bloodbath & beyond || naegami vampire au

by aliceskey13

Summary:

Makoto Naegi is offered the job of a lifetime: serving the Togami family as the newest butler at their countryside estate. At first, the only thing off about their son Byakuya seems to be his stuck-up, rich boy attitude. But after Makoto's first day on the job, there seems to be something else about Byakuya... and Makoto doesn't know if he, or his neck, will get out unscathed.

Chapter 1: and live with me forever now, pull the blackout curtains down

Summary:

we could be immortals, just not for long

(immortals - fall out boy)

Makoto sits down at the desk, nervous as all be. If all went well, this would be his first job ever. And to have the opportunity to interview for a position with the Togami conglomerate… It felt unreal. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it other than having the right connections, which made him even more nervous. He takes a deep breath as the patriarch of the Togami name looks over his resume. “The things you have listed are impressive for someone so young. Lots of volunteering.”
        “Oh, thank you. Yes, I love working with people and helping them.” Makoto grins, trying to seem professional but also human.
        “What drew you to this position? I hope not just the incredible pay,” the businessman asks in a joking manner.
        Makoto sits upright in the chair across from the intimidating man. “Oh, let me think about that for a moment.” He intentionally looks thoughtful, pulling out old job interview tips he received from high school. “I love the experience I could achieve, and what I could learn from this job. I think it’d make me… a better man, I guess you could say. Learn and grow some hands-on skills, get to know new people while surrounded by good influences, et cetera.” Makoto smiles, setting his hands on his lap.
        Mr. Togami eyes him, expressionless. This was the businessman’s fifteenth interview of the day, but he couldn't help but see the spark in the young man’s eyes. “You know what Makoto? I think we’re done here.”
        Makoto’s heart drops, looking at him in despair. “Oh, is that so? Alright. Thank you.” He gives a curt smile, standing and reaching his hand out, trying and failing to keep hope.
        “Thank you for coming in today, Makoto.” Mr. Togami shakes Makoto’s hand firmly, watching the shorter man turn around and head for the door.
        Just as he reaches for it, the door slams open when a tall, blonde man comes through. With a look of contempt, he pushes past Makoto and flops down in a chair in the corner of the room, crossing his legs and pouting. “Sorry, I’m late.”
        “You’re very late, Byakuya. We just ended this interview. Makoto, I apologize, but this is my son.”
        Makoto looks toward Byakuya, watching him as he sulks and rolls his eyes. Oh, brother, he’s a stuck-up rich kid. Maybe I’m glad I bombed this interview, Makoto thinks, trying his hardest not to glare at the skinny man. He had a particular distaste for ungrateful people, and he could tell from this interaction alone that liking Byakuya would be a challenge. However, he still wanted to look good; Mr. Togami had a powerful influence on the entire city, and if Makoto had made a bad impression, his professional life could be over. “Nice to meet you, Byakuya,” he greets, reaching out his hand.
        The blonde scoffs, shaking Makoto’s hand uncomfortably hard and muttering, “Nice to meet you,” before looking away and crossing his arms. “How much longer do I have to be here?”
        “Why, do you have plans?” Makoto could sense an argument forming between the father and son, so he slowly started to creep toward the door. “You better not be running off with that girl.”
        “Dad, it's not like that-”
        “Don’t talk back to me. Makoto, I'm sorry you have to hear all this. You may leave,” Mr. Togami acknowledges, gesturing toward the door.
        Makoto nods, sneaking a glance back at Byakuya before exiting the room. “Take care!”
