Chapter Text
Kimi was a vampire. Not the movie kind—scary, pale, and looking like death warmed up. He was probably one of the kindest souls on planet Earth.
Just like humans, vampires came in all shapes and sizes. Over the last century, plenty of pacifists and vegetarians had cropped up. It was into exactly this kind of family that Kimi Andrea Antonelli was born on August 25th, 2006. Their family was pretty much your typical Italian setup—just with the minor detail that they drank synthetic blood for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
When he was five, he was playing out on the street with the other boys. It was dusty, hot, and sunny; sand got stuck between his toes, and his lips were constantly parched. One boy tripped on the road and scraped his knee and palm open on the sharp stones. He cried loudly, and Kimi felt incredibly sorry for him. But by the time they reached the ravine, they were already laughing, and Kimi couldn't figure out why the air smelled so incredibly sweet. He kept sniffing and sniffing until it finally clicked—the smell was coming from his friend, Francesco.
Kimi stepped right up to him and started sniffing him, holding the boy by the shoulders. Francesco was the same height as Kimi, with short blonde hair and a funny rabbit-like nose, and his skin was all rosy like ripe, fuzzy peaches. But he smelled… better than anything Kimi had ever smelled before. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Oi, what are you doing?" the boy complained, squirming in Kimi's grip.
"You smell so good! You're sweet."
Their little group of four traded glances. Francesco looked himself over once Kimi let him go. The boy rummaged through the pockets of his cargo shorts, which he usually loved to stuff with ripe figs, but they were empty right now—they’d eaten them all on the way. Then he stared at his palm, where beads of blood were still welling up, mixed with sand.
"It's coming from here!"
Without a second thought, Francesco licked his palm, let out a quiet "ew," and all the boys around them burst out laughing.
"Here, try it," he said, shoving his hand right under Kimi's nose.
Back then, a naive child, Francesco held out his hand with drops of blood and the little vampire had already stuck his tongue out to taste it when his mum saw it. She had just been looking for him so Kimi could have lunch, and she managed to yank little Andrea away from the palm just in time. He looked at his mum sadly, pouting, and felt her smooth his curls and kiss the crown of his head.
"Andrea, remember," his mother said, her voice deep and resonant, "never drink blood from humans."
The boy walked back home holding her hand, looking up at the sun at its absolute zenith. Kimi kicked stones along the path and glanced warily at his mum, sniffing to check if that sweet scent lingered anywhere.
"Even if they let me?" Kimi mumbled shyly, feeling a bit guilty.
"Even then," his mum nodded. "You mustn't."
And her words echoed in his head with a gentle firmness. Kimi knew he wouldn't be beaten or punished if he disobeyed, but Mum and Dad would be deeply upset if he drank human blood. So he didn't want to drink it anymore, but he still didn't get it—why?
"But why?" the boy asked, blinking his wide eyes up at his mum.
"Look, Andrea," his mum laughed. "You would lick Francesco's hand. And then you'd bite him because you'd love it. And after that, the other kids would stop playing with you."
Kimi went quiet, pouting. No, he definitely didn't want that! He liked all of his friends.
"And besides, would you really want to hurt Francesco?"
"Of course not!" Kimi exclaimed, clenching his little fist.
"See? That's why you don't drink blood from humans, Andrea."
And Kimi absorbed that like a prayer. He remembered his mother's words forever, just like the way his little fangs used to itch whenever he recalled Francesco's palm. But that was easy enough to handle! If it meant Francesco wouldn't be hurt, Kimi would endure anything for his friends.
As Kimi grew up, things stayed pretty much the same. The lesson his mum taught him hadn't just stuck; it had woven itself into his very core, becoming a part of him that was impossible to tear away. Blood was off-limits, humans would get hurt, and Kimi loved humans. Well, most of them. Sure, there were some annoying people sometimes, but Kimi didn't want to drain them either—at most, he’d just splash them with water.
When he started university, most people weren't even surprised by his nature. Honestly, 21st-century vampires weren't even that powerful anymore—their blood had mixed too much with humans, so their lifespans were pretty much the same, maybe stretching an extra fifty years or so. So Andrea’s life, coming from a vampire family, was actually a bit too human. He could still feel that the people around him were sweet and pleasant, which was why he loved touching them and hugging them so much—he could hear the blood humming inside them, catch its pleasant, subtle scent, like laundry washed with fabric softener and dried under a ruthless sun. But his fangs never itched, and even the sight of blood couldn't make him lose his cool, because his parents often brought a small vial of human blood home—not to drink, but to get the kids used to the smell so they wouldn't shy away from it.
And so he was starting university, majoring in chemical engineering. He was incredibly nervous—what if his roommates avoided him? He really didn't want that. What if he fell in with a bad crowd? What if his documents got stolen? A million worries were buzzing in his head as he dragged his massive suitcase up to the fourth floor of the dorm, trying to sort out his thoughts. I mean, he was a vampire, right? He could defend himself, but it was definitely better without any fights—humans were so fragile. You bump into them slightly and they break a bone, and how do you look them in the eye after that? You just end up looking guilty, basically.
Kimi knocks on the door and opens it. He's greeted by a bright room with the sun beating down mercilessly—there were no curtains on the windows, the casement window was wide open, and a guy was sitting on the bed reading a book. Had he already managed to hit the library?
"Hi," followed by a blinding smile.
The guy snaps the book shut and gets off the bed. His back is straight, his posture elegant yet fragile—what if Kimi accidentally broke him?—his eyes are a soft caramel color, and the way he smelled... Like burnt sugar. His heart beat in his chest, sounding like the crackle of a fireplace, a sound so soothing it could put even Kimi to sleep. And Kimi snapped out of it when he realized this wonderful person was holding out a hand to greet him, waiting for him to unfreeze. And he had to tilt his head up to look him in the eye, because the guy was also tall.
Oh God. Kimi hoped he wasn't drooling, because this was already shaping up to be the definition of embarrassing.
"I'm Oliver Bearman. You can call me Ollie."
"And I'm Kimi Antonelli," the vampire said, giving a wide smile as he shook his hand.
And then Oliver's hand twitched ever so slightly—he was surprised, but then his smile grew even wider. His heart had just done a flip in his chest, and Kimi found it almost adorable.
"Your hand's bloody freezing," Ollie said, still shaking it, looking completely fascinated.
"Yeah, well, I'm a vampire," the Italian shrugged.
"Blimey," it seemed his roommate wasn't scared, just intrigued. "Brilliant. We've got loads of vampires back home in Chelmsford."
Kimi smiled and bit his lip slightly. "That's good, then."
"Just... don't bite me without permission. Please." Ollie scratched behind his ear.
Kimi choked on air and didn't even have time to reply before his strange roommate vanished out the door, leaving Kimi standing there, thinking he'd completely blanked again! He should have said right away that he didn't drink human blood, but he’d just stood there with his ears open. But this wasn't their last meeting, right?
When Kimi started making his bed, his eyes couldn't help but drift over to his new roommate's side of the room, who had disappeared with his backpack half an hour ago. On his nightstand lay a book—Hemingway, it looked like—a half-empty bottle of cologne, and some bits and bobs. The bed was messy, and underneath it, he could spot a cone-shaped massager, a pair of dumbbells covered in a layer of dust, and a massive, half-open black suitcase that had clearly been left unpacked and shoved under the bed. Next to his desk, which was piled high with stacks of different books and a framed photo of a white dog, stood a hiking backpack with a stained t-shirt spilling out of it, and right next to it, almost under the bag, was a single shoe. Where on earth was the second one?
And why had his roommate reacted so calmly to him? Not that Kimi wanted fanfare, wooden stakes, and questions like "how long have you been seventeen?", but his roommate's chilling composure had put him on edge at first, before making him relieved. It meant there probably wouldn't be any weird situations, right? After all, he only had one roommate—a guy who seemed nice and normal, according to what they told him when he moved in. He was from the philology department, which meant he'd be quiet, read his books, keep to himself, and be a shy bloke. That's how Kimi figured it. And he had never been so spectacularly wrong in his entire life.
Almost immediately, university life swept him up in its chaotic whirlpool. Kimi went everywhere he was invited, though he often found himself bored out of his mind at meetings for drama clubs trying to recruit him. But for Kimi, his path was already clear—he took up swimming, which he’d done before, and then he stumbled upon an offer to join the university's volunteering organization, and of course, he agreed. Firstly, because he genuinely loved people—talking to them, helping them—and secondly, because volunteers often got excused from classes and even got taken to other cities. All in all, his life as a student was coming together; he was meeting tons of people, and even if he hadn't formed any deep bonds yet, everything lay ahead—he still had four whole years left to study.
