šŗDominic's POV:
"Here. Put this on," I said, tossing him the outfit I picked up last night: black t-shirt, leather jacket, ripped jeans, black sunglasses, and a silver tiger-claw pendant chain. The full bad-boy starter pack.
And naturally-he needed help. Because five seconds in, he nearly impaled himself on the wall trying to untangle his leg from his own underwear.
God, have mercy on this werewolf.
Eventually-after twenty complaints about "tight jeans ruining his leg circulation" and "jackets feeling emotionally repressive"-he was ready.
And holy hell.
He looked good. Like... dangerously good. Not "oh, my roommate cleaned up" good. I mean "this vampire just walked off a movie poster" good. Leather and attitude. Tousled hair. Tall, dark, and "please ruin me" vibes.
"Do I look good, Puppers?" he asked, wide-eyed, like a kid who just discovered eyeliner and self-esteem.
"You look... sexy. Sexiest vampire. Vamp."
Shit.
I said that out loud. Not just out loud-I said it directly to his FACE.
Okay, but like-bro code, right? Bros hype each other up! It's fine! Totally normal to call your undead roommate sexy when he's serving fashion and trauma.
Except this bro? This bro fainted.
Right there. Backwards. Onto the couch.
I panicked and had to sprinkle warm water on his face to bring him back to the land of the living-unliving.
He blinked up at me, dazed. "What happened? Who are you? Who am I? Where am I?"
He went full amnesia anime protagonist.
"Vampy-you good? It's me. Dom."
His eyes sparkled. "Puppers!"
Yeah. He was back.
Then came the rant. A ten-minute monologue of pure, glitter-fueled chaos about how I can't just drop compliments like that, how sexy is a loaded word, and how he wasn't emotionally prepared for this kind of attention on a cold Tuesday morning.
So I did the only logical thing.
I plucked his lips shut with two fingers.
"Stop. Talking."
And he actually did.
For a second.
---
š¦ Lean's POV
Okay. First of all-black is NOT my color.
Second of all-yes it totally is, apparently???
Because the moment I stepped into that outfit, I saw Dom's brain implode in real time. His jaw clenched. His eye twitched. His soul left his body and came back wearing leather.
And then.
He said it.
"You look sexy."
SEXY.
My ghost ascended. My organs did a samba. My brain blue-screened.
So yeah, I blacked out.
For dramatic effect? Maybe. For survival? Absolutely.
When I came to, he was looking at me with full-blown concern and gently sprinkling warm water on my face like I was a sick houseplant.
And THEN-he called me Vampy again. With that gruff, annoyed voice he only uses when he's feeling something and wants no one to know about it.
I spiraled. Full drama meltdown. Ten minutes of word-vomit and flailing.
Until the man just-shut me up.
With two fingers.
Right on my lips.
Like he touched my mouth.
Do you understand the spiritual weight of that gesture?
I think I need to faint again.
---
šŗ Dominic's POV
"He says black isn't his color," I muttered, glaring at the glitter gremlin in question.
"Dude. You're a pretty-ass vampire. For a reason. Do you even know how your species dresses? All black. Always. Like sigma men with emotional trauma-not pink glitter and stolen hoodies!"
He gasped, clutching the sparkly drawstrings of my hoodie like I'd insulted his whole bloodline. "Puppy, you're being stereotypical! Not all vampires wear black!"
"Fine," I snapped. "Did any man in your family wear anything other than black?"
He opened his mouth, then paused. His eyes flicked side to side like he was scanning a mental vampire yearbook. Then he scratched his head like a cartoon idiot.
"Uhh... okay, so... Dad wore a classic black cloak. Eric, my bad-boy brother? Black hoodie 24/7. Mom had this gorgeous vintage dress-gray with black pearls. Jessy-my sister-hardcore emo. So... also black. And Uncle Jeff..."
I crossed my arms.
"He, um. He wore collared shirts in... dull, dusty colors?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"But Bam-my baby cousin-he's just like me! Sparkles, unicorn socks, full rainbow energy. He spent most of his time with me, so y'know... it rubbed off."
"Right. So one glitter baby in a family of shadow demons and now you're a rule-breaking icon."
He puffed his cheeks. "I'm redefining the aesthetic. Revolutionary. Iconic. Brave."
"Crackhead behavior," I deadpanned. "Unaccountable."
He stuck his tongue out at me.
I stared him down and growled, "You look good. So stop whining about it. Or I swear-I'll strip you down and toss you half-naked into Central Market. Let the townsfolk sort it out."
His jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
The stunned silence that followed was the best part of my morning.
---
š¦ Lean's POV
First of all-I do look amazing. Too amazing, actually. That's why I nearly flatlined earlier when Dom called me sexy. I mean-yeah, duh, I'm beautiful-but it hits different when it comes from him. Especially when he says it like he's mad about it.
Anyway.
Apparently wearing anything besides black is a vampire fashion crime. Dom gave me a full monologue about gothic dress codes and how I'm ruining centuries of darkness chic with my sparkles.
"Not all vampires wear black!" I said, trying to save what little dignity my glitter hoodie had left.
Then he went full family fashion audit.
