đșDominic's POV:
"Oh hell no." I mutter as soon as we reach the lobby. The place is packedâholiday crowd, couples, kids hopped up on sugar, and now⊠my personal hell: Vampy in public.
Lean's eyes go wide like a toddler in Disneyland. "PUPPERS!! LOOK! A POPCORN MACHINE! THEY MAKE THEM HERE??"
"Yes, Sherlock, that's literally the point." I hiss, dragging him by the waist before he climbs inside it.
We get to the ticket scanner. Normal people: hand ticket, walk in. Lean: strikes a pose like he's auditioning for America's Next Top Vampire.
"Here you go, my good sir, two tickets for a cursed night of passion and despair!"
The ticket guy blinks. "Uh⊠thanks?"
And then of course, Lean bows. Bows. Like he's handing over a royal decree.
I yank him upright. "Stop before I disown you."
Security check next. The guard politely asks Lean to open his bag. What does the idiot pull out?
A whole thermos.
"It's just blood, sir!" Lean chirps. "Don't worry, no garlic!"
The entire line stops breathing.
"âŠJuice. It's juice. Cranberry." I growl, shoving the thermos back before we get banned for life. (Ok seriously this is fresh Cranberry juice I left for him at home before leaving).
Then the actual chaos!!
The metal detector stuff. Normal people? Me. Passed through.
Lean? The damn machine goes feralâhowling like an ambulance on cocaine.
"What the fuck did you bring, Vamps?!" I hiss, shaking him by the shoulders while the guards are reaching for walkie-talkies.
"PUPPERS I CANT HELP IT! MY BONES! I AM A VAMPIRE! THEYâŠTHEY ARE MADE OF 70 PERCENTAGE SOLID IRON!"
He whispers it like a cursed child in The Conjuring, looking guilty as hell.
"âŠGreat. So I'm dating a walking frying pan." I muttere obviously he didn't heard it.
"Fuck!!"
"Ok! Wait, don't panic! Let me handle this! Don't you dare open your mouthâlet the adults talk!"
So yeah, I end up arguing with the staff like an angry mom whose kid got rejected from the roller coaster for being too tall.
Result? I convince them their machine is broken.
By the time we finally walk past the concession stand, Lean's got cotton candy in one hand, nachos in the other, and he's eyeing the ice cream machine like he's plotting a robbery.
And me? I'm seriously debating chewing through the fire exit.
"FINALLY! Ok we are here! We entered the hall. Let's find the seat and watch the movie like some decent humans, not feral monsters. Deal?"
âŠNot convincing.
"Ok, I'll give you a good night's kiss tonight if you behave like a good boy!" I bribe him.
"I need six!"
"Three maximum! No taxes!"
"Four, take it or leave it!"
Damn, he's good at bargaining. I should take him shopping.
"Fine. Deal."
Chaos pact sealed. God help meâI'm in a relationship with a toddler lawyer.
đ§ââïž Lean's POV:
Okay, breath in. Breath out. Deep cinematic inhale because the world is a rom-com and I am the rom.
The theater lobby is this glittery temple of buttery smells and impossible light. My eyes do a full 180-degree twirl: popcorn machine? Cotton candy? ICE CREAM? This place is a holy relic and I'm ready to worship. I always saw movies in our personal home theater hall. Never been to a public hall.
"PUPPERS!! LOOK!!" I squeal, grabbing his sleeve like a child who found a unicorn in a mall. He tugs me before I try to climb into the popcorn machine (obviously), and I pout, but it's fine because the cosmos arranged nachos for me anyway.
Ticket moment: I planned a flourish. I rehearsed in the mirror. I would be charming and mysterious, maybe even tragic. Instead I bow because bows are classy and also because Puppers looked very stern and I wanted him to smile.
Then security. The guard asks me to open my bag and for a millisecond I forget that not everyone sees me as "a very small, dramatic hurricane." Out comes my thermosâmy precious cranberry "juice." I mean, it's not blood. It tastes like regret and berries.
Someone in line chokes. I do the cutest, most apologetic vampire smile: "It's just juice, I promise. No garlic." Puppers does the heroic shove-and-murmur of "IT'S JUICE." Bless his grumpy soul. He is my saint.
The metal detector gives me side-eye like it knows I'm packed with iron and poor life choices. It starts screaming. People back away like I'm an exploding Christmas tree.
"PUPPERS I CAN'T HELP IT, MY BONES AREâ" I squeak, which is apparently the exact wrong sentence to say in front of security. He handles it like the legend he isâPuppers goes full manager-mode, arguing with the staff like a dad fighting for his kid's oversized ice cream. I sit on a bench trying not to giggle because watching him get riled is dangerously cute.