His roommate, as wasn't hard to guess, was studying literature, and by the looks of it, things weren't going entirely smoothly. In the mornings, he could barely open his eyes, whining whenever Kimi pulled back the curtains and buried his head under the pillow and blanket. Anyone else—like his little sister, maybe—would have chucked a pillow at him; getting Ollie out of bed was an absolute nightmare anyway. And later, when Kimi was already dressed and ready, he’d run into the Brit, who hadn't budged an inch from the bed. So he would tickle his feet, which dangled off the edge of the mattress, because at 186 centimeters, he was way too tall for the tiny dorm beds. True to form, Ollie would try to hide under the duvet, but Kimi would grab his ankles and drag him right off the bed onto the rug. And Ollie would laugh.
Long story short, the guy was decent and positive, but studying and going to lectures wasn't exactly his favorite thing in the world. He loved going hiking and devouring books. The girls would giggle whenever he walked up to them, because he was the sweetest gentleman around women, but with the lads, he was a proper joker. Mind you, both groups were always inviting him to play Monopoly, tennis, basketball, or even to join literature circles, and he often said yes, barely spending any time in the room.
One miserable weekend, which they spent cooped up in the dorm because the rain was coming down in sheets outside, he was playing console games with the lads, chasing a ball across the pitch in FIFA. Kimi's brain refused to even add two and two together from pure exhaustion—today the coach had punished them for messing around and made them swim an extra twenty laps. And Kimi absolutely loathed the rain; it drove him into a funk, making him drowsy and giving him an endless craving to bask in the sun-drenched baths of southern Italy again.
Perched on the none-too-wide sofa in his and Ollie's room were a quiet Isaac and a loud Gabi. The match was intense between the two of them, but definitely not for Kimi—his whole body ached after the pool session, and he desperately just wanted to lie flat instead of constantly hanging his arse off the edge of the cramped, pathetic sofa, taking stray elbows from Bortoleto and listening to him chew pizza right in his ear.
"How come Kimi isn't eating?" Isaac asked Ollie quietly.
"Oh, he's a vampire," Ollie blurted out.
And right then, dead silence fell—all the clicking of the gamepad buttons cut out. Kimi, who had already drifted off with his eyes closed, froze, literally feeling three pairs of eyes on his skin—two shocked and one mischievous. Kimi sighed and opened his eyes with a forced smile, blinking rapidly, hoping the gesture would shed the persona of an evil creature of the night.
"No way," Gabi whispered, washing down his pizza with a swig of beer.
"Aren't you terrified sharing a room with him?" Isaac whispered in Ollie's ear, though Kimi could hear it perfectly anyway, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "And why are you paler than he is? Does he tan or something?"
Ollie bursts out laughing, throwing his head back and exposing his neck. Kimi catches it out of the corner of his eye and stops breathing.
"Come off it, mates, have you never seen a vampire before?" Ollie asked, howling with laughter.
And from the silence that answered for the boys, Ollie realized that some freshmen were proper kids. Including Kimi, partly, because handling such an awkward situation was becoming a bit too tough as a sticky wave of shame tightened around his throat. All the cozy, exhausted comfort of the moment vanished into thin air, replaced by a heavy tension.
"Right, lads," Kimi said, standing up and slapping his thighs a bit too loudly before tossing his controller onto the floor. "Back in a sec."
And Kimi vanishes without explaining anything, though no one really tries to stop him. By the time he returns, after washing his hands in the sink and having a mini therapy session in front of the mirror, the two guys—their flatmates—were long gone. The spots where they sat on the sofa hadn't even gone cold yet.
"Where'd they go?" Kimi asked.
"Legged it," Ollie replied, frowning and mercilessly mashing a single button. "Hurry up and sit down. We're losing."
And Kimi sits down. Time ticks away, the clock crawls past two in the morning, and they're still staring at the telly. Kimi actually likes it, except he can't shake the thought that the guys are going to avoid him now. He feels bad because they seemed cool, even if they were a bit daft. But who was Kimi to judge anyone's quirks? He was a representative of a blood-sucking species that people had thought was a myth for ages—it wasn't his place to point out human oddities.
The rain stops, and somehow, a few mosquitoes start buzzing in through the window. Just a couple of them, but their high-pitched whining blended softly with the chatter right through the wall—over there, Gabi and Isaac were debating where to buy garlic on sale and deciding they needed to start believing in God, specifically the Christian one just to be safe, because in movies, people usually use a cross and God against vampires, not a crescent and Allah.
"Maybe I should talk to them?" Kimi asked quietly, glancing at Oliver.
"Don't bother. They're total idiots, don't sweat it," Ollie reassured him, scoring the final goal.
Ollie smirked and squashed another mosquito with a loud clap. He pulled his hand back and looked at the squished insect on his palm.
"Hey," he frowned, turning to the vampire. "Kimi, am I tasty?"
Any drowsiness seemed to evaporate instantly, along with his controller, which almost slipped from his grip.
"What?" Kimi choked on his own tongue, blinking blankly.
And right there, Ollie pauses FIFA, and Kimi almost wants to bolt straight out the window to escape the continuation of this conversation.
"Like, sweet... I don't know. Mosquitoes bite me non-stop. Maybe it's because of my blood? What do you think?"
Oliver is looking at him with bright sparks in his eyes, like popping candy—the crackle of adrenaline under his skin felt exactly like that. Part of his face was illuminated by the cold light of the plasma TV they'd hauled from some flea market, worrying it was so cheap because it was full of cockroaches. A playful, boyish grin danced across his face, stealing Kimi's breath away and burying it somewhere at the bottom of those impossibly brown eyes.
"Em... I mean, I don't know?" Kimi muttered, unpausing the game and throwing himself back into it, desperately trying not to think about blood at all.
"Come on, really? Because I read online that it could be down to excessive sweating. Can you believe what they're telling me? Apparently, I'm just sweaty. I'd much rather be tasty, to be honest. At least I wouldn't stink then."
But listening to Ollie's rambling, Kimi almost instantly dissolved into his pleasant, rich English, with that depth of voice characteristic of Brits. On anyone else, it might sound posh, cold, and detached, but not on Ollie. His timbre was warm, deep, rising straight from his chest. Unconsciously, Kimi shuffled a little closer, letting his shoulder brush his friend's, feeling the blood pulsing beneath the fabric like a quick little stream in the midday sun.
"You don't stink," Kimi laughed.
Suddenly, he scored a goal. It gave him a surge of confidence, and he unconsciously stuck his tongue out in satisfaction.
Oliver watched this and let the goal slide completely without a fight. He probably would have missed a second one too, if his curiosity hadn't egged him on to keep digging.
"So, I smell good then?" Oliver clarified thoughtfully.
Kimi managed to score a second goal after all, but it wasn't enough to win. Time ran out and the screen prompted them to start a new match, but neither paid it any attention. Oliver was still waiting for an answer to his question, and Kimi knew he wasn't getting out of this easily—no escaping to the loo this time.
"Well... more yes than no."
"How's that then?" Oliver set his controller aside and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. "You don't know what kind of blood tastes good and what doesn't?"
Kimi only gave an embarrassed smile, stretching too, seemingly just for company. He probably should have cleared this up right from the start.
"Nope, my family's vegetarian."
Kimi yawned and felt like he didn't want to open his eyes at all. Not to sleep, obviously—they didn't need that—maybe just to lie there with his eyes closed and think about something nice. Or listen to Oliver's breathing, his blood.
"So you've never had any at all?" Oliver was astonished, unable to believe his ears.
"Nah," Kimi shook his head side to side.
Silence fell. Kimi, who usually wasn't overly perceptive, sensed something was up—Oliver's blood rushed through his body with renewed force, as if it were in a hurry, and his heart was fluttering fast, like a little bird's. Kimi carefully glanced over just with his eyes and caught a smirk and a wicked glint in his eyes. It was a barely noticeable shift in expression that a passerby would miss, but not a sharp observer like Kimi.
"I heard there's a lot of nasty stuff in human blood," Kimi awkwardly changed the subject, scrambling off the sofa and... he needed to urgently figure out why he'd stood up. Just in case. "And besides, it's way easier to drink from a juice box. Otherwise, you might stain your clothes and... I don't know, maybe, but..."
