Archive of Our Own

"... Okay, so now you need to make sure the first and last two lights are blinking green. Can you do that?" 

There was some shuffling, then a huff. "Oh goodness, it is working! Thank you, sir, I really don't get 'ow these things work, too complicated for my old mind..."

Phil bit back an irritated sigh. His shift was about to end, and he didn't want to spend twenty minutes chatting with an old lady. Considering he didn't get paid for extra hours if he hadn't specifically signed up for overtime. "That's good, that's good. Call again if something's not working again. Goodbye." 

"Goodby-" 

Phil put down the handset, then hung his head for a second, two... 

"Hey, no falling asleep on the work," came an agitating voice from nearby. 

"Fuck off, Sneeg, won't ya? My shift's ended," Phil grunted but stood up. He glanced at the clock. The display read 6.57 p.m., and, welp. No one would mind if he left three minutes earlier. He popped his back with a satisfying crunch. He then rolled his shoulders and ankles, both of which crunched too. Sneeg's face showed clear disgust at the noise.

He was too old to be spending so much time in a chair, simply doing... nothing, basically. 

"Yeah, and mine's about to start. Let a dude complain," Phil only scoffed at that. Sneeg, the bastard, knew that there were less calls in the night, and yet the pay was higher. Phil knew of that, he usually took the night shifts for this very reason. And yet something- some one in his life had appeared.

He simply couldn't afford spending his time on night shifts anymore. 

"Alright, have a good one," Phil nodded at Sneeg. The man groaned at the sound of the incoming call, and Phil, like the twat he was, laughed. Sneeg flipped him off, but Phil was already on his way out. 

"Hello... this is... how may I..." 

Sneeg's voice became softer and softer, and then Phil was off. He bid the security guard goodbye. He checked his phone and sighed again. 

'Discord

CALL IN 30???'

'Discord

sure'

'Discord

I cant come band practice is real rough today'

Phil huffed good-naturedly, then typed his response. 

'k, gonna be late tho'

Pocketing his phone, he ignored how it began exploding with excited notifications. He sped up, snowflakes tangling in his hair, on his clothes. He couldn't wait for another delicacy of noodles with sausages and a gaming night with his friend group. A smile appeared on his face despite the exhaustion. 

It was nice.

___

"Oh my fucking god." 

It was not nice. 

Consistently, every year, he forgets how much money he gives for heating. And for a good reason, too – every time the numbers on his bills shock him so much he doesn't even want to remember about it once spring arrives. 

So, technically, it was on him. 

But holy shit, he could not pay for all of that without starving. He looked at the calendar.

December 1st.

Well, he could always... 

"Fuck no," Phil uttered, leaving the bills scattered around him as he stood up from the couch. He went to his room (the only room in this apartment, really), opened the cabinet and stared at what was inside. There laid three boxes and one opaque pouch, all of them having one thing in common. 

Those were Christmas gifts for the boys. 

Considering two pairs of earrings already lightened his wallet a hefty amount, he thought of giving them a singular earring each. This way, they all could match – despite the society's shitty habit of seeing piercings as 'feminine', the trio had their ears pierced. Techno even had some facial piercings. 

But the fourth one wouldn't be used by anybody. Phil figured he'd keep it, just in case one of the boys accidentally lost theirs.

(He didn't like to think how the fourth one would perfectly suit him. Two pairs, four earrings in total, four of them in their silly friend group.

Key word being friend. Techno, Wil and Tommy were family, so it was only fair for them to have matching jewellery. Phil didn't want them to get the wrong idea. That he, a completely unrelated man, somehow could be a parent to the boys that were left orphaned too early in their lives. 

Oh, but how he wanted to.

And yet it wasn’t possible. Wil and Techno were already in their late twenties, they didn’t really need paternal hovering anymore. And so was Tommy, who, despite turning nineteen a few months ago, didn’t seem in need of a parent's guidance. 

Phil couldn’t trail behind a real family at the first sign of acceptance and affection like a sad dog. That’s just pathetic, really. He was in his forties- he should’ve started building his own family ages ago. 

He never succeeded. Nothing lasted.)

He carefully opened the box with a pink tie, thumbing at the earring. Phil had to save up for a very long time to get those. But it was worth it in the end.

Red gold, an alloy of copper and gold. It's not like Phil could've afforded anything other than that. 

... and the boys despised silver. An allergy thing, they would say. A family thing.

Sadly, Phil could relate to that. Silver just wasn't for everyone, and that included him, too, with annoying rashes appearing on his skin upon wearing the material.

It also might be one of the weird quirks the trio had. Phil had never seen them wearing anything short-sleeved, but that could be Wilbur's doing. The man basically chose his brothers’ wardrobes himself, and the amount of sweaters he had in his possession was countless.

He looked at the emerald, the stone as big as his pinky's nail. It was perfect, no fingerprints staining the jewel. He closed the lid delicately, putting the box away. It would be the third Christmas with the boys, and while not exactly an anniversary for their friendship, number three just had a nice ring to it. 

