Chapter Text
The worst part about being a vampire, is how much it destroys your otherwise happy life. She had good parents who love her, despite the fact she had ruined their lives. Their town had accused her of being a vampire the whole time, of all 3 of them being vampires. When she had clarified who it was that had turned her, she had been ridiculed and bullied and ultimately, chased out of town.
That's why she'd moved to BriarU. It was far enough removed that the knowledge of her… affliction wouldn't follow her, that she probably wouldn't bump into anyone she knew. She could start over, blend in and pretend she's completely normal — like she used to be.
So far it's gone well. She's able to slip away when she needs to, hit up a local blood bank and flash her ID to get what she needs without anyone noticing. She hasn't told any of her friends. Although she doubts they'd act weird about it, she's still scared. After all, it's something that can change how you see someone, how you choose to interact with them.
The idea of losing everything she's built terrifies her.
Generally, she keeps to a tight schedule in order to make sure she never runs out of blood — she keeps it stashed in her room, hidden behind cans of soda that none of her friends like. She hasn't told anyone, not her advisor, her lecturers, anyone.
She wonders, sometimes, how different life would be if she had had a choice in the matter. If she'd chosen to become a vampire, would she be proud about it? Would her friends love her anyway? Or would she have been delegated to moving into the dorms specifically for vampires — as if they're a risk to the rest of society.
In a way, she feels like she's proving people wrong. Even if those people don't know she's doing it. It doesn't really matter — she refuses to let her existence be about her hometown. Sure, it might have started there and sure, that might be why she's here specifically, but still. It's been long enough that she doesn't want it to still hang over her head. Refuses to let it.
"Earth to Hannah." Allie waves her hand in front of Hannah's face, clicking her fingers when Hannah zones back in. "Welcome back to the land of the living! Are you coming?"
Hannah blinks a few times, focusing back in only to see Allie and Dex staring at her, clearly waiting for a response. "If I said I wasn't listening, how mad would you guys be?"
They both laugh. "Not at all. Are you coming to Malone's? We could use some drinks after rehearsal today. Joey still has not learned his lines, if you were wondering." Allie explains, falling back against the couch with a sigh.
Hannah nods slowly. "I don't know, I have to finish this piece for Tuesday, so…" She gestures back to her room, where her manuscript notebook is calling her name. Plus, she's not really one for going out drinking. She's fine if they drink in the dorms but going out where anybody could be waiting in the wings? It freaks her out a little.
"Ugh, come on Han! You have to come, okay? We need someone who isn't part of the theatre department to keep us sane." Allie pouts, reaching a hand out in Hannah's direction in an attempt to guilt her into going. "Plus, I need my emotional support best friend to help me through my break-up. Who knows how quickly I'll text him if you're not there to stop me."
"Dex can stop you from texting him!" Hannah smiles, patting her hand against Allie's knee as an act of sympathy. She knows the break-up is hard for her, just like it had been both the other times she'd broken up with Sean.
Their relationship had been… complex. In a lot of ways, they were perfect for each other. They could basically read each others minds, knew each other inside and out and were clearly very in love. The problem arose in the fact he wasn't… look, Hannah likes Sean. For the most part, he treats Allie well and he's always pleasant to Hannah when they talk.
But, he's not exactly the most interesting guy around. Allie is destined for stardom, to be jetsetting around the world filming movies and doing plays and everything she can get her hands on. He's more… stationary. He has known his life goal for as long as Hannah can remember, and it's not the worldwide lifestyle that Allie is going for.
It's only because she loves her friends that she finds herself saying yes. "Okay, fine. But only because I love you both and only a couple drinks, then I have to come back home and do some work, okay?"
"Yes!" Dex grins, clapping his hands together. "So, what are you wearing?" He looks between her and Allie, waiting for one of them to answer.
"Well, I am freshly out of a relationship, so I'm thinking something a little slutty. Not that I'll actually do anything, but it'll be nice to feel like I could, you know?" Allie answers, pushing herself off the couch and moving in the direction of her room. She pauses at the doorway and turns back to where the other two are standing. "Hannah? What are you wearing?"
Hannah shrugs and looks down at the outfit she currently has on. It's a simple black cropped tee, with her most beloved and well-worn jeans. When she looks back up, both Dex and Allie are staring at each other and shaking their head. "What? What's wrong with it?"
