Chapter Text
Vampires. Repulsive, violent monsters with a thirst for blood and a quench for murder, leaving children, students, mothers – anyone they could sink their grimy claws into sprawled out cold and lifeless in the back of an alleyway.
Humans feared them and the supernatural hated them due to their immoral nature.
“Lovro, drink from the bunny.”
“I don’t want to! It’s still moving!” Lovro protested, despite his fangs sliding out from where they were sheathed, his nose catching the enticing fragrance of a blood source so, so close. His hands came up to cover his mouth, still refusing to give in to his animalistic instincts.
Jakov groaned, knowing this was a fight he’d lose, and released the terrified animal; the pair watching mournfully as it bounded quickly away into the distance. He turned back to Lovro, propping a disapproving hand on his hip.
He looked like Lovro’s mama.
“You’re going to end up killing yourself.”
Lovro shrugged, crossing his arms over himself instinctively.
“Better than killing something that didn’t ask for it.” Lovro hadn’t signed up to be a vampire the same way that that poor bunny hadn’t signed up to be a free meal. He wasn’t a good vampire, he knew this. He wasn’t even a good person if you asked him, but he refused to become someone who simply took and took without considering the life of another living being.
He brought his knees up to rest in front of his crossed arms, ignoring the feeling of dread that had been plaguing his body for weeks now. He supposed that was what tended to happened when you’ve been purposefully underfeeding yourself for months.
Mario, who had been watching the exchange from where he was sitting on the grass, shot Lovro a curious look. “When’s the next blood bag delivery?”
As part of ensuring vampires didn’t overpopulate the country, the government had begun a program where each vampire household – depending on the amount of residents – were supplied with blood bags of the already deceased from hospital morgues every week.
Each bag was filled with blood that tasted like chemicals and dirt, due to the medicine they had pumped in to try and save their lives, but they did the job. However, many chose to live off wildlife and the blood of willing donors.
The only reason Lovro hadn’t died again of hunger was because of said blood bags. He didn’t care about the taste, even if it had him crouched over a toilet seat most nights – convinced he was going to throw up even if he knew he biologically couldn’t anymore.
The one downside was that he felt he went through them far too quickly for what was such a limited stock. The last supply of 6 bags in total for him alone had lasted 3 days, Lovro’s ravenous hunger for something that would heal the emptiness he felt causing him to suffer through 3 days unfed.
He really hated past Lovro.
“Tomorrow.” He answered shortly, burying further into his jacket to avoid the interrogation. He wasn’t cold, he didn’t get cold. One of very few plus sides of being undead.
Mario sighed with an air of disappointment as he leaned backwards, laying down to bask in the rays of the sun, his eyelids fluttering shut. Mario was a werewolf, meaning that he shouldn’t even technically be friends with Jakov and Lovro. But he was the kind of guy who could make friends with a rock if given the opportunity, so the pair had let their prejudices fade into the background and gained one of their closest friends for it.
Jakov, who had clearly fed recently judging by the warm flush of his skin, had perched down to marinate in the sun next to Mario. He couldn’t feel the warmth like the werewolf could either, but he enjoyed the companionship was what claimed when Lovro had asked over a shared joint.
Vampires didn’t cook up in the sun. That was a myth spread by someone who had never met a vampire a day in their lives. All they felt was a little bit more sluggish depending on how replenished they were. Lovro didn’t want to risk it, so he had taken cover under the shade of a teetering black locust tree.
Jakov shot him a dirty look. “You better drink tomorrow, if you even make it. You look like a corpse.”
“Well…” Lovro hummed, tilting his head as if he was in deep thought.
“Shut up bro, you know what I mean.” Jakov flipped him off.
“I agree with Jakov.” Mario chimed in, forcing an eye open to peer at Lovro, who poked his tongue out at him in retaliation. “The only iron deficient vampire in school. In history, probably.” He chuckled, giving Jakov a lazy fistbump.
Lovro sighed, defeated. “I will, you two need to stop worrying. Can we change the subject to something that’s actually interesting? Like Jakov having a crush on a human? For the second time in a row?”
