4
Lathan
“Nice to officially put a name to your fangs.”
Hiding under the drapery of his arms over his face, Lathan’s left alone in the small dorm room with his thoughts throbbing like the music and lights at that party last spring. I guess you don’t just forget when a vampire feasts on you. He sighs into the stuffy room. But this would be easier if he did.
The summer was kind in the sense it gave him space from that night, from breaking a rule with Kylo that all vampires are privy to, but the distance didn’t equate to static. He remembers the event often—and fondly—over the months. And now that the werewolf is his roommate, the details flood him thoroughly, and he feels his throat tightening as it does when he’s thirsty—but he isn’t. When he realizes it’s simply a craving for the wolf’s blood, his body , Lathan dons his headphones and tries to drown out the thoughts, eyes closed.
He focuses on deep, slow breathes, clearing his head of the invasion of personal space, of endearing, toothy grins and that mop of messy, chocolatey curls. Of the smell stuck under a werewolf’s skin, only known to him now by pressing against Kylo alongside the party house. Of the pleasant spice of the canine’s blood, warm in the back of his throat long after he drank from his salty, sweaty neck.
The moment the track changes, Lathan rips his headphones off and hucks them across the bed. The building melody of The Dahlia’s ‘Shudder’ buzzes from the speakers before he can pause the music from his phone.
“Dammit,” he breathes, running a hand down his face and roughing up his eyebrows in the process. He pushes off the bed and slips into his leather jacket; he needs a distraction. This was easier to handle over the summer when it wasn’t in his face, but now he knows where the wolf is, and he doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like that he’s alone at a party. Doesn’t like that he knows what he could be getting up to—because he indulged in it with him the last time.
So, a distraction. A vampire. Someone who he doesn’t have to think about while with. Someone he won’t notice the smell of, or wonder the taste of.
While he hopes he doesn’t run into Kylo, he can’t pretend that part of him also desperately wants to find him there.
◆◆◆
Inside the plastic cups and miscellaneous mugs stolen from students’ rooms and shared kitchenettes, sangria and wine swirl and bubble as the vampires dance. Though it’s all red, it’s not all alcohol.
It’s easy to tell which is which—a glass of cheap liquor or chilled blood, emptied from a cafeteria bag. Copper dances in the air as Lathan pushes by bodies and their sloshing drinks, dancing and laughing and flirting with each other. He’s grateful for his share of the campus’ Friday blood supply earlier in the day—clearly what some partygoers have rationed to bring along with them, while others skipped their feeding altogether. They claim it intensifies their intoxication; Lathan wouldn’t be surprised to find Trevor and Alanna with bloodshot eyes.
He touches a woman’s arm as she lowers her cup from her mouth, licking clean the drips from her lips. “Trevor and Alanna?”
She takes a moment to nod at her small group’s conversation before glancing at him. “Saw them go into one of the rooms at the end of the hall.” She waggles her thin brows and turns back to her friends.
Lathan exhales. Sounds about right. Trevor and his girlfriend, glued to his hip, are always in search of a good time. Sometimes this includes others, such as Lathan. When he needs to busy himself, to let loose, to forget, and has no one else to enjoy, they never turn him away for a bit of fun.
Lathan tries a few of the far rooms before reaching the last. He almost doesn’t even try it—no obvious sound stretches from behind the door—but he raps a knuckle on the frame before pushing it open. “Trevor? Alanna?”
Two bodies crouch over the twin mattress in the room—though not in any position he’d expect them to be in—luggage and unpacked boxes at the foot of the bed frame. It isn’t until the lean blonde man glances up at Lathan that he notices the third body trapped below the couple and holds his breath. Trevor’s eyes reach Lathan in the doorway, but his lips don’t leave Kylo’s arm, his throat constricting with the pull of his blood.
Alanna slowly rises up, sitting back on her heels and licking her reddened fangs. “Ah, Lathan,” she says with a promiscuous smile. “If you want a sip, you’ll have to act quick.”
Lathan’s eyes blaze. Unable to control his fangs, they detract, and he lunges for Trevor, ripping his head up and off Kylo with a tight grip on his hair, his unbridled strength threatening to pull his scalp straight off. He kicks him to the floor, and then turns to Alanna to hiss possessively. “Are you fucking insane?”
Trevor bounds back onto his feet, wiping the excess werewolf blood from his mouth with the back of his wrist. He takes daring steps toward Lathan, who squares his shoulders and bodily blocks him from his prey. From experience, he can only assume it was Kylo that came to them, so giving the two vampires as much grace as he has within him, he points at the door and says, “I’ll call campus security. You know they’re on standby with the party tonight.”
Trevor says nothing, but continues to bare his fangs, his muscles twitching with wild abandon. A predatory response to his feed.