Dex pulls his phone from his pocket and sighs. "Allie, I'm going to leave our darling Hannah in your capable hands. I have to go and help Megan with something. I'll see you guys there in like… an hour?" When they both nod, he raises a hand and wiggles his fingers before heading out their dorm.
"Allie? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Nothing! I mean, it's cute! It's just not, like… we're hoping for free drinks, babe. Come on, you can borrow something from me. I think Justin is performing tonight, right? Maybe he'll see you in the crowd and be swept off his feet, forever changed…" Allie presses her back to the door frame, the back of her hand resting against her forehead.
Hannah can't help but burst into laughter and follows her into her room, then sprawls out on Allie's bed. "Whatever, drama queen. Fine, pick me something cute. But it has to be comfortable, because I'm not staying long. Even if Justin is there."
She knows Justin will be there. Of course she does. She follows his bands instagram page where they announce any and all performances. It had been a small part of the reason she hadn't put up that much of a fight against Dex and Allie about going tonight. Something she's sure they're both well aware of.
The thing is, she doesn't really have any intention of actually doing something about her crush on him. She's more than content to stay away, because getting any closer gives her ample opportunity to slip up. Plus, if they did get into something serious, she would inevitably have to tell him about the whole vampire thing and that's just… way too overwhelming to think about.
Allie decides on an outfit for Hannah that she's not mad about after some debate — a maroon lace tank, black jeans and Allie's dark brown leather jacket. It's simple and definitely leans more on the side of comfortable than sexy, but Allie agreed to it entirely on the basis that Hannah would have to take the jacket off at some point.
Allie, however, has pulled out all the stops. She's wearing a matching black set that consists of a corset top and a mini skirt. It flatters her figure in the most beautiful way (although Hannah isn't sure there are clothes that don't flatter her) and her burgundy faux fur jacket. This is her version of dressing casual when they're going out for "post-breakup drinks" and she makes it look anything but casual.
By the time they get to Malone's they're running a little late, but not late enough that Dex is bothered by it. It's fun. Sometimes, Hannah forgets how fun it is to have some drinks with her friends — even if it is at the place she works. They're a few rounds in when the door swings open and loud cheers erupt from the booth next to theirs. When she looks up, she recognises the faces of the university's hockey team.
"Hey, babe? We're going to dance. You coming?" Allie asks, sliding out of the booth with Dex.
Hannah looks down at their half-finished drinks and shakes her head. "Nah, I'll watch the drinks." When Allie pouts at her, she speaks again hurriedly, "I'll join you guys in the next song, okay?" That seems to appease them both as they link hands and move toward the dancefloor — which is really just the empty space in front of the stage where Justin's band is performing.
God, he's hot. Maybe it's the fact he's a musician that drew her attention in the first place, but his looks definitely didn't help. She can't help but find herself admiring the chord progressions, the way his shirt rises and reveals his stomach when he raises his hands to encourage the audience to dance. She rests a hand on her cheek as she takes another sip from her straw.
She's bordering on tipsy, which means she'll probably leave soon.
Once the song finishes, Allie and Dex come back to pull her out of the booth. They finish the rest of their drinks and she doesn't have an excuse anymore, so they make their way to the dancefloor and Hannah can't help but laugh — none of them are particularly good at dancing, but Hannah finds herself getting lost in the rhythm anyway. She looks up at Justin, almost as if she's just trying to sneak a glimpse of him, only to catch his eyes on her too. He smiles and she freezes, as if he's cast some sort of spell where she can't move. Eventually, his gaze turns back to his guitar and she turns to face her friends, who simply scoop her into a frenzied hug as they cheer. Loudly.
It's embarrassing, but it's not new. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if Justin had just assumed she was some kind of superfan or something. Which… she kind of is. But she's also just someone who has a crush on a boy and she can feel the blush growing on her cheeks.
It's then that it hits her.
Blood, generally, has a distinctive smell. It's like rusted copper, something metallic and aged. She knows the science behind it — lipid peroxidation. She'd researched it years ago, when she'd first — she knows the science. But, smelling it still surprises her and when she's tipsy? It's a recipe for disaster. Not that she'll suddenly become a ravenous beast, thank god. But she touches a hand to her lips and the ache is there. Her fangs are extending, because that's natures response. She whips her head round and there stands Garrett Graham, clutching his left hand. There's shattered glass on the floor and she knows she has to leave.
