Chapter Text
The meaning of the word “home” was always important. Home is where your family is, where you’re the most comfortable, surrounded by warmth and little things you bought across the years to make it look like it’s yours. Where it’s okay to walk barefooted, to wear only your pyjama bottoms or to eat a spoonful of mayo straight from the jar.
Who the hell does that?
A home is a number of points, lines, planes and angles, with width, length and depth, taking up physical space in some suburban neighbourhood, an apartment, or a cul-de-sac. It’s a roof over your head.
Home is where you’re headed after a long day and where you remain until you’re rested enough to get out again. It’s where your favourite soaps, shampoos and shower gels are lined-up on the edge of the tub, where you don’t have to bother to remove the hair from the drain. Where the trash piles up until the smell contaminates most of the kitchen and you actually decide to take it out.
It’s you, removing your shoes by the entrance so you won’t mud the piece of tapestry you bought for the hall, it’s food on your fridge and on your kitchen counter, in your oven and on your table. A bed, with nice sheets, and if they’re not so nice, there’s at least a blanket to keep you tucked in, and if not, there may even be someone next to you who doesn’t need to assure you that they’ll be there tomorrow because you know they will.
But there’s no such thing as home anymore. Not when you’re dead.
Dramatics aside, I should say that I don’t really miss my old home. I barely think of it. Of my shoes by the door, my waffle machine, the toilet flush that always gave me a hard time in the morning.
I sure as hell don’t miss Adam--
“Who’s Adam?” Keith demanded in a harsh tone he couldn’t control, clearing his throat right after instead of voicing an apology.
Across from him, crossed legged in ripped jeans and leather jacket, sat the first vampire he had ever met. Shiro, he said his name was, and he was nothing like the stereotypical Dracula pop culture prepared anyone for. Any other night, he could be just some ripped hot dude at the door of a night club, but at that moment, he was the only person who could help Keith.
“You wanted to know more about us, isn’t that right, Fledgling?”
“Yes--”
“Then keep reading,” each syllable was a sharp reminder for Keith to know his place; he didn’t yet, in fact, but he was about to learn it, “Adam is... besides the point. Carry on.”
Keith’s tongue weighed on his mouth as he tried to move it around the words he whispered, the journal in his hands a fountain of knowledge. Everyone around him in this new version of life seemed to know more about being a vampire than he did, so he ought to take in whatever he could if survival was in order.
If anything comes close to being home any more, it’s the Haven. More of a hideout than a place of comfort, a secret location where you can retreat to during daylight or work from during the night.
As I’ve learned so far, a haven can range from a luxury penthouse downtown to a sleeping bag under the bridge, so long as, by necessity, the location remains a secret.
Your new “home” should be your private domain where maybe, and just maybe , you can be safe.
“So…” Keith concluded, closing the journal after the first entry was done being read. “Basically, I need to find a place to stay.”
“That’s correct,” Shiro peeked at his wrist, and the vague silver glistening gave Keith the idea that he was checking the time. “Dawn is in approximately forty minutes, so we’ll have to leave the search for tomorrow night. It’s been a long night for you, so you may stay here.”
“With you?”
He smiled, and there was nothing warm in that room, or in that whole fucked up night, but that smile, “In the vicinity, yes. There’s a room I’ve been using as some sort of study. It has a couch that should fix you up for the day.”
Keith was instructed to follow Shiro down the hall, old and time-dried carpet practically cracking under his boots, faded portraits just barely hanging on the wallpaper-stripped walls. Said study was the first door to the left and, inside, a mess of manuscripts and books towered over what should be a table or a desk, a couch against the wall, the windows sealed tightly with layers of cardboard and strong cable tape.
His hand, fingerless glove, rested on the cardboard. It felt cold like everything else did. He didn’t suppose he could go out in the morning, not anymore, but he refrained from asking futile questions.
“Night begins at nine,” Shiro said, tucking a few of the papers and a book under his arm, “I’ll knock on your door to wake you up, so sleep as much as you can until then. We’ve much to do. Alright?”
“Yeah…”
“There’s a blanket on the sofa, though it won’t do you much about the cold. You’ll get used to it in time. You definitely won’t need the bathroom either, but that’s two doors down if you want to find out by yourself. About hunger, you should be good for a couple of days at least. So if that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”
“Shiro?”
“Yes?”
Nearly twenty-four hours ago, Keith wasn’t aware of this parallel reality; a world that functioned at night, fueled and ruled by creatures he had only read about in comic books or seen in movies.
Twenty-four hours ago, his week-day alarm was about to go off. He would go for a jog, come back home to shower and get ready for classes. Pass by the Lion’s Caffe on the way to campus for a latte and a toast. Later in the evening, he would maybe make use of his UberEats promotion code, which was about to expire, and order himself some junk. Catch up on homework, play some videogames or read a book and feel the weight of the day tiring him enough to make him go to bed.
Yet again, twenty-four hours ago, he wasn’t dead.
“Uh. I mean. I guess… Thanks?” He staggered when he saw the other man lift an eyebrow, “I know that weird woman kinda pinned me on you, and you probably have more… vampire things to attend to, like, I don’t know, drink blood and avoid garlic--”
“Keith,” the sharpness of that voice ought to be criminal, attempted murder with a knife on his throat. “It’s my pleasure to help. Plus, you’re not staying for free; I intend to make you pay for your stay. I’ll tell you more about that tomorrow. For now… Rest.”
In a cold, strange room, in the distance between the sunproof window and the door where the other man stood, Keith found a hint of comfort he didn’t expect. He had so many questions he couldn’t work his tongue around them, a type of exhaustion he hadn’t felt before taking over him.
Rest , Shiro had said. And he had said it with a spell. The door closed, and his body immediately slumped down on the couch.
Rest… Yes, he could use some of that.