Concession stand: I grab everything. Cotton candy is a must (blue fluff = instant mood stabilizer). Nachos in one hand, a soda in the other, and maybeâmaybeâan ice cream scoop for later. Puppers' face when I nearly crowned the soda with candy made me giggle-laugh in a way that felt like sunlight.
We finally get to the hall. I tug his sleeveâ"Sit by me, Premonition Boy"âand he tries to act nonchalant. He fails spectacularly. He pretends not to be nervous when his palms are practically glowing from holding my stupid blue-dyed roses (he remembered, my dead heart did a backflip).
I barter like a tiny mafia boss because apparently kisses are currency: "I need six," I declare, nose high, all lawyer energy. "Three, no taxes," he grumbles. "Four. Take it or leave it."
We settle on four and I feel like I won the war. He grumbles that he's been reduced to negotiating PDA and I grin because even his grumpy is adorable.
đșDominic's POV:
Okay, what the hell is this? After two minutes of a battlefield-level search for seats while Lean threatens to hug every stranger in the cinema, I find them. Middle of the hall. Surrounded by a low velvet fence. A sign that screams: "Super Deluxe Sleeper for Couples."
The seats convert into a bed. Of course they do.
RAY, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU.
How much did this cost? Why does everything rich people touch turn into a small, ridiculous wedding? That bastard dropped bank and I'm holding the bouquetâliterally.
Before I can formulate an appropriate murder plan, Vamps launches onto the sleeper like it's his throne. He proceeds to dunk nachos into Coke, assault ice cream with ketchup, and baptize cotton candy in mustard before shoveling it into his mouth. Then he pats the seat beside him like: Lay down, Puppers. While munching no wait Gluttonying the poor food.
The lights dim. An endless loop of aggressively optimistic ads begins, and I flop in by his side, crossing my arms,trying not to gag at his condiment choices.
Wait. This is⊠actually comfy. I've neverâbecause, you know, not everyone has a daddy who buys cinematic beds. Shut up, Dom. Just sit.
Okay, Ray survives. For now.
đšâđ»Author's pov:
Ray & Linda â cafe
Meanwhile, at a café, Ray is two minutes late and already sporting a new scratch on his face.
Ray (hiccuping): "I think someone's cursing me."
Linda (deadpan, tidily appalled): "Well, let me strangle you, idiot. Your hiccups will be gone" She snacks on her lip as she replays a scandal about friends and exesâbecause of course her day is a soap opera montage of betrayal. "And alsoâdo you ever arrive on time?"
Ray: babe I am sorry! I got some work!
Linda: save it! Ok listen now you know that girl, Stephanie? My 9th bestie! Yeah she got cheated by her 8th and 11th boyfriend on the same day! And to make things worse! Those two guys started dating each others! And they even got another hunk cause they are poly!! How outrageous poor girl!"
"Ray hiccups again!*
"Yes! Outrageous they shouldn't have!" Ray giggles nervously!
Linda: "so you will never do that right babe?" She smiles murderously while playing with the butter knife.
RAY: RAY GULPS "Nah! Not a chance! I love you girl!"
"God save me from her! I don't want to be with her! But she will kill me and feed me to her pet rats if i broke up!"Â Ray whispers to himself!
LINDA: "What the hell are you murmuring!" Linda slams the table!
RAY: "Oh nothing baby, just how beautiful you are looking today! You continue!
LINDA: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DONT LOOK GOOD EVERYDAY"
Ray: mopes "Baby Girl thats not what I Meantâ."
To late....
Reward, five red finger marks unlocked on face.
Ray swipes at his phone, face still cut but resolved, because making love triangles into alliances is his brand now.
EVANDER: "Don't worry, I won't show you the blood, but trust me, Ray will crawl to the medic tonight"
đ§ââïž Lean's POV:
Okay. Pause. Deep inhale. Life is beautiful.
We walk into the theater hall and what do my dramatic eyes behold? Not seats. Not chairs. A bed. A massive, velvety, couple-only sleeper throne in the middle of the hall. Surrounded by a fancy fence like it's royalty.
RAY, I WOULD KISS YOU IF YOU WEREN'T ALREADY GETTING KISSED TO DEATH BY YOUR PSYCHO GIRLFRIEND ABOUT WHOME PUPPERS TOLD ME IN THE WAY!
