James scowled.
"Alright, alright—jeez. I'll turn it off," Michael said, though the way his thumb hovered over the phone made it painfully obvious he had no intention of doing so.
"This is exactly why I can't have anything nice."
Michael snorted. "Nah. You can't have nice shit because you're broke as hell."
"No need to say the quiet part out loud."
Michael only smiled wider, clearly enjoying himself far too much. He found the whole situation endlessly amusing.
"Fine," he said at last, schooling his expression into something closer to neutral. "I'll stop teasing you."
James didn't look convinced.
"I just couldn't resist," Michael continued, the grin creeping back. "An opportunity like that doesn't come around often."
"Annoying," James muttered, turning his head away.
"Oh, by the way," Michael added casually, "I'm keeping the video."
James' head snapped back around. "Delete that shit. Now."
"Make me." Michael's grin sharpened, something mischievous—almost cruel—flashing in his eyes. "Blackmail like this only comes once in a blue moon."
James glared at him. "You're evil."
Michael shrugged. "Anyway—got any actual proof?" He gestured vaguely toward James' stomach. "Besides you sounding like you're about to maul a box of Hot Pockets."
James hesitated, thinking. "My senses are way sharper. I can smell things better. See better."
Michael nodded slowly, filing that away. "You got any raw meat lying around?"
James raised an eyebrow. "I can barely afford groceries. You think I just keep raw meat on standby?"
"Fair." Michael sighed, as if acknowledging some universal constant. "Sometimes I forget you're broke."
"Not everyone's born rich, you know."
"Cope harder." Michael stuck his tongue out and shrugged, every bit the delicate menace he enjoyed pretending to be.
James rolled his eyes. "There's… another way we could test it."
That caught James' attention fully. "Like what?"
Michael didn't answer right away. Instead, he took several deliberate steps back, putting a solid ten—maybe fifteen—feet between them. Then he looked up, expression calm, almost serious.
"Do you trust me?"
James blinked. "Yeah. You're my best friend."
A small smile touched Michael's lips. "Good."
He lifted his phone and turned the screen toward James. The video—that video—stared back at him. A second later, Michael swiped, revealing TikTok's posting screen.
"I'm uploading this," Michael said evenly. "Unless you can reach me."
James felt his blood run cold.
If that video went public, his life was over. Social death. Permanent. The kind of embarrassment you never recovered from. Just thinking about it made his skin prickle.
"You've got four seconds," Michael continued, thumb hovering over the screen. "Then I hit post."
Every hair on James' body stood on end.
The moment the words registered, something inside him snapped into place. His eyes burned gold, pupils stretching wide, swallowing the color. The world seemed to sharpen—edges clearer, distance shorter.
He moved.
One moment he was standing where he'd been; the next, the space between them was gone. Fifteen feet vanished in the blink of an eye as James lunged, hand shooting out for the phone.
Michael twisted aside at the last second, narrowly avoiding the grab.
"Hey—!"
James didn't stop. Panic and humiliation drove him forward as he reached again, faster this time, desperate to tear the phone from Michael's grasp.
No one else could see that video.
No one.
Just remembering himself flailing around like that made his face burn as he pressed the attack, every instinct screaming at him to get it back.
They would move around the room at superhuman speed.
**Bam**
**Clang**
**Bang**
The sound of bodies crashing on the wall could be heard, James really wanted that phone back, he would get it back no matter.
His eyes had turned a yellow ish color, his teeth had gotten sharper and his pores were wide open.
His pupils were blown wide, dark swallowing gold as his mind shifted into overdrive. Every sound sharpened, every movement slowed, his brain greedily drinking in information as his body surged faster still.
Then he lunged.
In a blink, he was on Michael.
"Got it," James said triumphantly, fingers closing around the phone.
Adrenaline flooded him, excitement buzzing through his veins—and he didn't even notice when the device crumpled in his grip, plastic and glass folding like foil.
Michael stared at the wreckage, then back at James, one brow lifting. "Huh. So you really are strong."
James grinned, chest heaving. "Told you. Werewolf."
"Never thought becoming a werewolf would make you fruity," Michael remarked casually.
James froze.
