https://twitter.com/gatorix1/status/1045431467671736320

You'd think that, being a vampire, having a werewolf for a best friend would be weird. And you'd probably be right. But it's not for me.

Sometimes, I envy Keith's pack life. It'd be fun to have people to hunt with, people who're as close to you as siblings, closer because you're motherfucking wolves and that's pretty cool. The leader of Keith's pack is Shiro, the alpha, and Keith is the Beta, followed by a bunch of other wolves who I don't know as well.

Sometimes, when I'm hunting, I hear their howls and shiver. It's an eerie sound, but comforting in a way. Shiro always starts, a low, grumbling growl of a howl, and then Keith joins in, high and almost mournful, and then the rest of the pack. I always pause when I hear them. I silently congratulate them- I get nervous when Keith comes to school hungry when the pack doesn't find any food.

I hunt alone. It's not like I'm lonely- I always come home to my family (whose probably too big for their own good) but I think it would be fun to have a companion once in a while when I hunted. I convinced Keith to come with me once, but he looked like he was about to be sick when I drank from a rat from an alleyway in front of him, so I didn't ask him again.

I tried to hunt as far away from the woods as possible, as I didn't want the pack to come upon a deer that I'd already drained (awkward). That meant, however, that I had to hunt in the city, which was hard work.

As I jumped from rooftop to rooftop, eyes and ears sharp and alert, searching for food, I wondered if Keith would ever allow me to come on a hunt with the pack. Living off rats made me feel gross and cheap, and it was rare to find anything larger than that in the city. Birds were out of the question, plus they were basically all feathers anyway, bats were just as hard to catch and I felt bad since we're supposed to be similar, and fish blood from the pond just tasted nasty. So, rats it was.

"I'd kill for a deer right now," I muttered under my breath as I dropped into an alley to investigate, then chuckled at my own joke.

Of course, there were always humans.

But they were out of the question too. Went against my morals. My vampire morals. God, that was pathetic- every other vampire in the city drank from humans (not enough to kill, obviously).

I guess I just had a thing about it.

...

I woke up and barely made it to the bathroom before puking the contents of my stomach in the toilet. Repeatedly.

Mom came into the bathroom quickly, standing over me helplessly, patting my back and getting me a glass of water. I flushed the toilet before she could see the blood in it (only rat blood- I knew because a few spiky black rodent hairs came up too).

She helped me back to bed, mumbling something in Spanish, commanding me to stay in bed, running downstairs to get the thermometer, getting me more water... freaking out when my fever was 103.5, barely listening as I convinced her why I didn't need a hospital.

After a few minutes of bickering, she finally gave in. "Stay in bed," she told me sharply, her eyes narrowed. I nodded. I didn't have plans to disobey her- I felt like shit.

My fever went down a few degrees, but remained above 100 for the next few days. When I wasn't sleeping, I was drinking water or sipping broth or feeling nauseous. Actually, I felt nauseous constantly. I cursed the fucking rat I'd eaten. It probably had a virus or something.

Normally, with a few pints of blood, I'd be good as new, but my family didn't know I was a vampire so they weren't about to bring me blood. In fact, the only two people who knew were Lotor, the man who'd changed me (and the dominant vampire in the city), and Keith, naturally. Lotor certainly wasn't about to bring me blood and Keith was busy with school an pack stuff.

I'd have to get over this the normal, human way and sleep it off, but if I didn't get blood soon, I'd starve. I had to drink at least a little bit each day, at least one full meal every few days, or else my body would shut down. Worst case scenario, I'd wander the streets tomorrow night like a corpse and try to find something.

For now, I slept.

The next time I woke, I was being shaken.

"Lance! Lance, come on, wake up."

I opened my eyed groggily, sitting up, disoriented.

Keith's face swam in front of me, worried.

"Oh, hey," I whispered. My throat burned with thirst and I winced, coughing.

"You look awful," Keith informed me. My bedroom window was open and it was dark outside. I glanced at my clock- 11:43 p.m.

"Thanks," I chuckled, rolling my eyes. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt.

Keith leaned over me and turned on the lamp on my bedside table, illuminating my room with a dim, yellow glow.

"What happened?" Keith asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

I coughed again and reached for my water. Drinking it did nothing for my thirst. I rubbed my neck, eyebrows furrowed in pain. God, I needed to drink.

"Ate a bad rat. I'm sick."

"You haven't been in school for the past three days. I was worried."

"Yeah. Sick."

"Can I do anything?" Keith's concern made me feel a little better. I'd missed him.

"Got any spare rats?" I asked weakly, leaning back against my pillow and staring hopelessly at my ceiling. Keith leaned over me, making me meet his eyes.

"You're thirsty?" He asked quietly.

I nodded. "Duh. It's been three nights since I've last fed. I'm parched."

Keith day back. "Oh. Right. Yikes." He got uncomfortable when I talked about drinking. I didn't blame him.

"Yeah," I whispered, voice scratchy and hoarse. "Yikes."

Keith turned to look at me with a serious expression. "Do you need rats?"

I looked at him dubiously. "Not rats specifically. Why? Do you have a spare deer out there? A raccoon? I'd take anything right now. A fish, even." I paused. "No, nevermind, not a fish."

Keith bit his lip. "But anything with blood, right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much."

Keith pulled his legs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of me. Slowly, warily, he pulled off his shirt. I looked away, blushing. He was toned as fuck. And gorgeous.

"Drink from me, Lance."

I nearly choked. "What?!" I sputtered, them minded the volume of my voice and repeated it, whispering.

Keith fixed me with a serious gaze. "Drink. From. Me."

"No, Keith, seriously. I appreciate it, but I can't. You're... you. I'd feel awful."

"I'm asking you to. How different is it from drinking from a real wolf?"

"I never drink from wolves," I told him and a flash of appreciation graced his eyes. "And you're werewolf. And you're Keith. It's different."

Keith moved closer to me, leaning forward. My eyes flicked to his exposed neck. His smooth, pale skin. Completely unblemished. I looked away, but Keith had noticed how much it was effecting me. He moved closer still and I pulled up my legs to sit upright. "I can't," I said, my voice breaking. "Don't make me."

"I'm asking you to. I want you to get better." Keith's voice was low. "I don't know how else I can help you."

He looked so pretty in the lamplight. I was nearly salivating.

"How could you ever look at me the same way? How could you ever look at me without hating me?"

"I could never hate you," he murmured, and then, in a gentle motion, brought his hand to the back of my head and pulled my face to his neck. I heard his pulse. Felt the warmth of his body radiating off his skin. Heard his breath catch in his throat as my lips skimmed the dip where his neck met his shoulder.

I hesitated. I couldn't do this. I loved Keith. I loved him more than I should have. More than a best friend. Defeated, I lowered my head and kissed his neck.

Keith shivered. "Lance..." he whispered.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm in love with you."

Keith didn't speak. It was the truth. I pulled back. His eyes were unreadable. Finally, he knew.

Keith suddenly leaned forward and kissed my lips, not lingering, just a kiss. Nothing more. There were tears in his eyes but he blinked them back. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear that, Lance. But you realize that you need to drink from me now more than ever. I can't stand this. If you love me..."

"Don't," I pleaded, but he was leaning forward, wrapping his arms around my neck, pulling himself into my arms. He hugged me tightly and didn't let go. His warm skin on mine, his overwhelming scent of pine and wilderness overwhelming. The crook of his neck was right there.

I inhaled deeply. Do you trust me? The tips of my fangs resting on his skin, no pressure placed. Keith shuddered in my arms, his back arched.

I drank.