Before Puppers can bark, I launch. Boom. Belly-flop. This bed is mine. I roll across it like Simba reclaiming Pride Rock. Thenâculinary art time. Cotton candy goes in mustard, nachos go in Coke, ice cream goes in ketchup. Gordon Ramsay would cry, and I would lick his tears.
Puppers finally slumps down next to me, all arms-crossed grumpy wolf routine, but I see the way his eyes flicker. He likes it. He likes the bed. He likes sitting next to me. He even secretly likes watching me murder snacks.
And when the lights dim, I wiggle closer just to hear his pulse trip up. Adorable. He's pretending to shrink down like "ugh ads" but I know the truth: my big scary wolf is comfy and blushing.
The best part? I bartered him into a KISS CONTRACT. Four kisses tonight, signed, sealed, negotiated like the mafia lawyer I was always destined to be. I will collect them, one by one, like Pokémon.
Honestly? This is perfect. Theater, food crimes, my wolf. If heaven had a cinema, it'd look like this.
đș Dominic's POV
The lights dim. The big screen swallows the hall whole, and the fake doomed love story kicks off with the kind of melodrama that makes me want to roll my eyes into another century.
At first it's fine. The opening shot. Soft rain, a handsome stranger, violins. Lean gasps like he's been personally betrayed by the cinematographer.
"PUPPERS!" he whispers â loudly. Too loudly.
He's not whispering. He is broadcasting with the volume of a human air-raid siren. I clamp my hand over his mouth like a bad censor. He wiggles like an angry gummy worm and thenâbless himâdecides to narrate.
"No, noâdon't trust him, darling! He's the villain! He will steal your socks and your soul! Run away, run away that wayâno, the other leftâkick him! Kick the man in the knees, yes! NOW!"
Heads turn. Somewhere a grandmother clutches her pearls. Someone behind us hisses, "Shh!" violently, like the theater is a monastery and Lean is a brass band.
I whisper, die, sunlightâdie. Then I whisper at him proper: "Shut. Up. Now."
He presses his lips together like a stuffed clown and does the squinty-eyed pout. It doesn't help. He's vibrating with opinions.
And then the action sequence: mob chasing the lead couple through a rain-slick alley. People on screen sprint; people in the hall sprint to shush. Lean physically stands up, platforming himself on the sleeper-bed and leaning forward like he's about to jump into the projector.
"No, villain! He is lying! Don't go with him, you idiot!" He points at the screen as if the actors can hear him. He stands on his knees and throws a popcorn at the image, which, alarmingly, splashes down and rolls into the aisle like a tiny buttery rebellion.
My soul dies of public embarrassment, but my palms? They're sweating because of himâbecause the way his face lights up when he complains is⊠stupidly adorable. I clamp my other hand around the bouquet. It keeps me steady. Mostly.
Some guy two rows over gives me a look that says: control your boyfriend or I will call social services. I grin like I'm not the puppy who bought kidnapped roses. Lie.
The villain on screen kisses the heroine, betrayal music thunders, and Lean starts chanting, "Noooo! Traitor! He sold him for a dollar! He sold his grandmother for a gold dollar!"
People hiss. Someone scowls. A kid points. The old lady beside us whispers, "Young people," as if Lean's personal performance is a new youth epidemic.
By the time the onscreen couple breaks up in a dramatic waterfall-of-black-tears scene, Lean is sobbing theatrical drops into his cotton candy. I am both mortified and weirdly proud that my stupid vampire cries like a busted marionette. The interval cuts in like a mercy. Ok I have to rub up his face cause ain't there no way people can see him leaking old grease.
When the lights pop back up, people scurry for toilets and snacks. The hall empties into a rushing river of shoppers. Lean sits back, finds my hand in the dark, squeezes it, eyes bright as a guilty star.
I should be annoyed. I totally am. But then he grins sheepishly and lets me see that actually, I like the sound of his voice when he gets dramatic.
Which is a problem. Massive.
đ§ Lean's POV
Oh my glittering gods. I am living my best melodrama fantasy. The screen is suddenly my confessional and I am the world's worst director.
Everything is so intense â lush music, rain that looks like God is crying â YES THIS IS MY SHIPâ I already know who's lying. He is the villain. I felt it in my fangs.
"PUPPERS, LOOK!" I can't help it. Every scene is a crime and I am the law. I narrate, comment, cheer, boo, cry, predict and warn. The people behind us keep doing that angry whispering sound â you know the one, like they're collecting sin receipts. It only makes me louder.
When the mob chases the lovers, I stand up because obviously I am for justice. I point. I shout. "Kick him! Not the nose, the kneesâknees are the mood!" I fling a soggy nacho in the general direction of the screen because art needs seasoning.