“Is it technically the second time if he never stopped liking her?” Mario added thoughtfully.
“Hey, her name is Eva and we’ve all been friends with her for ages. And also, no.” Jakov defended, weak. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends, right.” Lovro raised an eyebrow accusingly. “She lets you feed from her, and that’s platonic?”
Allowing a vampire to feed from you was one of the highest acts of trust you could be rewarded with, mostly reserved for lovers or immediate family.
Vampires couldn’t feed on other vampires without feeling sick though, so only families where one parent happened to be human could reap the benefits. It involved plenty of communication, contracts legally having to be signed by both parties as an act of insurance just in case it happened to go wrong in any capacity.
Lovro had heard tales where one party had agreed without a contract, only for them to be bled dry and left as a crumpled-up corpse in the streets – and without a legal agreement indicating that the act was even occurring in the first place, the crime couldn’t be linked back to the vampire, meaning no justice was ever found for the victim. That was when the government had issued mandatory contracts for consensual feeding, even if most didn’t abide and preferred to keep it verbal.
Eva and Jakov had signed the contracts, since it was both the smart and legal thing to do.
“Whatever, bro. You’re just hangry.” Jakov teased as he shoved Lovro gently. The action sent Lovro’s head spinning, but he couldn’t be bothered mentioning it. It would only send the two into a further spiral that Lovro was in immediate danger of dying, when he was fine. Peckish, at most.
Mario blinked, rising from his comfortable recline. “Speaking of food…”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go back to the cafeteria.” Lovro huffed, mustering all the energy he had within his spent bones to force himself into a standing position.
--
“The guys are back, everyone put your nudes away.” Vanessa remarked dryly, setting her phone down flat on the table.
The girls grinned in amusement, shuffling over in their seats to make room for the three before resuming their eating, chatting about their upcoming classes. Lovro mourned the days where he could dig into a kebab without hurling it back up.
“Tina, you don’t have to.” Mario teased, wrapping a broad arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek.
She rolled her eyes, though she was smiling, and promptly threw a grape at his head.
He caught it easily with his free hand – fuck his stupid reflexes, Lovro really wanted to see him hit by a grape – and stuck it in his mouth, crunching noisily. Tina’s nose scrunched up in distaste, before popping another grape into her mouth and chewing gracefully. Lovro truly had no idea how Mario had landed a fae, of all species, let alone Tina.
“Sorry about him. He was dropped on the head a lot as a baby.” Lovro shook his head solemnly. Jakov nodded in agreement, equally woeful. Vanessa looked like she believed them wholeheartedly.
The girls spared a giggle, before Eva pulled out her phone and scrolled up on her chats with Jakov, zooming in on a pixelated poster of a party. “So, back to what we were talking about since you guys decided to ditch. We were all invited tonight to this guy’s…”
Eva’s voice faded into the background as Lovro locked his vision on possibly the hottest guy he’d ever seen- no, see in his entire life. Short, tousled brunette hair that didn’t reach past his ears; taller than anyone he’d ever seen – maybe taller than even Lovro, who was a solid 5’11 on a bad day; with a brown, leather army jacket that hugged his broad frame deliciously. His eyes were an endless swirl of rich, syrupy honey that he would gladly overdose on, if given the chance. Could you overdose on honey? This guy was turning Lovro’s brain to absolute mush.
His lips were set into a firm line, and Lovro desperately wanted to know what they would look like kiss-swollen and red.
“Lovro?”
Those eyes landed on Lovro, widening a fraction in surprise – probably from being stared at, he thought dizzily – before Lovro could will himself to look away, and he froze.
“Lovro!”
Perfect. A distraction. He forced his gaze to turn away from the devastatingly attractive man before him. “Yes?”
“Jesus, man. You were eyefucking that poor guy so hard that I felt like I was interrupting something.” Jakov murmured, genuinely taken aback. “Who is he?”