"…The fuck does that mean?"
Then he looked down.
Oh.
He was straddling Michael—knees planted on either side of his hips, hands braced near his shoulders. From this angle, it looked bad. Real bad.
"Shit— not that I mind though—!" James yelped, immediately springing backward like the floor had shocked him.
He landed several feet away, hands up. "Nope. Nope. This never happened. This timeline does not exist."
Michael stayed on the floor, propped on one elbow, looking entirely too pleased. "Aw, come on. I was just starting to enjoy myself."
"I want none of this," James snapped.
Michael, of course, ignored him.
"Damn, James," he said lazily. "Didn't know you were into that kind of hands-on proof."
"I said nope," James shot back, annoyance flaring. "That shit never happened."
"Relax," Michael said, smirking. "I won't tell anyone you tackled me like your life depended on it. Very passionate, though. Ten out of ten commitment."
"I was after the phone," James growled. "Do not continue with this gay shit."
"Mhm. Sure," Michael replied. "And the knee between my legs was for balance?"
James pointed at him. "Say one more thing and I'm throwing you out the window."
Michael's grin only widened. "You could probably do it now. Big strong wolf boy and all."
James groaned. "You are really bad at phrasing things. I genuinely want to strangle you."
"No you don't," Michael said, finally getting to his feet. He dusted himself off like he hadn't just been tackled at superhuman speed. "You'd miss me. Who else is gonna emotionally support you and bully you at the same time?"
James glanced down at the crushed remains of the phone in his hand. "…Your phone's dead."
"No problem," Michael replied casually. "I'll buy another."
James rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah. Rich."
"The privileges of a white man," Michael teased with a shrug.
Then he cracked his neck, expression shifting slightly. "Though… you're kinda weak."
James blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"I kept up with you," James shot back. "That's literally my proof."
"And that's the problem," Michael said calmly.
James frowned. "Explain."
"Werewolves are physically dominant," Michael said. "They're beasts for a reason. You shouldn't just be keeping up—you should be overwhelming me."
James hesitated. "…I turned like, yesterday."
"And," Michael added casually, "I haven't fed in four days."
That made James pause. "…What?"
"Oh. Right. Newbie."
Something clicked.
"Wait," James said slowly. "You're talking like you're supernatural too."
Michael looked at him like he'd just discovered fire for the second time. "Well, yeah."
James stared harder.
"Oh," Michael added, realizing. "Right. You used to be human. Guess my charm still works on you."
"…You were messing with my brain?" James snapped.
Michael raised both hands. "Technically, yes."
"WHY?"
"Because," Michael said calmly, fangs sliding into view as his eyes burned crimson, "I'm a vampire."
James stiffened.
"And because," Michael continued, "you were human. You knowing about the supernatural was… inconvenient. Especially with your blood type."
"You're the second person to tell me my blood's a problem."
"Because it is," Michael replied. "Think of it like this: S-class material, E-rank difficulty to acquire."
James swallowed.
"And if my parents found out?" Michael's voice darkened. "You'd be a blood bag by now."
That wasn't a joke. James could hear it in his tone.
"Anyway," Michael went on, forcing the mood lighter, "mind control's part of the package. Vampires all have it. Unless we're actively trying to kill you, our charm makes sure humans don't notice anything off."
He raised a finger. "Some people can resist it. Some items help block it."
James blinked. "Wait… is that why every girl at school is obsessed with you?"
Michael smirked. "What can I say? I'm irresistible."
"So that's how you're so popular."
"Hard to lure prey if you're ugly," Michael said matter-of-factly.
James stared.
"Oh relax," Michael added quickly. "I don't hunt humans. My family owns the blood supply, remember? One bag a week keeps me full."
"…Right."
"So what was that shit about not being at full strength?" James asked.
"When vampires feed fully," Michael explained, "we get about three days at peak performance. After that, we weaken until hunger kicks in again."
"Think of it like hitting a blackflash, full feed is like accessing 120% of our strenght and after 3 day, it return to normal"
"Can you die from not drinking blood?"
"Well," Michael said, "yes… and no."
James frowned. "Elaborate."
"You watched The Vampire Diaries, right?"
