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June 12th
“Oh come on, don’t leave me hangin’!”
Kento had dedicated 10 years of his life to hunting vampires only for one to be practically attached to his hip. The regret was immeasurable, he blames Haibara for ever getting him into vampire hunting; if he would have known that they’d be this…. insistent, he never would have agreed.
Was it too late to return to being a salaryman full time? At least he wouldn’t be antagonized by an undead pain-in-the-ass knocking on his door at a quarter to seven.
“I oughta hang you.” Kento grits out, exhaling at the whine he’s met with. “What do you want?”
“Dinner.”
The door hits his foot when he goes to slam it, an incessant little whine ringing out as he slowly opens it back up to meet a pouting face and piercing blue eyes that are far creepier than they should be.
“Absolutely not. I hunt vampires, I don’t court them.”
He’s met with a cackle, “ Court!? Geez, how old are you? Besides, no one said anything about courting. Can’t a friendly, handsome, and ravinish vampire not just pop over and take you to dinner?”
Kento raises his eyebrow, “I suppose next you’ll want me to bed you.”
“That would be nice-“
This time when the door slams, he makes sure it smacks him square in the face.
June 19th
“Oi, you.” Kento doesn’t want to look up from his book. He really doesn’t want to look up and be forced to engage in yet another unnecessary conversation from the vampire that’s managed to hunt him down more than he’d like as a hunter himself. “How about that dinner date? I never got an answer the other night.”
“I believe me slamming the door in your face was enough of an answer.” He finally closes his book and moves it to swat him on the head. “Now stop following me.”
“Well I can’t very well bother you at home, now can I? Not without an invitation inside and someone just happens to be not very hospitable.”
“You’ll get over it.”
He’s met with a groan, “Just one dinner? Or at least, can I even know your name? It just isn’t the same fantasizing about someone when you don’t know their name.”
If puppy dog eyes didn’t work on him before, they certainly don’t now: not when they come from a brat of a vampire who’s managed to now stalk him on his walk home like it was completely casual.
“Nanami.” He sighs out, annoyed with himself for giving in but not wanting to be called ‘you’ anymore. “Now you can leave.”
“Don’t you want to know my name?”
The eyes return, all creepy and too fluorescent blue, and he grimaces before fishing for his house key, not daring even as much as a backward glance for fear he’ll be turned to stone if he stares a moment longer at those eyes.
“Not particularly. A first name basis would just mean you’d become even more attached.”
“Exactly! This is already our fourth interaction and considering you haven’t killed me in three of those, I consider us closer than ever!”
To be frank, the first assassination attempt only failed when the vampire — who is still pouting and huffing on his doorstep — lamented about ‘some hunky man killing him before he lost his virginity’ and Kento knew, then and there, it wouldn’t bring him any satisfaction if those were the last words he had to hear.
Besides, he didn’t necessarily dislike the weird and incessant company from the vampire; he just would prefer for their meetings to take place far, far away from his home.
“Name.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Tell me your name, then.”
There’s another cackle that rings out and Kento is already reaching for the knob before he’s stopped by a blurted response. “Wait! It’s Satoru.”
Kento hums as he turns the knob, nodding his head at the vampire — Satoru, it appears — with a wave.
“Well, Satoru. Don’t come by again or I really will kill you. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” He salutes before practically vanishing with that same echoey cackle that haunts his dreams. “Until next time, Nanamin!”
He really ought to move.
July 15th
It isn’t until their ninth encounter that Kento has given up any hope of killing Satoru. How could he kill a vampire that actually enjoyed his company and made it his single goal in life to visit Kento at every waking moment?
Every morning he’d be met with glowing blue eyes, every evening after work he’d hear his television playing some trashy show, every night he had to kick out Satoru for fear that he’d watch him sleep through the night.
Which he had before.
And why on Earth had he even invited Satoru inside in the first place? Perhaps it was Kento’s fault all along for ever being courteous enough to accept the dinner invitation that fifth visit. Who knew it would lead to an unwanted, half-dead roommate?
Still, Kento wouldn’t let the new thorn in his side stop him from living a normal life. Just because Satoru didn’t eat didn’t mean the same for Kento and today was grocery day, whether a sulky vampire wanted it or not.
“I still don’t see why I can’t stay home alone.” Satoru huffed as he leaned against the cart, Kento debating between two boxes of cereal, “I am fifty-one years older than you.”
“Yet you throw a tantrum like a preschooler when I change the channel.”
“Because you always want to watch the local news!”