Do I care about decorum? No. Do I care about Puppers' face turning several shades redder than his blood? Yes. But I am also a literal vampire with a huge heart wait I don't have one though and even bigger opinions. And the film? The film is a TRAITOR.
When the villain kisses the heroine I throw my cotton candy at the air like it's a flag of protest; bits of pink rain down like confetti. People look. Little kids giggle. An old man says the word heck and I love everything.
Puppers shushes me, because he is an adorably scandalized wolf and he thinks I might get us ejected. Then everything explodes into the breakup scene. I am sobbing with full theatrical energy. I sob for the heroine, for the villain â I SOB for the director, who had the audacity to make my OCD suffer.
Interval saves me like a good exorcism. We shuffle out with the rest of the crowd. Lights, movement, and the smell of overpriced nachos â glorious. I still have cotton candy stuck in my jaw and a leaf of mustard on my sleeve andâmiracleâthe blue roses smell like winter.
đș Dominic's POV
Interval. Thank God. Fresh air, snacks, toiletsâsalvation. Except⊠no. Of course not. Because everyone in the hall is staring at us like we're a circus act they didn't buy tickets for. Why? Because my vampire here can't keep his mouth shut for a single second. I want to crawl into a grave and pull the dirt in after me.
"Okay. You need to pee?" Don't judge me. I have to play mom or this idiot will actually pee his pants.
"Yup! Sure! My balls are busting!"
I shepherd him toward the restroom. Should've been simple. Should've been. But nothing with Lean is ever simple.
Because, of course, he manages to get his dick stuck in his zipper. And now he's running around the men's room, screaming like a traumatized roadrunner.
"STOP! Justâlet me take a look!"
Do I want to? No. Do I have a choice? Also no. He's actually got his foreskin tangled in there, and he's howling like the apocalypse hit.
"WAAHHH! My wee-wee's gonna fall off! Dommm PUPPERS it's gonna FALL OFF!"
"Can you shut up for two seconds? Get in the stall!" I yank him in, slam the lock, kneel down, and try to pry his pants open.
"Stop wiggling or i am gonna bite your ass!!" I snarl.
"You⊠you're not gonna bite my wee-wee, right?"
"WHAT?! LEAN, IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP I WILL TEAR IT OFF MYSELF AND FEED IT TO THE POPCORN MACHINE. GOD HOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO CURSED!"
Five excruciating minutes later, I finally free him. It's red, it's swollen, and I'm developing a migraine.
"Okay, stop crying. You wanna go home or finish the movie? I'll grab medicine on the way if we leave."
"No⊠I wanna see the ending."
Of course he does.
"Fine. Pants back on. Hurry. Interval's ending." I help him button up like he's a toddler with trauma.
We step out andâfantastic. Half the men's room has been eavesdropping. A whole crowd just standing there like we're putting on a TED Talk.
"What? You guys got your dicks stuck too?
Want a hand??
Rubbish!" I snarl, and growl, dragging Lean out by the wrist before anyone starts clapping.
"Straight back to the HALL!"
Well, I go straight. Lean detours to grab popcorn and Chicken dumplings for me. At least he paid this time. Small mercies.
By the time we return, the lights are off, ads done, movie almost resumed. No time for his usual tripping hazards. So I just pick him up, fireman-style, and sprint through the rows to our seats before he can body slam another stranger.
Ray, I swear, when this night endsâI'm coming for you.
đ§ Lean's POV
Interval is supposed to be the calm middle, right? A chance to breathe, refill snacks, maybe reapply lip gloss if you're mortal. Not for me. For me, it's destiny's way of reminding the world that I am a walking sitcom.
So Puppers, my long-suffering wolf, drags me to the bathroom. Which, fine, my bladder was practically doing opera solos. But then⊠then tragedy. Catastrophe. A horror film worse than the one we're not watching.
My wee-wee gets stuck in the zipper.
I yowl like an abandoned puppy. "DOMMM! PUPPERS! MY WEE-WEE'S GONNA FALL OFF!" I sprint around the men's room, hands flapping, pants half-on, half-off. Men scatter like pigeons at a firecracker show. OK I did spill a bit of pee here and there!
Dom, of course, grabs me like he's rounding up a feral toddler. "Get in the stall!" he barks, like we're in some prison drama.
Inside, he kneels like a grim surgeon, and I'm still weeping. "You're not gonna bite it, are you?" I squeak.