And Kimi trailed off because he locked eyes with a laughing Oliver. Was he seriously taking the piss out of him?
"I've never been bitten, you know. Imagine that," Ollie said with a shrug.
He rested his chin on the back of the sofa, looking at Kimi, who was spooked like a kitten cornered in a room.
His tone of voice was deep, calm, and deliberate. Even the words he chose had an exotic ring to them that Kimi wasn't used to. There was a subtext that was hard to read with certainty, given Kimi's straightforward Italian mindset. Was Oliver seriously suggesting...?
Kimi snapped out of it when he realized he’d opened the wardrobe and was staring into it without a single thought or purpose. And he heard a chuckle.
Were these the exact kinds of university escapades Kimi had watched in movies? Yeah, sure, he’d seen them getting wasted on drugs and setting cars on fire at night, but your roommate offering his blood for an experiment? That was a new one. And not exactly pleasant... though, if you really thought about it... No. Kimi had never drank it and never would. It was forbidden, full stop.
"Right then," Oliver turned back to the telly. "Are you going to keep playing or what?"
Kimi swallowed hard. He could see his friend's neck framed by the light of the television, while he himself was drowning in the darkness of the corner of their cramped room, with damp walls where the wallpaper was peeling away. Right there—the jugular vein. An absolute beauty, so wide, pulsing in time with Oliver's calming heart. Something aromatic flowed through it, something completely different from what Kimi felt from other people. And not because the blood was different, no—because it was Oliver. His friend, his roommate, and quite possibly the most beautiful person Kimi had seen on campus. And he had just offered to let himself be bitten.
By the end of the term, Kimi would realize that Oliver was a stubborn lad.
🩸🩸🩸
Kimi shook his head. It was ten in the morning, and he was standing in the middle of a spacious chemistry lab. Adjusting his plastic safety goggles, he stared down at the vials lined up in front of him. Today’s assignment was supposed to yield a pristine, white, curd-like precipitate, but so far, all he and Helena had cooked up was some foul-smelling brown sludge. Not that she cared—she kept waving vials of alkalis and acids around as if they were filled with tap water and not liquids that could burn your hand straight to the bone.
"So, basically, I walk into the dorm, and right there on the couch—on my half of it, mind you..." Helena took a sharp breath to keep going.
"What?" Kimi laughed, snorting as he stirred the contents of his flask with a glass rod. "You guys actually divided the couch?"
"With electrical tape. Right down the middle," Helena said deadpan. "Anyway, listen. I walk in, and there's—"
"Miss Springs," the bespectacled professor called out sternly. "Keep your voice down to a whisper."
"Sorry," she whispered, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. But the brief flash of shame in her eyes quickly vanished, sparking with excitement again.
Helena was tall and had a pretty... unique look. She had short, bleached hair and matching eyebrows, pale skin, round eyes, and slender fingers currently hidden under heavy rubber gloves. She stood half a head taller than him, sporting three earrings in each ear—always dangling, always changing—and a small ring glittering in her left nostril under the morning sun. Her style was pure, endearing chaos: oversized men's shirts paired with long, granny-style skirts, a bandana frequently tied around her head, and a habit of signing up for every single student club she could find.
Basically, she wasn't the kind of person you'd expect to see in a chemistry lab. Honestly, what was Kimi even doing here himself? He’d picked a major where he thought he wouldn't have to use too many brain cells—just mix stuff together in vials and you're golden. But two months in, reality hit hard. His gradebook was a solid column of C's, and he'd been paired up with Helena. Don't get him wrong, she was amazing, but her brain completely shut down when it came to chemistry. Actually, it was worse: her survival instinct was practically non-existent, so Kimi had to constantly play lifeguard.
"So," she whispered, pouring what Kimi desperately hoped was an alkali into a beaker, "sitting right there on the couch is a raw sheep's head. Stinking up the whole place. Like, who even does that?" She let out a tiny squeak as the mixture in the flask suddenly started smoking. "I need a new roommate. I swear she's into some dark arts stuff, and she's literally bankrolling animal slaughter for it."
"Wait, you're a vegetarian?"
"Well, obviously. I literally told you when we met," she teased, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"Oh, me too!" Kimi beamed, flashing a smile that showed off his fangs.
"I knew we'd vibe!" Helena cheered, high-fiving him. But then her indignation flared up again, and she put her hands on her hips, sighing dramatically. "No, but seriously, imagine living with another vampire and they drag a human head into the room. Would you like that?"
He scratched the back of his neck and bit his lip, thinking it over. Well, something kind of similar had happened to him just last Friday when Ollie offered to let him taste his blood. Did that count? Probably not—he didn't want to drink blood, even if he physically could, whereas eating a human head would just be plain weird.
Watching their flask turn into yet another batch of brown sludge, Kimi gave a sheepish smile.
"Well, you know, it's all about communication," he said, nodding sagely as if he hadn't cowered in a corner like a frightened mouse himself. "I'm sure she's actually nice deep down."
He glanced back at the vial, checked the lab notes, and scratched his curly hair. "I think we accidentally made rust again," he muttered.
"Huh? Really?" Swirling the flask and taking a sniff, she looked surprised. "Weird. I followed the notes exactly."
"You weren't even looking at them."
"So what do I do now?"
After a moment of profound contemplation, Kimi offered his ultimate solution: "Just ignore it."
They left the classroom with failing grades for the lab, debating exactly where they’d messed up. Helena was convinced that the negative energy from the slaughtered animal had sabotaged her silver salt reaction, while Kimi just chuckled quietly, keeping his thoughts to himself. Maybe he should prank her with a fake dead rat? Definitely something to consider. Honestly, it felt like a weird kind of magic—they used the exact same ingredients as everyone else, yet somehow ended up with something completely different. Even the professor, a frail old guy with a painfully slow heartbeat, just scratched his bald spot while looking at their desk and walked past, utterly speechless. Maybe they'd get lucky next time.
🩸🩸🩸
By the following Friday, Kimi realized that his stellar advice to "ignore the problem" was completely falling apart at the seams. Because Oliver apparently had some major screws loose. The two of them had been forced into library duty to help the librarian, mostly because they were caught making noise in there on a regular basis. Well, mostly Kimi making noise while waiting for Oliver to hunt down books between the shelves. Half their class, as far as he knew, wasn't even allowed into lectures simply because they lacked the required reading material.
They’d been handed box cutters and tasked with scraping off old library cards and gluing on new ones. By around six in the evening, they were the only ones left in the library, save for a guy with a rattling laptop all the way at the back of the room.
Both of them were nodding off. Kimi rested his head on Oliver's shoulder, practically dozing to the loud, rhythmic rush of blood through his friend's arteries.
"You're proper clingy, you are," Oliver sighed, though he didn't shove Kimi's head off. Thank God Kimi had successfully retrained him, turning him from a total touch-me-not into a tactile softie.
"How long ago did you move to Italy?" Kimi asked, crossing his arms and getting more comfortable against his shoulder.
"Three years, to be exact. My old man dragged me along."
"And how is it? Do you like it here?"
"Yeah," Ollie let out a short chuckle. "Scenery's brilliant, but it's bloody boiling. I can't stand the sun."
"Is that why you're so pale?" Kimi giggled.
"Probably," Ollie replied, laser-focused on slicing a piece of paper off a flyleaf. "It's not exactly scorching back in Britain."
"Don't you miss home?"
"Miss the dog a bit," Ollie admitted. "But definitely not my brother and sister. No chance."
Suddenly, Kimi jolted—not on his own. Oliver's shoulder twitched, accompanied by a sharp hiss. Kimi lazily blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the bright light, only to see dark beads of blood welling up on his friend's finger.
"Why did it have to be Jane Eyre?" Ollie scoffed. "Where's the solidarity for a fellow Brit? She could've gone a bit easier on me."
Kimi chuckled, catching the scent against his will. He closed his eyes again, trying to relax as his mouth immediately began to water. It was nothing unusual when humans had open cuts—even well-trained vampires dealt with it. Just like his parents had taught him, Kimi focused on breathing steadily, counting in his head to stay grounded—though he didn't need it as desperately nowadays since he was used to the smell of blood. You couldn't completely erase a biological reflex, of course, but you could definitely control it.
"Want some?" Oliver asked, shoving his bleeding finger right under Kimi's nose.
Not after a line like that.
Kimi choked on his own saliva, violently throwing himself backward. The chair rocked sideways, crashing to the floor with a loud, splintering thud. His forehead smacked against the floorboards, making him hiss in pain. The crash echoed through the library, but the guy glued to his laptop with headphones on didn't even flinch.