And okay, yeah. Fine. My bloodline is basically a walking funeral. Classic cloaks. Emo eyeliner. Wardrobes curated by Wednesday Addams.
But I like colors. Pastels. Glitter. I have a hoodie that says "Blood Sucker, Heartbreaker" in rhinestones. I'm an era. A movement.
A āØvibeāØ.
Dom called me a crackhead.
Then threatened to strip me and throw me into the middle of town like a naked cat in combat boots.
And honestly?
That was so hot.
I didn't say it out loud because I'm still emotionally recovering from the word sexy leaving his grumpy little mouth, but internally?
Yeah. I'm never taking this outfit off.
And I might bite him later.
Lovingly.
šŗ Dominic's POV
Okay. So. We were supposed to leave at 9:00 AM. That was the plan. That was the dream.
It's 10:23 now.
Why the delay?
Lean. That glitter-goblin spent a full hour deciding which unicorn socks didn't clash with his black-on-black bad boy makeover. It's like dressing a cat with a personality disorder.
Anyway-we're finally out. And he's holding my hand like a preschooler crossing a highway. Not that I mind or anything. Shut up.
First stop: a coffee shop. He ordered a latte-with ten tablespoons of sugar.
TEN.
I watched the barista's soul leave her body in real time. She looked at me like I was personally responsible for this walking blood-sugar spike. I didn't even try to stop him. I know better now.
Like dude let's just add coffee powder in suger syrup! And I dare not tell that loud and give this sweet monster ideas! Already the poor staffs are traumatized just as me!
He sipped the sugar sludge like it was divine nectar and gave me a whipped cream mustache kiss. And definitely I washed my face with the hand soap they had there.
Mayday. Mayday. System overheat.
Second stop: a clothing store. He picked out a dozen new outfits with the excitement of a raccoon in a garbage buffet. And then-then-he spotted matching Halloween chipmunk costumes.
Yes. Chipmunks. From Mickey Mouse.
Yes. He made me buy them.
Yes. He made me wear that in the store. This is pure torture on a poor wolf boy.
No. I will never recover from the five middle-aged ladies crying laughing and saying, "Aw, look at them! Young love!"
Kill me.
Please.
Then came the real reason we were out in the first place: a bed. Because apparently, a century-old vampire sleeping on a couch is a crime against comfort.
"Why can't I just share yours?" he whined loud enough to alert Homeland Security. "It's not like I bite in my sleep! ...Much."
Cue every person in IKEA staring at us like we were a reality show. I almost faked a seizure just to disappear.
We picked out a foldable steel bed, two pillows, one mattress, and a couple of bed sheets. He wanted to carry everything himself.
Because apparently, looking like a sugar-drenched twink doesn't change the fact that he has the strength of a rampaging gorilla in Gucci shades because he afterall is a monster. And sure, I could carry all of it too-I'm a werewolf, thank you very much-but I also have discretion. Something he wouldn't recognize if it hit him in the face with a glitter bat.
So, I scheduled it for delivery. He pouted. I didn't care.
Next up: electronics store. I got him a Samsung A15 Pro Max so he can stop nagging me for sometime got a sim for him too- yup surely under my name because of course he don't have any documentations. He clutched the new phone like a relic from heaven and bragged about how he used to own three Apples.
"Three! I had three apples! Before, you know... the hunters kidnapped my family and burned down our estate..."
Sir. You are broke. You live on my couch. You are not a tech mogul.
We also got him earbuds and a ridiculous blue green floral phone case. He was thrilled. Skipped out of the store like a boy band member on his comeback tour.
It's 2 PM now, and he's strutting down the sidewalk in full black glory-leather jacket, pendant, sunglasses, golden curls bouncing like he's walking a red carpet. I gotta say... I did a damn good job with that outfit. Proud of my fashion scenes.
Three girls asked him out. Five asked me out.
(I'm still hotter. Just saying.)
But instead of politely declining, Lean started vibing. Like full choreographed hand-flicks and hip dips. And did some twink shits I didn't begin to grasp
The girls screamed "YASSS GURL" and pulled him into a spontaneous TikTok dance.
I dragged him out of there before he got invited to brunch.
And now... here he is.
Sipping his fourth cup of boba tea.
Smirking like trouble.
And suddenly-
Wait.
Wait a second.
Something's not right.
My brain caught up to what my eyes had been ignoring all morning.
It's daylight.
He's a vampire.
HE'S A FUCKING VAMPIRE. AND HE'S WALKING AROUND IN FULL SUNLIGHT, DOING ALL NONSENSE!
HOW THE HELL IS HE NOT BURNT TO A CRISP??
---
š¦ Lean's POV
Two things.
One: Today is a fantastic day.
Two: I am crushing this leather look.
Sure, it took me an hour to find the perfect socks. And yes, I needed sugar therapy before facing the general public. But can you blame me? I was reborn this morning. Black-on-black, bad-boy edition.
Dom keeps making that face. That "I hate this" face that secretly means "I love this but I'm emotionally constipated."
I held his hand the whole time because it annoyed him in the cutest way possible. He's all bark and very little bite. Unless I actually bite him first.