“Tch.” Behind him, Alanna slips off the bed and back into her flats, flattening out her skirt; he can see her movements in his peripheral. Her face is twisted and disgruntled as she circles to her boyfriend’s side, petite hands placing on his tensed arm. “Whatever,” she sneers, steering Trevor to the door, “have him.”
They don’t shut the door behind them as they leave. Their absence allows Lathan to take in air again; he doesn’t know when he sunk into a protective crouch over Kylo, like an animal guarding its dinner, but he looks down at the wolf with fear. “Kylo? Hey, Kylo, wake up.” He taps his paled cheek a couple times, and then presses his fingers to the unbitten part of his neck to feel for a pulse. It’s there, but it’s faint, slow. “Dammit. Why’d you do this?”
He looks over Kylo’s bare skin, the several sloppy, shredded bite marks left in the vampires’ wake, and he heats with anger. They continue to dribble blood, and Kylo can’t lose any more. Lathan leans close to drag his tongue across the first bite, the worst one, to seal it with his saliva, the same way he had when he drank from the wolf himself. The taste of his blood on Lathan’s tongue makes him hesitate briefly, his body reacting, electrified, but he pushes the urge down and licks the other bites as well. He then grits his teeth hard, locking his jaw as the spicy flavour ruminates in his mouth, his fangs sinking back to the roots of bone, and scoops Kylo into his arms. He holds him close to his chest and barrels out the open door, out of the party where barely anyone notices him holding the unconscious wolf.
He doesn’t have time to be angry or start a scene. Kylo’s lost a lot of blood. “I told you this was dangerous,” he hisses, hurrying down the cemented walkways connecting the buildings on campus, though it feels more like he’s scolding himself.
The dorm buildings sharing the night’s party aren’t far from the science building. And within the science bubble of Obscura’s campus is the clinic—the entire main floor of a smaller attached building, where medical students have majority of their classes and training. It is always staffed with at least one doctor, and many other personnel. Lathan read in one of his law textbooks that legally it was required of the school with how many species, and their unique medical issues, live together.
Lathan kicks his hip into the button parallel to the clinic’s doors. It instructs them to open automatically, and he squeezes through the moment the gap is wide enough for him to maneuver through with a body in his arms. He rushes toward the check-in desk, only a few people inside, and uses a loud, gruff voice to call out, “He was attacked. He needs blood.”
A nurse pops her head around the corner where the intake is. She shuffles over but stops abruptly before getting too close; her gaze fixes on the blood and bites decorating the cold wolf’s skin. Her eyes move to Lathan for a split second, then she’s motioning for him to follow, returning to the interior walls. Lathan places Kylo on an empty bed the nurse pats, using it strategically as a barrier between them.
“What happened?” She looks at Lathan severely as she snaps on powder blue gloves.
He avoids her judgmental stare. It’s obvious what she’s thinking, because it’s obvious what this looks like. Bloodsucking is taboo, and for a reason— this reason.
“Wait out there,” she demands when he doesn’t respond, eyes narrowed on his chin. He retreats to the waiting area, rubbing off the patch of dried blood on his chin—from sealing Kylo’s wounds—that the nurse clearly saw, silently cursing himself.
It isn’t long before an HR representative from the school arrives to collect him. He’s led into a small room to be questioned. He’s as honest as he can be without pointing fingers: he explains he found Kylo with two other vampires atop of him, and that he only sealed the punctures to stop the bleeding. The man isn’t very supportive of Lathan’s claims, despite being a vampire himself—his judgmental looks remind him of his parents, disgusted with themselves—and eventually leaves him to simmer alone for an extended period of the night, waiting, with no information. He’s suspected of this awful act, of those gory wounds, of Kylo’s blood loss. He’s been the culprit once, to these things, but didn’t leave the werewolf in a state of life or death. When he took Kylo’s offer at that party, it wasn’t with the intent to hurt him; he wasn’t drinking to kill.
Before abandoning Lathan, all the rep said was that it didn’t look great that there’s a documented conversation about him feeling uncomfortable rooming with another species, and that Kylo would be spoken to, to confirm the story, if he woke.
If .
He’s left for what feels like hours with that word. Every time he looks at his phone, barely any time has passed, but the weight of Kylo’s life weighs heavier and heavier, like lead in his blood. More specifically, the guilt of introducing him to this world. It was irresponsible, and may cost him his life.
It doesn’t, in the end. Not yet, anyways. After Lathan is sure he’s been forgotten about—or purposely left longer than necessary out of punishment—the HR rep returns, holds the door for him, and says he can leave.
“And Kylo?” Lathan presses, refusing to stand without an answer.
The man gives a small nod and looks off, like he’s annoyed Lathan isn’t being held accountable. “He’s stable.”