Kento settles on his cereal and sets it into his basket, reaching around to swat Satoru’s head with a sigh. It was like he was babysitting at this point, except his child was a 78 year-old vampire brat that begged for sweets he couldn’t even eat.
“I like to look at them!” Satoru had exclaimed during dinner one night. “Sometimes I imagine how they taste.”
It made things easier if he couldn’t treat Satoru, in a sense, less unwarranted rewards and he didn’t have to hear the complaining of Kento being “unfair”.
“Nanamin. Are you almost done?”
That was something he’d have to deal with though. Maybe he should just let Satoru stay at home from now on; how much trouble could a vampire get into anyway?
“If you let me finish getting groceries without even as much as a sound, I’ll let you stay home next grocery trip.” Kento announces, placing his spinach into the cart as he looks up at a beaming Satoru, sunglasses tipped to the bridge of his nose for a mere moment before they cover his eyes again. “What?”
“You said ‘home’ instead of ‘my house’. I really am growing on you- Ow! Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet…”
The silence lasted for all of three minutes, until they mistakenly wandered into the candy aisle and Satoru almost got into a fight over the last bag of caramels.
August 4th
“How did you become a vampire hunter?” Satoru hummed, Kento’s fingers combing through the messy, wet strands of hair. “Did you just… wake up and randomly decide one morning?”
The brush hangs limply in his hand, lips pursing inquisitively, “A colleague recommended it as a hobby.”
Satoru snorts and Kento responds by swiping the brush through his hair, “Some hobby.”
“Well, it was either hunt vampires and other supernatural — which, interestingly enough, there’s a surplus of in Shibuya — or collect stamps.”
He continues brushing through Satoru’s hair, adjusting the damp towel around his neck to catch the droplets that fall from the tips of each strand. “It’s been a nice ten year hobby, I suppose.”
“Ten years!? You mean to tell me we could have met so much sooner?” Kento pops the brush against Satoru’s hand and snickers at the whine he’s met with. “Hey!”
“I wouldn’t say I was fully invested until after high school.” Kento informs, moving the brush back to detangle the last bit of Satoru’s wet hair before placing the brush down entirely, “Haibara and I merely researched up until graduation. Except he chose to pursue floral design afterward and left me alone to be invested in paranormal hunting.”
“Do you regret it?”
The question is so calm, Satoru’s eyes filled with genuine curiosity instead of the usual snark and misbehavior that usually graces him, and Kento hums quietly in contemplation.
“I suppose…” He feels a laugh billow in his chest and he pushes it out, reaching gingerly to move the remaining wet strands away from Satoru’s face, “I suppose not. I haven’t had very much luck, though.”
“That’s not true, you managed to get me.”
His hand stills, meeting the cold skin of his pale cheeks in a startling reminder of the truth.
“I wouldn’t chalk it up as a ‘victory’ if you basically stalked my residence, Satoru.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that old saying? ‘The hunter becomes the hunted’? I feel as though that in itself is enough of a victory: you have a handsome — stop laughing! — a handsome vampire in your humble abode, you’re brushing his hair after his shower, all that’s left is that dinner date and then you can successfully say you’ve captured a vampire, hmm?”
“You really won’t let that dinner invitation go, will you?”
Despite how bright Satoru’s laugh is, his face is still colorless and cold, and Kento can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. How lovely it would be to see the apples of his cheeks blush a fierce pink, to hear his heartbeat thump in anticipation the same way Kento’s own is.
For Satoru to be able to see just how handsome he actually was; not that Kento would ever give him the satisfaction in admitting it aloud.
Granted, he has grown fond of Satoru in their months together, if brushing his hair wasn’t enough of a sign then the way he didn’t bat an eye when he moved to cradle himself in his lap certainly was.
“Alright.” He responds after another passing moment of silence, “I’ll let you treat me to dinner.”
“Really!? I mean- of course you will. I knew my charm would win you over eventually. Now, if you just stay very still I’ll go ahead and expose that neck of yours-“
“I mean a real dinner, Satoru. You are not allowed to teeth on my neck, you little delinquent bat.” He lands one more pats against Satoru’s cheek before reaching for the brush again, “Now go put this away before I decide to use it on you.”
“Wow! We may as well just skip past dinner if you already want to bed me- Ow, ow, that’s my ear ! Alright, alright, I’m going!”
Kento can’t help but watch Satoru saunter off at that, eyes focusing a little too much on his towel covered rear.
August 18th
He doesn’t know how it happened, but he’s established a routine with Satoru.