"Che cazzo?!" the vampire spat out, the Italian curse slipping past his lips. "Don't joke about that!"
Kimi scrambled to his feet, rubbing his bruised skull. Sure, he obviously knew what blood smelled like, but no one had ever shoved it in his face like this—literally right under his nose. He felt like his eyes were about to water from all the dust he’d kicked up from the floor, but that was still miles better than drooling over someone else’s finger.
Oliver sat there with his cut finger, eyes wide as saucers, wearing the sweetest little smirk as he looked up at the completely rattled vampire, whose Italian accent was blaring through his sheer outrage. He seemed frozen in his amusement, holding back either a laugh or some sarcastic remark.
"Go on, just have a taste."
Kimi's curled lashes fluttered rapidly in disbelief. He couldn't grasp that a human was actually offering to let him suck blood from a finger sliced open by a bloody box cutter.
"I told you, I don't drink blood."
But Oliver didn't say anything. He just stared up at him, finger extended, blinking slowly. His heart started thumping again, sending a sharp, sweet scent of adrenaline into the air. Kimi had to swallow hard, clenching his jaw to keep his fangs from extending to an unacceptable length.
Kimi swallowed. The longer Ollie stayed silent, the deeper the thought took root in the vampire’s mind—would just a tiny taste really be so bad? But he knew he wouldn't be able to stop, exactly like his parents had warned him. It happened all the time in their world: humans trusted vampires too much, and then... they died, because sometimes stopping before it's too late is nearly impossible. He wasn't about to hurt Oliver just out of sheer curiosity—his friend's physical safety meant way too much to him.
Then the librarian marched over, glaring daggers at them until Oliver, ever the polite and charming gentleman, took the blame, holding up his injured finger. The woman instantly softened and hurried off to grab a first-aid kit. While she was gone, Oliver casually gave his finger a quick lick, solely because the blood was about to drip onto his light-wash jeans. Yeah, that had to be the only reason. No provocation intended whatsoever. As if sticking his own bloody finger in his mouth didn't completely contradict his proper British manners.
🩸🩸🩸
After morning practice, Kimi trudged toward the chemistry building to the relentless chirping of crickets. His eyes were heavy, completely glued shut, and his whole body ached strangely, even though he'd eaten literally an hour ago. So he grabbed a pack of synthetic blood from the vending machine and didn't even bother heating it up—it was scorching hot outside, so he drank it cold. It didn't give him any actual satisfaction, let alone energy today, but at least it filled his stomach. He desperately wanted to go home, back to the south of Italy, to warm his cold feet under the blazing sun and listen to the crickets chirp.
Yeah, turns out vampires aren't actually that afraid of the sun. Maybe the ancient, first-generation ones were, but now? The sun felt exactly the same to them as it did to humans. They show up in mirrors too, since they aren't made with silver anymore. Basically, Kimi was barely any different from humans. He genuinely loved living in their world, but sometimes... when there was a mountain of homework to do, he just wanted to crawl back into a crypt and snooze in a coffin like his ancestors. Like right now.
He spotted Helena, wrapped his arms around her, listened to the rhythm of her body, and grinned from ear to ear. She’d dyed her hair pink, and Kimi couldn’t resist the temptation to smooth it down, biting his lip in pure delight. They were putting on their lab gear when the professor approached, wearing ridiculous thick-lensed glasses and smelling faintly of dignified old age. Kimi didn’t even notice him at first—he was too busy laughing at the ripped lab coat of the guy right across from them. But then the professor cleared his throat, and Kimi immediately shut up, the smile instantly vanishing from his face.
"Antonelli, Springs, you'll be taking notes today," he muttered crossly.
"But—" Kimi started, jutting his chin out like a toddler, a slightly whiny edge instantly creeping into his voice.
"No buts. The sink by the fume hood got clogged after you two last time, you experts," he said, slamming two dusty, yellowed textbooks onto their desk before shaking his head and walking back to his desk.
And honestly, it was moments like this that made Kimi wish he was a proper vampire. They were probably out hunting somewhere in the wild, not writing down the properties of active metals. Helena was scribbling away miserably; looks like she wouldn't be mixing anything up today. Maybe he should cheer her up?
"Hey," Kimi said under his breath, keeping one eye on the dozing professor. "How are things going with your roommate?"
"I filed a formal complaint against her," she replied, completely deadpan.
"Seriously?" Kimi almost squeaked.
"Yeah."
"And what did she do?"
Right then, that familiar, mischievous smirk played on Helena’s lips. She looked up from her notebook, glanced around, and leaned in close to Kimi to whisper in his ear like it was a massive secret.
"I think she put a curse on me."
She looked incredibly smug, thoroughly pleased with herself and her own detective skills.
"Whoa," Kimi said, pulling his head back into his shoulders.
"I already bought a mirror pendant, so don't worry," she said firmly, pulling it out from under her oversized pink striped shirt to prove it.
Kimi just chuckled and turned back to his notes.
"But how did you figure out it was a curse?"
"Well, she's constantly trying to trick me into eating meat. Just yesterday, she offered me some smoked meat carpaccio. And she was all like, 'How can you not eat meat?' Said I look pale as death. I honestly think she's trying to poison me," Helena explained excitedly, her pen scratching loudly against the paper.
Kimi paused to think. Was her roommate actually trying to poison her or hex her? Because it felt like the exact opposite—isn't wanting to feed someone a sign of caring? Maybe she just didn't get why Helena was a vegetarian. That it had nothing to do with her health or a lack of food. It actually sounded frighteningly familiar, like a total case of déjà vu.
"What about moving out?"
"Can't be bothered, honestly," Helena sighed. "Whatever, she can do what she wants, as long as there are no more sheep heads on the couch. Her magic won't work on me anyway."
Kimi snickered and checked the time. They still had fifteen minutes left of note-taking, and the professor was already giving them a pretty nasty look, so Kimi went quiet, letting his quirky lab partner sink deeper into her thoughts about God knows what. Maybe she was thinking about that abandoned comic book she used to draw? Who knows. But Kimi didn’t try to strike up another conversation; he just waited for the clock to strike one so he could finally be free. Well, even if only for a little bit.
🩸🩸🩸
Kimi had been a swimmer for ten years now, ever since the first day he set foot on a beach. He’d loved the sea his entire childhood—swimming in it, warming up on the shore, and getting a tan. None of this was what movie vampires typically did, of course, but honestly, it was probably better.
So, heading back from evening practice, all Kimi could think about was getting to his room, raiding the fridge, grabbing his synthetic blood, and drinking until he was completely stuffed, just so he could lie down starfished on his bed and giggle at funny videos on his phone. Oh, and he needed to call his dad at some point. His birthday was coming up soon, Kimi thought with a smile.
At the dorm entrance, he almost plowed straight into Gabi, flashing him a smile, greeting him, and patting his shoulder. Kimi could barely contain his laughter—Gabi was now sporting a crucifix on a simple black cord, clearly bought from a church in a total panic. While Kimi didn't let himself openly laugh, he gave a massive grin, intentionally flashing his pearly white fangs. At the sight of them, Bortoleto practically bolted with a terrified smile, nearly smacking his nose right into the metal door.
Kimi took the lift up four floors, nudging the door to their room open with his shoulder, his shoulder blades aching so badly he almost groaned, when his eyes landed on Oliver. Oliver was sitting up straight, a polite, soft smile on his face, sitting at their tiny dining table with a steaming mug right in front of him. His heartbeat was so sweet, so hypnotic, dragging Kimi into a dangerous spiral of thoughts and desires that slid down alongside his gaze, straight to Oliver's neck. Kimi shook his head and blinked rapidly—he needed to eat right this second.
"Hey," Oliver greeted him, and the mere sound of his voice made Kimi freeze. He sounded far too pleased for someone who had a phonetics lab hanging over his head.
Why wasn't he prepping for his classes instead of sitting at the table as if he’d been waiting up for him? Usually, Oliver just minded his own business, offering nothing more than a brief hello. Then again, maybe he had absolutely no intention of showing up to that lab anyway? He could easily sleep right through it.
"Hey," Kimi beamed anyway, stepping closer to wrap his neighbor in a tight hug, inhaling the slightly heavy, adrenaline-laced scent of blood near his neck.
"Here you go," Oliver said, gesturing to the mug in front of him, and that’s when it hit Kimi.