She mumbles something to Allie and Dex about having to go home and work on her composition, which causes them both to groan, but they let her leave, squeezing her in a hug and promising to tell her any and all juicy details later.
If she knows Allie, there won't be any juicy details. As much as she fantasizes about being someone who would hook up with a guy in Malone's, she's too in love with Sean to actually commit to it. But Hannah believes in her — if she really wanted to hook up with someone, she's sure that there would be men willing to line the block for the opportunity of being a rebound.
She takes a deep breath and charges over towards the door, ducking her head as she walks by the hockey players. Unfortunately for her, one of them must shove Garrett because he stumbles directly into her path, which results in her walking into him.
"Dude!" Garrett laughs, and the smell of blood is so strong. It's right there. Hannah's eyes lock in on the wound, the way blood is visible underneath where his thumb is pressed against it. "Oh, I'm all good. Don't worry about this. I'll still be able to play."
It startles Hannah out of her stupor, the way his voice has somewhat lowered, as if he's talking specifically to her. As if she cares whether or not he can play hockey, instead of her real worry — that if she doesn't get out of here, she's going to do something that will ruin her entire life.
"What? Oh, yeah. That's good. I — Can you move?" There are bodies everywhere and he's in the way of the door. She'd try to squeeze by him, but some of his hockey buddies have packed themselves in and she knows Della will emerge to scold them and tell them to get out of the way, but she isn't doing it right now.
She tears her gaze away from his hand and looks up at his face, where he has an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. Her reaction probably wasn't the normal one, but she doesn't care right now. She has to leave. Right now. This second. "Graham? Move. Please."
He tilts his head, then leans down to her height and it only pisses her off more because this isn't getting out the fucking way. "What did you say?"
"Move." She borderline yells in his ear, through gritted teeth. Her fangs have fully materialised and she runs her tongue along them, as if wishing will be enough to make them rescind. As expected, it isn't.
He jumps, then moves closer to the table and she squeezes by him, pushing through the crowd until she's outside. She stumbles forward until she finds a bench then collapses onto it. She heaves a breath, pulling her phone from her pocket and flicks through until she finds the number for the campus taxi service. They usually take a while, so it'll be give her enough time to calm down and hopefully get over it.
She's not usually so sensitive to blood. But she hadn't thought to drink anything before she'd left the house — probably because they had ended up being in quite a rush once they'd figured out their outfits. Plus, alcohol never helped. Maybe it's because it dehydrates, she doesn't know. But whenever she drinks, she always finds herself craving blood.
She hates it. She hates that she can't attend parties like a regular person, because she's terrified she might drink too much and black out and end up draining someone. It wouldn't just ruin her social life, but she'd end up kicked out of the university, then she'd have to return back to her hometown where her parents live and she'd have wasted their money, the very little savings they had were put toward her tuition, and if she'd not only ruined their lives but wasted their money she doesn't know what she'd do with herself and—
"Hey, uh, sorry about that. Are you okay?" Garrett's voice breaks through her panic like the glass cut into his palm. She blinks, reorienting herself. She looks up at him and takes a deep breath, then looks down at his hand — which now has a ripped piece of cloth wrapped around it. When she looks at him again, she sees that one of his sleeves was sacrificed for the makeshift bandage.
"Yes. Yeah, I'm okay." She figures she has to answer, because she really can't deal with the idea of Garrett trying to push her further. If he starts seeking an answer for why she had acted so strange, she doesn't have the wits about her to be able to come up with a feasible lie. "That doesn't look sanitary."
He raises his hand, flipping it over and back as if he hadn't even realised it had been wrapped in the fabric from his own t-shirt. "Probably not, but it'll do until I get back home. We have a first aid kit there because…" He trails off, looking between Hannah and the empty space on the bench next to her.
"Della has a first aid kit you could use." Hannah gestures to Malone's, then tucks both her hands underneath her thighs. It's surprisingly cold out tonight. Something she hadn't really factored in when she'd chosen her jacket, a fact she's only considering now. "Did you manage to get all the glass out?"
"Yeah, I don't think any of it stuck around. Just slammed the glass down too hard, that's all." He turns, looking back through the window to Malone's and raises his injured hand to his teammates who all raise their arms in response, cheering. If she can hear them out here, she dreads to think what it sounds like inside.
"Okay. I'm glad it's not serious." She's not sure why he's out here talking to her. Now that she's calmed down a bit, the question dawns on her and it must be spelled out across her face, because he takes it upon himself to answer before she even vocalises it.