They “wake up” together, more so Kento wakes up and Satoru takes it as his cue to bother him; they “eat breakfast” together, Kento alternating between cereal and oatmeal, depending on his mood, while Satoru makes him a cup of coffee and watches him eat with intense interest; on the days Kento works, Satoru waves him off with a promise (always failed) of cleaning the house and making dinner.
Off-days and weekends were dedicated to the two of them solely, whether it be lounging around and watching whatever movie Satoru stumbled upon or Kento telling him stories about high school or, the occasional, Satoru recalling events from when he was alive.
On rainy days they sit outside, Satoru basking in the overcast clouds and grinning at the droplets that fall onto his skin.
“Do you miss the sunlight?” Kento finds himself asking, glancing from Satoru to the water slowly filling the flower bed.
Satoru doesn’t look away from the clouds, glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose and hair slowly growing wet, “I do.”
“I remember always going to the beach.” He continued, the smallest smile gracing his lips, “Sunbathing, turning as red as a lobster, chatting with the beautiful young women in swimsuits-“
“ Satoru .”
There’s an airy giggle before the sincerity returns, “So much has changed since I was… well, normal.”
It’s in these moments Kento realizes just how mature Satoru can be. When he’s not whining or fussing or, heavens forbid, trying to cohere him into sex; instead he’s reminiscing, eyes filled with wonder and anguish, focus so intent it’s almost scary.
He turns back and pushes his sunglasses back up, smile not faltering for even a moment as he leans closer, “I’m going to have to feed soon, Nanami.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to-“
“You won’t.” Kento blurts, hand moving to rest against his thigh and pat firmly, “I’d sooner tan you than let you feed on my blood. I’ve spoken with a former classmate from high school, she works as a surgeon and has offered to supply blood bags.”
For the first time since they met all those months ago, Satoru’s reaction is practically unreadable.
“Thank you.”
Kento lifts a brow and retracts his hand, “Well, I won’t let you just starve .”
“Not for that, just for…” Satoru stalls, expression still so vague, “keeping me around.”
“Like I had a choice.”
That night, there’s a small shift in their routine; he and Satoru lay tangled together in bed under the covers, legs practically intertwined and a cold face pressed against his flushed neck.
August 20th
It was bound to happen sooner or later, that was the thing.
Even Satoru’s warning hadn’t been enough to prepare Kento for what it would actually be like; that very first feeding.
He didn’t lash out like they did in the movies, didn’t go feral and try to attack Kento, he barely even moved. He just laid around, skin an even sicklier color than the normal paleness, eyes dark instead of their usual odd blue, and he felt ten times colder than normal.
Kento had been waiting for the snap, for Satoru’s morality to give out and for the teeth to plunge into his neck, yet it hadn’t happened yet.
Perhaps it was because Satoru had resigned to locking himself away until Kento was able to procure the blood bags or perhaps, deep down, Satoru had managed to resist the urge to feed — whether it be on Kento or in general.
It wasn’t until a quarter past seven that it all went to hell.
“Nanami.” He had whispered out, voice so low and so very different, “Please.”
He wasted no time in ringing Shoko again, body moving a mile a minute to find something, anything , to use as a distraction. He couldn’t very well go out and kill some animal and Satoru was far too weak himself to do it, he had even contemplated giving a bit of his own blood but that had been vehemently vetoed with a hiss.
“I know, Satoru, I know.” Kento mumbled out, hands shakily texting for the umpteenth time, “She’s coming.”
“It hurts.”
Damn it all, Shoko was taking too long.
“I’m going to give you some of mine.”
Satoru whimpered from the couch, fists clenching, “Nanami-“
“You are going to die if you don’t get some in you and Shoko is taking too long. Now stop being so stubborn and let me help you or I swear to all that is holy I will beat you.”
Fortunately, even when Satoru is in the process of feeding he still has a semblance of common sense not to argue. Instead he sinks lower into the couch and hisses, moaning lowly and pathetically in a manner that propels Kento to move towards him without hesitation.
He uses his tie as a tourniquet, wrapping it snuggly right above the crook of his elbow as he exhales through his nose and lifts his arm slowly towards a convulsing Satoru.
“What if I can’t stop?”
Kento shakes his head and pushes further, arm meeting his face, “You will. Now, please , Satoru.”
August 21st
It’s dark outside when Kento finally opens his eyes. He groans and attempts to sit up, Satoru all but sprawled out on top of him.
After the feeding, everything else became a blur.
Satoru did stop, at the exact moment that Kento lost consciousness, and despite the ache in his arm, everything was okay.
