"I'll have a large caramel macchiato, with light ice, soy milk, extra whipped cream, and can you please use one of the big straws? The small ones are a real pain in the ass. I asked for a big straw last time and they still didn't give it to me, so make sure you get it right this time."
You're tempted to roll your eyes at her, but she seems like the type to complain to your manager. Getting fired isn't an option right now. Not until you finish paying Johnny back, at least.
"Of course," you say, offering a fake, sickeningly sweet smile. "I'll get that started for you right away."
She narrows her eyes at you, no doubt assuming that you'll manage to fuck it up somehow. Being a barista isn't all that bad in and of itself, but it's dealing with annoying ass customers that really makes for a tedious experience. Well, as long as you're getting paid, you can put up with pretty much anything. Hence the fact that you're selling your own blood.
You whip up the woman's order, get briefly bitched at because you apparently took 'too long', and when she finally walks out of the store, you sneakily flip up your middle finger.
Interactions like these are pretty standard in the service industry.
You're working the closing shift, which means it's late, and thankfully, not very many people are still coming in. You spend most of your time wiping the counters down and preparing to close up shop.
Just one more minute. Only one more minute, and then you can lock the doors, flip the closed sign over, and you're finally home free.
You're excited to go home and get some sleep. You've been running on fumes these past few days, even more so than usual. Having less blood in your body than normal isn't exactly doing wonders for your physical wellbeing.
But because your luck is nonexistent, of course, of fucking course a customer decides to walk in at the very last moment.
You grit your teeth. People like this are the absolute worst. They know not the meaning of shame.
A young man has just stepped inside. He's got soft, delicate features, and a somewhat distraught look in his eyes. He seems awfully skittish for some reason. Which is dumb, because if anyone ought to be unnerved right now, it's you, the person whose shift just got extended.
"Um," he calls out shakily. "You're still open... right?"
You have half a mind to turn him away, but since he looks pretty upset, you don't want to be the one to ruin his day even more.
"We're still open for a little bit longer," you concede. "Just tell me your order and I'll make it as fast as I can."
He exhales in relief. "Oh, th-thank you! I really appreciate it. Sorry for coming in so late. The other coffee shop I tried turned me away, so I had to go somewhere else..."
Turned him away? That doesn't exactly sound like something that would be allowed. Turned him away on the basis of what, exactly? Poor behavior?
"Did you do something to offend the people working there?" you can't help but frown, curious despite it not being any of your business.
He lowers his gaze to the ground. "I... guess you could say that. I made people uncomfortable just by being there. They told me I was scaring away all their customers. Even though I made sure to go in late, when not many people were around..."
He seems to be making a conscious effort not to move his mouth much as he speaks, but even so, for just a brief moment, you happen to spot them. His fangs.
Ah. He's a vampire.
You frown. Having already met two vampires and allowed them to drink your blood, it goes without saying that the novelty has kind of worn off. Still, not long ago, you might have been in the same boat as those other people, living in perpetual fear of vampires because you didn't know any better.
"They can't refuse to serve you just because you're a vampire," you say, and his shoulders jump slightly when he hears you use the term. "That's discrimination, and I'm pretty sure it's illegal. You could file a complaint against that establishment."
He furiously shakes his head. "N-No. I'm not trying to create any problems for anyone. It's fine. I know people can't help but be afraid. If I were in their position, I probably would be too. But... is it okay for me to be here? If you feel uncomfortable, I can leave right away."
"Of course not," you frown. "I would never make you leave."
"It's just that I noticed you seemed a bit upset when I walked in..."
You let out a sigh. "That's just because I was looking forward to going home, and you walked in right before closing hour. But now that I understand your circumstances, it makes sense. I'm not going to hold anything against you, so just try to relax, and let me know what you want me to make for you."
His expression brightens, and if that's all it takes to elicit a positive reaction out of him, you're starting to gain some valuable insight as to how vampires are treated around here.
"I just want a medium black coffee," he says.
A medium black coffee. Such a simple order, and to think that he had to jump through hoops to be able to get it.
You no longer hold any prejudice against vampires. They're just people, like everyone else. It's not like they chose to have to drink blood in order to survive. It's simply the way they were born, and there's nothing they can do to change it.
Besides, it's all thanks to vampires that you're able to keep up with Johnny's payments. Vampires are quite literally saving your life.
"There you go," you say, handing him the coffee. It was a breeze to make, and it hardly took any time either. It looks like you'll be out of here a lot faster than you thought.
The man stares at you for a few moments, but he isn't looking into your eyes. You don't realize what he's so fixated on until his lips finally curve into a smile.
"Um, thank you," he says. "I really appreciate it... [Name]."