At the coffee shop, I ordered the sweetest drink possible-because, again, iconic AND I LOVE SWEET-and I think the barista may have wept. It's fine. I left her a sticky note, with a glitter smiley face. Emotional support via stationary. which I may or may not have stolen from Dom's bag. He will kill me later.
At the clothing store, I found a dream: matching chipmunk costumes.
Did I make us try them on?
Absolutely.
Did Dom look like he was being held at gunpoint by cartoon rodents?
Absolutely.
And obviously He cursed me out in the most unholy language. But guess what? I'm unholy too. Go GURL!!
Then came the bed thing. I wanted to share his. Obviously. Not even for sexy reasons. Just comfort. He smells like pine and musk and home and I sleep better next to his heartbeat. Sue me.
But nooooo.
Apparently, it's "weird" and "people are watching" and "Lean stop climbing into MY back in IKEA it's not display snuggle time, I need space, You drool too much! "
Fine. We got me a bed. I still say it's temporary.
Then came the new phone! Bless Dom and his hot wallet. It's sleek and shiny and powerful-like me. But yeah I was rich back few weeks, not exaggerating, just saying! Hehe.
I picked a case with daisies and bluebells because I'm still me, even in combat boots. Also, I may have bragged a tiny bit about being rich in my past life. Not that I'm broke now! I'm... budget experimental.
Dom got me earbuds too. I told him this makes him my sugar puppers.
He twitched.
Delightful.
Now we're just walking down the street, soaking in compliments, sipping boba, and existing as icons. Three girls tried to flirt with me. I may have accidentally joined a TikTok dance crew. Dom pulled me out before I could finish the routine.
Rude.
Anyway, I think we've got a few more stops before we head back, and honestly-I wouldn't mind if this day never ended. I don't say that to Dom, though.
Because then he might smile.
And then I might faint.
Again.
šŗ Dominic's POV:
I stopped him-grabbed his shoulders and shook him, staring straight into his undead soul.
"Vamp! DUDE! How the hell are you out in the sun and not getting roasted like a Thanksgiving turkey?!"
And he-he shies.
Shies.
Like some naive village girl in a 90s drama.
Sir, you were nude-jolting around my apartment just a few hours ago. Fresh outta the stone age. And now you're blushing?
"Aha! Yup, about that! Let me guess where to start!!" he chirps.
"Start from wherever it makes some damn sense!" I snap.
He fidgets. Hesitates. Stares up at the sky like the answers might be written in the clouds.
Then finally, he speaks-
After hesitating for a whole week.
"Okay, so like... my birth was a bit different. I had a crazy birth."
And the little shit looks stupidly proud about it.
"Yup. No question-you've been crazy since birth. Continue," I mock, earning a very dramatic pout.
"Yeah, whatever! So look-ugh! How do I even explain this..." He's flailing now. "Okay, so, you know how babies are born, right? OK let me explain! When Papa Vampire falls in love with Mama Vampire, they get married and then they, uh... sleep together one day!"
...
I regret everything.
I'm 22. He's 20.
Why am I getting the birds and bees talk from a vampire in designer boots?
"No shit, biologist. I know how babies are born. Tell me how the hell you, you glitter-drenched disaster, were made."
He claps excitedly like I just gave him permission to be unhinged.
"Oh, you do know about birds and bees?! That makes it so much easier!"
He giggles.
I used to be the sex god of my college-banging every hot chick in sight before this werewolf curse dropped on me like a cosmic joke.
And now?
Now I'm getting a reproductive health breakdown from a sugar-high vampire who thinks boba tea with glucose level 1000 is a love language.
Send help.
š¦ Lean's POV:
Okay. Deep breath.
He's looking at me like I just committed tax fraud in broad daylight. Which is ironic, considering the topic.
I fix my collar, flick my curls, fixed my sunglasses a bit and begin my very dramatic explanation:
"Okay, so... I didn't have a regular birth! And definitely not a planned one."
(He already looks like he wants to die. That's fair.)
"As you know, vampires are intolerant to sunlight-because of an ancient curse by a Saint or maybe a wizard? Honestly, depends on which elder you ask. But I'm different. Sunlight doesn't hurt me."
I paused for dramatic effect.
He squints, jaw tightening. "Oh good. We've reached the 'I'm special' portion of the insanity."
"Why? Because I was... kinda born from sunlight."
His soul visibly leaves his body. "What the hell do you mean 'born from sunlight,' you overcooked fruit loop-"
I power on.
"So! There's only one time when vampires can go out during the day-during a solar eclipse."
(He opens his mouth like he's about to ask why, but shuts it. Progress.)
"Back in 2004-April 19th-there was a solar eclipse. Also, it was my parents' 167th wedding anniversary."
He blinked. "167th!!."
"yup why? Anyways Momma asked Papa to take her to see the eclipse. Romantic, right?"
(He mouths 'No.' I continue anyway.)
"They got dressed up. Papa in his long cloak and big bowler hat. Momma in her black gown-gloves, parasol, the works. Total Victorian goth power couple. They went to the beach. Everything was going fine..."
"But as the eclipse ended, and the sun was coming back out... catastrophe struck."
Dominic (deadpan): "Of course it did."