"Yeah, thanks. Listen, uh, are you sure you're okay? You just… you didn't look…" He reaches his uninjured hand and pushes his hand through his hair. "You didn't look well. I figured it might be because you saw your favorite Briar captain get injured, but I'm thinking it's not because of that now."
It's a poor attempt at a joke, but Hannah lets out a breathe of air that substitutes for laughter anyway. "Yeah, no. I'm not really a fan of hockey. Thanks for checking up on me, but I'm all good. You can head back in, it seems like your team misses you." She leans slightly to the left, looking past him into the window where at least 2 of them are watching the conversation she's currently (unwillingly) involved in.
"They'll be fine. Do you need a ride home?"
What?
"What?" Hannah's gaze shoots back to his face, trying to discern whether he's kidding or not. They don't know each other — she's not even convinced he knows her name, despite being in the same philosophy class as her. "No, thanks, I'm good. I'll call the taxi service in a sec. I'm enjoying the fresh air anyway."
"You might not like hockey, but it'd be good to keep up with it, dude. It's 7pm, we won our game. You're not going to be the only person calling. It'll be a while before they come get you. You really wanna wait out here and freeze your ass off?"
"It's refreshing." As she speaks, a particularly harsh gust of wind blows by and she shivers, then turns her head away from him, crossing her arms. "Thanks, Graham, but I'm okay with waiting."
"Look, I know I've done something to upset you but I have no idea what I've done. You don't seem to like me, which is fine if a little weird, but I'm trying to make it up to you. I've had one beer, I'm good to drive. Let me give you a ride. I'll even go in and tell your friends I'm taking you back — or you can, if you want to."
"You haven't upset me. Sorry, I'm just having an off day. You're free of your obligation to help me, okay? I swear. If I go missing, I won't even tell them that you were the last person who saw me."
She needs him to leave. She runs her hand over her mouth and she can feel the way her fangs protrude ever so slightly against her lips. The last person she needs to discover her secret is Garrett Graham, the captain and starting forward for the Briar Hawks.
He doesn't seem to know what to say, instead choosing to just watch her cautiously, as if she were a rabid animal he'd found in his basement. It pisses her off, so she lifts her phone and calls the campus taxi service, deciding it would put an end to the whole discussion.
"Malone's. Yeah, to Bristol House. Two hours? Okay, nevermind. Thanks." She sighs when she pockets her phone and pushes herself to her feet. It wasn't a long walk, just an annoying one. Especially when it's cold out, and she's dressed to look good, not to be warm. But, it's better than getting a ride from Garrett, so she smiles (closed lipped, of course), turns away and begins the walk home.
"Wait, where are you going?" He calls out to her and it takes everything she has not to just yell at him to go back inside.
"Home. I thought I made that pretty clear, dude." She calls back, not bothering to turn around and face him again. She's looking forward to tomorrow, when she can pretend this was all a weird nightmare or something. Now, she kinda wishes that Allie does do something gossip worthy. She needs something to redirect her attention to.
There's footsteps behind her and then suddenly Garrett is walking beside her. "You'd rather walk home than let me give you a ride?"
"Looks like it."
"Are you sure I haven't pissed you off?"
"You're beginning to."
"Okay, how about this," He starts, and she glances over to him. He's walking backwards as they talk, because of course he is. "you let me walk you home and then I never bother you again."
Hannah stops walking, and turns to face him. Her eyes briefly drift to his injury, where a small patch of the impromptu bandage is damp from his blood, then looks back to his eyes. "What do you want? I mean — what do you get out of this?"
He smiles awkwardly and glances back towards Malone's. "This doesn't, like, change anything I already said. Those are all still true. But, there's a girl in Malone's that I need to have a serious conversation with, and I'm trying to avoid it right now. She's drunk, so it doesn't seem like the right time to do it, y'know?"
"But," Hannah interrupts, "if you're around her too long it'll just come out without you meaning to, and become a whole big thing?"
"Yeah, something like that. " He looks relieved that he doesn't have to explain it entirely, which makes her lip curl upward.
Another breeze hits them both, and it brings the smell of his wound right back to the forefront of her mind. It's only when she's hit with it again, that she realises she had forgotten about it in the first place. She closes her eyes for a second, balling her hands up into fists and pressing them against her thighs. When the moment passes, she opens her eyes again. Instead of responding, she just turns and continues walking.