He couldn't sell those. 

He just couldn't. So that meant only one thing. He picked up the phone and started typing.

'Good morning. I would like to know if there are any extra shifts available for the entirety of December. If there are, please sign me up. Anything will work.' 

He put away the phone, already feeling tiredness seeping into his veins. Oh, he knew there were going to be extra shifts, alright. No sane person would want to work this much, especially towards the end of the month. Mostly because of the holidays, but there was one thing that kept them all on their toes.

Phil looked at his phone calendar. In red, there was a number '22' circled, Wednesday. The Blood Moon. 

Phil chuckled to himself humorlessly. No sane person would work on the night of December 22nd. Especially considering it was supposed to be an obligatory day off for the majority of working people. Usually, the only ones still working were doctors, firefighters, you name it.

They had legal protection. Phil, on the other hand, did not.

So luckily (or, perhaps, unluckily), Phil was no sane person either.

___

“... glad it helped. Goodbye,” Phil ended the call, resisting the urge to add ‘don’t call again’ at the end. That wouldn’t be very “don’t be rude to clients” of him. He groaned instead, looking at his digital clock. It was only 9 p.m., and yet this almost-one-hour call filled with nothing but the client’s snide remarks already left him drained.

At least he didn’t need to see clients face to face. A rare perk of a call centre.

That meant he could roll his eyes and mutter curses all he wanted. 

He scrolled on his phone a bit in between the calls, stretched again and chugged a whole bottle of water after patiently explaining to some high dude that "no, your router won't work if it's turned off." 

"If it's not plugged in, it won't work, sir," Phil repeated for what seemed like the one-hundredth time. 

"But it's plugged," the voice hummed, then the person on the other side of the line laughed. And laughed.

"I forgot, no electricity, right..." the person said eventually. The call ended right after that. Phil massaged his temples, the call left him feeling weird. The sad-and-conflicted kind of weird. He looked at the clock again. 

11.31 p.m.

And, underneath, in a smaller font: 

December 21st. 

Oh, yeah right. He was going to spend two days in a row at work. 

December 22nd was a special date for vampires and a threatening one for humans. For some reason (well. The reason was magic, but this shit was unexplainable), vampires could only turn others on this day. The Winter Solstice, the longest day of the year, yada yada. It kind of kept vampires in check, with how they couldn't just turn anyone on any day, and that might be why the society is still mostly human. 

A curious thing about this day was that vampires could seemingly no longer turn others when the sunrise hit. They always had to wait until the evening (late afternoon more like), so the turning could happen again.

Well, it's advised to not leave your home at all the entire day, and then only to go out after 1 a.m. on the 23rd. Walking out as early as 11.53 p.m. could result in a last-minute turn. Nobody (from the humans, at least) wanted that. 

So staying at work it is! The couch here was more comfortable than at home anyway. And he could chat with his friends and just take it slow.

He spared a glance at his bag that contained his presents for the trio. He didn't know when he would have a chance to meet up with them, and they usually stopped by during his day shifts. So he thought he might as well keep those on him at all times and then give them when the trio came around.

Whenever that was.

11.59 p.m. He heard a crash on the street. 

Here we go. 

It wasn't the first time Phil worked on this day anyway, so he wasn't really bothered. Before he met the boys, it was his usual go-to, but since the beginning of their friendship, they were adamant about him spending time with them on the Blood Moon. Sometimes even in person, mostly because they were paranoid something would happen to him.

Too paranoid, even. But he didn't judge; they might have a good reason for that. Phil really couldn't complain, he usually got a day off and had someone to actually spend time with.

Usually.

He unlocked his phone, already rolling his eyes at the amount of notifications from Discord. Fondly, of course. He scrolled through most of them, not reading too much into the contents, mind numbed by the amount of caps and memes in their server.

He stopped by the most recent ones.

Technoblade Today at 12.01 AM

okay we ready? 

Tommy Today at 12.01 AM

Aye aye captain 

Wilbr Today at 12.02 AM

Give me a sec almost there 

Phil hummed. Perhaps they were going to hop in VC and do something together. Phil might just join for a second there and say hi. He wanted to ask about their plans for tonight (for all day, really) but decided to lurk for a few minutes more.

Technoblade Today at 12.03 AM

ready when u are

He then was stopped by the next message, sent by Wilbur. 

Wilbr Today at 12.05 AM

Here we are

[image attached: a completely dark office except for a single source of yellow light coming from the desk in the middle. There, a blond man sits, hunched at the table and looking at his phone.] 

Phil squashed the urge to turn around, a shiver going up his spine. His whole body tensed up, yet at the same time it felt like he was losing control over it. Like laying in still water, weightless. His head spun.

… Was this some kind of prank? Some kind of sick joke? 

He had to step in. He knew he did. But as luck would have it, his fingers didn’t move.

