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Andrew Minyard was pretty sure there was some freakish, paranormal creature that even the supernatural world had never heard of squatting in Hotel Transylvania. He had reasons for this belief, bulleted and itemized:
- The day that Andrew and Aaron checked in, after seven years of the same boring process, Wymack had given them their keys, grimaced, stated let me know if you see anything… strange and then refused to elaborate any more. Even when Andrew bared his fangs. Strange was interesting, considering the man literally ran a hotel for the paranormal and-- judged from the outside world-- everyone who stayed there could be considered more than a few degrees above strange.
- Kevin– Wymack’s son, fellow werewolf, hotel-owner-in-training, and all around obnoxious (unfortunately) hot mess– finally broke under Andrew’s interrogation the second day (interrogation method: staring at him silently till he broke). Kevin reported that there was a stowaway in the hotel that no one could find, which was unsettling considering the hotel was stuffed full of creatures with enhanced senses.
- According to Kevin’s reports: Thing (which everyone had taken to calling the stowaway) was never sighted by anyone except in brief glimpses, swept and straightened the entire lobby floor every day, stole food here and there from the kitchen, and was fast enough to never be caught.
- Thing was either the cause of many strange occurrences, like multiple books on the community bookshelves appeared dog-eared and cracked (Thing was a heathen), or Thing had become the scapegoat for all guests and staff– my computer crashed? It must be Thing!
- No matter how much Andrew tapped into his enhanced senses, he couldn’t hear or smell Thing.
Those were only the top five reasons, and Andrew had a list of thirty-five. Number thirty-six was about to be shortly added.
“--it’s even color-coded and alphabetized!” Nicky was saying, hands waving wildly and apron askew. “Who does that?”
“Thing,” Everyone in the kitchen responded. Andrew was embarrassed to be one of them.
“When did he even do it?” Nicky stressed. “Me and Eric have been in here practically all night for that ghoul’s wedding today.”
Dan, the manager of the hotel even though Kevin tried to pretend otherwise, floated over to Nicky and attempted to settle his excited nerves. Andrew wasn’t sure what about a ghost was comforting, but apparently her tactics worked well enough. Andrew ignored them and Kevin, wandering over to the pantry and poking open the door slightly. Nicky was right– everything was perfectly organized, far more than it ever was under Nicky’s command.
Nicky had become head chef at the hotel restaurant seven years ago, and Andrew and Aaron had been visiting on and off for months at a time since. Wymack would try to claim they were all part of his pack. Andrew stole all of Wymack’s liquor for that offense.
Hotel Transylvania wasn’t the worst place to be, anyhow. Not that Andrew would ever admit it. The hotel was only slightly less boring than everywhere else, and the arrival of Thing… well, even Andrew had to concede it was the slightest bit interesting.
Only slightly, though.
“This has to stop,” Kevin said grandly. “This– this Thing can’t just waltz into my hotel–”
“Not yours,” Dan, Nicky, and Andrew said at the same time. Andrew huffed.
“The hotel,” Kevin continued, “And– and–”
“Provide free labor?” Andrew offered boredly.
Kevin shot him a dark look.
“You could try and help, you know.”
“On my vacation?” Andrew asked, but his flat tone didn’t exactly convey the innocence. “Besides, if your nose can’t do it…”
Andrew let the sentence trail off, too lazy to finish it. It was well-known that werewolves had the superior sense of smell, and vampires had the superior hearing. If Kevin couldn’t sniff him out, Andrew would hardly be able to.
“He is stealing food,” Dan added, but even she seemed unconcerned about it.
“This needs to stop,” Kevin said staunchly. “Now.”
—---------------------
It did not stop, because contrary to Kevin’s belief, the laws of the universe did not bend at his command. It was mildly entertaining watching him try, though.
When Andrew had first started coming to the hotel, he had been attracted to Kevin with his tall frame and dark waves. Then the man had opened his mouth, and sadly, he had become Andrew’s best friend instead. It was impossible to be attracted to the man after watching him sob and cry himself drunk over his abusive asshole ex for what felt like two years straight.
Andrew lazed back on the pool lounger, a glass of blood in one hand. One of the perks of Hotel Transylvania– easy access to what he needed. Although, bagged blood tasted like what Andrew imagined stale crackers to taste like, but he hardly trusted anyone enough to get close enough to bite.
Maybe he would visit Roland later. The elf at least allowed cuffs around his wrist.
Matt came bounding up, clad in only a pair of short swim shorts and a pink boa scarf, his expression hopeful.
“Are you sure y’all don’t want to join?”
Aaron barely looked up from his medical textbook. “I’d rather have all my toenails pulled off, thanks.”
Matt’s gaze shifted to Andrew. Andrew bared his fangs in a lazy snarl.
“You two are the worst,” he complained. “My events are fun– I swear.”
Matt was the Event Coordinator at the hotel, a role that seemed entirely suited to his annoyingly boundless energy and optimism. Andrew couldn’t understand going on a vacation and wanting to do activities. He barely even liked watching them. But already a group of supernaturals was gathering in the pool, excited for their aerobics class.
Matt bounded back over to them and clapped his hands.
