Chapter Text
Kimi remembers the exact day, he could still smell the hallway, wood and deodorant, and how the air was a little bristly, when he met him.
He had expected the Integration Program at St. Jude’s to be a fresh start. A mixed high school for vampires and humans was supposed to foster harmony in Vowles Creek, the little town his parents decided they would live in. But Kimi quickly learned that harmony was just a PR word for a different kind of hierarchy. As a late bloomer, Kimi was a walking target. While other vampire kids his age were already grappling with blood-lust and predatory instincts, Kimi’s fangs were mere nubs, barely there. He felt like a predator born without its teeth.
The hallway was crowded when the first tug came. Kimi stumbled, the nylon straps of his backpack biting into his shoulders before the weight suddenly vanished. He spun around, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Standing there was a boy with blonde, spiked hair and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You want it back? Come and get it, runt," the boy sneered.
Kimi lunged for the bag, but the blonde boy was faster, tossing it over Kimi’s head to another student with dark, curly hair.
"Just give it to me, man," Kimi said, his voice small, flavored with a resignation that tasted like ash.
"Not gonna give you shit," Liam replied. Liam was in the last year, a full-blooded vampire who had spent the last months refining his cruelty. They passed the bag back and forth and when he saw Kimi had no intention of chasing after them he tossed it to the side with a sharp thwack. Then, he stepped into Kimi’s personal space, shoving him hard.
Kimi’s sneakers skidded on the floor as he fought to stay upright.
"What are you gonna do about it?" the blonde kid challenged, peeling back his lips to flash elongated, lethal fangs. Kimi stared at them, mesmerized by the sheer power he was supposed to have, but didn't, not yet.
"Liam, leave him alone."
The voice was low, cutting through the ambient noise of the hallway like a blade. Kimi turned. Standing a few feet away was a boy with a wild mane of curls and eyes the color of a blooming forest. He wasn't looking at Kimi; his gaze was locked on Liam with a terrifying, quiet intensity.
Liam barked out a laugh, though it sounded a bit forced. "Oh, look at this. What are you gonna do, mate? Get a string of garlic? A wooden stake?"
The dark-haired boy didn't flinch. He didn't even move his hands from his pockets. "I don't need to be a vampire to kick your ass," he replied, a simple shrug punctuating the threat.
Kimi felt a surge of awe. He looked at the stranger’s broad shoulders and the steady set of his jaw and believed him. He looked like he could throw a punch that would make even a vampire’s head spin.
Liam’s bravado flickered. He glanced at his short friend, then back at the interrupter. "Whatever. Come on, Isack," Liam muttered, signaling the brunette boy. They shouldered past Kimi, leaving a wake of tension behind them.
Kimi knelt to retrieve his backpack, his fingers trembling as he brushed the dust off the fabric. When he stood up, he realized the other boy was still there, watching him. A heat crawled up Kimi's neck, staining his cheeks a deep crimson.
"Thanks," Kimi managed to whisper.
"Sure," the boy said. He looked older than Kimi, likely in Liam's grade, but he lacked the arrogance of older boys. "I’ve seen Liam picking on you all week. He’s an asshole."
The blush deepened, turning Kimi’s ears hot. He’s been watching me getting bullied? The thought was dizzying and a little humiliating. Kimi wished he had noticed him earlier, wished he hadn't been so buried in his own head that he'd missed this steady, green-eyed presence.
"I’m Franco," the guy said, finally offering a small, lopsided smile. "If Liam becomes an issue again, just come find me. I don't mind busting his ass here and there."
Franco gave a short nod and turned to head toward his next class. Kimi stood paralyzed in the middle of the hallway, clutching his backpack to his chest. His fangs might not have been growing yet, but something else was… an instant, thumping crush that made his heart beat faster than any threat ever could.
🦇
The next few days were the quietest Kimi had experienced since the semester started. He kept waiting for the shadow of a blonde spikey head or to hear the heavy tread of Liam’s boots behind him, but there was nothing. No shoves, no stolen bags, not even a sneer from across the hall.
Kimi felt a tentative sense of relief beginning to bloom in his chest.
He found a corner table in the cafeteria, unzipping the insulated bag his mom had packed that morning. Just as he was about to dig in, a girl slid into the plastic chair directly across from him.
"Hi," she chirped, her energy a sharp contrast to the dull roar of the lunchroom. "Do you mind if I sit?"
"Go ahead," Kimi said, blinking. She looked faintly familiar, something about the shape of her eyes.
"You bring your lunch too?" she asked, already unwrapping a sandwich. "My brother absolutely hates the cafeteria food, so my mom just makes lunch for both of us. Having him as an older brother actually has its perks sometimes, actually, it's most of the time."