Phil stared at his own back. The more he did, the more floaty his body became, and he was afraid of the familiar sensation. His eyes kept focusing and unfocusing. A new message came through. He had to physically force himself to concentrate on the blurry letters.

Technoblade Today at 12.06 AM

bruh he really be workin tonight of all nights. hows this man alive

Tommy Today at 12.06 AM

Well it's easier for us to get him to the nest innit?

And almost like he was endorsed in freezing water, all the senses returned to him at once. He now could feel the way someone, some thing was looking at him. 

He had to step in.

Ph1lza Today at 12.07 AM

????????

Tommy Today at 12.07 AM

WRONG CHAT??????????

Reactions: :Techno_MONKAS:

Technoblade

He heard a sharp gasp somewhere behind him. Before he locked his phone, he saw the message with the image of him being deleted. He didn’t want to think of the implications of that.

"Wilbur, come out, right now," Phil commanded in a tight voice. He glared into the darkness, where he knew the other was hiding. Silence.

What could he do? ‘Get him to the nest’? Was he about to get kidnapped? Really?

He kind of couldn’t afford that at the moment. He gripped the table right near the emergency button, knowing the police won’t come to save the day. 

They never did. But could an old man dream?

Betrayal was a heavy rock in his gut, worsened by his skyrocketing anxiety. It left an acidic aftertaste behind. The only time Phil had thought he could have something good in his life…

"Wilbur. Don't take me as a fucking fool. I can still see your creepy-ass message in the logs." 

A sigh, almost like the twat was inconvenienced by Phil’s demands. Then, from behind a corner, something glowing appeared. The eyes. 

The red ones, the glowing ones. Humans haven't evolved their technology to make contact lenses like these yet. Phil's heart skipped a beat.

There is a whole vampire in the same building as him. On the Blood Moon. And that vampire Phil unfortunately knows.

"You're a vampire," Phil said blankly, and, as a matter of fact, his voice didn't even tremble. His hands did, sure, but he felt strangely calm despite what was happening (or what was about to happen. Phil wasn’t dumb). 

"Uh," Wilbur said eloquently. "Surprise?" 

Phil rubbed his face. Even in the face of danger, the Goddess up above didn’t grant him mercy in the form of a fast kill. That was definitely not one of the scenarios Phil expected to happen. Nope.

He just wanted to sleep for a very long time. Like bears did. Bears slept for months and did nothing to contribute to society. Why couldn't Phil do the same? Coma didn't count. 

“I think you already know why I’m here,” Wil laughed awkwardly. Phil didn’t return the sentiment, a grave expression not leaving his face. Wil coughed a bit.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Phil snarked. Wilbur didn’t get the memo. 

“Oh! Well, me, Tommy and Techno have been planning to turn you for quite some time, you see,” great, they’ve thought of it before, “and we figured we could confront you about it a bit earlier, really, but you’ve started working every day! So we had to rearrange our plans.”

Phil stayed dead silent for a moment. Then: “Just for clarification, what would’ve happened if I missed the message? What if I still didn’t know you were there and a vampire?” 

’Would you harm me? Would you turn me against my will?’ remained unsaid, but judging by Wil’s sputtering he knew what exactly Phil implied. 

“No! Well, yes, but no? I would’ve still taken you to the nest, yes, because you're literally working on the most dangerous night of the year,” Phil decided not to bring up how it wasn't his first time working on the Blood Moon. “But if you decided not to, y’know, do the thing, we would’ve waited for another year!”

“And if I didn’t want to be turned next year?” Phil sighed, staring blankly at Wilbur’s face. And how didn’t he notice before? The vampire’s face was flawless, no wrinkles that gradually appeared on everyone’s faces, not even a hint of a 5 o’clock shadow, nothing. Wilbur might as well be a marble sculpture, unblemished, cold to the touch and uncanny in its looks.

“Then we would wait until you’re ready?” 

Phil didn’t comment on how there was no other option. No ‘we would accept your choice and drop the idea completely’, no ‘we’d let you die as a human.’ For them it’s just simply a matter of waiting, a few blinks in their lifetime and decades in Phil’s, to wait for his reluctant agreement. 

Phil knew reluctant consent wasn’t consent at all.

“And what if I was never ready, huh?” Phil started quietly, but as soon as he started it was hard to stop himself. “What if I run away tomorrow, because I’m fucking afraid that my wishes mean nothing to you? That if I wanted to stay a human, you wouldn’t think of it twice before turning me?!” 

And yet, Wilbur seemed unphased by Phil’s speech. If anything, he looked at the human-like some sort of complicated puzzle that he needed to solve. Phil felt himself deflate, anger leaving him as quickly as it came. 

Wilbur’s next words were calculated.

“You don’t want that, though.”

“What?” Phil weakly wondered.

“You don’t want to. To stay a human, I mean,” what the fuck. Did Wilbur really think something would happen if he gaslit Phil into believing him? Like hell it would.