"A religious Christian group nearby started singing praises to-y'know, Him."
He raises an eyebrow. "Who's Him?"
I hiss and flick holy air away from myself. "You know who. I can't say the name. I'll combust. Be respectful."
Dominic crosses his arms and mutters, "You literally drank twelve cups of sugar milk today and make me wore a chipmunk suit. Respect went out the window."
"Anyway!" I say brightly. "Because of the prayers, my parents got frozen in place. That's a thing for us. Divine energy paralyses us like a badly timed Wi-Fi lag. They couldn't move, even as the sun started to peek back out."
He is now holding his head like he has a migraine. Poor thing. So much vampire information the puppy is stressed!
"They were fully covered, but Mama had this little net design on her gown-near her belly. She forgot to apply vampire sun cream there, and-"
Dominic, horrified: "Vampire SUN CREAM?! You people have sunscreen? Is it SPF Unholy Water?!"
"It's patented. Works wonders. But she forgot." I sigh tragically. "So the sunlight pierced through the mesh and start to burn her belly. She couldn't scream-just cried. Papa couldn't move. It was traumatic."
(He's actually silent now. His horror has evolved into stunned disbelief.)
"Once those morons stopped their prayers and the sun already half way out, they snapped out of it. Momma fainted, Papa carried Mama home with his super speed. The vampire doc came, checked her over... and discovered-"
I spread my arms like I'm in a Broadway finale:
"SHE WAS PREGNANT. WITH ME."
Dominic: "...You were conceived during a solar eclipse and baked like a lasagna?."
"Yes!! A miracle!!" I beam. "Even better, as she carried me in the womb, Mama developed immunity to sunlight! She still has it! I was her little blessing bean!"
Dominic (still stuck on the lasagna metaphor): "This explains so much."
"Seven months later-because vampire pregnancies are shorter-I was born."
I pause. Then add smugly:
"Fun fact: I'm the only recorded blonde vampire. Ever."
Dominic just squints like he wants to call tech support for reality.
---
šŗ Dominic's POV:
So.
My vampire roommate. My boba-sipping, glitter-wearing, emotionally unhinged temporary couch parasite... just told me he's sunlight-proof because-
He was baked in utero during a solar eclipse while some random choir group sang hymns and his mom forgot to put on SPF-Vampire.
I don't even know what to do with that information.
I've fought feral packs. Wrestled an angry bear once in the jungle. Survived midterms with rabid professors.
Nothing prepared me for Lean's solar-powered womb origin story.
Who just casually says, "Oh, I was conceived during an eclipse while my mom got microwaved through a fashion design flaw" like it's a flex?
And the way he said it! Like it's some bedtime story and I'm supposed to clap and cry at the miracle of glitter Christ reborn!
AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN-VAMPIRE. SUNSCREEN.
I'm going to need holy water. Or whiskey. Or both. Preferably dumped on my own face while I scream into the void.
Also-the only blonde vampire?
Yeah, of course he is. Heaven forbid the universe produce another sugar-addicted, sunshine-immune, TikTok-dancing eldritch pop star with abandonment issues.
I'm not saying I'm in love with this menace.
But if I am?
God help me.
šŗ Dominic's POV:
Ah. That was chaos.
Total. Glitter-infused. Chaos.
Anywayālast stop before I drag this nightmare back to the crypt he calls a studio apartment: the stationery store.
Of course, I have to physically drag him there, because somewhere between the bakery and the parking lot, the bloodsucker got distracted by dogs.
Not one dog. Not two. A pack.
Like a whole-ass community meeting of mutts.
And the worst part? He was talking to them.
He squatted down in his puma boots (definitely i got those for him forgot mentioning), surrounded by drooling strays like some street Disney princessābut unhinged.
And I shit you notā
He was nodding thoughtfully like he actually understood their complaints. Actually he do because of that vampire thing!
And the dogs were all barking back at him in full street drama mode, like
"He peed on MY pole!"
"Well your cousin peed on MY hydrant first!"
"You don't OWN the dumpster behind 7-Eleven, Greg!"
It was war.
Apparently, some rival dog peed on some sacred territory, and the pack responded with a glorious Battle of the Pee Tribes.
How do I know all this?
Well because I'm a werewolf. I speak fluent canine.
Different packs have different barks, like regional accentsābut yeah. I get it.
But this idiot?
This sugar-high nosferatu thinks I don't understand definitely cause he dont know I am a wolf! All proudly told me They were having a heart-to-heart about "how to be a good boy." thinking I am a damn fool!
He looked at me, glowing with pride, and said:
"Dominic, we had such a deep conversation. They told me the true meaning of loyalty."
I want to retire. From life.
---
š¦ Lean's POV:
Okay. So first of allādogs?
Love me.
Always have. Always will.
Second of allāyes, I got a little distracted.
I was on my way to the stationery store, and then I saw them: a pack of the fluffiest, loudest, most emotionally expressive dogs I've ever seen in my entire undead life.
Of course I stopped.
They were clearly going through something.
I crouched down. Gave them my full, undivided attention. Eye contact. Tail wags. Soul connection.
One of them barked three times and tilted his head. I swear on my boba stashāI felt it.