The mug wasn't next to Oliver; it was across from him, right where Kimi always sat.
"Warmed it up for you," he said with a little nod, giving a smug smile as his eyes half-closed. "And I popped some caramel syrup in it. You know, for taste."
"Porca troia, Ollie," Kimi groaned, smacking his own forehead so hard he saw stars. "That was my last proper portion!"
A tiny bit less self-control and Kimi would have literally burst into tears; he’d had classes, practice, and it was ten fucking PM, everything nearby was shut, and Oliver just looked surprised. Seemingly genuinely so. At least, Kimi hoped it was genuine.
"Don't you like caramel syrup then?" he asked quietly, resting a palm against Kimi's tense back.
The rare physical contact from Oliver made Kimi's heart tighten a bit, but he couldn't calm himself down. He wanted to kick himself—it was entirely his own fault! He should've bought extra stock instead of living on the edge. Living in a house full of vampires back home had made him soft, because the fridge was always packed with synthetic blood and he never even had to think about what he was going to eat.
"You don't boil synthetics, Ollie!" Kimi squeaked, throwing his hands up in a very Italian gesture. "It completely breaks down! And vampires don't drink syrup either!"
"Oh," Ollie murmured softly, his already fading smile completely dropping from his face. "Shall I nip down to the vending machine then?"
"Don't bother," Kimi sighed exhaustedly, waving a hand dismissively as he faceplanted onto the bed without even changing out of his clothes, his wet swim gear bag thudding onto the floor.
Sometimes Kimi thought uni life was supposed to be fun and carefree, but that was probably only true for humans. For vampires, everything was obviously way more complicated. Even though so much time had passed and their species had grown weaker, it didn't change one core fact—they were apex predators. They were built to feed on humans, and finding a natural substitute was impossible, which was exactly why families like the Antonellis carried such a massive weight of responsibility. To answer for their actions, which was exactly what Kimi did. But God, it was so brutally hard.
Right here in the same room with him, starving so badly his teeth literally ached, stood his warm, tall, gorgeous, and absolutely delectable roommate, who had been sending him bizarre mixed signals for a week now, planting thoughts in Kimi’s head that maybe giving it a go wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe just a single drop, just to lick off his skin, enough to survive until morning so he didn't wither away into dust? So his muscles wouldn't disintegrate onto the floor when he tried to drag himself out of bed for his morning lecture. Oh God, and he actually had a 9 AM class too.
Kimi's mattress dipped. There was so much quiet guilt and regret in that simple movement that it felt like a knife twisting in his chest.
"Hey, Kimi," Oliver murmured right beside him. "Look, I'm sorry. I had no idea."
The scent of blood grew so suffocatingly thick that thinking about anything else became nearly impossible, so he buried his nose even deeper into the pillow. Thank God he’d washed the pillowcase recently; it still smelled faintly of fabric softener.
"Don't worry about it," Kimi mumbled into the fabric, barely managing to lift a trembling hand with a half-hearted thumbs-up. "It's fine."
"Look, it’s on me. I need to make it up to you," Oliver declared with a dangerously noble sort of resolve. And though his voice didn't waver, his pulse gave a nervous little skip. "Drink from me."
"No," Kimi shot back instantly, squeezing his eyes shut. "Isaack and Gabi will literally stake me if they find out," the vampire muttered without any real bite, just trying to ward off the insane offer.
"They won't know," Ollie murmured, letting out a soft huff as his fingers gently trailed through Kimi's curls.
Just like that—no warnings, no build-up. Kimi clamped his jaw shut with everything he had, forcing his fangs—which were practically cheering at the offer—from dropping down and sinking into that exposed throat. Honestly, Kimi hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. He lay frozen face-down for a few more seconds, trying to compose himself. But his body refused to cooperate; it felt like it was melting under the soft, comforting sweep of Oliver’s hand through his hair, completely turning off his survival instincts.
And his guard really did drop, which was exactly why he lifted his face from the pillow. It had lost its usefulness anyway, since the scent of Oliver’s blood had seeped into every single square inch of the room. Kimi looked up at his face, staring right at that naive, earnest smile.
"Ollie, I can't," Kimi said, gazing up at him.
But Oliver didn't seem to grasp the weight of his words.
"Come off it, I'll be right as rain. The pack you usually have is a pint, innit? Even if you take that much from me, I won't even pass out."
"Ollie, you don't understand," he said, his eyes turning watery with a mix of frustration and hurt as he looked at the Brit.
He didn't even notice how tenderly his voice softened around the name—so affectionate, so careful. And it suddenly struck Kimi that Oliver—standing there so vibrantly alive, gorgeous, and full of regret—was in actual danger, because he was throwing around his most vital human resource as if it were nothing. Maybe his background with orienteering medals had blurred the lines in his head between a normal sports injury and real harm, but Kimi didn't have that luxury. Humans were just too incredibly fragile.
So Kimi sat up. Oliver smiled, blinking in surprise as Kimi suddenly took Oliver's face in both hands, forcing him to look him straight in the eyes—no games, no filters. The vampire's expression hardened, though it didn't completely erase the natural gentleness that was so inherently him. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, Kimi was laser-focused, counting steadily in his head so he wouldn't slip up and let his thoughts drift back to the blood.
Except he was already thinking about it. About the rush of it, the taste, the texture, about how scorching hot it would be, nearly burning his tongue, and... Kimi caught his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to think of his parents, who had spent his whole life raising him, protecting him, and loving him. They would absolutely despise what Kimi was tempted to do right now.
"Never say things like that to a vampire, do you hear me? I am completely serious. It is dangerous," Kimi said, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically low, dark register that left Oliver frozen to the mattress, swallowing hard. "You are not food. Don't ever offer yourself up like that to anyone."
"Kimi, your eyes..."
"Stronzo," Kimi hissed.
He pulled his hands away from Oliver's face, bolted out of bed, and started aggressively rummaging through the dresser to find his sunglasses. Kimi had a specific pair with dark lenses meant to cover his glowing eyes so he wouldn't terrify humans, but he'd only worn them maybe four times in his entire life. It took him a good while to dig them out, and by the time he finally threw them on, Oliver was still sitting on the bed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
"I'll be right back," Kimi muttered, and then he vanished out the door like an absolute hurricane.
The walk to the 24/7 shop took about half an hour each way. Just enough time for the lingering scent of Oliver and the vivid image of his neck to be thoroughly blasted out of Kimi's messed-up head by the biting October wind. By the time he crept back into the room, Ollie was gone. He’d gone out somewhere, probably to play games, or maybe out drinking. He was absolutely going to flunk that phonetics lab tomorrow.
Sucking down the blood straight from the pouch, Kimi just stared at the empty bed. A tangled mess of bizarre emotions churned inside him—desire, fear, and, weirdly enough, pure anger. How could Oliver be so reckless? They barely even knew each other, yet here he was, casually offering up his own veins. Kimi frowned—and besides, how many times had he explicitly stated that he didn't drink human blood? Why wouldn't the guy just bloody listen? What on earth was he trying to achieve?
🩸🩸🩸
Kimi absolutely lived for parties. Especially when they meant he’d actually passed his test and didn't have to stare at textbooks anymore, drag himself through a dusty library, or cram a million useless words into his brain. It was a bit of a downer that Oliver hadn’t come along, though—he had a resit first thing in the morning. After all, Oliver hadn't gone anywhere that morning, crashing hard outside his own room. Without him, the place felt completely empty. Dead quiet, in a way. Granted, places like this were never exactly short on noise, but right now, the silence was almost deafening to Kimi. He kept tracking the doors whenever he laughed in a group, scanning the crowd for tall guys, desperately hoping that when one of them turned around, he’d see a familiar face.
But it never happened.
"Fun" was a bit of a weird concept. You could call it a good night, maybe even a nice one—but sitting quietly in a corner, watching a crowd of people, was never Kimi's style. Because of that, he said yes to basically every sketchy idea thrown his way. Over the course of the night, he’d ended up taking a dip in the pool thanks to Isaack pushing him in, and he even managed to try his hand at archery. He broke an arrow in the process, but the owner was clearly at that specific stage of drunk where literally anything that happened brought nothing but pure joy. He’d caught a glimpse of Helena early on—she was reading Tarot cards for some crying girl by the light of a single candle.
Eventually, the good vibes settled in, and he started getting proper sleepy. Kimi had been sent down to the cellar to grab a crate of beer when someone suddenly crashed right into his back. From the loud laugh and the clingy grip, he instantly knew it was Helena, who had grabbed him and pulled him back by the neck. She was wearing a slip dress over a pair of baggy, dirty cargo jeans and those beat-up red Converses she practically lived in. She smelled like booze and stale smoke.