He doesn't seem like he'll give up, and she really can't just stand around talking to him like this. She needs to get home, to drink blood and return to her normal self. This is just wasting time, so he can do whatever he likes. He's not her concern.
She does feel bad for the other girl, though. Presumably, she's fallen in love with him. It's been known to happen — Hannah can't go anywhere without hearing someone talking about how hot he is, or how talented he is. But she also knows that he's not someone who dates. It's been a hot topic for a while, that none of the people he shares a house with date either.
They're a fun time, not a long time.
She remembers Dex explaining it to her and Allie, because neither of them were particularly tapped in to whatever the hockey team were doing. She's kind of thankful she got the warning, because she can see what the initial attraction is. Not that she'd ever admit it, or anything. But she's also not blind. He's clearly muscular, that much she can tell, even fully clothed.
But he's nothing like Justin. He's an athlete, not a musician. He doesn't even know her name — she knows Justin does, because he's said hi to her before. Sure, it had been at a birthday party Allie had organised and asked him to perform at, but that still counted, right?
"So, you don't like hockey." His voice interupts her thoughts once more — she hadn't even noticed him catching up to her. Not that it would have taken him much, because he's a lot taller than she is.
"So, you do like hockey."
"I guess, yeah." He shrugs, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket.
She has a headache. It's slow building, but she can feel the pressure behind her eyes and within her jaw. It makes her face feel hot, as if she can feel it spreading across her face. Like claws, sprouting from her fangs pressed against her lip to pierce her eyes. She squeezes her fists into her eyes and it gives her a small amount of relief, but she's thankful for it. "What do you like about it?"
If Garrett's confused about the way she's been acting, he's doing a pretty comendable job of hiding it. "I'm good at it. It's where my future is and it's where I've met pretty much all of my friends." He twists his hands together as he talks. It's a… very sincere sounding answer, and she really wasn't expecting it from him.
"It kinda sounds like you think hockey is your entire identity, Graham." Hannah jokes, only to see him furrow his eyebrows and stare down at his hands.
"Isn't it?"
"What? No, I — look, I don't really know you that well, but — you strike me as a person, not just a hockey player." She presses a hand to her lips and fuck, her fangs are still protruding. She offers him a small smile and he mirrors the expression. "Then again, I might be biased."
"Because you like people more than you like hockey players?" He asks, his smile growing into something that feels more… real. He quirks an eyebrow in her direction.
"Something like that, yeah." She nods, then looks ahead and sees a group of girls heading their way. They're stumbling, drunk and probably heading to Malone's to continue the party. One of them stumbles, tripping on her heels and crashes to the floor.
Hannah smells the blood before she sees it. She digs her fingernails into her palms, gritting her teeth which only causes her fangs to dig into her lower lip even further. If she doesn't get back home soon, she's worried about what will happen — what Garrett might see. What he'll say.
She moves forward, helping the girl to her feet and ignoring the way they all fawn over Garrett. The one who fell slurs her thank you, then waves at him too. It's like Hannah is invisible around him; a fact she isn't mad about.
He nods his head politely, pausing while Hannah helps the girl back to her feet. Once it's done and Hannah keeps walking, he moves closer to her side. "Man, it sure seems tough being you."
"Oh, yeah, it definitely is." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm glad you're getting it now, uh —"
Hannah can't help it; she burst into laughter. "You don't know my name, do you?"
"Not yet, but surely you feel pity for me and you'll tell me it now, right?" He flutters his eyelashes in her direction and she rolls her eyes.
"Not a chance in hell, Garrett."
"Now you're just showing off. Man, see? It's difficult being me, everybody knows your name whether you want them to or not!" He moves forward and turns, walking backwards in front of her once more. "C'mon, wont you show a poor hockey player a little bit of sympathy?"
"I think you get shown enough, don't you?" She smiles, burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket too. Her headache twinges and she winces slightly. It almost feels like the beginning of a hangover, but she knows she hadn't actually drank enough to warrant one.
She's thirsty. Her eyes drift to Garrett's neck and she wonders what it'd feel like to actually bite someone. She'd been pretty quick to lock down the legal way of doing things — her parents had immediately signed her up for access to blood banks once she'd been turned, so she hadn't ever needed to find out. But nature will always call, and sometimes she can't help but imagine how it would feel.