She spoke with a carefree ease that Kimi found himself liking immediately. It was rare to find someone in this school who didn't look like they were constantly measuring their status against everyone else.
"I'm Martina," she said, pointing a finger at her own chest.
"Kimi," he replied, mirroring the gesture with a shy smile.
"I know," she shrugged, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Everyone in my class is talking about you."
Kimi’s stomach did a nervous somersault, the relief from earlier vanishing instantly. He felt the familiar heat of a blush creeping up his neck. "Why? What are they saying?"
"Oh," she said, waving a hand dismissively as if she’d realized she’d sounded too ominous. "Not much. Just that you’re what? Thirteen? And haven’t got your fangs yet."
She said it like she was commenting on the weather. Kimi looked down at his lap, but she didn't let the silence hang.
"Don't worry about it. Mine are still developing," she said, tilting her head back to show him her teeth. Sure enough, her fangs were only slightly more prominent than his own, they looked sharp, but still small. "Everyone here talks about it like it’s some big, life-altering deal, but it really isn’t. I mean, my brother isn't even a vampire and he’s pretty popular still."
Kimi paused, his juice box halfway to his mouth. "Who’s your brother?"
Martina giggled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "His name is Franco. If you haven’t heard of him yet, trust me, you will."
Kimi nearly choked on his juice, the name echoing in his head like a struck bell. Franco. He thought of the green eyes, the steady stance, and the way the hallway seemed to belong to him despite his lack of fangs.
"Oh," Kimi managed to squeak out, his blush intensifying until his entire face felt like it was on fire. "I... I think I've met him."
How small is the world of St. Jude's going to get for Kimi now that he's met the sister of his savior?
"See? He’s always the center of gossip. He stands out even when he doesn’t mean to," Martina said, shaking her head with a fond, knowing look.
Kimi realized quickly that Martina liked to talk. It was a refreshing change from the hushed whispers and pointed silences he usually dealt with; her voice acted like a shield against the rest of the noisy cafeteria.
"So, how did you meet him?" she asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.
Kimi felt that familiar heat prickling his skin again. "Uhm, he kind of... stopped Liam Lawson from bullying me," he admitted, his voice dropping an octave as he thought about the confrontation. "At least for now."
"Oh, trust me," Martina said, waving a carrot stick for emphasis, "it’s going to be forever. Liam doesn't want to go against my brother anymore. He always gets his ass whooped."
She spoke about Franco like he was a school legend, a mix of pride and casual certainty in her tone that made Kimi trust her.
"So, what’s your schedule like?" she asked, shifting gears with lightning speed. "I think we might have some classes in common."
Kimi reached into his bag and pulled out his crumpled agenda, handing it over to her. Martina scanned the paper, her eyes darting across the grid of periods and room numbers.
"Oh! We share Algebra during the last period," she chirped, sliding the paper back to him with a bright smile. "Cool! We can sit together. My current seat partner spends the whole hour trying to sharpen his fangs on his pencil, and it’s honestly so gross to listen to."
Kimi laughed, a genuine sound that surprised even him. The weight that had been sitting on his chest since the first day of school finally felt a little lighter. He might have found a friend in Martina.
"Yeah," Kimi said, his smile matching hers. "I'd like that."
🦇
The months that followed were a blur of shared Algebra notes and hushed laughter in the library. For the first time, St. Jude’s didn’t feel like a predatory wilderness; with Martina by his side, the school felt manageable. She was a whirlwind of gossip and loyalty, and true to her word, Liam Lawson had become a ghost, vanishing into the background whenever Kimi walked by.
Study sessions at Martina’s house became the highlight of Kimi’s week. It was a home that smelled like laundry detergent and toasted sandwiches, a contrast to the stone-faced architecture of the academy.
One Saturday, while Martina was hunting for a lost calculator, Kimi found himself lingering in the hallway. Franco’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. He knew he shouldn't peek, but the curiosity was a physical itch. He took a silent step forward and looked in.
The room was a vibrant explosion of everything Franco was. It was the room of a teenage athlete. Football jerseys were draped over chairs, and the walls were plastered with racing posters, the sleek lines of F1 cars cutting through blurring backgrounds. Right above the headboard, a massive poster of Lewis Hamilton stared back, the words Still I Rise emboldened in like a manifesto.
"Checking out the mess?"
Kimi nearly jumped out of his skin. Franco was standing behind him, dripping with sweat and carrying a gym bag, his green eyes crinkled in amusement.
"I—I just... I like the posters," Kimi stammered, his face instantly turning a shade of scarlet that rivaled a Ferrari.