"Why the long face?" she giggled, peeking under the brim of Kimi’s cap. "Something happen?"
Kimi sighed, his shoulders slumping. He really was sad, so what was the point of hiding it? Maybe this time he shouldn't just brush it off. They were still roommates, sure, but a bizarre tension had been stretched taut between them ever since the day Kimi had been left without dinner. They still got along fine, but Kimi couldn't shake the feeling that something was completely off, especially now that the thought of tasting Oliver Bearman's blood was permanently living rent-free in his head. Would it be warm and sweet? Or would it have a bitter edge because Ollie loved eating spicy food whenever he needed an adrenaline rush? To keep himself from obsessing over it, Kimi had been actively trying not to touch him at all—no casual brushes against his waist, his hands, his shoulders, not even his shoulder blades. It was absolute torture.
"Yeah, a bit," the vampire admitted, rubbing his neck and offering a soft smile to the floorboards.
"Go on then, let me read your cards!"
Needless to say, the crowd upstairs never got their crate of beer that night. Instead, Kimi got an intense therapy session from a girl who might actually be a witch. I mean, if vampires were real, why couldn't women with supernatural abilities exist too?
Helena dragged him deeper into the cellar and sat on the floor, talking and talking, but Kimi wasn't really processing any of it. He lay flat on the floor, blinking sleepily, remembering that he had a pouch of his favourite synthetic blood brand back in their room—a brand he rarely treated himself to—and he suddenly just wanted to leave. And it wasn't just because of his roommate, who was currently brooding over his laptop and ignoring Kimi with his entire soul.
Right then, Kimi actually had a burning question for the cards.
"Hey, check this," Kimi mumbled against the floor. "Does my roommate actually want me to bite him, or what?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Helena squealed, eyes narrowing with pure disbelief. "Steady on. Aren't you supposed to be a vegetarian?"
"Yeah, I told him that, but..." He trailed off, staring into her eyes, catching the pink mascara on her lashes. "It's like he wants it anyway."
"And what about you?" Helena smiled, shuffling the deck.
"I... I don't know. As a vampire, probably, but not as Kimi," he admitted, chewing on his words.
Suddenly, the door to their cozy, secluded cellar burst open, and the shaggy-haired head of some blind-drunk senior wearing a cowboy hat tumbled into the frame. Before the guy could even open his mouth—and before his cackling mates could spill in behind him—Helena barked:
"Oi, clear off. This spot's taken." She stopped shuffling and let out a sharp scoff.
"We're just here for the beer, innit," the guy stammered, grinning like a jackal from ear to ear, though he didn't dare step further into the room.
"Beer's further back," she snapped, turning her head back toward Kimi while aggressively mixing the cards again, adding in an angry whisper: "Idiots."
Helena hummed, laying the cards out in front of her. It took her less than a second to deliver the final verdict:
"He wants it, but he's terrified it's one-sided. By the way, he thinks you're proper cute," she said, twirling her nose ring. "Not that it's much of a headline. Everyone thinks you're cute. Some girl was actually looking for you earlier today. She's got some massive vampire fetish, pretty sure she wants you to bite her."
Kimi froze.
"Well, do you want to?" Helena asked, continuing to shuffle the deck. "She's fit."
Kimi thought about it. Did he seriously want to drink the blood of a complete stranger? Definitely not. He did alright with girls, and he ran into types like her every now and then, but he always turned them down. It felt like they just saw him as some dark fantasy, and Kimi had zero interest in playing that part. Later on, he’d always see their photos in the news, attached to headlines about how a monstrous vampire had brutally murdered some poor girl. Just the sheer thought of Ollie’s face being on a photo like that... it made Kimi's stomach violently turn.
"Nah," Kimi waved it off.
"What if I told you it was Oliver? What would your answer be then?"
Right then, Kimi would have blushed fiercely if he physically could. It was like he suddenly realized exactly what he wanted, looking straight into Helena’s playful eyes as she tossed the cards aside, completely useless now. Kimi had gotten the answer to his most important question. Magic wasn't necessary anymore—everything had sorted itself out deep within him, over a few too many beers, one resident witch, and a deck of Tarot cards.
🩸🩸🩸
Around five in the morning, Kimi decided to call it a night, feeling a magnetic pull toward his room like he was being dragged by invisible strings. On his way back, walking all the way from the party cottages to the main campus, he decided to give his dad a ring. Partly to clear his head of these heavy thoughts, and... well, it was technically his birthday tomorrow, wasn't it? What better excuse to check in?
The air outside was crisp, and even though the night was growing old, dawn was just around the corner. Kimi dialed his father's number out of habit—at this hour, his dad wouldn't be sleeping; he’d be working. Vampires generally functioned way better at night anyway, so his father always sat up processing paperwork until dawn, breaking the typical stereotypes of midnight hunters by crunching numbers and calculating percentages.
The phone rang, and Kimi instantly beamed the moment the familiar warmth of Italian flooded through the speaker, striking a chord of pure comfort in his chest.
"Ciao, son!" his dad exclaimed warmly. "Long time no see!"
"Hey, Papa," Kimi giggled into the receiver, looking up at the sky and counting the stars. "How are things? How's everything at home?"
"Never better, son! Maggie’s getting into fights at school again, and your mother is currently at war with the neighbor's vineyard."
"Wait, didn't they tear that down?"
"It keeps blooming back! Stubborn bloody thing won't give up!" his dad barked, slapping his thigh in animated outrage.
"Papa, can I ask you something?"
"Of course! Make it quick though, I've got to get back to work," his father warned.
Kimi took a deep breath, his free hand nervously fiddling with the drawstring of his windbreaker.
"Listen... why don't we actually drink human blood?"
A heavy silence fell over the line. The phone gave a faint, rhythmic hiss, leaving Kimi to wonder if he’d asked the wrong thing. Was his dad going to lecture him for this?
"Because you cannot live in a world where your friends, your colleagues, and your bosses are nothing more than food to you."
His father's voice took on a deep, gravelly resonance that washed over Kimi's ears like warm honey. His dad’s words always carried weight, untangling a little ball of yarn in Kimi's mind that he would later spin into his own convictions. So Kimi always listened, completely locked in.
"So... we don't drink their blood because we want to actually coexist with them?"
"Yes, exactly. Humans are not food, Kimi."
Silence fell again, but this time, it was heavy with meaning. Kimi had known this since he was a kid. You had to respect humans, never use force against them, never push them around, and most importantly, never feed on them. Because surviving in their world was completely impossible if you drank their blood. Plenty of vampires chose to hide that fact, of course, but definitely not his parents. They respected human culture every bit as much as their own ancient vampire traditions.
"So, humans are completely off the menu?" Kimi asked, kicking a stray pebble down the path.
His dad let out a soft chuckle through the line.
"Naturally! Are you having some mischievous thoughts, Andrea? Come on then, spill it, you Casanova."
Kimi stayed quiet, but his dad didn't really need a verbal answer—he already knew exactly what was up.
"Yeah, Papa," Kimi admitted, unable to lie as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy breath.
"God, I hope you've got enough food over there, son," his dad sighed. "Do you need me to wire you some cash?"
"No, it's not because I'm hungry," Kimi stopped his dad before he could spiral into worrying. "I just... I want to try it. With one specific person. I don't want anyone else."
"Ah, so you've fallen hard, have you, son?" his dad laughed warmly. "That's exactly what happens when you fall in love, isn't it? And what do you want to do with this person, besides biting them?"
Kimi paused to think. Oliver was brilliant. He was tall, and Kimi definitely had a thing for tall people. He had this incredibly deadpan humor that was only saved by his natural charm and that signature smile. Everyone loved him; he was incredibly proper and just wonderful to be around. He always squinted whenever the sun hit his face, and sometimes Kimi would laugh at him, but other times... other times Kimi just wanted to shield him from the light with his own back, willing to take every single burn in the universe just to keep this boy with the thick British accent, love for books, and habit of taking the piss completely happy. The answer was painfully simple—Kimi would do absolutely whatever Ollie wanted. He wanted to hug him, press close against him, touch him, kiss him, hold his hand, watch football matches on the telly together, and hurl popcorn at the screen whenever a play went sideways.
Basically, he just wanted to be... together with him.
"I just want to be near him."