        “Have a great day, Makoto!” Mr. Togami waves, while Byakuya just grunts.
        The petite man waits until he hears the door click behind him to sigh, dragging his hands down his face. It’s okay, I’m sure Kyoko has other ideas, he thinks, trying to pump himself up as he exits the lobby of the tall office building, walking toward the sleek black car that awaits him in the porte-cochère. He opens the passenger-side door and gets in, meeting the semi-excited expression on the purple-haired girl in the driver’s seat. “How’d it go, sweetheart?”
        Makoto shrugs, his voice quiet. “Fine, I think. I don’t think I got it.”
        Kyoko purses her lips, staring forward as she begins to drive out of the parking lot. “That’s a shame. This job would’ve been great for you. You’re a fantastic organizer.”
        He chuckles, looking out the window. “Yeah, I would’ve been the best file organizer this side of the Pacific.” He shakes his head. “I mean, how competitive of a company is it if you have to beat out multiple people for a job as a freaking file organizer? What on Earth?”
        Kyoko smiles slightly, reaching out a hand to pat her boyfriend’s shoulder gently. The rest of the long drive to Makoto’s house is silent, spare for the songs playing on the radio. The man hops out of the car, not before receiving a chaste kiss goodbye, and enters his house solemnly. He begins to fish through his kitchen pantry, looking for something quick to make for dinner, before he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and leans against the wall. Hm, an unknown number. Against his better judgement, he answers and holds the phone to his ear. “Hello, this is Makoto Naegi.”
        “Good evening, Mr. Naegi. This is Kijō Togami with the Togami conglomerate, who interviewed you earlier today. I hate to call you like this, without notice.” The voice is cold and emotionless.
        Makoto’s throat dries up and he tenses. “Oh, no worries. How can I help you?” he squeaks out, much less confident. His fingers find the hem of his shirt and tug mindlessly.
        “I regret to inform you that we have found someone else more suitable for the position you interviewed for.” Makoto holds the phone away from his mouth as he sighs, and is about to speak up before he’s cut off by the man on the phone. “However, we have another position that we’d love to offer you, if you’d accept it. It’s a little… different than the position you interviewed for, but I have no doubts that you’d excel.”
        Makoto swallows, more confused than anything. “Could you elaborate on what this new job would be?”
        The man on the phone clears his throat, noticeably apprehensive. “Our estate, just outside the city. We’ve recently had a butler resign and have been looking for a new hire. You’d live on the estate, eh, think like an au pair. I know this offer seems a bit drastic compared to the one you hoped to get, so I’ll happily give you until this weekend to consider.”
        By this point, Makoto’s shirt hem has stretched. He looks around the room, trying to find something to focus on as he gets his thoughts in order. I’m sure this’ll be a great experience for me, he reasoned. The only thing I have keeping me here is Kyoko and I’m sure she could visit. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers. “I’ll take the job.”
        Kijō chuckles. “Splendid. I’ll have my car come and get you in the morning.”
        The morning?! “Sounds great. Thank you!” They say their goodbyes and Makoto hangs up. He slowly slides down the wall into a sitting position. There’s no way this is real. A butler for the richest family in the country? Makoto immediately calls Kyoko and explains the situation to her, of which she is excited for. The man originally hoped for her to have some hang-ups about the restricted visits, but she didn’t seem to mind. With a frazzled brain, Makoto gets himself ready for bed and lies down. This is my last night in this room… Oh, God, what did I get myself into?

