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“Hi, how can I help you today?” The lad at the blood bank reception desk, a skinny thing with hair the colour and texture of mouse fur, gave Martin a smile.
“Hello. Uhm, this is a bit embarrassing.” Martin drummed on the desk. “I’ve got a standing order here and I don’t know the name it’s under.”
The lad smirked and started typing. “Well, what names could it be under?”
“Either Gardner or Nicholls.”
The lad typed away. “Three weeks’ supply, totalling ten bags of five hundred millilitres each?”
“That’s the one.”
“Give me a second.” The lad clicked around for a little while more. “It’s under Nicholls, by the way.” The little printer next to the computer whirred and spat out a receipt. “Here you go. Your order will be brought up shortly.” He watched as Martin put the receipt in his wallet, and said, “You’ve had this order with us for five years, how did you not know what name it was under? If you forgive my curiosity.”
Martin laughed. “That’s all right. My husband always picks it up for me, but he’s working late today.”
“Oh.” The lad sat back and blinked.
“What?” Martin straightened defensively.
“Nothing, no. God, sorry. It’s just — I never met another gay vampire before.”
“Oh!” Martin looked at the lad in a completely different light. “Me neither.” He held out his hand. “Martin Nicholls, nice to meet you.”
The lad shook his hand. “And you. Leonard Smith.”
“How old are you, lad?”
Leonard gave a lopsided smile. “Twenty-eight.”
Martin snorted. “And really?”
The smile faded. “No, I’m — I’m really twenty-eight.” He wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes glazed over. “I was turned four years ago. Bad accident. And a paramedic who was in the right place at the right time.” He breathed in deep and slowly out. Then he looked at Martin. “And you?”
“Gunshot wound, straight to the chest,” Martin replied, absently rubbing the old scar through his jacket. “During the Battle of the Somme.” He shrugged. “And a lieutenant who was in the right place at the right time.”
The lad’s eyes were wide. “That — that must have been hard.”
Martin touched his left fang with his tongue and shrugged again, as nonchalantly as he could. “I was lucky, really. My partner at the time helped me a lot.”
Leonard winced.
Martin tilted his head. “Something wrong, lad?”
“No, it’s just…” Leonard’s voice turned bitter. “My boyfriend left me not a month after I was turned. So.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
Leonard grimaced. “He couldn’t — get used to it all, he said. The fangs, the blood, the… being nocturnal.”
“I see.”
“I mean, good bloody riddance, but… it’s been four years and I still haven’t found someone who’s willing to put up with me.” Leonard laughed suddenly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This isn’t —I didn’t mean to unload all this on you.”
“No, that’s —” Martin tapped his fingers on the desk. “Listen. There’s been three men with whom I wanted to spend my life. The first died in 1917. The second in 1993. And the third — well, that’s the man I’m married to right now. I know it all looks bleak and not a little terrifying right now but you can get through it. And you will find someone to love and who loves you back. You just have to keep going on.”
Leonard didn’t reply at once. “You know, intellectually, I know that, but…” He shook his head, not meeting Martin’s eyes. “I can’t imagine living that long. And to be honest… the thought kind of scares me.”
Martin regarded him. He remembered those harrowing first years only too well, even after such a long time. “I’m a hundred and thirty-odd years old,” he began, “and the world you became a vampire in is a much better place than mine, both for vampires and gays. But that doesn’t mean it’ll all be rainbows and kittens for you. But – lad, you don’t have to figure this out alone. There’s a lot of people willing to help you. Social workers, therapists, hell, maybe even a vicar.” Martin paused. “People tell me I’m brave because I fought in some stupid, pointless war, but the bravest thing I’ve ever done was ask for help.”
The lad nodded. Tears gathered in his eyes and he hastily wiped them away.
The small lift behind the reception desk dinged and the doors opened, revealing the cooler. Leonard took it, scanned the barcode, and pushed it towards Martin. “Here you go.”
Martin put one hand on top of the cooler, hesitating. He felt that there was more he should say, could say.
But Leonard gave him a smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed to hear that. I hope you have a great day.”
Martin smiled and picked up the cooler. “That’s all right. I wish you all the best.” They nodded at each other, and Martin left.
Maybe he should pick up his blood supply himself more often.