“Ok– I’m going to start the jets up for some water pressure, and then we can–” Matt clicked a button on the side of the pool and his jaw immediately dropped.
Bubbles began filling the pool at a rapid rate, almost like watching a fragile avalanche overtake all the supernaturals in the water. There were some shrieks, some laughter, supernaturals grabbing the bubbles up and throwing it in each other’s faces. Basically: chaos.
Matt dropped to his knees, lifted his face to the sky, and wailed– “THING!”
Andrew sipped his blood. If there was a slight smile gracing his lips– well, no one was paying attention to him anyway.
—--------------------
When Nicky had initially started working at Hotel Transylvania, he wanted Andrew and Aaron to join him on staff as well. But Aaron had dreams of becoming a doctor (plus, limitless access to blood bags) and Andrew had no desire to work at all. He didn’t murder their abusive heiress mother for nothing, and the life insurance payout meant Andrew could coast for the rest of his life.
Did he want something to live for?
Did he want a purpose?
Those were questions for someone who actually cared, and Andrew hadn’t in awhile. He traveled the world instead. Fucked random people. Sucked the blood of those who were kinky (and discreet) enough. Sometimes he idly wrote. Other times he stayed in one of his apartments and didn’t leave the bed for months.
Hotel Transylvania was a haven for supernaturals, a place where they didn’t have to hide themselves from humans. But Andrew’s issue had never been humans, and Hotel Transylvania was just another place on the map.
Sometimes, when Andrew felt especially dark, he would wonder what the point of him sticking around even was. He had kept his deal to Aaron and protected him from their mother. He had ensured Kevin didn’t go back to his asshole ex. He had no promises anymore. No deals.
Nothing.
Andrew had always wanted nothing, and now that’s what he had.
It felt hollow.
—-------------
Andrew caught his first glimpse of Thing three weeks into his stay. It was 3AM and a nightmare had woken him up, so he was wandering the halls. Wymack had decorated the hotel in lavish red velvet and gold trim, and Andrew was running his hand idly through the curtains.
He turned into the lobby, no real destination in mind, when it happened.
The broom clattered to the ground, Andrew caught a flash of auburn and tanned skin, and then– Thing was darting around the corner. Andrew didn’t waste any time, and if anyone asked him later, he would stubbornly refuse that he had run. Andrew didn’t run for anything.
Except–
Andrew ran, using his enhanced speed, and was around that corner in less then five seconds. No Thing. Just another empty hallway.
Andrew inhaled deeply, but there wasn’t even a supernatural scent that he could identify. Whatever Thing was, he was something truly horrendous and novel. Something neither the hotel or Andrew had ever encountered before.
Andrew hated that he wanted to know more.
—----------
Andrew had a plan.
Growing up the way he had, it had been important to notice details. Seeing a coat hanging on the hook could mean the difference between being mentally prepared for Drake to enter his room that night or being totally blindsided. Details were important. Details were how you survived.
Which was why Andrew stole every single pack of Cheez-Itz the hotel had.
The smoke from his cigarette drifted into the frigid air. Technically, Andrew wasn’t allowed up on the roof. Technically, he was also not allowed to completely clear out the hotel Cheez-It stock.
A single pack sat on a plate behind him, as it had for the past two nights he did this.
Unlike the past two nights, Andrew heard a subtle scrape. Barely there. Blink and you miss it. But Andrew wasn’t blinking, and he wasn’t missing anything.
“They seem to be your favorite,” Andrew said blandly, not looking behind him. “Go ahead.”
Another scrape that could have been mistaken for the howling of the wind. Whatever type of creature Thing was– he was quiet. Abnormally so.
“I won’t bite,” Andrew said, drolly amused at his own joke. He took another long drag of his cigarette. There were no new noises as Andrew finished his cigarette, and he felt something unfamiliar twine through his chest. Maybe the scrapes had been the wind. Maybe Thing had never been there, and Andrew had been talking to himself.
Except, when Andrew turned around, the Cheez-Itz were gone.
It was official.
Andrew hated Thing.
—----------
Another night, another pack of disgustingly cheesy snacks. Andrew felt like he was tempting a stray cat, except Andrew hated that comparison because what did you do with a stray cat you fed?
You kept it.
Andrew did not want to keep Thing.
He wanted to find out what Thing was, the pieces that made him up, and then tear him apart and let this interest fizzling in his chest fade away.
That was all.
This time, he was prepared for the scrapes. Andrew strained his hearing until he heard the faint crinkle that signaled the snack packet being picked up.
“You can eat it here, you know,” Andrew said, like he didn’t care one way or another. Because he didn’t.
The crinkle stopped.
“Those aren’t nutritious in the slightest,” Andrew added, for lack of anything else.
A faint huff. Andrew wondered if it was amusement or irritation.
“This conversation is scintillating,” Andrew continued, “Really– I’m on the edge of my seat.”
Andrew hated that, instead of being sarcastic, this was unfortunately true. Thing hadn’t said a word, and he was already more interesting than eighty percent of the people Andrew had to interact with on a daily basis. Really, though, that was more of a reflection on the people Andrew surrounded himself with.