"Then be near him," his dad replied, his speech quickening as the sound of a creaking office chair echoed through the line, followed by a sharp ping—his second line was blowing up. "Just be a gentleman, please."
The call cut off, and along with the dial tone, every single shred of doubt completely vanished from Kimi's heart.
🩸🩸🩸
By the time Kimi clambered onto the fourth-floor balcony via the fire escape, it was already around six in the morning. Peering through the glass, he saw that Ollie had fallen fast asleep right at his desk. The glow from his laptop flickered across his face, showing some video—most likely a lecture—while he slept completely motionless, buried under a ragged dorm blanket. Kimi stepped into the room with absolute care, practically on tiptoe, and stood over Ollie for a few moments, just watching his sweet, relaxed face. The only sounds were a faint, soft snoring and the low, raspy voice of a lecturer who had to be at least ninety years old. He just hoped the dorm warden wouldn't spot him dangling out the window.
Something sparked inside Kimi the moment he looked at him. It felt like this exact second was overflowing with meaning, while other moments always fell short. A wave of pure tenderness surged through Kimi, his chest tightening and his fingertips tingling with the desperate urge to touch him. He was already missing him, even though he hadn't even left yet, but the mere thought of having to go was absolute torture.
Oliver shifted his shoulders—presumably the draft of cold air Kimi had let in was disturbing his peace—and the blanket slipped down, letting Kimi's sharp gaze catch a few inches of warm neck. A smirk tugged at Kimi's lips as his childish streak flared up again. He stepped right up to him, threw up two fingers in a playful set of horns, and held them right against his neck. Ollie jolted in his chair and clapped a hand over his neck, glaring at Kimi, who was muffled-laughing into his hand to keep quiet.
"What, did I scare you?" Kimi teased, leaning his hands on the desk and the back of the chair. "And here I thought you were ready for it."
For a second, Ollie could only blink and take in the room, his heart hammering in pure panic—and for some reason, Kimi thoroughly enjoyed that fact. There had to be some cosmic justice, right? Ollie couldn't be the only one constantly scaring him. It had to work both ways. Though, Ollie calmed down pretty quickly once he realized his neck was completely intact. He gave it a subtle brush with his hand and checked his clean palm.
"I wasn't... alright, maybe a proper fright, just a bit," Oliver mumbled sleepily, yawning as he wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. "What are you doing back so early anyway? Thought you were out for the night."
"Missed you," Kimi admitted, fluttering his lashes. "And I'm starving."
Ollie gave him a skeptical look, squinting his eyes. He licked his lip, his gaze faltering for a beat. Kimi absolutely loved it—watching this usually well-put-together guy completely lose his composure for a split second, utterly clueless as to how to respond to his blatant flirting. But he wouldn't be himself if he didn't pull himself together in the blink of an eye. Kimi loved that about him too. Honestly, who was he kidding? Kimi loved absolutely everything about Oliver Bearman, even his habit of ruining his food.
"Starving, are you? Well, knock yourself out then."
He flung his arms wide open as the blanket slid down and tangled around the chair. His neck was left entirely exposed, and Kimi, probably for the first time, stared at it without a single shred of guilt. While he was busy drinking in the view, his steady breathing completely abandoning him, Oliver kept talking.
"Three days of surviving on energy drinks, coffee, and stale pizza. You'll get proper sick in a second, fitness boy," he said, giving him a wink. "What was it you told me again? That human blood is packed with nasty stuff? Well, right now you are looking at the literal epicenter of cholesterol, sugar, and all that rubbish."
Yet, for all his banter, he sounded a tiny bit pouted, almost offended. Kimi gave a languid smile, his eyes tracing down Oliver's entire frame, and bit his lip. He had no intention of backing off; instead, he closed the distance between them. Is this his way of talking him out of it? First he was practically begging for it, provoking him, and now that Kimi was hitting the gas, he was suddenly throwing it into reverse? Oliver's heart only beat faster, a dark blush creeping up his cheeks.
God, Kimi was going to eat him alive. And not just drink from him—something worse. Far worse.
"I won't get sick," Kimi whispered, leaning down close to Oliver's neck, his ear catching the frantic rush of blood pumping through the human's artery. "I like you way too much."
But he gave him a moment, freezing right against his skin, just listening. Kimi wanted to be certain that Oliver was offering this willingly, even without warning, and wouldn't back down. Oliver went stiff, gripping the back of the chair and clutching his pen until his knuckles turned stark white. He swallowed hard, holding his breath, but he didn't move an inch. So Kimi leaned closer and blew softly against his skin, hearing a ragged, shaky exhale finally leave Oliver's body.
"I... I like you too," Oliver confessed. "But I'd rather not die, if it's all the same to you."
Kimi's fangs barely grazed the skin, never actually piercing it. In the end, Kimi closed his mouth and just froze, his mind reeling from absolute shock. He liked him back? Kimi's heart thudded with pure elation, practically ready to burst out the window. He let his head drop onto Ollie's shoulder, hiding his face against his neck. The scent of blood was completely pushed aside by thoughts that would make any smitten boy's heart race.
"Don't die," he mumbled into his skin. "Please don't."
Kimi wrapped his arms around his neck—warm, cozy. Kimi squeezed his eyes shut, but underneath his lids, they flashed a deep, pulsing crimson, an ancient reflex straight from his DNA. Oliver, meanwhile, sat there thoroughly shell-shocked, as if hypnotized, not even having time to feel disappointed that Kimi hadn't actually bitten him.
"What do you mean, die? You didn't even bite me," Oliver protested, sounding slightly slighted.
"Can't risk it. What if you pass out during your test?" Kimi shook his head. "I want to spend a lot of time with you."
Oliver looked into Kimi's eyes—into those glowing red eyes—and realized that for Kimi, this wasn't a game. Oliver had been joking around, but Kimi was taking every single word far too literally. Even the part about Ollie dying from a bite, which was highly unlikely given how gentle and soft the vampire actually was. He couldn't help but let out a short chuckle.
"Blimey," Ollie murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're proper cute, aren't you? It was only a joke, mate."
Kimi flushed, completely flustered, looking even more adorable, if that was even possible. And this sweet guy, this incredibly charming Italian, held him so tightly in his arms that Ollie was suddenly reminded that he was, in fact, a vampire—infinitely stronger and more dangerous than he usually let on. It was just that Oliver had never felt that strength firsthand before. But now, trapped in Kimi's iron grip, he realized he couldn't physically break free even if he tried. Though, who on earth said he wanted to?
"I'm serious," Kimi murmured, stroking Ollie's neck, sending a violent shiver of temptation down his spine. "I didn't ask for permission."
Normally, Ollie would have made a sarcastic remark, poked fun, or laughed it off, but he completely froze, spellbound. Because it felt incredibly, intoxicatingly good that Kimi had remembered his request—the one he’d made four months ago when they first moved in together. A deep warmth sparked in his eyes, lighting up like fairy lights on a terrace at night, when everything suddenly feels special.
Kimi's eyes flooded with crimson as the scent of blood rushed over him with renewed force, clouding his senses. He felt a flicker of fear that he might lose control, but he forced out his true, raw desire anyway.
"I want to bite you," Kimi confessed softly.
"Go on then. I want you to, too," Ollie offered with pure enthusiasm.
"Yeah, I gathered that," Kimi giggled, biting his lip with relish. "But I'm terrified I'll overdo it, so I'll bite you after your test."
"Is that a reward then?" Oliver laughed.
"Just looking out for my boyfriend's report card," Kimi declared.
The vampire gazed at him languidly, almost sleepily from his shoulder, a relaxed, slightly naive smile playing on his lips. Combined with his words, it struck Oliver straight in the soul.
"Yeah?" Oliver's cheeks flushed bright scarlet. "Nothing to worry about there, then."
His weak attempt to brush it off and crack a joke drowned instantly in the soft, tender tone that naturally took over his voice just for Kimi. Oliver looked at Kimi, who was watching him with absolute sincerity, genuinely worrying about his grades—grades Oliver had checked out on ages ago. And right then, he knew exactly why he liked this boy, exactly why he had fallen completely in love with him.
🩸🩸🩸
Oliver passed the test. Barely, by the skin of his teeth, but he passed. The professor clearly had it out for him, keeping him longer than anyone else and throwing questions at him that weren't even on his exam slip. But thanks to the fact that Oliver was practically a bookworm who could guess the context and piece together an answer from the scattered shards of knowledge in his head, it all worked out. The real secret weapon, though, was his natural charisma. A little smile, a bit of a laugh, and boom—you've passed. There was a catch, though—you actually had to have some knowledge in your head, which was why it hadn't worked the first time around.