“Haven’t you noticed yet?” Wilbur asked in a sympathetic voice. Phil bristled. “You always speak of how humanity sucks. On the darkest night, you’re afraid that you will die on a low-paying job, having not seen the world because you simply couldn’t. You lay there at night, knowing that you need to go to sleep, but unable to make yourself do that. Because you don’t want to wake up to the job you despise.” 

Wilbur’s emotionless voice grew more and more frantic, almost manic in some way. Phil just watched him, horrified. His limbs began to float away once more, but Phil kept himself on the ground. His heart beat erratically.

“How the fuck do you know that,” he whispered with his muscles stiff from fear. He made sure to never tell them about his own struggles, just not to be a burden on the already ‘orphaned’ boys. Wil gave him a close-lipped smile. 

“I like to make sure those I care about are safe and sound.”

Phil felt like throwing up, all-consuming nausea hitting him like a truck. Despite that, Wilbur continued.

“You’re afraid, Phil. Not only of me, us, but in general. You said, and I quote with precision: ‘if I wanted to stay a human’. Not ‘if I want’, ’wanted’,” Wilbur giggled airly. Phil just stared at his own hands, unresponsive.

He could say that it was just a hypothetical scenario. How it was just a figure of speech. He opened his mouth, yet no sound came out. 

“You’re afraid. You have no family left, no living parents, no siblings that don’t despise you just for existing. No aunts or uncles that could’ve helped. No loving partner, no real friends outside your colleagues.”

It seemed Wilbur really wanted to slander Phil’s ass tonight, huh. Phil huffed a laugh. He felt disconnected from his body, Wilbur’s voice the only thing keeping him tied to it.

“But you have us. You can have us for ever, if you choose to do so,” and didn’t it sound so tempting? Wasn’t it what Phil always wished for? For someone to always be there, for someone to comfort him, to hold him; to understand?

But there must be another way. It couldn’t…

As if feeling Phil’s hesitation, Wilbur continued. 

“We’re going to love you. You’ll never have to work another day in your life if you didn’t want to,” Wilbur slowly made his way to where Phil was sitting. His speech was never-ending, not giving a chance for doubt to slip into Phil's mind. “Or you could work on all of the projects that you’ve ranted to us about, because you'd finally have all the time in the world. You could see the world, Phil, with or without us. You could finally live.” 

He would live, Phil figured as much. His body, on the other hand, wouldn’t. Gone would be the imperfections that made him him, all the little things that made him a living being. There would be no use for oxygen, for it wouldn’t matter anymore. His life would depend on the blood of unfortunate souls, and did he really want that?

He could live, but would he really?

Wilbur was less than a metre away from him.

“We will love you for eternity. We will cherish you, we’ll show you how it feels to be loved, fully, undeniably,” Wil said in a low voice, an excited spark in his eyes. Phil couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. He wanted to see if Wilbur lied, if he would avert his eyes for a mere second. He wanted an escape he could justify, however unwillingly. 

“We’ll never get rid of you, Phil,” Wilbur whispered sacredly, unblinking, his eyes half-closed. He slowly lifted his hand, hovering it near Phil’s face. Phil felt cold radiating off of it. “And you’ll never get rid of us, either.”

Phil felt like his entire body stopped working for a second. No heartbeat, no breath, no thoughts were there at this moment. Only Wilbur and he were in this deserted office, with nothing outside mattering.

“Doesn't it sound nice?”

God, yes. Yes, it sounded perfect. It was as if Wilbur could see all of the loneliness that swallowed Phil whole, the insecurities that came with it. And here Wil stood, offering Phil a sought-after cure that could heal his raw wounds and make the pain finally go away.

He drowned in the sea of deep, deep red eyes, the light suggestion in the back of his mind. He could easily fight it, but, just for a second, just for a short while, Phil let himself wonder if it would be easier to just…

“Give in,” Wilbur murmured, a smile on his face. Phil could see the deadliness of his fangs even in the dim light. 

He exhaled. The ground was never steady beneath him, and now it crumbled completely. Phil never was good at hiding his weaknesses anyway.

He moved his head to the left, his face falling in Wilbur’s hand. The touch was freezing, but when Wil held his face in two hands so lovingly, so gently, Phil didn’t find it in himself to mind. It was already over. He fell, but instead of the humiliation and bitter fury from his own brain, he was met with fuzzy tranquillity.

“Good, you’re so good,” Wilbur breathed, and cool lips touched his forehead. He shivered, not so much from the temperature, but more so from the action itself. How it made something warm spark in Phil’s cold, cold chest. How the points of contact positively burned. How the shock felt good, making something ravenous spark deep inside of him.

More, it hissed and pleaded and keened. More, please love me more.

For someone as old as Phil, this easy affection shouldn’t be the bare minimum to win him over.

He was so tired.

