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kirigaya-art · 5 years

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First Time

I deliberated a lot with myself before posting this. The death of an animal is a key event but is not described. Please be careful.

***

Simon

“Baz?” I asked.

He looked up, startled. It was rare to catch him off-guard, so I took a moment to appreciate his raised eyebrows (both of them for once) and the small “o” of his mouth.

He recovered quickly. “Were you going to ask me something, Snow?”

I grinned. Some part of me liked hearing him call me by my last name. Sure, it was strange for a boyfriend, but it made it feel like more than snogging. Like our old bickering with a pleasant twist.

“Whatcha reading?” I asked, pointing to the book in his hands.

He glanced down at it, and a bit of colour reached his face (which was as rare as surprising him. Maybe the two events were correlated). He turned the book so I could read its title.

Vampiric Tendencies.

“Is that the one Nico gave you?” I asked.

He pursed his lips and nodded.

I smiled. He was still so quiet about it, even though Penny and I knew. After years of hiding it, I wasn't really surprised. Still, I hoped getting a little more information on it all would make him less closed off. (I always found it helpful to have things explained logically to me in therapy, step-by-step. It helped me work through things more easily.)

“Mind if I read over your shoulder?”

He paused, looking down at the book. Back up to me. He shifted his body so his back was facing me, propping his legs up on the stretch of the futon, and rested his head on my shoulder. I giggled and put a hand on his hip, leaning forward to read.

Chapter 1: Turning

“Oh!” I said, surprised. “You just started?”

He nodded again.

“I thought you got this a week ago.”

He cleared his throat. “I guess I was scared to start.”

I squeezed his waist, and he laughed. It sounded a bit forced, but I didn't push him.

Chapter 1: Turning

Before a vampire is a vampire, they must be Turned. The process is painful and can be traumatizing for the victim, literally killing and reanimating them. The Turning can only be achieved through an existing vampire's bite with extended fangs. There must be enough venom to travel to the victim's heart. If the vampire attempts to drain the victim, thereby drinking their own venom-- which is harmless to already-Turned vampires-- the victim will be unaffected.

As we kept reading, I couldn't imagine Baz going through the painful processes described, especially at only four or five years old. It only gave me more reason to respect him.

Every few minutes, Baz glanced back at me to check if I was ready for him to turn the page. It took me about half a second more than him, but he waited patiently. If we had still been in school, he would have made me cry with his teasing already.

Eventually, he turned the page to reveal Chapter 2: Awakening.

“Do you want to take a break?” I asked.

“No, it's alright,” he murmured. “I'm not tired.”

I played with the belt loops on his trousers as I read.

Chapter 2: Awakening

Once a vampire is Turned, their new instincts and abilities will manifest. If the victim was Turned before puberty, they won't awaken until then. If the victim is older, they will awaken immediately on gaining consciousness from the Turning.

“Puberty?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Baz hummed in agreement. “I figured it was something like that. An age or maturity rule.”

I grinned teasingly. “Don't tell me. You noticed your first chest hair and a second later your fangs popped.”

I expected him to blush or argue with me. He ducked his head, looking a bit paler than usual. “Something like that.”

My smile fell. “I was just joking.”

He worried his lip between his teeth thoughtfully.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” I asked hesitantly.

He sighed and closed the book on his thumb so he wouldn’t lose his page.

Baz

I would never forget that day. In some ways, it messed me up more than being Turned-- at least I couldn't remember being bitten very clearly, since I was so young. But this…

I was fourteen. It was the summer after fourth year, and I was on top of the world. Snow was even more of a moron that year, somehow, and sometimes I even forgot how crushing it was to love him.

That morning-- June 8th, bright and golden and the epitome of summer-- I woke feeling refreshed. I sauntered to my wardrobe, in no hurry to pick something out. I had nothing to do, no chores or homework or Snow to annoy me. So I took my time. I eventually decided on a nice dress shirt, button-down and clean white. It breathed easily and went well with practically any pair of trousers, so I indulged myself.

I lounged about my room for a few minutes, reminding myself that it was, in fact, my room-- all mine, no whinging about “your side” and “my side.” I practiced a few spells I'd been studying that week, successfully changing the patterns of my bed curtains several times. I considered leaving them rainbow-striped, but I thought that was pushing it. I settled on plaid and waited for my father to throw a hissy fit when he saw how badly it clashed with the Victorian era decor in the rest of the room.

I could smell breakfast, so I stepped into the dining hall. My father was sitting at the head of the table. He was dressed as poshly as ever, even though I knew he didn't have anyone to see or anywhere to be. No one else was in the room. Daphne must not have been awake yet, and if Daphne wasn't awake then magic knows Mordelia wasn’t awake either.

I walked up to the table, standing directly across from my father. I adjusted the cuffs on my sleeves, just barely quirked my lip up in a faux smile, and said, “Hullo.”

My voice cracked.

Neither of us spoke, the awful sound of it hanging in our ears as we stared at each other, red in the face. Or rather, he was red in the face-- I suddenly couldn't muster a blush. Either way, my eyes were quite wide.

“Um.” Somehow, it was less awkward before I'd spoken. “I-- I'm sorry.” Crowley, it wasn't like me to stammer. “That is--”

My teeth exploded. Because the universe hates me.

He gaped, his expression a mix between horror and fear.

I wasn't sure what to do at first, one hand clapped clumsily over my lips to try and hide the new knives fighting their way free. I nearly opened my mouth to say something else, but considering how well it had gone for me the past two times, I just clamped my jaw shut, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Finally, I turned and ran from the room.