He was so incredibly spent that the moment he sat down in his car after the exam, he knocked clean out. Neither the roar of traffic, nor the racket from the basketball players arriving for training camp, nor his completely anatomically disastrous positioning could wake him. When he finally blinked awake, he realized with horror that he'd been out cold for two hours. There was a deep seatbelt mark pressed into his cheek, his mouth felt like the Sahara desert, and he was absolutely starving. It was a total nightmare. But he didn't even have time for a snack because he had to rush back to the dorms—Gabi had asked for a lift to the airport, since the holidays were officially kicking off. But surely no one would deny him a coffee, right?
Dodging students lugging suitcases and bags, he headed up to his floor, knocked on Gabi's door, and called out that they were leaving in half an hour. A muffled "Got it!" flew back through the thin, plyboard door, and Ollie ducked into his own room. He was yawning as he pushed the door open, only to see a plate of rather clumsily fried toast slathered in a thick layer of Nutella sitting on the table. Kimi was sitting right in front of the plate, grinning from ear to ear.
"You're like a proper little housewife," Ollie giggled sheepishly, sitting down, fully prepared to wolf the whole magnificent spread down dry. Kimi was a right little parasite—he’d actually remembered Oliver’s massive sweet tooth.
"How was the test?" Kimi asked, resting his head on the table and fluttering his lashes. "And what's that on your cheek? Did you have a scrap with the old bloke?"
Sitting like that with his back to the window, Ollie couldn't see the bottom of his eyes. They were a deep, viscous brown—completely unlike his own—the kind you could easily drown in. And the Italian's habit of rapidly fluttering his eyelashes only dragged him down faster.
"Nah, just from the seatbelt in the car," Ollie said, biting into a piece of toast, looking thoroughly proud of himself. He chewed, swallowed, and added, "Had to turn on the old charm and charisma, but I passed. What did you get up to?"
"Some guys from the club asked for a hand packing away the gear into the storeroom for the holidays. Other than that," Kimi sighed, "just packing my stuff. My bus is soon."
"This late?"
Kimi just shrugged. And Ollie realized that he’d passed his test, and what did that mean? It meant they could finally get on with the bloodletting.
"When are you going to bite me then?" Oliver asked, finishing off his toast.
"What?" the vampire squeaked, his eyebrows shooting up in near outrage. "Right now? You’ve got to drive Gabi to the airport."
"You'll be gone later."
"Well, maybe next time?" Kimi pressed.
"You promised," Oliver said, shaking his head as he stood up from the table. "So come on then."
Kimi stood up too, stepping up to face him directly. The situation was incredibly awkward. One didn't know how to make the first move, and the other had no clue how to present himself as a snack. Maybe Oliver should have dressed up for the occasion? Though that probably would've been proper out of place, making the whole thing ten times more tense.
"Hold on. What year are you in again?" Kimi asked out of nowhere, placing his hands on Oliver's tense shoulders.
"Second year. Why?" And right then, Oliver felt a sensation unlike anything else ripple through his body from Kimi's icy hands—a deep, soothing wave of absolute calm.
"Nothing. Just forgot," Kimi smiled, leaning in close to Oliver's neck.
Since Oliver was a good ten centimeters taller than Kimi, it was easy enough to reach his neck, provided Oliver tilted his head back a bit. Except he didn't—which made sense, seeing as he was a total amateur at donating blood. But Kimi guided him, not with words, but by gently stroking the artery throbbing frantically beneath his skin. Oliver swallowed hard but obediently exposed his throat.
"Or should I bite your arm?" Kimi asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if his own words terrified him.
"No, no," Oliver's voice dropped deep into his chest, and he swallowed again. "Neck's better."
Kimi nodded, and Oliver realized all the playful banter had completely evaporated. It was just two young guys left, completely out of their depth. Kimi had never bitten anyone, and Oliver had never let a vampire drink from him. Even though it had started out as a twisted joke to mess with Kimi, he was now just as hooked on the idea as the vampire was. And he had zero intention of backing out like a coward. He'd broken his arm on a hiking trip once; surely he could handle two little puncture wounds?
"Don't be scared. I ate earlier, so I won't drain you dry," Kimi tried to soothe him.
Then, a single fraction of a second—everything happened way too fast. Kimi wasn't one to hesitate; once he made up his mind, he dove straight in. Oliver felt as if two thick, razor-sharp needles had pierced his neck, followed by the wetness of lips and a strange vacuum pressure. And then, it felt like something completely fundamental was leaving his body; it was exactly like giving blood from a vein—your body is suddenly deprived of something deep inside, something hard to put into words. Immediately after, his legs went entirely weak from a sudden wave of drowsiness, his body instantly crashing from extreme tension into absolute relaxation. But Kimi held him securely by the waist, seemingly savoring every second. The vampire's hair tickled his neck, and Ollie let out a soft giggle as Kimi finally pulled away, giving the wound a thick, parting lick. Kimi wiped a smear of blood from his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes glowing a stark red, a bloody smirk playing on his lips.
"Did you just lick my neck?" Ollie asked, blinking sleepily.
"Yeah, makes it heal faster. How are you feeling anyway?" Kimi grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're swaying. Sit down."
And he guided him onto the chair like a completely spineless ragdoll.
"Wow," was all Oliver could breathe.
"Did it hurt?"
Kimi's voice sounded as if it were underwater, reaching him with a delay through a thick blanket of weakness. Dark spots began to swirl in his vision, exactly like right before passing out, but Oliver wasn't remotely scared. He just kept smiling, utterly ecstatic that he’d finally gotten what he’d wanted for so long. Months of relentless provocation had paid off completely in this very second. Knowing he was the first human Kimi had ever bitten, that this unyielding vegetarian had broken his own sacred rules just for him. And that sensation of fleeting pain, literally sucking the life out of him... but honestly, the absolute best part was seeing Kimi as a real predator, a side no other human ever got to see. Only him.
"Not really, to be honest," Oliver said, lightly running a hand over his neck. There was only a tiny bit of blood, feeling more like a minor scratch than deep puncture wounds. "More like... proper nice."
"Vampire trick," Kimi said with a snap of his fingers, his eyes constantly darting back to Oliver's neck, while his hand helpfully slid a glass of water into Oliver's grip.
Oliver drank it down greedily, then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, raised his eyes to Kimi and asked, "When are you biting me next?"
Kimi nearly had a proper heart attack.
🩸🩸🩸
As he drove to the airport in dead silence with Bortoleto, Ollie couldn't keep a straight face. Apparently, the guy had decided that his tiny crucifix wasn't doing the trick, because he’d gone out and bought a hilariously, ridiculously massive cross. They drove into the sunset. Kimi was already on a bus heading home, but his bite was still pulsing pleasantly against Oliver's skin. It felt like a tiny, second heart that Kimi had planted right there with his fangs.
Meanwhile, Gabi kept shooting nervous glances at the plaster. His leg bounced relentlessly, his anxious gaze darting out the window and right back to Oliver until, finally, at a red light, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Mate, what have you got going on there?" he tapped his own neck frantically.
Oliver flashed his best open, friendly smile and adjusted his curls in the rearview mirror, putting a visible amount of effort into acting casual.
"Oh, this?" the Brit replied completely unbothered. "Yeah, Kimi had me for a bit of a midnight snack. Mad, right? Just like Isaack said —caught me right in my sleep. Latched on like a bloody mosquito, I barely made it out alive."
Gabi turned as pale as his grey t-shirt and swallowed hard. His lips practically started moving in a silent prayer, and Oliver just couldn't help himself.
"I'd stock up on garlic if I were you, synthetic blood prices have absolutely skyrocketed lately," Ollie noted lightly, deciding to deliver the killing blow: "Pretty sure you and Isaack are next on the menu."
The guy sank so deep into his seat it looked like he was trying to disappear like a chameleon. Oliver couldn't hold back the laugh bursting out of him, snorting out loud as the car pulled away on the green light.
And even though Gabi was probably busy reciting every saint he knew and drawing up a frantic escape plan, Oliver couldn't actually picture Kimi biting him. Or rather, if he did try to imagine it, a sharp wave of pure jealousy hit him instantly—because those two absolute melts didn't deserve Kimi. Kimi was Oliver's prize, and Oliver's alone, and he had absolutely zero intention of sharing him, even in his own head.