It was as if months, years worth of hard, unceasing work had finally let themselves be known, and Phil found he couldn’t move a single muscle even if he tried. Contrary to the floating feeling, his whole body now felt too heavy to stand, to exist on its own. Right after the thought appeared, he felt someone’s arms lifting him up, up, until he was snug against someone’s chest, with his head under their chin. It was a perfect fit, like this embrace was carved specifically for Phil to fall into.

Like he was doomed from the beginning.

And when they started walking, Phil found it so difficult to at least stay awake. And yet he had to..? His brain begged him to stay awake just for a second longer. If not to appreciate the loving touch he craved for decades, then for… something important, maybe.

“So he agreed,” a voice called, and while Phil couldn’t muster up a name for this one, his brain filled with splotches of pink and red, as well as dry remarks and fond huffs. He relaxed further without fully realising it. A hold on him tightened, he sighed contentedly.

“In a way,” the other replied, and the vibrations of their voice pleasantly echoed throughout Phil’s body. Someone laughed. 

“You left a message?”

“Mhm. Carry this for me, won’t you?”

Silence. “But I want to carry him.”

Then, a growl appeared right under his ear, and for a second it made Phil startle awake. He made eye contact with something red, and- 

All the fight left his body in an instant. The panic lessened, and his entire being slackened. No, there was no way he could move by himself in such a state, surely… 

“Death, you’re a moron. You could’ve just said no. Almost ruined everythin’.” 

“Just fuck off,” the voice replied. “I’ll let you hog him in the nest.”

“Bet.”

Consciousness left Phil right after that. He would never know of the insignia of the primaeval coven, picturing three moths under a crescent moon, carved into his desk for all to see. 

’His fate is sealed; as long as you wish to live…

Do not come searching for him.’

___

“Ah, he’s awake already?”

“Bruh, stop cuddlin’ him, you’ll scare him off.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I-”

“Quiet!” a young voice hissed, and didn’t they sound familiar? Youthful blue eyes and hair similar to his own, but there was something wrong about the image… His mind switched back and forth between blue and red eyes, and Phil didn’t even know why. He only knew of the warmth that he was currently surrounded by, the softness of the ground beneath and someone’s hand carding through his hair.

The sleepy haze consumed his every rational thought in a dark mist, making him drift in the sea of serenity. Nothing was wrong, except maybe the fact everything smelled different, and how Phil lived all alone, and that he was at work last time he checked-

“Oh, he’s waking waking,” someone uttered, and with horror Phil realised he recognized the voice. His mind spoke of careful promises made in the middle of the night, the vow of unconditional love and belonging. 

It also spoke of red – not blue, not brown – eyes, watching him keenly from the darkness. It spoke of fanged smiles and soft touches. It spoke of…

“Phil, the biggest man out here, you’re finally awake! Well, you napped only for an hour or two, but it felt like decades! And I’m at least a few centuries old!”

… his friends. It didn’t sound quite right. 

“Wher’ ‘m I?” he slurred, face still half-buried in the pillow. His head hurt, probably from the fact that he was met with three pairs of glowing red eyes in the dim light. Nothing more.

“I,” Wilbur began, but was stopped by Techno’s displeased huff. Wilbur tsked. “Me and Techno brought you to the nest. You agreed to, remember?”

No, Phil did not, in fact, remember that. “Did I say ‘yes, Wilbur, I will follow you to your coven’s nest in the middle of my shift’?” 

Wilbur faltered. “Well, no, but-!”

“Then I didn’t.” 

The room fell quiet. Phil closed his eyes, basking in the last moments of sleepy haze. He was too awake for his liking. He didn’t like that. 

“But I’ve seen it in your eyes, when I spoke-”

“Nope. Not an argument,” Phil murmured tiredly. 

It seemed Wilbur didn't have a comeback to that.

“So you don’t want to be turned,” Tommy butted in. Phil was unable to come up with a response. “Phil, Phil-za, I swear on my mother’s heart that if you say ‘no’, we’ll let you be. Well, tomorrow, because y’know how it is. We could disappear from your life completely if you so wish. Just say the word.”

“Ah, so now I get to choose?” Phil hummed bitterly. Tommy just stared at him in confusion. “Someone told me it's just a matter of time before I agree.”

The human pointedly looked at Wilbur, and Tommy, having followed Phil, sighed in frustration. Wilbur refused to face either of them. “Don't mind him, really. He's too used to getting his way. What I need you to do is to give me your own answer.”

And wasn’t it pathetic? That Phil couldn’t say no? Because he simply didn’t want to?  

He already called them out on their bullshit, but it didn’t feel like a win. If anything, it felt like a gap formed between him and them. 

Would Phil agree because he genuinely wanted to, or because they finally gave him something besides an illusion of choice? Would he disagree because he didn't want to give up on humanity, or because he wanted to see if they go back on their word with time?

Would it really be his choice in the end, or theirs?