Ah. He must have been looking at your name tag. You smile back at him, then lean over the counter slightly.
"It was my pleasure. And if you don't mind me asking, you are...?"
"Huh? Oh," he blinks. "E-Elliot. My name is Elliot."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Elliot. And don't worry. From now on, you can come to this store whenever you need some coffee. No one here will discriminate against you, and if I happen to be working a shift when you come in, maybe I can even hook you up with some free samples," you wink.
Elliot's smile grows even wider, and he frantically nods his head, unable to contain his excitement.
"Thank you!" he splutters. "Thank you so much!"
You can't help but chuckle. How adorable. It upsets you that he's being shunned, but not all humans are assholes, just like how not all vampires are bad. Hopefully he'll meet some nice people soon, and in the meantime, you'll happily serve him coffee whenever he wants.
Now, then. It's time to finish cleaning up and finally go home.
...
You're standing in front of an unfamiliar house, and for various reasons, you feel apprehensive.
This is the address he gave me. So, then... this is really happening.
Since you agreed to take Felix up on his offer, he's been messaging you and trying to set up a time for you to meet. You told him that you wouldn't be comfortable with disclosing where you live, and he agreed, saying that you were more than welcome to have these private visits at his house.
Ugh. Actually, calling them 'private visits' doesn't exactly sit right with you. It makes the whole thing sound a lot dirtier than it is.
You agreed to this, but even so, you're starting to get cold feet. Isn't this usually how people get murdered? And you're not referring to him being a vampire, you're referring to being a woman and walking straight into the home of a man you barely even know.
Selling your blood to him at Plasma Inc.'s headquarters is definitely safer, but then you remember the whole reason you agreed to this in the first place.
Double pay.
Fuck. The money is calling to you, and you know just how much of a difference that amount would make.
Which is why, even though your fight-or-flight instincts are kicking off, you ignore them and ring the doorbell.
Felix greets you with a sharp, ear-splitting grin, like always.
"[Name]!" he beams. "Come in! I'm so glad you're here. For a moment, I was actually worried you were going to stand me up, haha."
I thought about it.
You swallow your thoughts and instead nod. "Hello. You said I could come in, right?"
"Of course! Make yourself at home."
Felix smiles again and steps aside, granting you entry. You're not sure what he does for a living, and what kind of jobs are even available to vampires, considering Elliot struggled to be able to buy a goddamn cup of coffee, but if his house is any indication, then he's certainly not strapped for cash. It makes your cheap studio apartment look even worse than it actually is.
You wander off to the living room and instinctively grab a seat on the couch. You figure you'll be sitting down while he drinks your blood, like you usually do.
"Before we start," you suddenly say, "you're... not going to rip me off, are you? Drink my blood and then kick me out without paying me?"
Felix's brows skyrocket, and he lets out a gasp, visibly offended.
"I would never do that!" he insists. "I want to be able to keep drinking your blood, so why would I ruin all of that just to save money one time? I want this to be a recurring thing, not just a one-and-done."
Well, you suppose that makes sense. If he cons you, then no way in hell will you ever meet up with him again, and he seems to really like your blood. He would basically just be shooting himself in the foot.
You're going to get paid. That much seems to be a given. So, with all the bullshit out of the way... you suppose it's time to get started.
Felix sits down next to you, visibly eager. He's already reaching over to loosen the top of your shirt, but before he gets any closer, you quickly push him way.
"W-Wait," you blurt. "I'm not trying to bitch and whine, but... is it at all possible for you to be a bit more careful? It really hurt last time. I'll do it anyways, but if you're able to, just please. I would really appreciate it."
Xavier made it slightly more bearable, so surely, Felix is capable of doing the same.
Whether or not he cares enough to bother is a different matter entirely, though.
Felix smiles sweetly and rubs your shoulder. "Of course," he says, and you're not quite sure you like that lecherous look in his eyes. It's as if he's about to eat you up. Which, you suppose he is, but there's something much more ominous than the literal sense.
You decide to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your gut and turn away, granting him access to your neck.
"I'll be careful this time," Felix promises, and he wraps his arms around you before unhinging his jaw.
No matter how many times it happens, you doubt you'll ever be able to get used to this feeling. But at least it seems like Felix is trying to be gentler than he was before. The pain isn't anywhere near as unbearable, even though it still makes you sick to your stomach.
You close your eyes, and as always, wait for it to be over. Felix gasps for breath every so often, and you swear you hear him let out a groan of pleasure next to your ear.
It's okay. He'll be done soon. Any moment now.
...
Why isn't he done yet?
"Um," you grimace, trying to push him away. "I think that's enough. I'm starting to feel a bit faint. Please stop now."
