Chapter Text
[Tuesday, November 6, 2018]
“You alright, man? You don’t look so hot,” David asked Blaine, as he approached him in the school parking lot before heading toward the building’s entrance.
Blaine grimaced before giving a curt nod. “Just tired.”
“Well, I was going to meet some of the other Warblers in the student café before Homeroom,” he replied. “Wanna come? Maybe some coffee will help wake you up?”
“Sure; sounds good,” Blaine answered.
While Blaine was feeling slightly worn down, tiredness was not his actual problem since his body technically didn’t need sleep. Mostly, he was feeling irritable, like his skin didn’t fit right; and the thoughts in his head felt muddled and disorganized. He knew that no amount of coffee would help him feel any better. The only two things that could help Blaine right now were blood and sex – both of which he’d been without for over 72 hours; but he couldn’t tell David that. No one at Dalton knew that Blaine was a vampire. Hell, no one at Dalton knew that vampires actually existed outside of books and movies. Unless you were a part of the supernatural community, vampires were just a myth – a myth that no one believed to be real.
Even though regular human food held no nutritional or beneficial value to a vampire, they were still able to eat and drink whatever they wanted. With the exception of blood and water, the venom in a vampire’s body would instantly disintegrate and dissolve any food or beverages that they consumed – making it almost as though they hadn’t eaten anything. Their bodies processed blood and water similarly to how a human’s body would process any food and beverages that they consumed. However, vampires usually avoided eating and drinking unless it was a necessity – usually so they could blend into their surroundings without causing suspicion – because a vampire’s taste buds were vastly different than a human’s. For a vampire, food and beverages were usually either extremely bland and chalk-like, or their flavor palates were overwhelmingly powerful and difficult to endure; human-food rarely ever had an enjoyable flavor.
Luckily for Blaine, plain coffee was a tolerable beverage. And while it would do nothing for him – or his lack of focus – he did enjoy the way the hot liquid felt gliding down his throat, as well as the social aspect that came with drinking with friends. It helped him to feel more human.
The boys walked into the café and greeted the two other Warblers – who were already seated at a table with their drinks and going over the homework that they needed to hand in today, checking for errors – before going up to the counter to order their drinks. “Hey, guys. What can I get for you today?” Jordan, the student barista, asked.
“Just a bottle of orange juice and a blueberry muffin please,” David replied.
After Jordan rang David up, he grabbed the bottle from the cooler and muffin from the display case then handed them to David with a smile. Then he turned to Blaine to get his order. “And for you?”
“Coffee,” he said, tiredly. “Medium drip. Black. Dash of cinnamon. Please.”
Jordan nodded his head, rang Blaine up, then stepped away from the counter to make Blaine’s drink. He was back again a few seconds later, empty handed. “Hey, uh, Blaine? Your coffee’s going to be another minute or two, is that okay?” he asked, apologetically. “I’ve been training the new kid, and he accidentally programmed the machine to flush out the coffee maker instead of setting it to brew a new pot. As soon as the clean cycle is finished, I’ll brew a fresh pot for you myself. It should only take a couple of minutes. You can go take a seat and I’ll have the newbie bring it over to you as soon as it’s ready.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Blaine agreed, then walked with David over to the table where Wes and Trent were sitting.
~*~
Kurt walked into the student café looking around anxiously. Today was his first day at Dalton, and though he knew this school was supposed to be safer than his last one, he was still wary of his other classmates. After everything he’d been through at McKinley, keeping his head on a swivel had become ingrained into him.
Homeroom would be starting soon, so most of the students had cleared out of the café and began heading toward their classrooms. Only two tables were still occupied; the rest of the café was empty. He hurried up to the counter, grateful there was no line, and ordered himself a nonfat mocha. Once he received his drink, he cautiously began looking around at all of the tables, wondering where to sit. He decided he’d sit at the empty table near the group of 4 boys loudly chatting about music – instead of near the boy sitting by himself engrossed in a book – hoping that he might be able to subtly interject himself into their conversation and make some new friends.