"Hey, how come I haven't seen you around before?" He asks, tapping his knuckles against the lamppost as they walk by. It's an old superstition, one that she almost laughs at him for apparently believing in. Knocking on lampposts is supposed to ward off vampires. It's something about the light deterring them, or preventing them from being able to hunt without being spotted.
She feels queasy.
"You have seen me around. You just don't remember me, because why would you?" It comes out more bitter than she'd intended it to, but she's still reeling from the stupid superstition. After all, she's walking home with this guy she doesn't actually know, in the weird headspace she's in, while being completely unaware how he feels about vampires in general.
What if she gets worse or she slips up and he can tell? What if he notices her fangs, or if they take longer than she'd anticipated to get home and he sees the way her eyes turn red and he freaks out? What if he tells everyone what she is, what if he decides to take her out himself? It's not like it'd be difficult for him. He's, what, 6"? 6"1? Built of pure muscle, clearly good at combat sports considering they encourage fighting in hockey.
He could kill her and would probably just be hit with a slap on the wrist.
"Sorry, what did you say?" She asks, but her voice sounds faint. Like it's coming from someone way, way behind her.
"I said," He looks at her quizzically, like he's only now catching on to the fact something might be wrong with her. "I feel like you're someone I would remember."
It's a sweet sentiment, one that would probably work if she were someone else, or he were someone else. "Weird, because if that were true, you'd remember we're in the same philosophy class."
He doesn't say anything. It's kind of rewarding, to shut him up like that. He opens and closes his mouth a few times and it's almost like she can see him mentally cycling through different dialogue options.
Eventually, he just chooses to raise his hands in the air. "Okay, you've caught me. You win."
She clasps her hands together and waves them on either side of her head as if she were celebrating. "You heard it here first, everyone! I've managed to beat Garrett Graham!" She raises her voice, yelling to the empty streets.
He surges towards her and clasps his hand over her mouth. "Hey, hey! Be quiet, you'll ruin my reputation."
Hannah has never been able to smell blood stronger than she can right now. The fabric of his makeshift bandage is pressed to her lips and it's overwhelming. There are undertones — she didn't know that blood could smell so… fruity. It's still mostly rusted copper, but there are undertones of something tangy, like pomegranates. She can feel the way her mouth waters and before she can even think about it, her tongue darts out of her mouth and presses against the fabric, briefly touching the skin of his hand.
It tastes sweet. It's sweeter than the blood from the blood banks, it's rich and although she didn't taste much, only what had soaked into the fabric of his shirt sleeve, it feels like it's coating her mouth. Her headache subsides — not by much, but enough that it doesn't feel like there are claws digging into her skull and wrenching it apart. It comes in waves, the euphoria of tasting something closer to fresh than what she usually got, the guilt of having tasted it. The nausea and the hunger and the desperation.
Everything hits her at once, then pulls back into the all encompassing headache, only to surge forward and hit her all over again.
He yanks his hand away and shakes it. "Dude, did you just lick my hand?" There's a jovial tone to his voice, but the question just feels like stones filling her stomach.
God, this is it. This is surely when he connects the dots — when he figures out her secret and condemns her. She wonders if her pupils have dilated, if they've turned red or if he's watching her reaction closely, waiting for her to expose her fangs and jump him, desperate for another taste. She presses her hand to her forehead.
The headache clears again and this time it doesn't come back. She exhales, then looks up at him once more. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to touch strangers?" It comes out weak, but it's an attempt at pretending nothing weird happened. That this doesn't need to actually be something.
His walking slows and Hannah refuses to stop. If she stops moving, then this is going to become something she doesn't want it to be, one way or another. She ducks her head down and keeps moving, trying to ignore the situation she's found herself in.
She just needs to make it home.
It's weirdly silent. She'd gotten used to the sound of his footsteps, or his voice. It's not that she's sad he's clearly given up and decided to go back and have that difficult conversation — or spread the word about her… condition. She'll need to call her parents, but she hopes it can wait until tomorrow. At the very least, she wants to be able to get one last sleep as a BriarU student with friends and a future before she has to return back to her hometown and start from the bottom all over again.
She hopes the conversation goes well. If anything she's probably made that one seem far, far easier in comparison. She lets out a short bark of laughter and she knows the people across the road probably think she's fucking insane, but she doesn't have it in her to care. Why should she? Her life is over.
"I'm not going to tell anyone." Garrett speaks softly, and it scares her half to death. She jumps out of her skin, stumbles back and he catches her. She pushes herself forward, ripping herself from his hands like they burned.