---

        In the car on the way to the estate, Makoto anxiously combed his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. The chauffeur was silent and stoic, which did not help Makoto’s nerves. He swallowed, deciding half an hour into the drive to speak up for the first time. “So, uh, got any hobbies?” What the hell was that? He immediately cringed, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. The driver did not respond, making it worse. “I like to journal, personally.” Just stop talking!
        After an excruciating rest of the drive, they pull into the beautiful roundabout of the Togami’s country estate. The gothic architecture takes Makoto’s breath away as he gawks while coming out of the car. Kijō and, Ugh, Byakuya Togami stride toward and tower over him under the covered entryway, shaking his hand one after the other. “Makoto. It’s good to see you,” Kijō greets succinctly. “I’ll have our driver take your bags up to your room and I’ll see to it that Byakuya shows you the ropes. I have a meeting to catch, but I trust you’re in good hands.” He gives a curt smile before entering a second car and driving away.
        Makoto swallows, suddenly feeling a lot less confident as he finds himself alone with the tall, blonde man, whose harsh and cold stare does not give any aid. “So help me, if you get on my nerves at all whatsoever, I will have you removed from the estate promptly,” he snides, turning on his heel and walking toward the grand front doors.
        The shorter man rolls his eyes slightly, muttering a quick, “Good morning to you, too,” before hurriedly catching up with the other. Between the height of the ceilings and the man next to him, Makoto felt further out of his league than he did when Kyoko asked him out back in high school. “Am I… allowed to ask questions?” he asks gingerly, almost scared to say something wrong.
        Byakuya looks at him through the glare in his glasses, his nearly-silver eyes piercing against his pale skin. “Let me do the talking for now.” His long, black, tailored slacks flow against his legs, mesmerizingly. Everything from the architecture to the decor of the house, to even its residents, dried Makoto’s mouth. Here he was wearing a hoodie and jeans in an estate worth more than the last three generations of his family. He glances behind him at the sleek tile, praying he isn’t scuffing anything up with his ratty tennis shoes.
        Byakuya continues to show his new hire around nearly all of the rooms in the seemingly never-ending mansion, from the rooms he’d spend the most time in, like the kitchen and dining hall, to the rooms he’d almost never set foot in, like Byakuya’s sleeping quarters. Eventually they made it to Makoto’s sleeping quarters, where Byakuya turned to face the man for the first time in a good long while. “Now you may ask questions, though I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
        Makoto nods slowly, overwhelmed by all the information he had to take in all at once. “Um… how long will I be staying here?”
        “Until we fire you.”
        Ouch. He nodded again, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. “Okay… do I have a uniform to wear?”
        Byakuya sighs and rolls his eyes, as if that was the most obvious and stupid question he’d ever been asked. The blonde man truly had a knack for making Makoto feel stupid. “We’ve effectively replaced your entire wardrobe. Everything can be found in your closet or drawers. If articles don’t fit, we have a tailor we can call in.” He reaches his slender fingers up to adjust the bangs in front of his face. “If you’re done wasting my time, you can get to work. I’m sure there’s something you can clean. If you for any reason need me, I’ll be reading in the library on the second floor, but I do not expect nor want to be bothered.” With a comical flourish of his hand, he turns on his heel and exits the grand room, his shoes clicking against the hardwood floor.
        Makoto finally breathes for the first time in what feels like ages. He barely knew the man but already felt disdain for him, which was very unfitting of his positive nature. He’d have to get over himself if he wanted to keep this job. With this pay, I could get Komaru through college. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair getting out of his face. He closes the large double doors to his new room and starts to rummage through his drawers. After collecting the articles to make up what he expects of his uniform, he dresses and takes a look in the mirror. The slim fit of the black suit vest accentuates his waist in a way he initially doesn’t like. Oh, great, I look like a girl. So much for trying to look respectable to Byakuya. He feels silly while posing in the mirror, stretching out his arms and messing with his hair. He spends enough time in front of the mirror that he starts to appreciate how he looks. You know what? Screw it. I’m handsome! With an unfortunately brief surge of confidence, Makoto exits his sleeping quarters and begins down the hallway.
        He struggles to remember the lengthy tour Byakuya had taken him on just moments earlier but eventually finds a utility closet of sorts. He looks for a dusting spray and rag he usually uses at home, but all he can find is an old-timey-looking feather duster. How old are these people? He shrugs to himself and takes it, backtracking to try and find a room that looks like it could use some tidying-up. What in the world does a butler do? He ponders this question while roaming the never-ending hallways, until he comes across a large, open room, with a beautiful grand piano in the center.