As he approached them, one of the boys looked up at him with a bright smile. The boy jumped up out of his seat and made his way toward Kurt. “That would be mine,” the boy told him, taking Kurt’s mocha out of his hand. He took a large swig of coffee, scrunched his face up in disgust while making a gagging sound, quickly popped the lid off the cup, and spit the coffee back into it. “Ugh! What is that? Why is there so much sugar and chocolate in there? That’s disgusting.”
“Excuse me!?” Kurt said, finally finding his voice after a moment of staring at the boy in shock. “This coffee’s not disgusting; you’re disgusting! There was absolutely no need for you to contaminate the drink with your backwash like that. And I happen to like the taste of sugar and chocolate in my coffee, thank you very much.”
“But I don’t.” The boy handed the coffee cup back to Kurt with one hand, while trying to wipe the taste off his tongue with his other. “Toss that and get me a regular black coffee; dash of cinnamon,” he said, dismissively.
Kurt huffed out, disbelieving. “If you want a black coffee, go get it yourself! I’m not your errand boy!”
“Listen. I’m not trying to be a pain here, but I’m not exactly in the best of moods right now; and this,” he pointed to the coffee cup he’d just handed to Kurt, “isn’t helping.”
“And how exactly is that my fault?” Kurt demanded.
The boy sighed loudly as he rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to argue with you. The bell is going to ring soon. Can you just go get me my coffee please?”
Kurt was shaking in anger and humiliation. “You want a coffee so bad? Here. Take this one!” Then he threw his tainted mocha at the boy and ran out of the café.
~*~
“Oh my god, Blaine, are you alright?” Trent asked, rushing over to Blaine with a handful of napkins.
Blaine looked down at his coffee stained uniform then at the door his assailant ran out of, feeling as though he’d both overlooked something vitally significant, and that he’d witnessed something extremely remarkable. He shook the feeling off, head too foggy to think properly, then took the offered napkins and began attempting to wipe the coffee off of himself before answering Trent. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” He sighed in frustration at the napkins’ inability to prevent his ruined wet uniform shirt from sticking to his skin before continuing, “I’ve got a spare uniform in my gym locker. I’m just going to go clean up and change. I’ll see ya in English later.”
Once in the locker room, Blaine quickly removed his soiled uniform, grateful that his vampiric nature meant he was not burned by the hot coffee that was thrown at him. He grabbed his body wash then walked over to the showers to clean up. As he stepped between two pony walls of the otherwise open communal-style shower, he heard a voice behind him. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Looks like today is my lucky day,” the voice purred, seductively. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a seat on this bench over here and enjoy the show.”
Blaine huffed in irritation, recognizing the voice; then turned on the water before spinning around to glare at the boy who spoke to him. Standing in front of him was Morgan Bellheimer, a fellow classmate that Blaine had hooked-up with once before. It had been just a quick exchange of blowjobs in a bathroom stall during the Homecoming Rally last year; but ever since, Morgan had been desperate for a repeat performance. Usually, Blaine brushed him off; because he had found out that Morgan was hoping for an exclusive relationship, and Blaine wasn’t the boyfriend-type, so he didn’t want to give Morgan any false hopes. But right now, Blaine was too desperate to care about any of that; especially with the way Morgan was staring at him.
Vampires need sex to survive. In a lot of ways, sex is like food to a vampire; only it satiates their emotional appetite, instead of their physical one. Essentially, a vampire should be engaging in sexual activity at least two to three times per day, in the same way that a human needs to eat two to three meals per day. Without sex, a vampire will become irritable and aggravated; their more sadistic instincts and behaviors begin to surface. Sex keeps the darker, more volatile temperaments at bay.
“Look, Morgan,” Blaine began, slowly, “I don’t know why you’re even in this locker room right now, but I just want to take my shower and get clean. And right now, I don’t have the patience for you to just sit there and watch me; I’m way too horny for that. So, if you’re not going to fuck me or suck me, then you need to get out of my face. Because today is not the day to play games with me. Just keep in mind that whatever you choose, it changes nothing between us.”
Morgan’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he quickly stripped out of his uniform, joining Blaine in the shower.
---
Blaine felt a little calmer and more relaxed after having been fucked in the shower, but he was still feeling slightly unsettled from the lack of blood he needed. Usually when he was this thirsty, he tried to avoid sex, because his inhibitions were lowered, and he didn’t want to unwittingly bite some unsuspecting human; which is why it had been so long since his last sexual encounter. Thankfully, he managed to hold himself together while Morgan fucked him up against the shower wall; partly due to the fact that he was facing away from Morgan the entire time and refusing to kiss him – much to Morgan’s dismay.