Lathan’s shoulders relax. Which means he spoke with them. He doesn’t know exactly what Kylo admitted to, but it was enough to clear Lathan from tonight.
Though he now feels like Big Brother is watching him, he hikes back to his room where he does anything but sleep. Unable to with the freshness of the night, of what he witnessed, of who he found, he distracts himself with reading, and music, and doom-scrolling into the morning. Without any further word about Kylo’s status, he holes up in his room— their room—until the wolf makes his grand reappearance and he can confirm, for himself, that he’s okay. Otherwise, if he wanders campus, he might just kill Trevor and Alanna if he comes across them.
He waits painfully into the following evening for the dorm door to thunk as it unlocks from the outer hall. He’s reading again—or, at least, trying to trick his brain into doing so—legs crossed, propped against his headboard. His eyes lift above the pages of his book as Kylo quietly enters, his sights glued to the wolf.
“You’re okay,” he says, partially a statement, partially a question.
Before he can close the door behind him, Kylo looks up with surprise—Lathan wonders where he expected him to be, if not in their room. “Hi,” he breathes, his ears slowly tucking down as his eyes begin to well up. He seems to be frozen, unable to move from the doorway, and the longer they stare at each other, the more emotion surfaces, overflowing in the form of tears that drip from his chin. “I…was so stupid.”
It’s hard for Lathan to pretend he doesn’t feel the clench of his heart as he watches the wolf cry. He closes the book in his hands—knowing he’s been on the same page for days—and stands. He sweeps across the floor and stops in front of Kylo, crossing his thick arms.
“It was stupid,” he agrees. “I told you it wasn’t safe. It’s not some casual thing people just do.”
“I know, I should have listened. I just… I wanted to feel that way again.” Kylo’s face scrunches into a frown, looking away and taking a shaky breath. “But it wasn’t the same… I couldn’t move. T-they—” his voice begins to quiver—“wouldn’t stop.” He lifts his hands to his face, sniffling and wiping his glossy face before looking at the ceiling tiles with a sigh. “Fuck. You must think I’m an idiot.”
Lathan’s overwhelmed by the intense, tugging desire to hold Kylo, embrace him tightly. Protect him from the evils in the world. The evils on this campus.
“No. I don’t.” Lathan glances down. How could I think that of you when it was me who showed you how it could make you feel?
“What happened last term was irresponsible,” he continues, looking back up at Kylo again. “It shouldn’t have happened. It’s why you’re seeking more of it. How many times have you done this?”
Kylo is already shaking his head before Lathan’s finished. “Just you and them.”
Lathan sighs. It sounds judgmental, but it’s actually deep relief. “Vampiric physiology is complicated. Our venom is a sedative, but the effects can vary. It doesn’t take away the pain of a careless bite.” He sighs again, a huff through his nose, as he thinks back on the shredded skin from Trevor’s ignorant fangs and how Alanna offered Kylo up like a snack, something to easily dine on and toss. He’s going to fear us now, he realizes. He’s going to fear me .
“We aren’t all like that,” Lathan adds, uncomfortable by the thought of Kylo being scared of him. “But some are. You’re lucky I found you.”
Kylo nods smally. “I-if it wasn’t for you”—his throat bobs as he gulps down his stutter, stepping closer to Lathan—“I would be dead.”
He isn’t a wordsmith, and doesn’t have anyone close in his life to practice expressing things to, so he doesn’t know how to tell Kylo I’m glad you’re alive. So he holds his roommate’s shiny brown eyes and feels his lips part.
Now’s not the time.
“If…”
No, it’s never the time. Don’t fucking say it.
His gaze falters, and while he tries not to look away, his eyes flicker from Kylo’s face to any nearby surroundings. it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling behind his dark eyes.
“If this is still something you want to explore…”
His voice is softer than it has been, though by just a tad.
“Then come to me for it. I can make sure you’re safe.”
Kylo stands before him, eyes round and shocked, his cheeks dusted delicately with blush. His silence makes Lathan shift, and he fiddles with the lining of his jeans’ pockets where his hands have sunken. What the fuck am I offering?
But a “thank you” is murmured from the wolf, and suddenly Lathan can’t bring himself to look at him anymore. He nods, the hairs on his arms prickling and making him feel more awkward.
He clears his throat and points his nose toward the door behind Kylo. “I’m going for dinner. I’ll see you later.”
He inches out of the way politely, and when Lathan is halfway down the hall, away from their room, he stops to lean his back against the wall, his head hitting it. That was so dumb. What is going on with me?
◆◆◆
The night is tough. Lathan isn’t used to sleeping with another body nearby, especially not one as warm as a werewolf. Though vampires don’t need more than a few hours of sleep a night, tonight Lathan gets exactly zero. His mind is too preoccupied with Kylo, with the past few days, with the offer he’s given the wolf now…and just thinking about it makes him feel shame, but also excitement.
