Vampirism | ✓

12 | Boyfriend Material

Haruto and I were talking about foreign movies through the phone one evening when he brought up German films. I mentioned not having watched many when I was growing up—removing the fine details like the fact it was the 1910s and 20s, and films being a widespread thing that you could access from the comfort of your home wasn't a thing yet.

"I watched a German film recently. It's a gay film, but it has a sad ending." He had paused as if thinking about what to say next. "Would you like to come over on Friday to watch it with me?"

Of course, I had said yes, and that was why at eight PM in the evening after work, I was standing in front of the door that led to Haruto's apartment. I had knocked a few times already and was waiting patiently as I clenched my fists and nibbled on my bottom lip. I had eaten at work—an abused greyhound that had been made to race on drugs like cocaine. I hadn't been hungry, but I had eaten just in case I found myself in a compromising position with Haruto. I didn't want to admit it but what Vincent had said was true. If anyone was a danger to Haruto, it was me, and I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I was the one who ate him.

Haruto had opened the door for me with a smile on his face before stepping aside and letting me walk into his apartment. It reminded me a lot of my own, but you could tell that someone lived in his. I could smell spices from the kitchen, and the finishing in the living room outdid mine by miles.

The television was on, and Haruto had put some snacks on the center table.

"You can have some water before we start," he said, walking over to the sofa before taking a seat. "You can use the bathroom too."

I nodded, taking off my shoes and removing my coat before heading to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I took some deep breaths before looking at my reflection in the mirror. There was a string of a memory dangling from the toothbrush holder. Haruto was bent over a sink and choking on pills. I looked away, disgusted at the growling in my stomach.

This was Haruto's house. I swallowed. One could tell.

I walked back to the living room and took a seat beside Haruto. He had turned off every light but one dim one to make the colors on the TV screen 'pop more' as he had put it.

The film was fine. Haruto concentrated on the subtitles while I concentrated on Haruto, letting myself take in his deep-set eyes and strong jawline. Towards the end, I moved my attention to the screen. It blacked out after the scene of the man crying in his car. The living room had become quiet, and Haruto had moved to rest his head on my shoulder as he touched my thigh and gave it a squeeze.

My heart was beating fast, and I tried my best to not let Haruto know that I was nervous because he had his head on my shoulder. His memories were getting on the sleeve of my shirt, and my neck. They rattled like rusted chains that were being oiled for the first time in years—he was remembering something. I could tell that he had something on his mind and wanted to talk about it.

"Wern," Haruto said, almost in a whisper. "Did you have issues when you came out?"

"No," I got out, answering Haruto's question. My mother had been killed by the man she loved, and I still was in the closet then—not because I was afraid, more so because I didn't feel like it was something worth announcing. I wasn't seeing anyone then, and in all my, one hundred and an added few years of my life, I have only really been attracted to three people. Two had been other vampires that I had dated briefly and parted ways with and there was Haruto.

"What about you?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. "Did you have any problems coming out?"

"No."