The moment the door closed behind me, a weight I hadn't noticed lifted from my shoulders, and I realised I'd been holding my breath. For a millisecond, I was confused as to why, but something in my stomach rumbled to life, and I was nearly sick-- not that anything would have come up, since I hadn't eaten breakfast.

My stomach was happy to let me know that breakfast wasn't the only thing I could have sunk my teeth into.

I dropped my hand from my mouth, clutching the front of my shirt. The hunger was more than just hunger. It was like I was being destroyed from the inside out, like if I didn't give in and eat something, I'd be devoured instead. The heat of it licked at my insides, and for a moment I panicked that I'd be burned alive, crumbling to ashy remains from starvation alone.

“Basil leaf?”

I looked up and met Mordelia's questioning gaze. My stomach rumbled again. I turned the other way and ran.

I skidded down the halls of the mansion, searching desperately for an exit as far from the bedrooms as possible. Finally, I spotted a set of doors at the end of the East wing. I threw myself down the hall, practically flying through the air. Please make it. Please make it.

I flung the doors open, and the left one made a horrible crunching noise-- it was later replaced after becoming stuck several times. I nearly tripped coming down the steps, and caught myself on the guardrail before slamming the doors behind me. Now that I was outside, I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore, and they were hot on my freezing skin.

I ran out into the forest. I’d never done it before, but I didn’t have time to stop and think. I pushed past shrubbery and branches, stampeding through the immense space. Under the canopy, everything took on a green hue.

After a few minutes, I slowed to a jog, panting. I glanced around and found a few pairs of eyes looking back. The animals must have been scared off by my frantic stampeding about, but now that I was slower and quieter they started to poke out their heads from trees and tall grass. I was surprised at just how many creatures lived there-- deer, rabbits, squirrels, seemingly dozens of types of birds. They watched as I moved towards a small clearing ahead, but stayed at a significant distance.

I stepped out into the clearing and wiped a few tears from my chin before they fell. The sun was at just the right angle to blind me, and I squawked, throwing a hand up. I started crying harder, ducking my head.

It was then that I finally let myself think about what was really happening. Here I was, out in the woods around my house, with a mouth full of fangs. I wasn’t sure why they’d come out, or why now, or how they would go back to normal. My heart skipped a beat-- what if they never did go back to normal? Surely vampires-- because that was what I was, a vampire, a monster-- didn’t always go about with their fangs out. But really, that was the issue, wasn’t it? I didn’t know what the fuck I was meant to be doing.

I fell to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. What if I couldn’t figure this out? What if I could never go home, because I’d be so overtaken by hunger that just seeing a human would make me lose it? What if I really did kill someone?

Something brushed against my knee, and I jumped, eyes flying open. A small white rabbit sat in front of me, its fluffy cheek pressed to my tear-soaked trousers. I cracked a smile, hiccuping as I leaned down to pet it. I hesitated before slipping my hands under it, gently lifting it. It didn’t struggle or hop away, just waited patiently as I raised it to chest level.

The rabbit seemed sent by Merlin himself-- a little companion to sit with me when I felt most alone. Its fur was soft on my rough palms, and it was so quiet and calm, and it fit perfectly in my hands, and it tasted so sweet--

I froze mid-swallow.

Part of me-- a large part of me-- wanted to scream and cry and throw the poor thing straight across the clearing, to get it as far away from me as possible. But I recognised that if I did that, I’d have killed in vain. As awful as it felt to continue, I wasn’t going to waste its sacrifice, not when it had come up to me so willingly. Not when I’d already committed the worst possible crime.

It took me nearly an hour to recover after I’d finished, sobbing to myself. I stood with shaking legs and turned myself around. I had no idea where I was, since I’d never been into the forest before, but I would be sick if I stayed there any longer, so I walked in the direction that seemed right. After another half an hour, I stumbled up to the East wing doors.

I was a lot more sluggish now, not throwing open the doors but gently pushing them and peeking through the gap first. I had to fight a bit with the left door.

I lurched down the halls, unsure where exactly I was expecting to go. I supposed I didn’t need to go back and eat breakfast, though I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. Either way, I’d lost my appetite. The best thing, for now, seemed to be heading back to my bedroom. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. And a shower wouldn’t hurt. I sighed, reaching for the doorknob.

“Basilton.”

I turned to face him on instinct and immediately regretted it when I saw my father’s expression contort.

“Your shirt.”

I looked down and had to stop myself from retching. My shirt wasn’t drenched per se, but I’d made a mess. The blood seemed even darker against the white fabric. It was generally splattered across, but there were also two clear lines down the front. I was confused at first, then reached up and swiped at one of the corners of my mouth with the back of a hand.

“Oh,” I whispered. I looked up again and met his eyes.

He stared me down for several seconds. Then he turned his head, unable to keep looking.

I waited for him to call me a murderer, or ask if it had been human, or kick me out of the house, or set me aflame.

“Wash up before dinner.”

Simon

I gaped, mouth hanging open. He wouldn’t look at me, still staring at the book’s cover. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to say something. Really, what was there to say? I’m sorry? But it wasn’t my fault. That’s awful? He knew that already.

“Thank you,” I decided.

He started a bit, looking back at me for the first time since he’d started recounting the story. “Thank you?”

“Thank you for… trusting me enough to talk about something so personal.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Thank you for listening.”

I smiled, despite everything I’d just heard. “I’m always here for you, love. You know that, don’t you?”

He sat up, turning to face me. He leaned close and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” I whispered. “I love you. No matter what.”

His smile was pained. “Even if I’m a monster?”

“You’re not a monster.” I took his hands in my own. “You’re just a boy.”

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