The quiet noises of activity picked up once the trio was aware he wouldn’t answer any time soon. The shuffling of pages turning, the barely audible click-clack of nails against the phone screen and low humming, sound of a pencil against a paper.

They didn’t speak to each other. They just existed together in the same space, doing their own thing, letting him be. Phil found himself dozing off and waking up, again and again, until he couldn’t anymore.

Phil was a weak man. Always had been. 

“Where’s my bag?” he said, seeing three vampires perk up at the sound of his voice. Wilbur reached to the floor, and Phil just now noticed how big the space around him was. Even though most of the room was taken by an absolutely enormous bed, there were still knick-knacks here and there. There were bookshelves on the walls, a closet, two goddamn doors and more. 

Before the human could examine any more, a bag landed near him. He uttered a weak ‘thanks’. 

He pretended to not notice how vampires got closer to him, intrigued. He finally fished out three boxes from his bag. 

“Those were supposed to be your Christmas gifts,” was all Phil said before giving them out. The one with pink ribbon for Techno, the red for Tommy and yellow for Wilbur.

Techno opened his carefully, unwrapping the bow slowly. Tommy didn’t hesitate and opened his as fast as humanly (vampirely?) possible. He then gasped, and Phil couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face if he tried. Wilbur was keen on sliding the intact bow from the box so that he didn’t need to undo it.

“Real gold alloy. Not an ounce of silver,” Techno was the first to break the silence. He looked at the earring with something warm in his gaze. “I’d imagine it cost a bit.”

“You could say that again,” Phil chuckled without an ounce of humour in his voice. He had to practically save up the money almost all year and wait for the perfect opportunity where he knew these earrings would be on sale. It was a small, simple gift, and yet the intention behind it was far greater. 

The vampires seemed to connect the dots as well. 

“But where’s the other one?” Wilbur asked. Phil averted his eyes. “There are two pairs. It means there’s a fourth one.”

Phil hesitated for a second, then took the small pouch out. 

“I thought I’d keep it in case one of you lost yours,” Phil said weakly. Tommy shot him a knowing look. 

“Yeah? Why did you bring it with you, then?”

Phil was embarrassingly easy to read, wasn’t he? He sighed through clenched teeth, but replied.

“I couldn’t leave it behind.”

Phil sat here in silence, while Tommy, Techno and Wilbur changed their earrings. When he finally looked up, all three vampires stared at him. 

’Green and red look so pretty together,’ Phil mused. Tommy sighed, and Phil suddenly felt stupid for wondering if he would stop breathing if he became a vampire. After all, it’s not like you could speak without air escaping from your lungs. 

“Phil. Please, just say one word. No, yes, maybe, whichever- I’d really like to have a definite answer. I get mixed signals here. Come on, you were the one vouching for clear communication,” Tommy joked, and Phil laughed. Really laughed, for the first time this day.

Goddess knew he was helpless before the trio. For a single, fleeting moment, he wondered if it would be that bad if he woke up as a vampire, with no recollection of either agreeing or disagreeing. If he had no say in the matter, simply forced to take what the world had thrown at him. Like what had been happening for most of his life anyway.

For a single moment, Phil was scared of his own mind. Yet something terrible resonated right under his ribs, a pang of desperate longing.

If they made me be one of them, he reckoned, I wouldn't look so miserable, wanting to stay by their side forever.

“I… if I say ‘yes’, what would that mean for me?” 

“Well,” the vampire hummed. “I would ask what you are agreeing to. To turning you right now? In the evening? Next year? Hell, when you’re seventy?”

“Let’s assume right now, for example.”

“Let’s,” Tommy huffed with mirth in his voice. He could hear Wilbur and Techno whispering amongst themselves, but Phil ignored it. “If you agreed to be turned right now, I would be the one siring you. Techno and Wil would be biting you, but only to establish the coven bond. Then you would sleep for… fuck if I know, actually.”

“Wait, aren’t you too young to be a sire?” in response, Tommy laughed in that wheezy boyish way, which confused Phil even more. 

“Don’t ever try to assume any vampire’s age ever again,” Tommy giggled. “Say, what do you know about the leader of the Eclipse Coven? He's me, by the way.” 

‘Oh my fucking god,’ Phil thought. He said as such, at which all three burst out in laughter. Meanwhile, Phil had his little crisis going on. 

It was the first coven to be ever created, and in its core rested a vampire, a direct descendant of Death. The primaeval vampire who only sired two of his fledglings, while the rest of the vampire population came from them both and then from their own fledglings and so on. In some way or another, all vampires descended from him, but the connection was so weak, it hardly mattered. 

Tommy. Chaotic, borderline-rabid Tommy, who did the stupidest shit ever and was a child in Phil’s eyes. A primaeval vampire. Holy fucking shit. 

“So yeah! Funny how things work out, innit?” the vampire carried on.