"Fucking hell, Garrett!" She yells, the humiliation and embarrassment and anger, because of course she's angry — but not at him. Well, partly at him. If he hadn't been so insistent on walking with her, then they wouldn't be in this fucking situation. He knows. He knows.
He doesn't really react to her rage, instead he just walks towards her and raises his hands before he hesitates and lowers them again. "Listen to me. I," he points at himself, "am not going to tell anyone."
Hannah narrows her eyes. She weighs up all possible options she has to respond, before finally settling on one. "Why not?" Entertaining the idea probably isn't good. He probably has some outrageous request, some reason he wont tell. Some favor to ask, something he needs her to do that she can't.
"It's your business." He shrugs, as if it's as easy as that. As if everything she's built, everything she's working towards, everything she's running away from isn't held entirely in his stupid bandaged hand.
"You —" She puffs out a breath of air, unsure how exactly to respond. "What?"
He doesn't say anything, instead just watching her.
"You just found out I'm —" She glances around and the streets are empty, but she still can't bring herself to say it. "and you're just… not going to say anything about it?"
"Do you… do you want me to?"
"No! God, no. I've worked so hard to get where I am, and I've done everything right. I haven't told anyone. Not even Allie — God, if she finds out from you, she'll be even more devastated. Why did it have to be you? Why were you so insistant on walking me home? What do I have to be scared of, I mean — I'm —" She drags her hands down her face, pushes her fingers through her hair and tugs.
"Okay, wait. I don't know who Allie is, so she wont find out from me." Garrett's voice is gentle, like she's something that he could break just through volume alone. It's weird. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she just doesn't have it in her to begin to try to figure that out. "Uh, look —"
Before he can finish his thought, there are loud cheers and yelling and when she looks up, there's a group of students fast approaching. She groans, buries her face in her hands. This is all she needs; to be suffering deep psychological and emotional turmoil at the hands of not only Garrett Graham but also some random drunken strangers.
She ducks her head as they get nearer in a weak attempt to hide her identity. At the very least, she'd like to be completely anonymous — being caught talking to Garrett late at night, after the Hawks won a game? That's a one way ticket to becoming the next hot piece of gossip. A fate she could not be less interested in.
Garrett moves closer to her and pulls her into a hug, his hand resting on the back of her head as he buries it into his shoulder. His other hand touches her waist, but it's light — like he's hesitating to actually touch her. All she can smell is him. His cologne isn't overpowering, but she can tell it's expensive. She hesitates before curling her arm around his back. She feels him tense at the touch and God, this is so awkward.
But he's being kind, hiding her from her own embarrassment at being seen with him — at being seen in this state. The men mumble something as they pass behind him and Garrett laughs. Hannah can feel the way his chest shakes as he does so.
The problem is this; her mouth is dangerously close to his neck. She can feel the way her mouth waters at the sound of his heartbeat and she closes her eyes, pushing her face further into his shoulder. "Garrett…" She whispers and it doesn't sound like her voice. Instead, it sounds like something desperate, gnarled by want and twisted by refusal. Like she's denying herself something, rather than trying to warn him of what she is in her core.
He shivers and she tries to back away, but his grip on her waist tightens. Holding her in place as the group continues past them.
When they can no longer hear the groups footsteps, Garrett lets her go.
"Um, thanks." She mumbles, looking anywhere but him.
"Oh — yeah. It's… don't worry about it. All part of the service." He jokes awkwardly, stretching his arms behind his head.
She can see Bristol House up ahead. She knows it's not, but God does it feel like its glowing, a beacon of hope in the darkness that is her night. "Are you serious? About not saying anything?"
She looks up at him, studying his face. He looks confused, but otherwise unbothered. Which strikes her as odd at the very least. For most people, this would be a very weird and perception altering discovery. The random girl you almost drove home is a vampire and also your classmate. She's pretty sure that could be a plot from one of those books Allie reads sometimes. "I'm always serious, Mona."
"Mona?"
"Some British show. She's a vampire."
Hannah winces at the word, if only because she hasn't ever really heard anyone except her and her parents use it as if it's normal. Barring films and tv shows or the news. "How do you know about a British TV show?"
"You ever heard of having friends?" He smiles, nudging her arm with his elbow. "Met some kids on holiday when I was younger who were from England. They were really into older TV shows because their parents had them on video and didn't trust 'modern' shows. We watched them. That's all there is to it."