“You took them all.”
The voice was deep, raspy, and accusing. A bolt of something twisted in Andrew’s stomach like a knife.
“How tragic,” Andrew blew out a line of smoke. “A thief stealing from a thief.”
Thing said nothing.
“This place is a haven, you know. For monsters like us. Wymack is so pathetically naive if you turned yourself in he’d give you a job and all the Cheez-Its you could ask for.”
The silence stretched for so long Andrew wondered if Thing had left. He didn’t turn around, though. It felt like it would be breaking some sort of deal. A boundary that had been created. But then Thing finally spoke.
“Nowhere is a haven for me.”
Andrew had a brief, unsettling feeling that his diary had somehow created a sentient form and spoke back at him. Now that would be truly monstrous.
“Tsk, tsk,” Andrew said, pushing away the ridiculous thought. “Do I sense childhood trauma? A deep wound no bandaid could ever heal? Tell me more.”
“You’re an asshole.”
This was said frankly and without judgement, like it was just a fact of the universe. Andrew felt the corners of his lips twitch. Few people would be willing to say that to his face– well, his back. Thing clearly didn’t know Andrew’s reputation.
“Careful. Not everyone here is as pathetic as Wymack.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“No?” Andrew tapped fingers against his thigh. “You rabbit away from everyone. I sense a liar.”
This time, the silence stretched longer and Andrew knew Thing had left. He was rewarded for his comment the next morning, when, leaving his room, Andrew ran face first into a sheet of saran wrap. As he was clawing it off his face, he could have sworn he heard a faint huff from above him.
But there was no evidence of tampering in his room, which made Andrew wonder if Thing knew something about unspoken boundaries, too.
—-----------------
Three nights passed like that, trading verbal back and forths with the creature until Thing inevitable disappeared back to wherever he hid. It made Andrew wonder if Thing was some sort of supernatural that could only be out or materialize at certain times of the day.
“Let’s make a deal,” Andrew said the next night, the minute he heard that tell-tale crinkle.
Nothing.
“I’ll give you the rest of my Cheez-It stash if I can turn around.”
Shuffling sound. More crinkling.
“You’ll turn me in.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, even if Thing couldn’t see it. “Do I look like the police?”
Thing made a humming noise. Andrew’s hands twitched for his armbands.
“Say no or I’ll gut you.”
“No,” Thing said, and that was definitely amusement in his voice. “But you do look like you’re friendly with the staff.”
“I’m friendly with no one,” Andrew replied.
Another humming sound.
“Take the deal, rabbit.”
“Why do you want to see me so bad?”
“I want nothing,” Andrew corrected, before realizing he had backed himself into a corner. “Life is boring. You’re slightly less boring.”
“You flatter me,” the dry response, delivered in that rasping voice, made Andrew’s fangs itch and the smoke burn down his lungs. Andrew needed to see him, solve this mystery, so that he could move on. The world could go back to being flat and gray and hollow.
“Rabbit,” Andrew said simply.
“Fine,” The wariness in Thing’s voice was like a physical presence. “But I want all the Cheez-Itz. And a bag to put them in.”
“Whatever you say, junkie.”
Andrew took one last, long inhale of his cigarette. From an outside perspective, it would look like Andrew was steadying himself. From an inside perspective, Andrew would say fuck you for even thinking that. He didn’t need to steady himself. He didn’t need anything.
He turned around, ready to face the monstrous, unnatural, horrific, novel new supernatural creature that had–
“You’re human.”
Andrew briefly considered throwing himself off the roof and taking Thing down with him.
Thing– who was not supernatural– but instead was sitting cross-legged, auburn curls and waves falling in a tangle around his shoulders, blue eyes like floodlights, and totally and completely human.
Andrew had been looking so hard for a supernatural scent, since humans couldn’t come anywhere near Hotel Transylvania. This was a haven.
“How did you get past the wards?”
Thing lifted a shoulder. “I asked.”
Now that Andrew knew he was human, he could attune his senses. The rapid pace of Thing’s heart said scared. The way his eyes kept darting to the different exit points of the roof yelled terrified. The delicate blue-green veins at his neck and wrists and the warm, sweet blood flowing through them begged–
Nothing.
Begged for nothing.
“Humans aren’t allowed here.” Andrew studied him. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“I figured,” Thing admitted, lips pursing. He had full, pink lips only disrupted by a scar arcing through the top one. There were more scattered scars and burn marks littering the tanned skin Andrew could see, exposed by a shirt that was far too big for Thing and so worn it almost felt see-through. “The night I got here was… chaotic. I was running through the forest and bounced against the bubble thing and I don’t know– then it just popped and I came here.”
Chaotic was too small a word. Andrew wanted to read Thing like a dictionary.
“I saw all of…” Thing motioned with a hand toward Andrew, still holding the Cheez-It bag. “Heard some talk about a vacation getaway from humans. Connected the dots.”
“And you stayed,” Andrew stated tonelessly. “In a place surrounded by monsters.”
Thing’s face scrunched up. “You’re not monsters. I know monsters.”
And oh– wasn’t that interesting?
“What’s your name,” Andrew demanded.