“Tom, I think he needs a moment to reset,” Techno chuckled from behind. Phil was surrounded by the three most powerful vampires at this very moment, and the only thing he felt was mild annoyance and maybe just the beginnings of dissociation. Phil wondered which one would win.

In the end, it was an annoyance.

“And if I said no?” Phil prodded.

Tommy shrugged. “Then we fuck off with this idea, maybe for some time, maybe for eternity. Depends.”

Phil bit his lip in thought, and Tommy moved to stand up. 

“Well, you have quite some time to think of it. If you do maybe want to, but aren’t sure yet, we can try next year. It is really up to you, mate, so-”

“I would like to be turned,” Phil blurted out before he could stop himself. And even if it shocked everyone in this room (including himself), he found that… he had meant it.

He saw Tommy’s eyes do the strange thing, where his pupils expanded and shrunk, after which he blinked rapidly until it went away. When he spoke, his tone was curt, yet still kind and mindful.

“Phil, don’t make rash decisions. The concept of YOLO doesn’t really work when you’re a vampire,” even in such a state Tommy bantered.

Even so, it was as though the vampire physically couldn’t look away from Phil now. It reminded Phil of a cat preparing to pounce, with how they lock their eyes on their target, keeping it in their sight.

“Wilbur and I… talked a bit, before we got here,” he said cautiously. For a second, Tommy’s eyes darted to where Wilbur sat. Then he once again studied Phil. “It made me quite aware of a few things.”

Phil didn't mention how the thought of waiting one more year was strangely unappealing to him. How anything could happen in the meantime. And, despite their friendship being stronger than Phil had ever experienced, he was scared.

Scared that everything was going to go wrong one day. Scared of the growing distance, until there was no contact at all.

He couldn't risk it.

When he finally had everything he wished for, he just couldn't play it safe anymore. The opportunity was right here. The opportunity to make their bonds stronger.

The opportunity to make sure they would never leave him behind.

“Again, don’t make a decision because of someone in particular. You need to think what it would mean for you personally.”

And Phil thought of it.

He thought of how tired he was of being alone, an accidental social outcast that didn’t seem to be great at forming strong bonds with people. Friendships didn’t last, and his romantic relationships always ended before they could become something remotely serious. 

He really thought about it.

He didn’t want to return to working in retail, where every interaction left him feeling drained. Where he had to work extra hours just to make ends meet, and then return to his cold flat, a living corpse, with no strength to cook real food or do the dishes. Where he went to bed early just to spend hours tossing and turning, thinking of a different life.

He considered it.

Humanity hadn't even offered him a decent place in society, but Phil felt like his life truly began not until three years ago. All memories prior to this moment blurred together in a large clump, yet it was the trio that made his days worth living. They gave him a reason to keep going, something to look forward to when he was at his lowest.

He thought. And he thought.

‘I don’t want to continue living like this,’ he came to a realisation. He didn't want to return to an empty house. He didn't want to get back to earning barely anything. He didn't want to be so tired he couldn't do what he loved; only making sure his bills were paid and his cabinets were stocked with the same noodles he’d been eating for the past several years.

Enough time had escaped his grasp while Phil was stuck in a mimicry of a life. He didn't want to lose any more of it.

And when he said it aloud, Tommy only nodded. 

If Phil didn't know better, he would say he was always ready to leave humanity behind.

“Alright. You can still change your mind, but after we bite you? No going back, oldza.” 

Phil snorted. Tommy beckoned him closer. “Here. Turn your back to me, then lay your head on my shoulder. Or chest. Wherever.”

Every moment felt as sharp as ever. Where Phil had expected to be distant and anxious, he was calm and rational. With his head on Tommy’s shoulder, he could only see the ceiling and Tommy himself. It kind of felt like visiting a dentist.

“Alright, bois, are we ready?” Tommy exclaimed, and Techno huffed.

“Please, don’t speak in this voice when we’re about to turn Phil.”

“What voice!?” Phil snickered at that, and, honestly, that might just be a defensee mechanism. Both of his wrists got picked up by different pairs of hands, and he could barely see Wilbur and Techno sitting nearby.

“Whatever. Phil, you ready?” 

And despite the late-arriving nerves, Phil replied.

“I am. Go on.” 

“Try not to tense,” Tommy warned. Phil was sure the trio felt his fluttering pulse, the way it picked up, but none commented on it. And, luckily, they decided not to stall.

Phil had never been bitten before. But when three sets of fangs entered his skin at the same time, he had a last fleeting thought: ‘yeah, that’s about right.’

The sensation of his blood leaving and something else replacing it instead was queer. It reminded Phil of being on IV, the same cold seeping into his body. Soon, his wrists were released, and Phil didn’t even remember he still had those. His arms, whole body, really, felt so numb they may as well have stopped existing. The only place where he still felt something was his neck, and even then the fangs there were barely noticeable.

The colours swirled and melted right before his eyes, turning into something incomprehensible. The more he stared at them, the dizzier he got. The good kind of dizzy.