"Who is a good boy?" he asked himself. Existentially.
I barked back. Gently. Supportively.
"You are, sweet Greg. You are."
And they we had this interesting coverage of the street dog war that started from pee! Like yes that heinous crime! You have your pole pee on that, I would be mad too!! That's a bad boy for sure!
It was a healing moment.
Dominic was off in the distance with his hands on his hips and a look on his face like he just stepped in emotional gum.
Probably jealous. He doesn't understand.
When I told him what happened, yup not about the war thing! Cause he will think I am stupid, he growled something like "You had a TED Talk about morality and being good boy tips from some stray dogs? Yup little fool of an ass!"
So rude.
He thinks I don't know dog-speak?
Please. I have empathy. He has ears. There's a difference.
But whatever. I let him drag me to the stationery store like some Victorian ghost husband whose wife caught him frolicking in the flower field again.
I got a pink glitter pen, by the way. For journaling my trauma.
šŗDominic's POV:
So anyways he got some glittery pen and some pink rose sented dairy! Pretty Lean coded!
But I am the one with mind! So I got some stuffs that a 20 years old baby may need!
Toothbrush! Check, cause he already ruined mine with his expressive brushing which look like some chimps aggressively showing their canines!
Soap and shampoo! Check, cause he keeps complaining mine smell like sweat and bubblegum!
And few other daily survival stuff!
š¦ Lean's POV:
Look, technically, we went to the stationery store for "essentials."
But emotionally? Spiritually?
We went for healing.
Because nothing says reclaim your power like a glittery pink pen and a rose-scented diary that smells like Victorian ghost tea.
I clutched them to my chest like they were sacred relics. The cashier even looked mildly afraid of me. As she should.
Dominic, meanwhile, was stomping through the aisles like a grumpy suburban dad on a mission. He looked at every item like it personally betrayed him.
And he kept muttering under his breath:
"Not essentials. Not even close to essentials."
"Why is this toothpaste sparkly?"
"Why does the shampoo bottle say 'unicorn tears + coconut'? What does that even mean, Vamp?"
I told him it meant hope. Just kidding definitely it's a marketing gimmick for attracting kids!
But no.
He grabbed a boring toothbrush. Plain soap. A shampoo that smelled like shame and sadness and maybe pine.
I, on the other hand, selected a sparkly purple lip balm (cherry blast), a sticker sheet of angry cats in business suits, and a cuteĀ keychain, that looks like some chonkey Hamster wearing a crown!
Because aesthetic matters.
Alsoāhe bought a second toothbrush because apparently I "murdered the last one with my enthusiastic dental passion."
Excuse me, I call that vampiric hygiene excellence, my pretty pointy fangs deserves Medicare or atlelest a fangicure!
I saw him throw in a pack of Band-Aids, vitamins, and what I swear was a pocket flashlight "just in case."
He said, "You're one hangnail away from a full breakdown, Vamp. I'm being realistic."
He cares. Loudly. With gritted teeth and receipts.
Love that for me.
šŗ Dominic's POV:
Okay, I was starving.
Like, could-eat-a-whole-ass-bison starving.
But I'm a civilized man. With manners. And restraint. And slowly disintegrating willpower.
So we hit a nearby street cafĆ©āa cozy little joint that smelled like heaven and bad decisions. I sat down, peeled off my jacket, and immediately flipped off my diet with a double middle finger and ordered the biggest, juiciest burger on the menu.
Extra cheese. Extra bacon. Extra fuck it.
I also threw in a box of chicken nuggets and a cheese taco because I deserved joy. And maybe also protein. And I may have gained some pounds in the last week! Fuck I need to hit the gym like a nuke, but wait a second I'd mayhave been burning 7,000 calories daily babysitting a vampire with the attention span of a caffeinated ferret.
That has to count as cardio, right?
Meanwhile, the glitter gremlin beside me was vibrating with anticipation. First thing he ordered?
Boba tea.
And coffee.
Because of course.
Lean is 93% tapioca pearls and 7% emotionally charged sparkle dust.
Thenāhe ordered everything he wasn't allergic to.
The list was long. The table got full. The waiter looked alarmed. I tried to explain it with my eyes like,
"It's okay. He doesn't bite. He justā¦ bedazzles aggressively."
He was inhaling fries like a raccoon who found a treasure chest. I lost track of how many dishes showed up. And at some point, I think he tried to charm a spoon.
The waiter kept throwing me glances like "Sir? Is your friend possessed?"
And I was like nah! He's just a glitter monster on loose.
And honestly?
Yeah. But he's my problem.
But wait why don't he gain wait after eating like an hippo? Do he have an black hole in his stomach? Like dude you are eating 10 men worth food and still have a pin figure like barbie!Ā Ok now I need some vampire tips.
š¦ Lean's POV:
Food is love.
Food is life.
Food is survivalāespecially when you've spent four hours getting emotionally bullied by the Grumplestiltskin.
So yes, we went to a cafƩ. And yes, I ordered boba and coffee first because I'm not a savage. I'm a vampire with priorities.