Tina hummed, tilting her head to look past where Nora’s head was – Mario’s arm shifting with her – so she could peek a glimpse at the mystery man. She pondered for a minute, before shaking her head in disappointment. “I don’t know his name, sorry. All I know is that he’s new, and a werewolf. He doesn’t have any friends yet, for some reason. I guess it’s because he hasn’t joined the other werewolves yet.”
“Hexarella, can you find anything out about Lovro’s latest crush?” Jakov nudged Vanessa, who scowled at the nickname and flipped him off.
Lovro, for the first time in a long time, was grateful for his chronic underfeeding. He would’ve flushed the same hue as a tomato otherwise as he protested, “It’s not a crush! I just looked at him, can I not even look at people anymore?”
“No, but like. There were genuine stars in your eyes.” Eva remarked, a sly grin on her face.
“Not you too, Eva. No!” Lovro groaned, thumping his head against the metal table with a loud thud.
Nora, his saviour, gave him the kind of smile that settled you from deep in your bones like a hug from the sun itself. The side effects of being a guardian angel. “Guys, leave him alone. He just zoned out.”
Nix, who had been a frog the entire time, croaked in disagreement from where she perched on Vanessa’s shoulder.
“Fuck every single one of you. You’re all on my shitlist.” Lovro rose grumpily from his seat, flipping all of them off except for Vanessa, and Nora – who he nodded respectfully at. She was his only light in the eternal darkness.
Mario threw his hands up in confusion. “What did I do?”
“Exist. Bye, I have PE where I don’t have to face any of you losers.”
“I hope lover boy is in your class!” Jakov called out as Lovro stormed off.
--
Lovro felt like he was dying all over again.
PE hadn’t been his best subject even when he was freshly fed, so he couldn’t fathom why he had decided today would be the day to not sit it out, as he usually did. Maybe he thought somewhere in his hungry, blood-deprived brain, that he could channel the thoughts of mystery-boy out through his playing.
He didn’t have to breathe anymore, didn’t require it – but his poor brain couldn’t tell the difference between being starved of oxygen and being starved of blood, frantically pounding in his skull in a desperate beg for food, for blood.
Lovro had called it quits not even ten minutes into the game of volleyball the teacher – a mix between a zombie and a vampire with green hair, somehow – had arranged for them to play. His organs felt like they were gnashing against each other in an ugly dance for who could make him feel the worst, apparently, and he gave a half-hearted apology to the teacher before staggering out into an empty backroom where he knew he could sit down uninterrupted.
Five minutes turned into ten, ten turned into twenty, and soon he had lost track of how long he’d been sat heaving against a wall for some sort of pain relief. He couldn’t move, limbs weighed down by a mixture of exhaustion and pure hunger like he’d never felt before. He felt it in the swaying nausea wreaking havoc through his head; the trembling of his cold hands; his canines throbbing in his mouth without anywhere to sink them into.
The minuscule twitch of a bunny’s nose played in his mind over and over again, blood thrumming through its tiny, pathetic body. Blood he couldn’t have, wouldn’t let himself have.
Hunched over himself in the empty backrooms of a school gymnasium, he knew he was going to die. Again. Once wasn’t enough, apparently.
He didn’t even register the quiet creak of a door opening from behind him, followed by the thud of it shutting. Or the footsteps that gradually turned hurried heading towards him.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
Lovro couldn’t will the energy that it took to lift his head to check who it was, silently praying that they’d leave him to die alone. Nobody deserved to see this. A vampire’s death was painful, and ugly. “Go away,” he slurred, voice incomprehensible to even himself.
“Should I get help? What’s happening, do you need anything?”
He slouched further against the wall he had deemed his resting place now, heading coming to lean against his shoulder as his eyelids fluttered shut. At least someone would be able to tell the others that he was dead, he supposed. Despite the pain, he felt somewhat at peace.
Until he felt fingers pressing against his lips, intruding the privacy of his mouth so that they could run against the sharp canines of his teeth.
Lovro’s eyes shot open as fast as they could, which wasn’t very fast if he was honest with himself, to stare daggers at the clear disrespect of this brute when he was met with the same syrupy eyes he had caught himself fantasizing over just moments before.