Thing was silent for a moment, eyes rolling up to gaze at the starless sky. His teeth sunk into his plush bottom lip, and Andrew ignored the urge to lean forward and replace those teeth with his own.
“Neil,” Thing said finally, tilting his head to the side. “Josten.”
Andrew ashed his cigarette. “If you're going to choose a fake name, at least make it interesting.”
Neil’s grin was bright and vicious, dimples punching into his cheeks.
Andrew didn’t do regrets, but he was starting to wish he had never started this whole stray cat venture. Because now the stray thing was in front of him, and he wasn’t a mildly interesting mystery anymore. He a liar that was covered in scars, addicted to Cheez-Itz, and so pretty Andrew wanted to lurch forward and sink his fangs into his neck.
No– Neil wasn’t a mystery anymore.
He was a problem.
—----------------------
“So, does garlic really hurt you?”
Andrew hated Neil, the world, and then himself-- in that order. Adopting a human wasn’t easy, apparently. The manuals never told you that. Andrew had gotten no warning that inviting a stray into his space meant answering said stray’s questions.
“No.” Andrew smoked his cigarette and ignored the fact that Neil was sitting at the very edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge. “Where were you born?”
It was another unspoken deal between them. Neil asked his questions, Andrew asked his own.
“Maryland,” Neil said with a nose scrunch. “Do you live forever?”
“Common myth created by jealous humans,” Andrew drawled. “Vampires are born, just like everyone else. Same lifespans, but better senses and more immune to disease.”
“And a different appetite,” Neil pointed out unnecessarily, almost as if he wanted Andrew to stare at those delicate veins.
To make matters worse, Neil gathered up his red-brown strands and tied them back into a stubby ponytail. Andrew’s fangs dropped.
“Who gave you those scars?” He asked.
“My dad,” Neil answered quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. “Who gave you yours?”
Andrew had foregone the armbands that night. Another unspoken deal he had felt was necessary, considering some of Neil’s scars were on display and none of Andrew’s were. He looked out across the forest.
“Not another vampire question?”
“Do you glitter–”
“I’ll murder you,” Andrew said pleasantly, and Neil grinned. “I did.”
Neil looked confused for a moment, before remembering the question he had asked. His expression turned contemplative before he finally nodded. And that was it. No digging for more. No begging Andrew why, why, why. Just a simple nod. It felt like a drink of ice cold water on a hot day. It felt like looking into Neil’s clear blue eyes.
They finished Andrew’s cigarette, silence unspooling delicately between them, and went their separate ways.
—-----------------------
“Where are your parents?”
Neil flopped back on the roof, auburn curls fanning out. His wrists were thin and his face looked gaunt.
“Mom is dead. Dad is…” Neil’s expression went distant. Haunted.
Andrew blew a line of smoke into his face.
“Asshole,” Neil griped, but he was smiling. “Where are yours?”
“Mom is dead. I killed her.”
Neil once again nodded, as if this was a normal thing to admit to.
“She was bad?”
“Not to me. She had to choose a twin, and I wasn’t the choice.”
“Well.” Neil leaned up and forward, snatched the cigarette away, and stuck it in his mouth. “Her loss.”
Andrew hated him.
—---------------------
“Here, junkie.” Andrew threw some fruit onto Neil’s lap. “All that time spent stealing, and you never learned what to take?”
Neil bit into an orange, peel and all.
Andrew hated him.
—------------------------
“What were your foster homes like?”
It was raining. They were both soaked. Andrew couldn’t even pretend to smoke a cigarette. Still, neither of them recommended forgoing their nightly routine.
“Boring. Cruel.” Andrew tapped his fingers against the roof. “I was in a home with other vampires. Thought it would be good for once, like a fool. Someone in the house liked little boys a little too much.”
Bold strokes for years of pain, but Neil’s face said he understood everything Andrew wasn’t saying. Drake had been dead for years– Aaron took care of that– but it didn’t erase the phantom hands Andrew still felt on his skin or the way part of him had died and never left that house. Sometimes, Andrew wondered if it was the good part of him.
Most of the time, he didn’t care.
Sometimes the good parts had to die for survival. He had a feeling Neil would understand.
“Your dad,” Andrew said. His hand ached for a cigarette. His fangs ached for– “He’s who you were running from?”
“Yeah.” Somehow, Neil managed to fit a lifetime of resignation into a single word. “Killed my mom. I’ll be next, eventually.”
“He can’t get you here.”
Neil smiled, but there was nothing bright about it this time.
Andrew hated him.
—------------------------------
Andrew’s question of how do you stay hidden was really testing his commitment to regretting nothing. Because it somehow led him to following behind Neil through the ventilation system (where he was right behind Neil’s ass, which somehow still looked incredible in a pair jeans far too big for him) and wondering how life had led him there.
“Here we are,” Neil said, pulling to a stop. He kneeled, but the space wasn’t big enough for either of them to fully straighten so they were both hunched like gargoyles. “Home sweet home.”
Neil said this wryly, and gestured at a single blanket, the stash of Cheez-Its, and some clothes shoved into a plastic bag.