Dominic got this giant carnivorous burger that probably had a name like "The Heart Attack Special." He looked so grumpy and intense while eating it, I half-expected him to interrogate it for national secrets.
Meanwhile, I did what any sensible undead glitter bomb would do:
I feasted.
Garlic-free fries (duh), onion rings, pancakes, egg rolls, dumplings, spicy tofu skewers, another boba (strawberry this time), and a soup I didn't even like but it came in a really cute bowl.
The waiter kept staring at me like I might explode. Or levitate.
I smiled at him between bites and said, "Don't worry! I have eaten more."
He dropped a fork.
Dominic was muttering something like, "You're an entire apocalypse with a loyalty card," while chewing on his burger like it insulted his ancestors.
But I saw it.
The way he nudged a spare nugget toward me when he thought I wasn't looking.
The way he sighed but made sure I had extra napkins.
The way he didn't even blink when I spilled iced coffee on my lap and called it a "blessed baptism." and he glared at me, cause I spilled it on theĀ jeans he got for me, and I rubbed it with 100 napkins so he don't burn me with his fiery golden vision!
He cares. Grumpily. Loudly. And in burger form.
So I ate one of his fries. Just to show I loved him back.
And he growled.
Which meansā¦ success. š āØ
šŗ Dominic's POV:
Finally. We were done eating.
And by "eating," I mean the restaurant staff were one step away from calling animal control because this man devoured food like a glittery hellhound at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I paid the bill with what remained of my dignity, grabbed all the bags, and hauled us out before they added us to a local urban legend.
And him?
He was moonwalking. In public. With a mouth still full of fries.
Sprinting around the pavement like a 5-year-old sugar gremlināwearing the badass outfit I picked out for him, no less. Black jeans, leather jacket, chains, combat boots.
You'd think it would give him menace.
It didn't.
He looked like a rebellious cartoon sidekick possessed by Michael Jackson.
"What a cosmic fool," I muttered. But then I realizedā¦ I was smiling. Genuinely. Like an idiot.
Today had been exhausting. Full chaos. A storm of snacks, stationery, and stress.
But watching him full, loud, and happy like this?
Itā¦ did something. Something warm. Weird. Good.
I don't know what it means yet.
I'm just living with it.
"Puppers!" he howled from the sidewalk. "Come on, what are you waiting for!"
God. Why is he like this?
"Stop calling me that in public," I groaned. "I look like a middle-aged dad hauling luggage while his Disney Channel son auditions for High School Musical: Psych Ward Edition."
He just cackled and twirled.
I sighedāagaināand started walking.
It was already pushing 5 PM. The bed would be delivered soon. We needed to get home.
---
š¦ Lean's POV:
I was so full.
Like "might float away if the wind hits me wrong" full.
But also? Happy.
Stupidly, giddily, vampirically happy.
Dominic had paid (after giving the waiter a look like, "Don't ask questions you're not emotionally prepared to handle"), and we had escaped the cafƩ without being banned for life. Success.
And me?
I was celebrating that success with a little flair. A moonwalk. A sidewalk twirl. A dramatic hair toss like I was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial called Glitter & Regret.
Because why not?
The outfit he gave meāSatan, it was cool. Like "I'm a broody musician who might bite you" cool. I felt like the edgy version of myself I always imagined when journaling about romantic vengeance.
So obviously, I acted like a gremlin.
I shouted, "Puppers, hurry up!"
And he flinched like I stabbed his pride with a rainbow knife.
"Don't call me that in public," he grunted, looking like he was two seconds from throwing me into traffic. "I'm the one carrying everything while you doā¦ this."
I laughed. "You love it."
He sighed like a man who'd seen too much, then started walking.
But here's the thingā
He didn't actually mind. I could tell.
The way his lips twitched like they wanted to smile again but his dignity said no.
The way he walked slow enough for me to catch up even while pretending to be annoyed.
The way he looked over his shoulderājust onceāto make sure I hadn't wandered off into traffic or befriended a mailbox.
So I follow him. Humming. Skipping a little. My boots clacking on the pavement.
Home was waiting.
And apparentlyā¦ so was a new bed.
Which meantā¦ more glitter. More chaos. More of us.
Devil help him. āØ
šŗ Dominic's POV:
I thought the torment was over.
I thoughtānaively, stupidlyāthat we were heading home. Why in the word I chose this route.
But no. God said suffer, and this vampire said teddy bears.
Because now, the ancient bloodsucking monsterāthe immortal creature of the night who could end civilizationsāis clinging to my arm like a 6-year-old in front of a toy store, begging for overpriced stuffed animals like his middle-class single mom is about to say no.
"Puppers, please. Pretty please! I need those bears! For emotional support! And hugging to sleep!! I'll be a good Bat! I won't trip anything over forālikeāa whole week! Pleaseeee!!"
He was whining. Full puppy eyes. Actual dramatic tear-sparkle level begging.
And me?
"You're a grown-ass man. You ask me to buy you bullets and I'll consider it. But teddy bears? Really?"
Fast forward twenty minutesāand I've bought him ten teddy bears.
Five green. Five blue. Matching. Because of course they had to marry each others.
I have lost the war.
I am defeated.
I am a wolf with no pride left.
