such.
Andres
Tell me something then. Something journalistic.
Shane
If you’re not more specific, I hope you’re prepared for the sheer chaos you’re likely to get.
Andres
I’m happy for whatever you throw at me.
Shane
Really? Well then, did you know that statistically speaking, nonbinary people are more likely to be cooler, smarter, and hotter than your average human? This research is based on a data pool of one, though, so it may be flawed.
Andres
Oh, very funny.
They sent a gif of falling pink, blue, and white sparkles afterwards though, which made Shane’s grin even wider.
Andres
Tell me something beautiful, then. Something that worms its way into your soul and makes it a little bit brighter.
Shane
That’s harder, huh.
Okay, how about this:
Sometimes I have weird thoughts about death. And I don’t mean like intrusive thoughts or existential dread, but strangely the opposite? When I die someday (hopefully someday very far in the future, mind you), it won’t be simply a tragedy, but an honor too. We all came from stardust and it’s kind of wonderful that we’ll all return to it someday, the molecules in our bodies remade into new life a thousand times over between now and then.
It made him think of Cygnus—not simply the pet name his vampire had chosen for him, but the constellation and the mythology behind it, the mourner having been transformed into a swan and placed in the heavens by the gods after the death of his lover, Phaethon, made him inconsolable. Though the tragedy of the young lovers was far from enviable, Shane thought there was a symbolic beauty in the idea; Cygnus going on to light the nights of other couples for an eternity after, lost but never gone.
Shane
I want to be here for as long as I can, but after that I want to be the breath in someone’s lungs, and the crisp water they drink on a hot afternoon, the iron that pumps through their veins. I hope the words I write will have a direct, positive impact while I’m here, but once I’m not, my very body will have that impact instead.
Unless someone sticks me in a coffin, in which case I’ll just be dead forever.
Did I scare you off?
(Sorry.)
Shane attempted to shift his position on the couch without disrupting his obtrusive cat and forced down the flutter of unease in his gut as Andres continued to leave him on read. They’d been open to all his wild thoughts so far, but he knew that most people didn’t take well to talk of death, much less having that tragedy presented as a thing of beauty. Even the ways he could already offer parts of himself for the fueling of someone else’s life while he still lived weren’t viewed in the most positive light. His blood could be let willingly in his vampire’s mouth every night, a treasure that would pound through his vampire’s heart, but most people saw that not as a gift, but a vulgarity.
Perhaps Andres was the same.
Shane tapped the side of his phone as their typing bubbles finally appeared, forcing himself not to cut in by dismissing his own thoughts. If this was enough to scare Andres off, then Shane told himself he didn’t need their friendship. Just the thought of losing their messages made him feel sick inside, though.
Andres
(Sorry, I’m back!)
No, that was wonderful. Thank you 3 I’ve never thought of death like that before, but it seems rather lovely the way you described it.
It was the little heart that Shane got caught on, those two unassuming characters that seemed to beat in his own chest.
Andres
I think it’s safe to say that your words are already having a positive impact on someone 3
And another one.
It didn’t hit Shane any less potently, a warm ache settling inside him. Your words are already having a positive impact on someone. He hadn’t known just how much he needed that. Leaning against his elbow onto his chair’s armrest, he pressed his palm to his cheek. His whole body felt light, and his heart large.
He’d had enough crushes to know what that meant.
The realization settled into his stomach like a cloud of butterflies. This wasn’t simply the little spark of chemistry he’d had with Andres when they’d met, or the platonic joy of having someone to talk to—it was bigger, a breath-catching thing that offered to eat Shane alive if he let it.
Which he absolutely couldn’t. He had someone, even if that someone was a vampire who’d claimed him only for his blood, who still refused to show Shane his face or tell him his name even as he appeared to torment Shane on a nightly basis.
But Andres was currently just a friend; Shane had been clear on that when they’d first started texting, and after Andres’s original rejection to meet up, Shane had felt too awkward to ask if they wanted to try getting together again. Andres had never broached the topic.
Whatever Shane was starting to feel, this wouldn’t go anywhere—not anywhere outside his chest, anyway.