“How long have I been asleep?” Kento croaks out, glancing down to see his bandaged arm.
He’s met with a small smile, Satoru reaching to brush his fringe from his forehead, “Almost two days.”
Kento hisses as he cracks his stiff back, sending a weary glance, “And you’re okay?”
“Of course I am, Nanamin! But next time, you better get a hold of those blood bags. You lost quite a lot of blood on my account and I don’t want you to go through that again.”
Next time …
Such a small little thing to say yet the implication of it all was so grand.
“Of course, Satoru. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Make it up to me by letting us shower together?” The minx croons, eyelashes batting and teeth bearing incredulously.
“We’ll see. Let me at least eat dinner first.”
Satoru jumps up at that, “Dinner time it is, then! No time to waste, Nanami Kento!”
October 7th
Things changed after that first feeding; whether or not they were for the better, Kento wasn’t sure about, but it was still such a drastic change.
It went from being a shift in a routine to a shift in their relationship as a whole. Small moments spent embracing and laying together in bed turned into a nightly occurrence, Satoru practically latching onto him as he worked and Kento finding himself not wanting to complain.
Four months ago he would have been grumbling and huffing about an unwelcome roommate yet, by some grace of the gods, it’s become one of the only things in his life to bring him a small sense of joy.
Satoru. He was still such a handful, such a brat, yet…
“-min!!”
He was that missing piece in Kento’s life.
“I can explain.”
Kento freezes midwalk and looks up, already able to feel the throb growing in his temple, “Explain what ?”
“Well…”
There’s a loud yell that causes Satoru to close his mouth, eyes widening from behind his sunglasses in an all too suspicious manner that pushes Kento to turn toward the noise in question, despite the quiet whimper emitting from behind him, a heavy hand thumping down onto his shoulder.
“You’re the vampire who attacked us at the store!”
“Attack- …Satoru? Care to explain what this gentleman is talking about?”
Satoru smiles meekly, hand rubbing against the back of his neck and his opposite hand revealing a bag filled with who knows what for the first time since he bumped into him on his walk home, “I may have had a little altercation picking up ingredients to make you dinner…”
“This blood sucking bastard bared his teeth at me!” The man who stopped him announces angrily, pointing at Satoru with his free hand, “He’s lucky I didn’t stab him then and there.”
And to think Kento finally felt secure enough in allowing Satoru to be alone, now he had to deal with this ?
He forces a smile, stepping closer to Satoru and finding his hand moving to rest precariously against his lower back, “I think you must be mistaken. Satoru, my roommate, was just on his way to pick me up from work.”
Satoru stiffens against him and Kento grips his side firmly, lip twitching.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us-“
“I’ll kill that bastard if he ever shows his face again!”
“Not to worry.” Kento continues to force his smile, his hold on Satoru tightening as he moves to guide him away, “I’ll deal with this delinquent vampire. He won’t be bothering anyone anytime soon.”
Kento tugs him fully away from the man who continues to curse them out, his hold around Satoru’s waist not faltering; if anything, his fingers dig into his side deeper and he has to hold back from scolding him then and there.
“So… Pasta for dinner?”
Damn it all to hell.
“Are you out of your mind!? Satoru, what the hell just happened?”
Satoru snickers, literally, and passes the bag of groceries off to Kento, “I think he was being a little over dramatic… I needed to get ingredients for dinner tonight and I wanted to surprise you so I went alone. I guess I got a little too…. eager.”
“Too eager? Too eager ? Satoru, you could have been killed! I’m not the only vampire hunter and there are several far less merciful ones than me in Shibuya!” He turns Satoru to face him and practically seethes at the smirk painted on his face, “This is why I don’t let you go alone places, you’re too unpredictable.”
“Owie, you’re gripping me too tight-“
“I won’t lose you because you’re a conniving little brat that can’t mind themself around people.”
The smirk falters for a mere second, “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it? Finally get your wish and drive a wooden stake through my heart? Kick me out for good?”
“No.” Kento leans in so their foreheads practically touch, “I’ll show you exactly what I’m going to do the second we get home. Now, move it, brat.”
“Ow, ow- Come on , Nanamin! Isn’t this juvenile?”
Kento ignores the whining and readjusts his arm around Satoru’s waist, thigh lifting up to better expose his pale backside, “No, now stop kicking.”
“But it hurts! Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m invincible!”
Satoru kicks again and Kento rewards it with his hand smacking against his thigh, a high pitched whine echoing from the bedroom.
“Nanaminnnnnn!”