And to make it worseāhe already named them. All ten. I heard a "Captain Snugglefang" in there. Possibly a "Bubba Chewchew."
And that's when I noticed it.
Everything he picked today?
Green and blue.
Phone case? Green-blue gradient.
His t-shirt and trousers? Blue and green.
Two of his five new lip balms? Also blue and green.
The reason?
He considers himself a pirate on the Larry Stylinson ship.
Yes. That Larry Stylinson.
The ancient vampire standing beside me? Full-blown believer that Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are secret soulmates. Like it's a divine truth. Like he's a priest at the altar of Tumblr in 2012.
And me, being the dumbass I am, asked,
"Isn't that Louis guy married and have a kid? You shouldn't just assume he's with Harry, right?"
The look he gave me?
Not a glare. A curse.
Like I'd insulted his bloodline, his ancestors, and all the glitter he's ever worn. And fuck that glare is the first and only monstrous thing I saw him after all this glitters, now finally I am convinced he is a monster! Like full blown red eyes from brown eyes.
He stared. For a full minute.
I'm not gonna lieāI felt fear. Not much. Justā¦ enough to consider running.
I'm not scared of anything, okay? But a sugar-high Nosferatu with unresolved fandom trauma? That's where I draw the line. But I am a Werewolf too? Like I know shit about werewolves but need to save the pride so I chose not to run.
"What?" I asked, awkward as hell.
And then it started.
A twenty-minute lecture on all the "proof" that Harry and Louis are madly in love.
Tweets. Tattoos. Eyelash syncopation. Ancient fanfiction quotes.
Somehow, I ended up hearing a summary of a fic where they hook up to a candy shop song. And I stood there. In twilight. With bags full of teddy bears and other things. Listening.
Wondering where I went wrong in life.
And then my phone buzzed.
I checked itāand my soul left my body.
"FUCK. MOM."
She is calling.
SHE DEFINITELY JUST SAW THE CREDIT CARD CHARGES.
SHE KNOWS.
I AM DEAD. BURY ME IN A MATCHING TEDDY BEAR COFFIN.
"FUCK, SHE'S GONNA KILL ME! I SPENT SO MUCH ON YOU, VAMP, SHE'S GOING TO HUNT ME DOWN WITH A SLIPPER!"
And what does he do?
Looks at me completely confused like,
"What? It's just an angry female homo sapien mad on her grumpy offspring. What's the worst she can do?"
Oh, sweet Bat. You have no idea.
---
š¦ Lean's POV:
Okay, first of allāemotional support teddy bears are a basic human right.
Second, Dominic was being dramatic.
Yes, I begged a little. Yes, there was arm-hanging. Maybe a few tears. But that's just vampire diplomacy, okay?
I was polite. I said please like fourty times. I even offered to behave for a whole week, which is practically a blood pact coming from me which i definitely going to break. And sure, I might have called them my "sleep squad," but that's not weird. What's weird is how long it took him to cave.
Anyway. I got my ten matching bears. Five green, five blue.
They are beautiful. Perfect. Cuddly.
And they match my whole aesthetic.
Phone case? Blue and green.
Outfit? Blue and green.
Lip balm? Obviously blue raspberry and minty green apple.
It's called commitment.
When he asked why everything was those colors, I explained:
I am a Larry pirate.
Yes. A proud sailor of the Harry x Louis emotional doom ship and Captain Niall's my inspiration.
And then he had the audacity to say,
"Isn't that Louis guy married? You shouldn't assume he's with Harry."
Excuse me?
EXCUSE. ME.
I stared at him like he'd committed treason.
Because he had.
And then I did what any respectful fanboy would doāI educated him.
Twenty minutes. Full lore. Charts. Eyewitness testimonies.
Even the candy shop fic (which he blushed at, by the way).
And just when I was getting to the tattoos, his phone rang.
His face went pale like he had seen a vampire, wait I am a vampire!!
"MOM," he choked out. "SHE KNOWS. SHE'S GONNA KILL ME."
Apparently she found out about the tiny mountain of credit card charges.
And I? I was confused. Likeā¦ it's just his mom, right?
But no.
I've seen war.
I've seen angry werewolves.
But I have never seen a man look so terrified of one missed call.
I tried to comfort him by offering him one of the bearsāSir Fluffton the Thirdābut he was already planning his funeral.
Poor Puppers.
He tries so hard to be a tough guy. But deep down?
He's just a mom-fearing cinnamon bun in a leather jacket.
And I adore him for it. āØ
šŗ Dominic's POV:
I call her back.
Volume? Lowered.
Phone? At arm's length.
Soul? Already ascending.
There's silence on the other end.
That terrifying, foreboding silence that only one woman on this planet can weaponize.
"Mom? You thereā?"
"DOMINIC QUINN! YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING BRAT!"
Full name.
I am cooked. Charred. Cremated.
The phone's still at arm's length and she's still blowing out my eardrums like she's using a stadium mic and a war horn. The vampire next to me actually yelps and bumps into some poor guy behind him, who curses him out. He stumbles back, dazed like he's been hit by lightning.
I feel him.