"Hamilton is the GOAT," Franco said simply, not sounding annoyed at all. He reached out and ruffled Kimi's hair as he passed, a casual gesture that made Kimi feel like he’d just been knighted and like a little kid all at once. "Never noticed you had a lisp, it’s cute."
He said it so casually, like he was commenting on the weather, before disappearing inside and clicking the door shut. A moment later, the muffled sound of the shower started up, but it was still nowhere near as loud as the frantic, uneven thudding of Kimi’s own heart.
🦇
A few weeks later, the two were sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by half-eaten bags of pretzels and open textbooks. The front door slammed open, and Franco stormed in, looking energized and slightly frantic.
"Martina, clear the living room," he said, heading straight for the kitchen to grab a stack of napkins. "I need the TV in fifteen. I've got the guys coming over for the match."
Martina groaned, throwing a couch pillow at him. "We’re mid-session, Franco!"
"Solve it in the kitchen," he shot back with a grin. He paused, his gaze landing on Kimi. He didn't just look past him; he gave a sharp, respectful nod, the kind of salute one athlete gives another. "Hey, Kimi. You’re welcome to stay and watch if you want, but it’s gonna get loud."
"Oh, no, I... I should finish this and then get home," Kimi squeaked, though his heart was hammering.
As Franco bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time with an effortless grace, Kimi watched him go. It wasn't just that Franco was popular or handsome; it was the way he moved through the world, unapologetic, kind, and entirely himself. To Kimi, even the way Franco breathed seemed cool.
"Stop staring," Martina teased, nudging him with her elbow. "He’s just a big dork who wears the same pair of socks all week long."
Kimi smiled, picking up his pen. Maybe Franco was a dork to his sister, but to Kimi, he was proof that you didn't need fangs to own the room.
The kitchen table became a mess, their Algebra books propped up and they added more snacks, though neither had looked at a quadratic equation in twenty minutes. From their point of view, the living room looked like a different world now, a chaotic, high-energy place of teenage boys and flying popcorn.
Franco’s inner circle was there: Lando, Oscar, Alex, and George. It was a collection of personalities so distinct and magnetic that Kimi felt a bit dizzy just looking at them. They were wrestling over the remote, shouting over a missed play, and cussing with a casual freedom that made the air in the house feel electric.
"They could totally be One Direction," Kimi whispered, leaning his chin on his hand. In his head, he was already doing the math. If this group were the ultimate boy band, who would be who? Franco, with that charm and the way everyone seemed to gravitate toward him, and the eyes, and the curls was obviously Harry.
Thump.
Martina’s elbow caught him right in the ribs. "You’re staring," she hissed, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She was the only one who had clocked the way Kimi’s eyes lingered a second too long whenever Franco laughed.
"I’m not," Kimi whispered back, though his ears were burning. He wasn't about to go down without a fight. He jerked his head toward the couch. "And you’re staring at Lando."
Martina’s face went from pale to a deep, bruised plum in record time. "I am not!" she squeaked, before quickly scrambling for an excuse. "I mean… yeah, I was, but it’s because he was a late bloomer. He didn't get his fangs until he was almost sixteen! I’m just... observing him. Some research… for you."
Kimi raised an eyebrow. They both knew research didn't usually involve blushing that hard.
"And see? He’s perfectly fine," Martina continued, recovering her poise with a toss of her hair. "Most popular guy at school and all that."
It was a comforting thought. In that group, only Franco and Oscar were non-vampires, and they moved through the circle with a casual confidence that proved fangs weren't the only way to have bite.
Martina leaned in closer, the One Direction thought clearly still bouncing around her head. "Okay, so if they were the band... who would they be?"
They looked at each other, a silent countdown passing between them.
"Franco would be Harry," they whispered in unison.
The perfect synchronization sent them both into a fit of stifled, high-pitched giggles. They were laughing so hard they had to bury their faces in their arms to keep from being heard.
"Lando would be Louis," she continued, ‘’and Alex is Niall, because they like to joke…"
"And Oscar is Zayn," Kimi whispered, "because they’re quiet."
The noise, however, was enough to draw attention. Franco looked back over his shoulder, his expression mock-serious, eyes narrowing at the two of them as if they were a pair of noisy spectators ruining the game. He didn't say anything, but the look was clear: Quiet down.
In response, Martina sat up just enough to stick her tongue out at him in a burst of mock defiance. Franco rolled his eyes, a small, private smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he turned back to the TV.
Kimi felt a warmth in his chest. He wasn't part of the cool group yet, and he might not have his fangs, but sitting here in the kitchen with his best friend, being shushed by Franco? He felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.
Then a thought crossed his mind.
"Wait, isn't Louis your favorite?" and she got red in the face again.