“This is truly pathetic,” Andrew said.
Neil laughed and the sound filled the entire space.
Andrew hated him.
—----------------------
Andrew hated him.
He did.
Hated Neil’s summer-sky blue eyes and the jagged edges in them. Hated Neil’s fake name that tasted so good on his tongue. Hated Neil’s skinny little frame and survival instincts and how he noticed every detail, just like Andrew. Hated that he met Andrew’s sentences blow for blow. Hated that he didn’t look at Andrew like a monster.
Hated that he knew what a real monster looked like.
Hated they had that in common.
Hated how pretty he was.
Hated how those big eyes saw everything.
Hated the way his fangs ached around Neil.
Andrew hated him. Hate wasn’t big enough a word. Andrew wanted to wrap his hands around Neil’s wrists, pin him down, and–
—------------------
Andrew, better than anyone, should have known nothing lasted forever.
He just didn’t think Neil was enough of an idiot to blow it all over a misunderstanding.
It started like this:
Andrew was sitting in the lobby, throwing ripped up paper balls at Aaron as Aaron worked through his textbook and ignoring the increasingly incensed looks his twin sent him. Renee was sitting beside them, taking a break from cleaning, her wings fluttering pixie dust all over the chairs (which meant more cleaning in her future. Why Wymack would hire a pixie as a maid was beyond him.)
In between annoying Aaron, Andrew was idly watching Jeremy, the water sprite, try and fail to chat up Jean. Or Andrew assumed he was failing. No one could ever actually see Jean, except for the glasses on his face, so it was impossible to tell.
In other words, the night was boring.
Until the lobby door slammed open. A wolf bounded inside, tongue lolling out and slobber dripping on the ground. Andrew internally sighed. Kevin as a wolf was incredibly obnoxious, always craving pets and cuddles that Andrew was not inclined to give. Still, Kevin always bounded up to them anyway like–
A form fell from the ceiling before Kevin could reach them, landing in a pile between Andrew and the wolf.
“Bad dog,” Neil shouted, swinging his plastic bag of clothes and hitting Kevin in the snout.
Kevin blinked, backing up and whining in the back of his throat. The lobby fell silent.
“Rabbit,” Andrew said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t worry,” Neil responded, like the idiot he was. “There was this time in California me and my mom fought off a bear. I’ve got this–”
“Um.” Aaron’s textbook slammed shut. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck?” Jean and Jeremy said at the same time.
“What,” Dan called from across the lobby, Wymack close at her heels, “The fuck?”
Renee watched this all with wide eyes, shooting Andrew a knowing look, because she was an asshole. Also unfortunately another best friend. Andrew really needed to investigate who he spent his time with.
Starting with the idiot human.
Neil dropped his arm, plastic bag banging against his leg, seeming to realize that no one was looking at the wolf as a threat but him. The human who didn’t belong in a haven for monsters.
There was a vicious cracking noise before Kevin was straightening, in his human form, and bare ass naked. Andrew considered returning to his room, taking a nap, and never waking up.
“You’re Thing,” Kevin accused, leveling a finger at Neil.
“What’s my thing?” Neil asked, bewildered. “Also– you do know you’re naked, right?”
“Josten,” Andrew said.
Neil glanced over his shoulder at him, grimacing. “Listen, I thought– well, clearly everything is fine. So, I’ll just…”
Neil made a move to leave, but Wymack blocked his path. Neil instantly flinched away, hands flying up to protect his face, and Andrew was off the couch in milliseconds and angling himself between Neil and the threat.
“He’s human,” Andrew said, “And he’s mine.”
Not totally what he had planned to say. Judging by the silence, not what anyone had planned to hear, either.
“What the fuck,” Aaron repeated.
--------------------------
“Congrats on becoming a contributing member of society.”
Neil glared at Andrew from the luggage trolley that was piled high with suitcases. Allison Reynolds had arrived, and she always arrived in style.
It had been a week since Neil’s discovery, and just as Andrew had predicted, Wymack was pathetic and gave Neil a job. Of course, once Andrew had realized Neil was human he wasn’t sure how much that prediction would hold strong, but for once Andrew could be grateful for Wymack and his stupid second chances.
Kevin was incensed at first over employing a human, before Neil had dropped a strange reference to some sport and then Kevin had lit up like it was Christmas, said no supernaturals around here watch it, and that had solved that.
Now Neil had a job and could take all the Cheez-Itz he wanted.
“Take this up to my room, will you?” Andrew placed the paperback book he was reading on top of the pile.
Neil shoved it off with a single finger.
—----------------
The hotel staff were quickly trying to adopt Neil, but clearly they hadn’t learned how to talk to strays. Which meant Andrew was in the unfortunate position of fielding their advances.
“Ask him yourself,” Andrew said, taking a sip of his blood cocktail and looking out over the pool deck.
“He barely talks to us,” Matt pouted, Dan hovering over his shoulder. “Come on. Wouldn’t a movie night be so fun?”
“Sure,” Andrew replied. “Right next to waterboarding and skydiving with no parachute.”