He ends up turning onto his side and watching Kylo for a while, with his thoughts swirling, his body tingling for him. Eventually he gets up to get a head start on the day. The first day of classes is mostly people scrambling to find their rooms, profs included, and course introductions and expectations. He wonders what Kylo’s doing to keep busy, since he isn’t supposed to go to his classes this week—doctor’s orders.
When Lathan goes to the blood bank at the cafeteria, there are a lot of notices posted about, with a similar one he finds sent to his student email. The blood supply is short right now due to the influx of students, but the college is actively working on obtaining more stock. The rationed portion is long gone by the time he gets there, which is a piss-off— what else can go wrong this term? —but he’s only at the beginning of his thirst, which means he has a few days before it becomes bothersome.
There are stares wherever he goes: classes, cafeteria, hallways. His thirst isn’t obvious enough for that to be the cause—the faint pink around his irises is barely noticeable yet—but the eyes and the whispers are obvious.
He mostly keeps to himself, while maintaining a watchful eye on Kylo, monitoring his recovery. Every day he makes sure to steal a glance at Kylo’s neck to check the status of his bruises. They’re getting better slowly, but still exist on his skin; he’s using them as a marker for when his body is completely healed.
More class syllabi busy the week as his eyes deepen in irritation, and by Friday, when he should be getting a packet of blood, they’re out again much too quickly. With a growing discomfort, he tries to find someone to voice his concerns, but he’s met with only compassion and apologies for the lack of sustenance. It’s been a week since his last feed, and while other vampires can technically last two weeks, Lathan’s metabolism is faster, in due part to his high muscle density.
Just gotta make the weekend, he tells himself. Then Monday, I’ll skip class to make sure I get blood. Just a few more days.
He slumps on his bed after class. A bottle of water sits beside him, which he sips constantly to try and tame the rawness of his throat. He’s begun dry coughing, but he tries his best to swallow it down. His eyes give him away, bloodshot beyond comfort, to the point he doesn’t want to leave the room in case he scares people. He knows in the next day or two the blood vessels in his eyes will start to burst, and he’s just hoping to prolong that from starting. Because when it starts, he won’t have long left.
It’s by this point he knows the cause of all the eyes watching him. Why slurs are being said under peoples’ breaths. Why werewolves avoid walking near him, making wide turns or going the other way completely. They heard what happened—what they think happened—and are now punishing Lathan for it by starving him, withholding blood. Which is why he’ll go early on Monday to beat them to it. It’s also why he hasn’t told Kylo exactly what’s going on beside the shortage—since he hasn’t been around campus much, stuck in their room to recover, he hasn’t heard the rumours, so for now it can stay a secret. He doesn’t want him to worry, because he knows he would. Doesn’t want him to do something rash; he isn’t healed yet.
Because they’ve barely talked, with Lathan in classes and, honestly, avoiding being around his roommate right now, Kylo hasn’t seen just how bad his thirst is getting. And he’s grateful for that. He doesn’t want to scare him, to remind him of what he just went through, because in a few more days he’ll look like a real monster. He’s never seen himself get to this point, so he’s avoiding how he looks too. The days are long, though, and his mind can’t help but slip back to that first party at any chance it gets. How Kylo’s blood would satiate him right now, keep him going another week. Monday, he forces himself to remember. I can make it to Monday.
When the start of the new week arrives, Lathan barely knows how he’s still alive. He can’t stop coughing. His breathing is ragged; it’s difficult to fill his lungs as they’ve started to collapse. His whole body is sore, in ways a vampire shouldn’t be. It’s giving up on him.
He puts on some aviator sunglasses to hide the atrocities that are his eyes. They aren’t bloodshot anymore—it can hardly be considered as such. The entirety of his sclerae are crimson, and at any moment that barrier could break and all the blood could start to leak. Once that happens, he’s doomed without immediate intervention. He doesn’t have enough blood to lose in this state.
He skips his two classes in the morning and sits in the cafeteria, sipping water constantly to keep his coughing somewhat controlled. His knee bounces impatiently as he waits. When the blood bank starts to set up, he hurries over, but he’s met with devastating news as the woman simply props up another notice: NO BLOOD UNTIL NEXT WEEK .
The others will be fine. But Lathan won’t make another two days, never mind an entire week. He yells at the woman out of fear and desperation, and she cowers. He wonders if she knows who he is, if she knows the rumours, but it doesn’t matter either way. Whether she’s in on it, starving him, or it’s an unfortunate coincidence, Lathan’s fucked. He grabs his bag and rushes off, back home, back to his room. Kylo should be in class by now. I’ll be alone—I’ll be dying alone.