So when Andres texted the next day, tell me something limitless or something liminal, Shane broke down and spoke of ghosts, of souls and memory and the worth of a thing regardless of whether or not it was forgotten. He did not say that every sweet and considerate message Andres sent back made him smile uncontrollably.
Through every new exchange of existential musings, Andres was so thoughtful and curious and caring. When they finally moved the conversation from whimsical discussions to something more personal, the question they sent left Shane with an ache in his chest. He paused from the ChatterDash meme spread he’d been working on, turning his full attention to Andres’s text.
Andres
Do you ever feel like you’ve lost track of who you are on the inside?
It seemed odd, coming from someone as warm and open as Andres.
But Shane could not respond that he felt like he knew the person inside Andres already; that they were kind enough to not simply put up with him, but to revel in his absurdities, with their little old-school heart emojis and their unending pensive questions and their gentle responses that proved they were genuinely dwelling on the often ridiculous and long-winded answers Shane gave. Despite all the words in him, he didn’t know how to say any of that without sounding like he was a little bit in love with Andres. So he answered the question instead, just as he’d done with all of Andres’s others.
Shane
I think I know who I am? (I say that with hesitation only because while I did have to do a lot of self-reflection in all areas to get to this point in my gender and neurodiversity journey, I also don’t believe we’re just stagnant beings). But sometimes I also think the person I am—not the journalist persona or the me that random strangers get, but my full self—might be someone who not very many people actually like, so I kind of know what you mean. Like, who I’m putting out in casual settings isn’t the person underneath it all, and while that’s okay and normal, it’s left that unseen me within to languish. Is the person we are beneath the layers of formality real if no one gets to know them?
Andres
Am I getting to know him?
Shane
Yes 3
The heart emoji slipped out before he could help it; the same simple, keyboard formed one that Andres used. Shane held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t take it the way he had, all sparkling nerves and blooming crushes.
Andres
Then he’s real now.
I’m sorry about whatever deeper me you’re having to discover here, they’re a little dusty.
Sometimes I think I’ve come so far, and then other times I still feel like I’m just the quiet, weird kid who spent freshman summer locked in their room sewing a cosplay for a con they forgot to buy the tickets to.
Shane
You’re wonderful, don’t worry.
Fuck, he was losing it. He had to backtrack before it was too late.
Shane
But.
Oh. My. God. Baby Andres made their own cosplay?!
Who were you going as?
Andres
Do you know Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle?
Shane
You think I wouldn’t know what Howl’s Moving Castle is? I’m truly offended. /jokes
For real, it was my favorite as a kid. I thought I wanted to be Howl for a lot of years, but in the end his gender wasn’t masculine enough for me (even if his fashion sense is absolutely killing it) and my personality was always more of a Sophie anyways.
Andres
So I take it you’re tidy?
Shane scoffed out loud, grinning against his fingers. He’d sworn to himself that he’d use his vampire’s intrusive cleaning to help him stay at least a little neater, but in the ten days since then his apartment had somehow fallen into complete shambles again. It took him some brain-racking to remember when he’d first used half the dishes on his desk, much less left them there…
Shane
Tidy is the one trait I don’t share with Sophie, unfortunately.
More like bossy and single-minded?
Andres
Her other good traits then. Noted ;)
Shane
Oh, fuck off ;) /affectionate
But Shane did not want Andres to fuck off.
As painful as it was to suppress his growing crush, he wanted more of them in his life. He thought, not for the first time, that a relationship with them would be honest and appropriate and healthy—nothing like the connection he had with his vampire.
He didn’t want his vampire to fuck off either though, and that was the problem. It seemed Shane was always thinking about one of the two. With Andres, those daydreams were soft and fluttery, a giddiness he hadn’t felt for someone in years, but with his vampire… the fire those fantasies set ablaze was one Shane had never felt before.
And, god, he really had to stop envisioning himself chained up for his vampire’s pleasure.
Even all these days later, he could not get out of his head the exact way his vampire had spelled out that fabrication of Shane in bed, like it was such an easy thing to imagine. It haunted Shane, choked him in the night, made him burn between his legs. He’d find himself tracing his own throat, like part of his subconscious expected to discover metal there.