They left after that, and Andrew was spared a movie night. It had become his new hobby, watching as they tried to entice Neil into conversation through elaborately creative means. Nicky ambushed Neil as he was getting into the elevator with the luggage trolley, and Neil had crawled through the elevator ceiling and up the shaft. Allison tried to offer a haircut, and Neil had pretended to faint on the spot. Dan and Matt, of course, tried their movie invites and each time Neil, looking confused, rattled off a response in a different language.
It was ridiculous.
Even more ridiculous that Andrew watched it all like a car crash he couldn’t look away from.
“I don’t get it,” Neil said, sitting down heavily next to Andrew on the roof. “Why do they keep talking to me?”
“You are truly tragic,” Andrew passed Neil a cigarette. “It’s called friendship, rabbit.”
Neil screwed up his face, this time in genuine confusion.
“Why would I want that? What do you even do with friends?”
“Smoke cigarettes.”
Andrew wanted to pluck that sentence out of the air and destroy it the second it left his mouth. It was too late, though. Neil studied him, dimple poking into his cheek, and eyes tracing a path down Andrew’s shoulders and landing on his hands. It felt like being touched. Andrew hated it.
“Huh.” Neil tilted his heads. “We’re not friends, though.”
“Then what are we,” Andrew made the question a statement through pure force of will.
Neil lifted a shoulder. “We’re… us. That’s all.”
That’s all.
Andrew watched Neil’s lips wrap around the cigarette and ignored the fact that he wanted to sink his fangs into Neil and consume him until he finally understood every thought running through that pretty little head.
Still. Neil was pathetic and needed to be house-trained, which meant the next movie night Andrew bribed Neil to go with a pack of Cheez-Its and the promise of cigarettes after. Because everyone was an asshole, the movie they chose was Twilight.
Neil was delighted.
Andrew hated life.
They sat next to each other the entire time, Neil’s thigh brushing his own.
—----------
“So, if we can see his glasses, does that mean he’s naked?”
Kevin, Aaron, and Andrew all turned to look at Neil, who was staring back with wide, curious eyes. Jeremy was once again trying to chat up Jean, the invisible man.
“That’s–” Kevin spluttered. “Of course he’s not– I mean–”
They all turned to look back at Jean, or rather the floating glasses.
No one spoke a word for the next hour.
—-----------
Andrew had nightmares. Neil had nightmares.
It meant they met in the lobby most nights in the early morning hours. No cigarettes, sometimes not even any conversation. Just sitting with each other, phantom pasts tangling together and making room for something new.
Neil was sitting upside down on the couch and his sweatshirt had ridden up, revealing the toned expanse of his stomach. Andrew wanted to nip and bite at it, scars and all.
“It’s worse on my back,” Neil said, noticing Andrew’s stare and thinking it was for the scars.
“Daddy dearest?” Andrew asked, because he had some dignity.
Neil shrugged, the movement awkward upside down. Blood was rushing to his face, turning it a violent shade of red, and his hair was dragging along the carpet.
“Someone needs to teach you manners.”
Neil’s eyes twinkled. “Volunteering yourself for the job?”
Andrew bared his fangs and Neil laughed.
—--------------------------
“Are you done being angsty?”
“They'll never find your body, Kevin.”
After years of knowing each other, the threat did nothing. Andrew was disgusted with himself. He had gotten too soft. Kevin settled next to Andrew on the balcony. From inside Allison’s suite, they could still hear the bright conversation of the other hotel staff and close guests. Nicky had proposed a game night, and Andrew had dragged Neil along because he wouldn’t be suffering through that alone. Watching Neil try to figure out the rules for Monopoly and then gleefully destroy everyone had been mildly entertaining.
“I’m just saying.” Kevin shot him a look. “It’s fine if you care. If you’re disappointed.”
“I’m not anything,” Andrew said, a little growl slipping into his voice.
Kevin was, of course, referencing the Never Have I Ever game that the night had devolved into and the truths it had revealed. Namely, when everyone had pried for more information into Neil’s romantic life, and Neil had blithely answered I don’t swing. Nicky had jokingly wailed that Neil was breaking hearts everywhere. Andrew had gone out onto the balcony for a smoke.
“You said he was yours,” Kevin pointed out.
“He’s nothing.”
“You always said you wanted nothing.”
Andrew moved, pressing the point of a knife against Kevin’s stomach. Kevin didn’t even have the grace to look terrified. No– instead his green eyes were knowing. Whatever idiotic thing he was going to say next was interrupted by the balcony door opening, and Neil looking back and forth between them with a scowl on his face.
“Are you bothering him?”
Kevin scoffed. “You do realize he’s the one with a knife on me, right, Josten?”
Neil was unimpressed.
“Whatever.” Kevin stepped back. “Are we still on to watch the game tomorrow?”
Neil tipped his head to the side, waves brushing his shoulder, as if considering. Kevin’s shoulders slumped in disappointment until Neil gave a small nod, like a prince deciding a prisoner was safe from execution. Kevin brightened immediately.
“Don’t be late,” he said, before heading back inside like a traitor. Andrew rested his forearms back on the railing and took a long drag of his cigarette.
“So, you’re gay.”
Andrew did not choke and cough, because that would have been beneath him.