And that was when it hit him. His teeth hurt, but not in the way where he would take some painkillers and call it a day, no. 

He needed to bite something. Full-on chomp on the nearest thing. And, as if reading his thoughts, someone held out a wrist in front of him. The skin there was marred with scars, and Phil didn’t think twice before biting in it. 

Only to find that his teeth were too blunt. It eased the pain, but somehow he knew that whatever laid underneath the skin would make the agony go away completely. He bit harder, and whined when it was still not enough. 

Something underneath his teeth shifted, scrunched, but still didn't give; what was he doing wrong? Wasn't he biting hard enough?

He was slowly losing consciousness. It was clear as day, from the way his already non-existing thoughts became murkier, how he lost control of his body. 

But he just knew he didn’t want to fall asleep. Something bad would happen.

If only… 

He clenched his teeth as hard as he could, and, finally, the liquid hit his tongue, and his whole body sang. 

It was sweet. It was salty? Or was it coppery? No, it was nothing and everything at once, it was something he could never describe even with a thesaurus opened in front of him. It was life.

He drank and drank, until something in his brain told him to stop. So he did, his mouth unlatching from the source of nutritious liquid. He wanted, no, needed more, yet something in his head hissed in disagreement.

It hardly mattered, for he was ready to scratch and tear to get more. After his… nap.

He did feel exhausted, after all. However, his eyes started opening on their own, and before he could voice his complaints, someone's fingers pushed his eyelids down. Just before wakefulness left him behind, he saw the red gaze of his sire.

___

He traced the sharp lines of Phil's jaw, staring at the still face. Soon enough, all of the imperfections would be gone, and so would Phil's humanity. He stroked the skin right under the fledgling's eye, tsking in displeasure. 

Phil just couldn't look after himself properly, could he?

Tommy eyed the sunken cheeks, disdain growing deep inside of him. It was foolish to expect Phil to ask for help at any time of his life. The man was stubborn like that.

Maroon, almost black blood slowly fell from Tommy's wrist, the wound nowhere close to healing just yet. It might, no, it would scar, for it was his fledge's first bite, the turning point. Pun somewhat intended. 

Fledglings' first bites were sacred. It was the moment where they, no longer human and not yet undead, first embraced their instincts. It was where fledges learned to look up to those instincts, always listening, never disobeying.

A fragile process it was; the finish of one's turning depended on the fledgling themself. They should be the one to sink their still blunt teeth in the vampire's skin. They are the ones who know how much blood their body needs to carry on the turn.

If a sire or dam tried to break their skin for the fledge, they would be risking giving too much blood. A fine way for a fledgling to overfeed and never wake up again. 

Tommy thumbed at the teeth marks adoringly, smearing the blood. Every turn was non-identical. Every turning was equally special and reverent. 

... Or, it was supposed to be. Tommy frowned. Not all vampires see the true extent of the process. Some become too careless. Some don't even bother to create a bond with their future fledge. He hated that.

At least his coven knew better. At least they, too, wore their fledges' bite scars with pride. 

Tommy laid his hand right over Phil's windpipe. The pulse was still here, albeit getting slower with each passing minute. 

Soon, it will be gone completely. Even if the idea of waiting threatened to kill him. He couldn't complain, however, because everything went just according to plan today. 

... Tommy might have lied when he told Phil he wouldn't turn him if the human didn't want that. In his defence, he would've waited for a few years before turning Phil anyway. Tommy had standards, and those standards included being on good terms with his fledges.

Oh well. The less Phil knew, the better.

He squeezed at the neck, just for a second, huffing when Phil's breath stuttered. His fingertips descended towards the turning bite, the skin there being slightly discoloured. Such a shame he got to taste Phil's human blood only once; that might be the only thing Tommy would miss. The pros outweighed the cons, though.

As he wanted to lay down and be done for the day, he noticed a pouch in between various pillows and blankets. Carefully, as to not startle Phil, he picked it up. It was forest green in colour, a velvet material, and when he opened it, a golden earring fell out.

Tommy smiled, at no one in particular. He situated the earring on Phil's earlobe. 

It suited him perfectly. This time, Tommy couldn't contain his laughter.

There was no way Phil could've said no. Subconsciously, he always knew that he was destined to be a part of Tommy’s coven. If it meant doing the damage control because of Wil’s slipup, so be it. Phil did come to this realisation feeling like he was in control, at the end of the day.

It's not like it would've mattered in the end.

He put away the earring for now, falling onto the bed in a semi-upright position with a sigh, with Phil's head resting on Tommy's lap. It'd be a while before Wil and Techno return home from the hunt.

After all, it's not like they could get the blood on their own as often anymore. And while Tommy wasn't against the idea of blood banks, they just couldn't satiate his kind's natural need for violence. He closed his eyes with a satisfied hum. 

He hoped they could bring their meal alive. That would be very thoughtful of them.