"DO YOU THINK MONEY GROWS ON TREES? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"
Yup, this is it. My public execution. I die here. In front of a toy store. Holding ten matching teddy bears.
"FIRST YOU MOVE OUT OF THE COLLEGE DORM TO LIVE IN A RENTED APARTMENTāWHY? WHO KNOWS WHY! I LET IT SLIDE. BUT TODAY?!"
Ten straight minutes.
TEN.
She lists every transaction like she's reading out war crimes. The new phone. The bed. The boba. The suspicious number of glittery purchases.
Finally, the verdict comes in: she's blocking my credit card.
If I spend a single penny in the next two daysāon anything but bare-minimum foodāI'm done. No extra snacks. No sparkle shopping. No vampire treats.
Luckily, I've got a secret stash of personal cash. Enough to feed me and this sparkly blood-sucker for two nights.
Take that, Mom. I'm broke but not beaten.
Still, when she hangs up, my phone's hot enough to fry eggs. My ears are ringing. My dignity is in pieces.
And him?
He's staring at me like he's seen the abyss and it screamed back.
"Puppersā¦ are you sure your mom's human?" he asks, wide-eyed. "She sounds scarier than every monster my grandma warned me about. I think I almostā I mean like reallyāI nearly shat myself!"
He clutches his teddy bears like they're holy relics and I'm justā¦ watching this sparkly trainwreck of a man-child try to recover from his first Mom Attack.
"Guess now I know why you're such a Grump King."
Yeah, kid. Welcome to my life.
---
š¦ Lean's POV:
I have seen many horrors in my life.
I've fought ghouls in graveyards. Escaped an angry ghost bride in a haunted mansion. Lived through the 2016 Tumblr discourse.
But nothingāI repeat, nothingāprepared me for Dominic's mom on speakerphone.
The call starts with silence. I'm relaxed. Bored, even.
And then she screams. Like the gates of hell just opened and the first thing that flew out was a pissed-off mother with a vengeance and a blocked card in hand.
I jump so hard I knock into some random guy, who swears at me. I barely notice. I'm trying to survive the verbal onslaught echoing from Dominic's phone like some kind of biblical prophecy.
She's going off about money, rent, his life choices, and possibly questioning his entire bloodline.
And I just stand thereāclutching my bears. Frozen. Traumatized.
At one point I genuinely wonder if this is the end for us. Like maybe she'll crawl through the phone ring-style and drag us both to shopping hell.
She finally hangs up, and I look at him.
His face is pale. His hand's trembling. His phone is glowing like it's about to ascend into another dimension.
And all I can say is:
"Puppersā¦ is she even mortal? She's scarier than half the stuff I've run from in the last 20 years. I think I lost some of my undead soul. My grandma used to tell me stories about monsters under the bed (yeah kids monsters under beds are real guys, i went to monster camp in one summer and there I meet one Guy Rin was his name we are still friends, they are real sweet guys children! Like they are scared of you more than you are of them, quite shy and look like fuzzy bears they adore children! But the closet monsters are the real jerks! I swear one guy closed me in a closet it the camp before some cool skinwalkers and one Japanese turtle monster guy i forgot what they were called helped me out!) āthey were nothing compared to your mom."
He sighs. Defeated. Charred from the inside out.
And now I know.
Now I understand why he's always grumpy.
He was forged in that voice.
Raised on that wrath.
I give him a sympathetic pat on the armā¦ and slip one of my teddy bears into his shopping bag.
For emotional support, obviously.
šŗ Dominic's POV:
Finally. After a full day of marathon madnessāalso known as babysitting a caffeinated vampire, dodging emotional damage, and surviving the Wrath of Motherā¢āwe're home.
Home.
God, I could cry.
But no. I'm a man. A tough guy. A wolf with pride.
So I hold it in. Barely.
The new bed and mattress arrive just as we step in. I drag them in, sign like a zombie, and then do what any sane creature would do: flop face-first onto the couch.
Oh. My. Spine.
Yes. Heaven is real and it's woven in this cushion.
I'm gonna pass out right here. Someone bury me in this position.
Meanwhile, Lean actually keeps his word for once.
He tiptoes around like a civilized human being (who knew), takes a quick shower, and comes out wearing one of the oversized round-neck shirts and floppy pajama pants we got today.
Still too pretty. Still vaguely sparkling.
We agreed we'll sort out his room tomorrowāhe can survive one more night on the couch.
I'm half-asleep, halfway to a dream where no one demands boba or teddy bearsā
And then he speaks.
Quiet. Neutral. Off-key from his usual chaos.
"Puppers," he says softly, "what day is it again?"
I blink, open one eye. "Uh. Seventh of December. Why?"
He's standing there with his hair towel-damp, looking likeā¦ something I can't name.
Not sad, exactly.
Not smiling either.
It's that weird expression people have when they've carried a heavy feeling so long it's part of them now. A soft kind of ache with a stitched-up smile over it.
"ā¦Can you lend me twenty bucks?" he asks, voice light. "I'll pay you back somehow."
That's it.
No explanation.
No boba tantrum.
Just a quiet request and that expression I've never seen on him before.
And I have no idea what just happenedā¦
But I hand him the twenty.
Without question.
**************************