"I was forced," James muttered. "But yeah."
"Good. Makes this easier," Michael said. "Think Damon in the cage. Weak, angry, losing control."
James nodded slowly.
"If we don't feed for long enough," Michael continued, "humanity shuts off. Full blood-starved beast mode. Anything with a pulse in about a ten-mile radius is fair game."
"…That's a lot."
"It gets worse with age," Michael said lightly. "Anyway—after that, if we still don't feed, we turn into something like a mummy. Not dead. Just… dormant."
Michael exhaled.
"So yeah. Blood won't kill us. But losing control?" His smile faded. "That's worse than death."
Silence settled between them.
Then Michael stepped closer, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Back to you being weak," he said. "Maybe it's because you turned too early. But I shouldn't be able to overpower you like that."
James swallowed.
That… wasn't reassuring.
Michael would smile a bit.
"And you can't even control your transformation, so you like impotent"
Michael had made himself comfortable.
James noticed this the moment he walked back into the living room and saw the blond sprawled sideways on the couch like he paid rent. One leg draped over the armrest, head tilted back, casually munching on something from a small bowl.
Shit, he even had his shirt on the floor.
"…What are you eating?" James asked, already regretting it.
Michael didn't even look up. "Snacks."
James squinted. "Those are red."
"Yeah."
"They're… frozen."
"Yeah."
James stared harder. "Why do they look like little cubes."
Michael popped another one into his mouth, finally glancing over. "Because they're frozen blood shaped into snacks."
Silence.
James blinked once.
"…Okay."
Michael paused mid-chew, eyebrow raising. "That's it? No follow-up?"
"Nope." James turned away. "I don't have the mental capacity today."
"Healthy mindset."
Before James could sit down, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
Both of them froze.
James groaned. "…Fuck."
He shot Michael a warning look. "Do not say anything weird."
Michael smiled.
That was mistake number one.
James opened the door to find an older man—mid-forties, bathrobe, slippers, the universal expression of I've had enough bullshit for one night.
"Hey," the neighbor said, tone stiff. "You've been… uh—kind of loud."
James immediately straightened. "Oh—sorry, yeah, my bad, we were just—"
From behind him, Michael's voice floated in, loud and unapologetic.
"Come on, get back in bed."
James's soul left his body.
"I didn't even get to show you how to use that tool yet."
James felt his spine lock.
"Don't worry," Michael continued, way too amused. "My body can take it."
The neighbor's eyes flicked past James.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
They landed on Michael—shirtless, relaxed, holding a bowl of red… And to make it worse, the asshole had just been eating whipped cream, so he did not look the best.
Then back to James.
Something in the man's expression shifted.
Understanding.
Acceptance.
A quiet ohhh.
James panicked. "NO—WAIT—IT'S NOT—"
"Oh!" the neighbor said quickly, waving his hands. "No, no, it's fine. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. You two, uh—"
He gestured vaguely between them.
"—do your thing."
James felt his social standing implode in real time.
"I'm not—he's just—this is my friend—he's an asshole—"
"It's okay," the man said kindly. Too kindly. "Really. My cousin's the same way."
James made a strangled noise.
"Sorry for bothering you," the neighbor added, already backing away. "Have a good night."
The door closed.
James stood there, unmoving.
Staring.
Then—
He turned slowly toward Michael.
Michael was grinning like he had just won the lottery.
"You're dead," James said flatly.
Michael laughed. "Relax. He seemed cool."
"You just outed me to the entire building."
"Outed?" Michael scoffed. "Bold of you to assume they didn't already think that after you tackled me earlier."
James buried his face in his hands. "I hate you."
"No, you don't." Michael tossed another frozen cube into his mouth. "You're just embarrassed."
"I'm socially ruined."
Michael leaned back, completely at ease. "Look on the bright side."
James looked up warily. "There is no bright side."
"No more noise complaints." Michael smirked. "They'll just assume you're… busy."
James felt his face heat up. "Get out of my house."
Michael stretched, utterly unbothered. "In a minute."
James groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He could already imagine the looks tomorrow.
The whispers. The assumptions.
Great.
Werewolf and gay by association.
His life was over.