Neil leaned on the railing next to him. There were only inches of space between them, close enough that Andrew could feel Neil’s warmth and hear the rush of blood through his veins.
“And you don’t swing.”
“I…” Neil grimaced. “It wasn’t really– I mean I couldn’t–”
“Your grasp of the human language is inspiring.”
“Shut up,” Neil snorted. He held out slim, scarred fingers and Andrew planted the cigarette in them. “Yeah. I don’t swing. But you’re gay. And a vampire.”
“And you’re human and an idiot.”
Neil rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”
“No,” Andrew said, stealing the cigarette back. “You’re a pipe dream.”
Andrew was the real idiot. Because they spent the rest of the night on the balcony, trading truths as they traded the cigarette, and Andrew ignored the long looks Neil sent him or the way Neil’s eyes lingered a little too long on his hands because Neil didn’t swing. That was a boundary.
It didn’t matter if Andrew claimed Neil as his.
Because Neil didn’t want any more than what they had, and that was fine.
—--------------
Alright. Andrew wasn’t like a certain liar who insisted I’m fine even when a giant’s piece of luggage had fallen on his foot and he had limped around for two days before Andrew insisted he wrap and ice it (Aaron’s advice. Humans were so fragile, and Andrew lost sleep over that fact possibly more than his own nightmares).
Andrew wasn’t a liar, which meant he could admit when he wasn’t fine.
His teeth ached. But more than that his hands ached.
To touch Neil. To bite him. To claim him. Neil had a boundary, and Andrew was disgusted that even in his thoughts his mind attempted to cross that. Andrew had been bored and aimless before, but now his skin itched and his body ached and he despised it.
Andrew could admit he wanted the numbness again.
Which also meant he had to admit he wanted Neil more, and wasn't willing to give him up.
So, it was the next best thing.
The hotel club, dubbed Eden’s, was packed that night as it was nearing a holiday season. All manner of supernaturals were stuffed into the small space, including the hotel staff that were off shift that night. Which, of course, included Neil.
“Baby’s first night out,” Nicky crowed. He attempted to hug Neil against his body, but Neil smoothly stepped away. Despite both Nicky’s and Allison’s pleading, Neil was wearing his usual off-work uniform of a faded sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and backwards baseball cap.
It was sickening that he could dress like a jock and still look gorgeous.
“Now, since you’re our precious little human,” Allison continued to say, the lights flashing off her pointed, elven ears, “it’s up to us to protect you. We’re going to–”
Neil glanced at Andrew and mouthed Help Me. Andrew lazily bared a single fang. Neil flipped him off.
Drinks were passed around, and a soda for Neil. Neil didn’t bat an eye at both Andrew and Aaron’s glasses full of blood, as he hadn’t for the past couple of times. No– he just took in that part of Andrew with the same easy acceptance and Andrew wanted to
Devour him. Undo him and remake him all over again. Bite bite bite–
“I’m getting another drink.”
Neil pulled himself away from a conversation with Kevin, a frown marring his features.
“You haven’t even finished that one.”
“Leave the thinking to the professionals, rabbit,” Andrew said blandly. “Stay here.”
Andrew disappeared into the crowd before Neil could say another word. Despite how much Neil still acted like a cornered animal around the others, he would be fine. Some socialization would be good for his human, and Andrew had different needs tonight.
It was all too easy to tilt his head at Roland at the bar, and in a matter of minutes they were in one of the supply closets, Roland’s hands cuffed above his head and the sharp scent of his arousal filling the air. Roland was elven, like Allison, which meant he was born pretty.
Still, he had nothing on a little chaotic stowaway with sharp smiles, who couldn’t stop himself from being interesting even if he tried. Who took Andrew’s gray world and turned it so vibrant with color it hurt.
Who made Andrew want.
It was unforgivable.
Andrew needed to forget.
“Hungry tonight?” Roland asked, voice low and smooth. Not raspy and hoarse.
“Quiet,” Andrew said roughly, and Roland’s breath hitched. He liked Andrew being rough. It was how they worked. Andrew worked his hand down the front of Roland’s pants, before leaning forward. His fangs dropped through pure force of will, but he forced himself forward, grazing Roland’s neck and–
“My bad!” A hoarse, raspy voice yelped. Andrew lurched away from Roland, catching sight of Neil in the doorway, eyes wide and hair disheveled. “I’ll just–”
“What the fuck, man?” Roland complained as Neil darted away.
Andrew slowly removed his hand from Roland’s pants, swiped a bit of blood from his mouth, and breathed out long and slow. Life was terrible.
“Uh…” Roland wiggled his hands. “Are you going to unlock me?”
—-------------------
Andrew looked in Neil’s room first. One of the staff rooms, which meant it was small. Sparsely decorated, although Andrew wasn’t sure what he had been expecting considering this was Neil. Neil, who had for some inexplicable reason, taped the plastic bag his clothes were in on the wall along with a half-smoked cigarette and an empty bag of Cheez-Itz.
Andrew would have to address that later.