There was something wrong with him, surely.
The way he’d accepted all this—his vampire’s ownership of his blood, his demands and his pet names—was already putting into question Shane’s sanity. No one should have been able to waltz into Shane’s life and force that on him. But with his vampire, he didn’t feel forced. He felt guided, gently manipulated by protective arms, a cage that was also a shield and blanket.
He could not stop alternating between giddy texts with Andres and hot anticipation of the moments when he’d be in front of his apartment after dusk and he’d feel a breath on his neck, a hand fluttering down his arm. Every time, his heart leapt and his legs turned to putty, his breath catching in his chest as his vampire whispered a greeting into his ear, possessive and dark. They didn’t talk nearly as much as they had that first meeting that Maul had interrupted, but his vampire would always respond to him with the same intense fascination and joy that he had so many months ago at the October gala, continuing conversations from their prior meetings without missing a beat. He still wore his mask for every encounter, though between the darkness and his tendency to creep up behind Shane, a monster amongst shadows, it seemed more for the drama of it than anything else—the same reason he’d given no name yet, forcing Shane to think of him only as his vampire.
Over a week after their night in the alley, Shane knew the drill, knew to stand outside in the shadows near his regular parking spot along the street—he’d stopped going any farther from his house after sunset, the quiet fear of running into Maul at the grocery store or walking along the boardwalk always lingering in the back of his mind.
He twirled a finger through his hair as he finished a message to Andres. The longer their relationship—friendship—progressed, the more obvious it was that he knew Andres—this person he hadn’t seen or touched since their first meeting—far better than the vampire who pressed his mouth to Shane’s neck every night. Though he supposed they both had masks of their own, even if Shane had seen Andres’s face before they’d vanished behind a wall of text.
The moment Shane slipped his phone away, he was pushed against the side of his car with a pressure so soft it was barely there, the murmur of his vampire’s greeting behind him. Always behind him.
It was lovely, and it was empty too, somehow.
Before his vampire could get too far—could distract him from all thoughts of relationships with his overwhelming touch, Shane asked, “I’m not just a thing you take pleasure in, am I?”
“Well, I certainly do take pleasure in you,” his vampire replied, chest brushing Shane’s back. “Do you think there’s anything so wrong with that? Do you wish that I’d find you less lovely, or that you’d taste of ash on my tongue? Would you prefer to be treated like a ball and chain and not a delicacy?” As he spoke, he gently drew Shane’s hair behind his ear, each touch like fire.
Shane couldn’t help but bask in that flame even as he tried to keep his mind centered. “If I did taste of ash, would you still have paid so much to save me?”
“You’d have to unravel time with that question,” his vampire replied, running two fingers along the side of Shane’s neck. “If you tasted any differently, you would not be yourself, and I wouldn’t have seen you that night at the gala and known that my world would stop dead if I didn’t dance with you. And if we hadn’t danced, you would never have realized what I was. Perhaps you’d never have come looking for vampires at all.”
Shane felt his whole body tremble at the brush of his vampire’s mouth on his neck. “Imagine I had. Imagine I was dying behind that curtain, but you found no pleasure in the thought of me.”
“We all want to believe we’re the kind of person who’d sacrifice for a stranger, don’t we?” His fingers tightened into Shane’s hair, but it didn’t hurt, just held him there, held his soul aloft. “Yet I don’t think most of us truly would.”
“That’s a hopeless outlook.”
“It’s realistic.” He nuzzled his nose against the back of Shane’s ear. The edge of his mask pressed against Shane’s temple. “If there was any reality where I’d left you to die, then I would have been a fool and a monster.”
Shane wanted to melt into him at those words, to defy every possible warning sign and be consumed. Instead he whispered, “You don’t know me.”
The hesitation—the tension—that radiated from his vampire in that moment could have cut like a blade. “I sink my teeth into your flesh and I taste your life,” he finally breathed. “I know you better than you might think, my little swan. Now, give me your lovely neck.”
Shane tipped his head back, leaning into his vampire’s touch, but he continued thinking of those words long after the pain of the bite had faded into bliss.
The twinge it left behind made him feel like he knew his vampire far more than he realized.