“Satoru.” His hand falls again, “Explain to me why we’re here.”
“It really is a funny story- Ow, ow! Your hand is so heavy!”
Kento exhales, hand resting against Satoru’s ass that, despite how much he swats it, stays pale and cold.”It’s a shame your bottom can’t get all red and warm. No matter, I’ll just keep going until I feel as though you’ve sufficiently learned your lesson.”
He brings his hand down lower, “Still waiting for an explanation, little bat.”
“I told you! I wanted to get ingredients to make you dinner as a surprise and there was a group of vampire hunters that circled me!” Satoru laments, deflating over Kento’s lap with a twitch, “I didn’t think baring my teeth and threatening them would cause this much of an issue…”
“You threatened a group of vampire hunters.” He repeats dryly. “You are unbelievable.”
“How was I supposed to know!?”
Kento sighs, his temple still throbbing, “It’s not a matter of ‘knowing’, Satoru. It’s a matter of controlling your temper, your instincts. Name one time in our months together that you’ve bared your fangs at me. Or attempted to feed on me in a serious manner, not just being cheeky.”
“That’s because I like you, Nanamin!”
“I’m flattered.” His tone is insincere, hand doing most of the talking for him as it falls low against the other thigh. “You really are a handful, you know. Maybe you should take more trips over my knee, little bat.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t and we can say I did?”
“Hmm… I did recently buy a spoon I’d love to test out on a naughty little bat’s bottom, though. Go get it. It’s in the drawer with the rest of my utensils.”
Satoru moans pathetically, “Aw, come on!”
“Go now.” He instructs again and nudges Satoru off his lap, admiring the way his pants pool around his ankles as he shuffles off and wishing there was even a hint of blush on his cheeks. “The wooden one by the stove.”
He’s back with the spoon before Kento can even blink, body moving quickly back over his lap and head craning back to reveal a solemn expression: one that’s shamless but also rather flustered.
“Thank you, my little bat.” Kento praises as he taps the wooden spoon against Satoru’s rump, “Count to fifteen with me.”
When the spoon cracks down the first time, Satoru jolts over his lap and hisses out a ‘one’, so very quiet that Kento is half tempted to make him repeat it.
Instead, his hand comes down to caress his back, the spoon falling in tandem to Satoru’s whimpers and pathetic squeaked out numbers. By the time they get to ten, he has a squirmy little vampire over his knee, feet kicking against the couch and hands surely bruising Kento’s ankle with how harshly it’s gripped.
“Five more.”
Satoru lets out a sound akin to a sniffle when the spoon falls twice in a row, the next two numbers shakily filling the air in the silence that follows the heavy, echoey swats.
“‘m sorry, Nanamin.” Satoru mumbles on number thirteen, head craning back once more to reveal sunken eye bags and reddened lips from where his fangs had been nibbling on them, “It hurts…”
“You have two left, little bat.” Kento appeases, hand rubbing against his spine as he taps the spoon against the lowest part of his bottom, “Just two and then-“
It’s against his better judgement but he can’t even bother to care anymore.
“And then we’ll go to bed.”
“What about dinner?” Satoru pouts, squirming ceasing instantaneously as he deflates dramatically, “I went through all that trouble to get those ingredients.”
“Look where it landed you.” He responds, hand moving to pinch his bottom as he taps the spoon again. “Rest first, then we’ll make dinner.”
Satoru continues to sulk but he doesn’t argue, just turns back around and mumbles out a response. “You know I can’t sleep…”
“Just lay down at least.” The spoon cracks down twice before Satoru can respond, just letting out a loud whine and kicking the couch. “Satoru.”
“Fourteen, fifteen….” There’s a sniffle. “You wore me out good, you jerk.”
“You’ll live. Now come on, let’s get you into bed.”
November 7th
A lot could change in a month, never mind five. Kento found himself recounting all the instances in his life that lead him to this exact moment.
Haibara’s insistence to get a new hobby. Shoko’s interest in medicine and gore. Kento’s own disappointment in what he did. The paranormal and the inconsistencies spewed everywhere. Gojo Satoru, a 58-year-old vampire who had the grace of a failed aristocrat and the maturity of a primary schooler.
Gojo Satoru, a vampire whom he intended to hunt and kill all those months ago.
Gojo Satoru, a cold body curled up beside him on the sofa and watching a soap opera with tears in his eyes.
Gojo Satoru, a persistent and annoying brat of a man that intended to make his life miserable.
But, despite all that, there was one thing that described him better than anything else.
Gojo Satoru, his partner until the end of time.