Next place was the kitchens, then the chairs by the community bookshelf, and then the roof. Neil wasn’t in any of those places. Andrew thought of the way Neil eyed exits. Decided not to think of that, because Neil making Andrew want was unforgivable but him leaving was–
Unthinkable.
Which meant one last place.
“I hate you,” Andrew said.
He was crouched and uncomfortable, metal pressing against him on all sides, and Neil was curled into a ball at the corner of the vent.
“How’s it going?” Neil asked, like it was totally normal to escape into vent ducts in your pastime. “Finished your…snack?”
“No one finished.”
The double meaning flew right over Neil’s head.
“Sorry I interrupted,” Neil continued, looking at the wall of the duct like it was the most interesting art piece alive. “I just– everyone else is really nice, but Kevin got pulled onto the dance floor and I’d rather hang out with you, so I figured I’d see what was taking so long and then I couldn’t find you and I thought maybe something happened–”
“Rabbit.”
“But of course you were fine. You were just hungry. Obviously, because you’re a vampire and you drink blood. And you’re gay. A gay vampire. A vampire who is gay.”
“Neil.”
“Abram.”
“What,” Andrew asked flatly, pissed off he was in a vent. Pissed off he had crawled into a vent after this stupid, precious idiot. Never adopt strays. Lesson learned.
“My name,” Neil said slowly, blue eyes meeting his finally, “It’s Abram.”
“Abram,” Andrew tasted the name in his mouth, and Neil shivered.
“You know…” Neil shifted forward. “I’ve got blood.”
“I’m aware.”
Neil huffed. “So…”
Instead of words, like a normal person, Neil just tugged down his sweatshirt a bit and bared his neck to the side. Andrew reached out and yanked the sweatshirt right back up, because what the fuck.
“No,” he said.
“Oh.” Neil slumped, biting his lip. “I get it. I’m human, and I’ve got more baggage than half the hotel guests here. It’s fine.”
“Abram.” Nothing made sense. Nothing made sense, because if Andrew was reading the signs correctly it meant hoping for something, and hoping for something always meant losing it. “You don’t swing.”
“I don’t,” Neil agreed, “But I like your face. And I think I want to kiss it after you bite me. Is that okay?”
“I’m going to murder you,” Andrew said, because he wasn’t a normal person either.
Neil grinned, blue eyes lighting up like the aurora borealis.
“We’re not kissing for the first time in a vent,” Andrew tried again.
“So that’s a yes?”
Andrew didn’t grace that with a response. The way his fangs were dropped and his hands were twitching like he needed his next fix should have been answer enough.
“Even with my…” Neil’s expression dropped a little. “Even though I might not have long?”
“Don’t be an idiot.” This time Andrew gave into the impulse, grabbing Neil by the front of his sweatshirt and dragging him closer till their faces were only inches apart. “You’re in a hotel of supernaturals who are obsessed with their pet human. No one is getting close to you, and if they do, I’ll rip them apart limb from limb.”
“Drew,” Neil said softly, staring at him like Andrew was some answer to an equation he had been trying to solve for years. “Kiss me?”
And fuck it.
Their first kiss was in a vent.
—-------------------
“Where the fuck is he?” Kevin growled.
He had come out of the hot tub with his skin dyed a bright, bubblegum pink. Andrew turned a page in his book. He was lounging in the cabana, sunglasses on and a glass of blood in one hand.
“I’m not his keeper,” Andrew responded.
Matt walked by, took one look at Kevin, and bent over laughing.
“When I find him…” Kevin started.
“You’ll what?” Andrew asked, some steel slipping into his voice.
Kevin crossed his arms. “This is cruel and unusual punishment. Just because I interrupted you both once–”
Andrew raised his eyebrows slightly, and Kevin immediately stopped talking. It had been twice. Once when Andrew was just about to bite Neil, and another time when things were a little more… heated. And both times, it had been because Kevin insisted Neil needed to come watch the game. Andrew’s little junkie enjoyed the sport, of course, but he also had something new he was obsessed with.
Yes, Andrew was smug that it was him.
“Maybe try the kitchen,” Andrew suggested idly, turning another page.
Kevin grumbled as he stalked off. Once Andrew could no longer hear his footsteps or heartbeat, he set the book and drink aside.
“He’s gone.”
Neil stepped out from behind the cabana curtain, dimples on full display.
“Good lookout work.”
“You’re a menace, Abram.”
Neil flopped onto the bed next to Andrew, tilting his head upwards. He immediately relaxed when Andrew’s fingers threaded through his curls. Exactly like a cat.
“You helped,” Neil pointed out, “You’re not much better.”
Andrew tugged lightly, and Neil melted further. The sun was high in the sky, and Neil had smothered himself with so much sunscreen it masked his scent completely. Right then, though, the day felt too languid and soft to force him to go take a shower. Instead, Andrew picked his book back up and continued reading, but this time out loud.
Neil’s head rested on the pillow next to him, his smile sweet and content, trusting Andrew enough to close his eyes. It had taken a while to get there. One day, soon, Andrew knew he would have to track down Neil’s father and kill him.
But right then, with the sun warming his skin and Neil sleepy and soft at his side, Andrew wanted for nothing at all.
And for once, that left him the opposite of hollow.