The look he gives me could kill ten vampires. "Lean, if you don't shut up, I'll tear it off and feed it to the popcorn machine!"
Romance. Pure romance. Dark romance!
After five minutes of my shrieks echoing off the tiles, he finally frees me. Blessed freedom. Though my poor little buddy is swollen like the nose of uncle pennywise(he is our family friend) at a toddler's party.
Puppers sighs like he's aged fifty years. "You wanna go home or finish the movie?"
Home? Miss the ending? Absolutely not. "No⊠I wanna see the ending." My voice is noble, tragic, brave. Like a hero returning from war.
He buttons me up himself (don't tell me this isn't intimacy). Then we leave the stall andâoh no. A whole crowd of men is waiting outside like they bought front-row tickets to my humiliation.
Puppers snarls, "What? You guys get your dicks stuck too?" and drags me out by the wrist. My cheeks are hotter than a vampire in the sun.
But did that stop me? No. Snacks heal everything. I buy popcorn (extra butter) and dumplings (because wolves love meat, obviously). Puppers grumbles but eats them, which is basically him saying thank you.
By the time we get back, the lights are already dim. Disaster! So my wolf prince scoops me up fireman-style and dashes through the hall like some mythic warrior carrying his cursed bride. I wave at people as we pass. Some cheer. Some boo. One kid points and says "cool."
Honestly? Iconic.
đș Dominic's POV:
Finallyâwe're settled. The dumplings are shockingly good. Lean is munching popcorn like Mr. Bean in his glory days, cheeks working overtime. Classic.
The film hits the climax and Lean clamps onto my arm like I'm an emotional support teddy bear. Then, true to form, he buries his face under my armpit.
"Dude, you're a vampire! It's not even that bloodyâ" I snort. "You wooped my ass better than that the time you went feral for blood!"
"Shh! It's diffrent Just⊠tell me when it's over!" he squeaks from my sleeve, peeking out and ducking back in like a startled meerkat. God. How is he this annoyingly cute? I could bake him into cupcakes.
ThenâKABOOM. Gunshots. The heroine tumbles off the cliff.
"NO! MY SHYLA!! MONICA, YOU CAN'T DIE!! DIRECTOR, I'M COMING FOR YOU!!" He's ugly-crying like a drama major on finals week, and I don't have the heart to be mad. I slide my arm under him and pull him closer, half-protective, half-mortified, patting his head like a very reluctant awkward teddy-bear parent.
"Okay. Okay. We'll hunt the director together. Don't cry." My jacket is ruinedâdamp with vampire snot and tears, and I sniff like an idiot because his face smells like cinnamon and winter and something that makes my chest twist.
Finallyâthe villain gets his comeuppance. Revenge nails it. The credits roll. Lights up. People start to shuffle out for snacks or the loo. I rub my face and go to stand.
"Alright, we head home. You need something vampâ"
Wait. He's asleep. Curled against my side. Full-on, exhausted, snotty, sleeping like the disaster angel he is. Demon. Same thing. He cried himself to sleep.
I grin, the proper stupid grin. The hall is thinning. The neon is soft. The chill of the night frames everything like a postcard.
The hall is almost empty now!
"Guess we keep the promises we make bat kid!"
So I press four pecks on his face, one on the damp forehead, the other two on the either cheeks and the last one on the nose!
The second my lips touch that rock-cold skin I feel my whole body do something traitorous. Ears want to pop, tail wants to wag; I clamp down on the urge and pretend I'm not melting. God, I'm losing it, but in a good way.
"Maybe some promises are worth keeping, bat-boy," I murmur.
Maybe I don't say it out loud. Maybe I don't have to. Maybeâ
"MaybeâŠthis time it's really love. I just need a few more days to figure it out." I whisper it to the falling snow outside more than to him.
I scoop him upâbaby-monkey styleâand he immediately loops his legs around my waist, hands clinging to my neck like I'm gravity. Mortifying, sweet, perfect. He snores once, tiny and content.
"Well embarrassing me even in sleep huh?" I hugged him tighter securing his face in the crook of my neck!
"Just rest those beautiful eyes you cried a lot" I whisper to his ears as he make those cute sleepy squeaks.
We step out into the street. It's five past ten. Snow is drifting slow. The street almost deserted. The shops are almost all closed, early Christmas lights blink like guilty stars. People watch usâtwo ridiculous silhouettes against the glow.
I don't care. All I care about is this small, stubborn vampire who keeps making me want to be less of a monster or maybe a monster finding home in another monster. And about the absurd, awful, impossible thing that feels dangerously like being someone's home.