Blood was the one thing that could satiate a vampire’s physical appetite; give them the strength and nutrients they need for survival. It would vitalize their physical and mental state; banish the sluggishness from their mind and limbs; and bring their world back into focus.
Though it was possible for Blaine to have fed on Morgan – or really, anyone at all for that matter – without killing them, and then Compel them to forget it happened, Blaine took great pride in never having fed directly from a human before. Feeding from a human creates a temporary emotional bond with them that usually lasts for a few days; and Blaine didn’t like the idea of being emotionally manipulated by his food.
Luckily, he wasn’t the only vampire that felt that way; which is why there were thousands of vampire-run blood donation centers all over the world. These centers safely collected and preserved the blood that they received from human donors, then shipped those containers out to vampires who preferred not to hunt. Drinking blood after it had been separated from the source for more than 24 hours provided all the same benefits and nutrients that a vampire needed, without creating an emotional attachment.
On average, a vampire really only needs to consume about a pint of blood per week; but Blaine’s last shipment had been short a couple of pints, so it had been well-over a week since he’d last fed. When he first noticed the missing pints from the previous shipment, he mentally reviewed when his next shipment would come in, then calculated how long the supply would last before he began to actually feel the effects of his deprivation. He figured since it would only be approximately three days of side effects, he would not be drastically impacted and could wait until his next shipment arrived. That shipment was due in later this afternoon, just before school got out. Hopefully, his delivery would not be delayed, and his blood shipment would be waiting for him at home when he got there.
Finally dressed in a clean uniform, Blaine walked out of the locker room toward his classroom. The bell rang to signal the end of Homeroom, and Blaine made a mental note to stop in the office on his way to class so that he wouldn’t be marked down as truant or tardy for having missed his Homeroom period. As he walked past the bathroom, he thought he heard someone crying. It sounded like they were talking to someone, but Blaine could only hear half of the conversation. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but if this person needed help, Blaine didn’t want them to be alone; nor did he want to intrude if his presence would not be necessary or welcomed, so he paused outside the door to listen more intently to assess the situation before offering his assistance.
“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” the crying boy said. “He’s probably going to report me and then I’m going to be expelled. It’s only my first day here. I can’t get sent back to McKinley. I can’t. This place was supposed to be safe. I wasn’t supposed to get harassed here. But this…this…jackass just walks up to me in the café, steals my coffee right out of my hand, spits in it, then orders me to go and buy him a new one? That coffee was all I could afford to buy for my breakfast this morning – because our meal plan doesn’t work in the café and the cafeteria isn’t open until lunchtime; and he just took it from me, like I was his servant or something. I know I should’ve just walked away, but the way that he was talking down to me in front of everyone… I felt so humiliated. I tossed the coffee at him – cup and all. I came to this school to get away from homophobic bullies like him. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I’m going to get in trouble for this when I’m the victim. I’m sick of being the victim! I’m sick of being powerless! I should be able to stop stuff like this. I should be able to protect myself. It’s not fair that – ”
Blaine stopped listening as he stood outside the door in shock, trying to process the things that he just heard. That was the boy from the café; the one that threw his coffee on Blaine. He mentally reviewed their interaction from earlier, trying to make sense of everything. When he saw a boy that he didn’t recognize holding a coffee, looking around the room confused, and slowly heading in his direction, Blaine had just assumed that he was the new barista that Jordan mentioned would be bringing him his drink. He thought the boy was confused because he wasn’t sure who he should be bringing the coffee to. He didn’t realize that this kid didn’t work there; that he had walked into the café after him, and that the drink he was holding was one that he’d ordered – and paid for – for himself. No wonder he got so pissed at Blaine. “Fuck!” he hissed out, under his breath. If he had been properly fed, his reflexes and spatial awareness would have alerted him to the reality of the situation, and this never would have happened. Instead, he’d been walking through a hazy fog of malnourishment, causing him to make a grave error. The late bell rang, so Blaine hurried off to his first period class.