Holy shit, it was mystery guy.
“Fuck. Vampire. I’m guessing you haven’t fed for a while?”
Lovro nodded, dazed. Was his mouth hanging open?
Mystery-insanely-handsome-gorgeous-beautiful-man sighed, seemingly at war with himself before quickly rolling up the sleeve of his jacket, placing his wrist directly infront of Lovro’s aching fangs. “Ok, drink now before it gets any worse.”
Lovro shook his head weakly, a sluggish hand coming to push away supermodel-attractive-guy’s wrist. He would never be so depraved as to drink from someone without thoroughly asking first, and he didn’t even know this guy’s name. He voiced that, but he couldn’t tell if the words even came out.
“I appreciate it. My name’s Ivan, and I’d really like it if you drank. Like, now. You look like you’re about to disintegrate.” He shoved his wrist back into its previous position, his free hand coming to gently restrain Lovro’s protesting ones.
Ivan. It suited him.
He shook his head again, leaning back against the wall. He couldn’t.
Ivan grumbled to himself under his breath, before bringing his wrist up to his own, equally sharp fangs.
Werewolf, he giggled to himself deliriously.
“You made me do this, remember that.” Was the only warning he got before Ivan dug his teeth into his own arm, eyebrows furrowing in discomfort before blood began to spill over his forearm, a tantalising hue of cherry-red marring the smooth, unblemished skin.
Ivan brought his wrist back up to Lovro’s mouth, and this time he couldn’t help himself. He'd hate himself for this later, but that was a future him problem.
Lovro couldn’t help the moan of ectasy as the first taste of blood hit his tongue, overpowering his tastebuds and providing, at last, some relief from the pain. Ivan, for the most part, didn’t react other than providing soft encouragements as Lovro took and took.
He felt greedy with the force of how badly he’d needed this.
It hadn’t been longer than five seconds before he forced himself to pull back, panting. He couldn’t take anymore, he’d hurt Ivan.
“Keep going, it’s okay. I have enough.” Ivan reassured, bringing a hand up to wipe at the corner of Lovro’s mouth delicately where the blood had spilt over.
Lovro was a weak man, what could he say. Weaker than usual, apparently. He slid his canines back into the already-carved incisions, which on their own made him feel a certain way. He had marked Ivan, an act saved for those of only the closest relationships.
It was a minute – Lovro had counted every second – before Ivan had coaxed him away from his wrist gently. Lovro sealed the wound shut with his saliva, making sure to swipe his tongue along the two teeth-sized holes to stem the bleeding. Magic spit, or whatever they called it.
Lovro felt better than he had in weeks, maybe years.
“Feel better?” Ivan prodded, pulling his sleeve back over and laying a hand on Lovro’s shoulder.
“Yeah. Um, I’m so sorry you had to do... any of that. I don’t know what happened.” Lovro muttered, bringing his palm up to cover his bloodstained mouth in shame.
Ivan laughed, getting to his feet and offering Lovro a helping hand up. “It’s okay. That’s one way to skip introductions. Come on, I’ll take you to the sickbay.”
Lovro flushed, was surprised that he was even able to, and took the outstretched hand with just a little hesitation. “Thanks.”
That was certainly one way to meet your hallway crush, he supposed.
--
Lovro hadn’t realised that he’d forgotten to ask for Ivan’s number until he had woken up from a nap – that he didn’t need but took out of habit – in a frantic state, dashing for his phone which was nestled in the front pocket of his bag. He had to tell Eva about this.
His hand landed on a piece of paper he most certainly did not recall putting there, and he pulled it out slowly.
It was a pencil-sketched drawing of him, he guessed, looking off to the side with a pensive expression. It was beautiful.
He flipped it over, bemused.
LOVRO,
HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER. MY NUMBER: XXXX-XXXX-XXXX. CALL IF U NEED ANYTHING
IVAN
Huh. He’d never told Ivan his name, had he?
Lovro grinned manically to himself. Maybe, everything was looking up after all.