🦇
The final weeks of the semester felt like a countdown clock that Kimi desperately wanted to break. While the rest of the school was buzzing with the frantic energy of summer plans, a heavy, bittersweet fog settled over their study sessions in the kitchen.
The reality of graduation hit Kimi harder than he expected.
Franco was heading to a local college, close enough for the occasional weekend, sure, but the high school hallways would suddenly feel cavernous without that steady, green-eyed presence. He had promised Martina he would visit for holidays and whenever he could. Kimi had spent a year navigating the shark-infested waters of St. Jude’s by looking for the back of Franco’s head in the crowd.
But that wasn’t it, there was another shadow looming over their friendship: the physical divide that had finally opened between him and Martina.
Almost overnight, Martina’s small fangs finished their descent, and the result was pure misery. She spent their Algebra sessions slumped over the table, complaining that her jaw ached and that her skin felt two sizes too small and far too hot. To drown out the constant, metallic thrum at the back of her throat, she developed frantic cravings for extra-sour pickles and the spiciest chips she could find, anything to shock her senses.
"I’m telling you, Kimi, it sucks," she groaned one afternoon, rubbing her temples. "I feel moody, I’m sweaty for no reason, and everything smells too loud. You’re a lucky one."
Kimi nodded sympathetically, but a cold stone of jealousy sat heavy in his stomach. He listened to her stories about the two ways to survive the thirst. There was the elite route: human blood, bottled and sold at the Russell Pharmacies. Managed by George’s family, the shop was the reason for his massive popularity; the product was expensive, rare, and supposedly tasted like pure sunlight, but it was a luxury you could only afford to feast on once in a while.
Then, there was the traditional way. Kimi heard how Martina’s parents took her into the thick, mist-heavy forests surrounding Vowles Creek to teach her the ancient art of the hunt. They showed her how to track a deer or a stray goat and take only what was needed, leaving the animal dazed but alive.
He wanted that. He wanted the moodiness, the aching jaw, the ethical dilemma of the hunting, anything to prove he was finally moving forward.
"You'll get there," Martina said, noticing his quietness. She reached out, her grip noticeably stronger than it used to be, and squeezed his hand. "And when you do, I’ll be the one taking you to the creek. I’ll show you all the best spots where the elk aren't too jumpy."
Kimi gave her a small, fragile smile. "Promise?"
"Ride or die, remember?" she said, her new fangs peeking out just slightly as she grinned.
🦇
The years didn't just pass; they seemed to stretch and pull like taffy.
Every few months, the front door of Martina’s house would fly open, and the air would suddenly feel charged again. Whether it was for a stray birthday weekend, the quiet lull of Christmas, or the chaotic arrival of Spring Break, Franco’s return was the heartbeat of Kimi’s calendar.
Every single time, the ritual was the same. Franco would drop his bags, pull Kimi into a half-hug, and grin. "Sup, Kimi boy? Any fangs yet?"
And every single time, Kimi would shake his head, his smile becoming a little more forced, his eyes dropping to his shoes.
It happened again during the winter of Kimi’s last year. They were sitting on the porch, the air biting and cold. Franco leaned back, looking at Kimi through the steam of a coffee mug. "So? Any news from the gums? You keeping them hidden?"
Kimi didn't shake his head this time. He just stared at his hands, his knuckles white. The silence stretched until it felt heavy enough to snap.
"Hey," Franco said, his voice dropping the playful edge. He set the mug down. "I hit a nerve. I'm sorry, mate."
"It’s just... everyone asks," Kimi whispered, his voice thick with a frustration he’d been bottling up for years. "Teachers, Your parents, the guys at school. It’s like I’m a broken watch and everyone’s waiting for me to move. I’m eighteen, Franco. I’m supposed to have something by now."
Franco looked at him for a long beat, his green eyes steady and unblinking. He didn't offer a platitude or a "don't worry about it." He just nodded slowly. "Got it. No more asking. You’re Kimi regardless of what’s in your mouth. We're done with the tooth-fairy talk, okay?"
He kept his word. From that day on, Franco never brought it up again, treating Kimi with a casual respect that meant more than any "it’s going to happen when you least expect it" ever could.
Then, finally, it was Kimi’s turn. The St. Jude’s graduation ceremony was a blur of black robes and bittersweet goodbyes. Like almost every graduate from the academy, Kimi earned his spot at Vowles Creek College. It was the natural progression, the same campus where Franco, Lando, and the rest of the boy band were already established legends.
As Kimi packed his belongings, he caught his reflection in the vanity mirror. He pulled back his lip, staring at the same straight, stubbornly human teeth he’d had since he was a kid. He was heading into a new world, a college world, with the same late bloomer label trailing behind him like a shadow.
He was a high school graduate, a college first year, and still, there wasn't a single sign of a fang.