"Sounds nice. Going on holidays and learning about cartoons?" She queries, unsure as to whether she was right or not. When he nods, she continues, "cartoons from other countries. Must've been nice."
"Yeah, it was okay. I had fun, I guess." He goes quiet, clearly lost in childhood memories.
Hannah doesn't know his story, but she does know that childhood memories can be a dangerous place to venture back to. Even if they're happy ones — there can be a yearning for a past you can't quite replicate and it can make you feel empty, like you hadn't enjoyed it as much as you should have when you had it. "What do I owe you?"
"Huh?" It jostles him from the memory and he seems briefly confused about why exactly Hannah is talking to him. Which — yeah. Welcome to the club, Garrett. Doors closed about an hour ago. "Oh, nothing. Unless you want to have the conversation with Kendall for me."
That must be the girl he's avoiding; the one who's fallen in love with him. She debates the idea briefly. After all, she would feel a little more confidence in the idea he isn't going to tell others about her if there was some kind of deal struck. But that feels like it'd lead into all sorts of questions that neither of them would be able to answer. She's still trying to figure out how they got here in the first place. "I think I'll have to pass on that one, Graham. Good luck with that though buddy."
They've arrived at Bristol House, thank god. They can both put this weird night behind them, she can move universities and they can completely forget about each other as God intended. Maybe she mentions it as a fun fact in the future, when he's playing in the NHL. "Can I ask you for a favor?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. What is it?"
"Can you wait until I've left university before you… you know. Tell people? I know the answers probably no, but if I don't ask then I'll probably regret it, and I don't know… maybe there's a chance you'd be willing to let me have that, at least."
"What? I said I wasn't going to tell. I'm a man of my word, Mona. There's no reason for you to leave. What if — okay, you can't talk to Kendall for me. But — what if you give me a blank cheque. Not literally. I don't need a literal one. I mean, I can call on you for a favor and you have to do it, no questions asked."
"I can't imagine there's anything you'd need from me that you don't already have." She pulls her key from her pocket and inserts it into the door, pushing it open and stepping inside.
"Then it's low risk, high reward." He smiles.
"Okay. I can do that. But you have to wait a week before you ask me for it. And nothing sexual, or freaky."
He laughs at that and nods. "Okay, nothing sexual or freaky. Got it. Anything else, Mona?"
"You're really sticking with Mona, huh?" She gives another closed-lipped smile.
"Well, I'd call you by your name, but we've already established I don't know it, so… you leave me no choice."
"Aw, that's such a shame. I guess you'll have to pay attention next time we're in class together."
"I guess I will." He answers, with a tone that almost makes her think he's serious. He turns away and it's only then that she realises he'll have to walk all the way back to get his car. She can't help but feel a little guilty.
"Sorry for making you walk all the way out here." Because she is.
"I offered. I mean," He half turns back to her as he talks. "I definitely would have preferred you'd let me drive you, but this wasn't so bad. You worried about me, Mona?"
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "God no. I'm sure you're brave enough to make it back in one piece."
He holds his hand to his chest where his heart is and makes a show of stumbling back. "You wound me."
She laughs, a hand flying up to cover her mouth as she tilts her head back. "You wound yourself, Garrett." She points at his bandaged hand. "I had nothing to do with that one."
Before he can respond, there are voices coming from behind Hannah's back and she looks alarmed, like she's about to be caught doing something she shouldn't. "I better go. I'll see you around, or something." She waves a hand, then steps back and closes the door behind her, shuffling past them towards her dorm and hopes they don't connect the dots when they see Garrett Graham standing outside. Then again, why would they?
It's not like the pair of them would ever work as anything more than what they are now — strangers who share a secret.
If the situation were different, she would have invited him in and tended to his wound herself. They keep a first aid kit on hand — Hannah had been pretty adamant about it. Maybe if she had, they'd have bonded and fallen in love like in the romance books she used to read with Allie.
Unfortunately, they are who they are and the situation is exactly what it is. This isn't some cheesy romance novel. If she'd offered, she doubts he would have came in anyway. Which is understandable — and probably smart.
Not that she thinks she would have done anything. She thinks she has enough self-control that she wouldn't have jumped him, but it was already weird and the idea of Garrett Graham being in her dorm would have just brought a new level of weirdness to the whole thing.
God. Garrett Graham knows she's a vampire.
Her life is so over.