But Felix doesn't stop. Instead, he pushes you down, making your back flatten against the cushions of the couch. He's bigger than you, and stronger too, so he's able to hold you in place without any problems.
It's then, as you feel the full weight of his body pressing down on you, that you realize just how fucking dangerous this is.
"Please," you plead. The pain in your neck is sharp and unrelenting, but above all else, you're scared. Why isn't he letting go? He's already taken more than enough blood. Your vision is starting to cloud over, and it feels like you've broken out into a cold sweat.
Felix is either so overwhelmed by his bloodthirst that he can't hear you, or worse yet, he simply doesn't care.
Either way, it doesn't matter.
You scream.
"Get the fuck off me!"
You manage to knee him in the stomach, and despite the fact that vampires have strong, resilient bodies, the act still makes him double over and let out a groan of discomfort.
While he falters, you hurry to roll onto the floor, then you pick yourself up as fast as possible.
You back into the nearest wall, lightheaded and terrified. You should be running away. You should be, but...
He still hasn't paid you yet.
"I-I'm sorry," Felix gasps. He stands up, and when he takes a step forward, you start shaking like a leaf in the wind. Guilt creeps onto his expression. "I don't... I'm not sure what came over me. I took things too far. I'm sorry, [Name]. I really, really am, and I promise it will never happen again."
You use a hand to brace yourself against the wall, still shaking. Fuck. You don't feel well. This bastard really drank too much of your blood. Any more, and it probably would've landed you in the hospital. Meeting up with him is way too fucking risky. Even if he says he wants to keep drinking your blood and seeing you regularly, there won't be any blood to drink if he drains you dry.
"Give me the money you promised," you seethe.
Felix nods hastily and pulls out a wad of bills from his wallet. He hands them to you, and you snap them up in the blink of an eye.
Then, you turn to leave.
"Wait," Felix protests. His lips are still painted red with your blood. "You're not... angry, are you? It was just a mistake. I got a little carried away. All you need to do is tell me to stop, alright? I promise I'll listen. This really won't ever happen again."
Bullshit.
You don't trust him. He clearly doesn't know how to hold back, and even though this would have been a sweet deal, you're not reckless enough to completely gamble your life away. You still have Xavier. And eventually, you'll probably meet another vampire client.
This guy is bad fucking news, and you want nothing to do with him.
"Goodbye," you breathe out. He tries to chase after you, but you to beat him to the door and run off into the dead of night.
"I'll call you!" Felix cries out. "We'll stay in touch, right?"
You don't respond.
...
You managed to pay Johnny back on time again. He seemed pleased with the fact that you've been maintaining a diligent schedule, which is probably why he hasn't been threatening to beat the shit out of you recently.
Thanks to selling your blood, you've got more money on hand than you've had in a very long time.
But as you will soon realize, this arrangement is far from sustainable.
"[Name], are you feeling okay? You don't look like you're well enough to be here..."
Your coworker, Caleb, offers you a concerned look. He's always been considerate to a fault, and while you appreciate his kindness, you don't exactly have a choice in the matter. Regardless of how you feel, you need the money. Selling your blood isn't enough to pay off your debt in full. It's only thanks to all your part-time jobs that you're still making the cut.
"I'm fine," you wave off, and needless to say, he doesn't look convinced. You do your best to ignore him and throw on your apron, hobbling weakly across the steel kitchen floor. Thankfully, this is your dishwashing job, so you won't have to interact with any customers. You really don't have the energy for that today.
"Okay, but make sure to take breaks," Caleb insists. "I'm worried that you might slip and get hurt if you're not careful."
"I promise I'll be fine. But thanks for worrying."
Taking breaks in the middle of your shift isn't an option. Your boss is a real piece of shit, and he already got mad at you for taking a breather once before, when you were worn-out after pulling two all-nighters in a row. If he catches you again, odds are, you'll be fired. The job of a dishwasher isn't exactly difficult to fill, and he'll readily give your spot to someone who doesn't slack off.
So, you put on your gloves, bow your head, and get to work. Since the task is so mindless and repetitive, it allows you to drift off and think of other, more entertaining things. Plus, the sound of the water faucet helps you fall into a steady rhythm, and it's soothing, in a way.
But today, you find yourself struggling to do something as simple as washing dishes. Your hands can't seem to stop shaking, and white spots repeatedly fade in and out of your vision. Something feels... off. Even your breathing seems to be getting shallower by the minute.
"Caleb," you mumble weakly. "I think... I might need to..."
You can't finish your sentence in time. Everything blurs, your legs go wobbly behind the knees, and soon enough, your head hits the ground.
The last thing you hear is Caleb screaming out your name.
...
Character appearances:
Elliot
Caleb