        A gobsmacked Makoto stands in the entryway, almost swept off his feet. He didn’t have a piano at his house and therefore hadn’t been able to play since high school. Maybe if I dust it first… they wouldn’t mind… He shakes the thought out of his head, too scared to try anything that might get him on anyone’s bad side. He makes his way to the piano, gently lifting up the lid so he can get access to the inside.
        As he dusts, the keys become even more tempting to him. The door’s closed, so the sound wouldn’t travel too badly… He finally can’t hold back the desire anymore, so after dusting, he moves to close the lid to dampen the sound. However, when closing it, he clumsily pinches the tip of his finger. He seethes, yanking his hand away and shaking it out. Just my luck, huh? He inspects his hand before sitting at the bench and places the duster next to him with the other hand. Not much looked noteworthy, except for a small spot of blood where a bit of skin had been pinched especially hard. He brings his finger up to his tongue, not letting it get to him, and not letting it interfere with his desire to play. He shakes out his hands, suddenly nervous, as if he were about to perform. He rests his hands on the pristine ivory keys and begins to play out one of the only pieces he ever memorized in full: “Nocturne in E Flat Major (Op. 9 No. 2)” by Chopin. It’s a little slow and a little clunky in some places, but in all regard, he slips back into the flow of things quite seamlessly. So entranced by the music flowing through the gorgeously tuned strings, he gets no further than halfway through the piece when he’s interrupted.
        “Ah, Chopin,” an unfortunately recognizable voice pipes up behind Makoto, catching the player off-guard and nearly scaring him out of his skin. “You know, I wouldn’t have taken you as an instrumentalist.”
        Makoto learns to breathe again before turning around, shrinking in the petrifying gaze of Byakuya. “I, um, played growing up… Helicopter parents, you know?” He chuckles lightly, trying not to say anything stupid, of which he was an expert.
        Byakuya taps his foot, hands resting on his slender hips. “What did I tell you before I left you to your own devices?”
        Makoto swallows, feeling his blood run cold. “You, uh, mentioned that you’d be in the library.”
        “Exactly. What do libraries require, hm?” His voice is so patronizing, it nearly sets off Makoto’s fight-or-flight instinct.
        “...Silence,” Makoto sighs, looking away as he stands up, grabbing the feather duster dejectedly.
        Byakuya nods, stepping a tad bit closer. “Now, I normally would’ve come up here to snap at you, telling you to shut the hell up and do your job… but I, admittedly, quite enjoyed your performance.”
        “I’m sorry, sir, it won’t… wait, you did?” Makoto looks up, confused, yet relieved.
        “Yes, but don’t get it twisted in that tiny brain of yours. I still expect real work from you. And don’t call me sir.” He makes a face, looking away. “I, uh,” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes. Makoto’s eyebrows knit together as he sees the man’s face contort. Is he nauseous or something? “Are you… bleeding in any way?” he quietly makes out, taking a step back.
        Makoto’s mouth opens to speak, not fully grasping the situation. He glances down at his hand, noticing the small spot on his finger from earlier. It wasn’t actively bleeding, just a little red. “Uh, not really? I pinched my finger in the piano’s lid earlier…”
        Byakuya inhales, stepping back again. He clears his throat, shaking his head, his blonde hair ruffling up just a tad. “Don’t… do that again.” He adjusts his glasses before quickly exiting the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.
        Makoto stands, momentarily speechless as he tries to run through what just happened in his head. This family was a lot more odd than he initially thought. He spins the feather duster around in his hand, scratching his head with the other. He glances back at the piano, wondering if Byakuya had potentially spotted a red mark or two on the keys, but there was nothing there. A little unsettled, Makoto decided to simply drop it and continue on with his job. Maybe someone else here could lend him a clue or two.
        He exits the piano room and crosses the first floor, finding himself in the mudroom, which he could tell could use some tidying just based on how it looked. He set the duster on a small bench as he knelt carefully, beginning to pick up pairs of shoes and boots and line them up neatly. The door opening beside him catches his attention, the sheer amount of sunlight coming through momentarily blinding him. There’re not many windows here, are there? At first, from his level, he sees a chunky gray cat stride in, attached to a leash. Makoto smiles, which doesn’t last long upon looking upward and seeing the person at the other end of the leash. A tall, slender, pale woman, adorned in phenomenal gothic attire and makeup, parasol and all, strides in and closes the door behind her. She chuckles upon seeing the pathetic-in-comparison Makoto. “Ah, so they finally got a new one,” she mutters, stepping around him like he was merely an obstacle.
        Makoto breathes after she moves past, quickly standing up to get a better look at her. She didn’t look anything like Byakuya, so she couldn’t have been a family member, but she clearly didn’t look… normal. He picks up the feather duster and quickly brushes away the cat hair left in her path, trying to re-center himself. He felt blown away by every new development and didn’t know if he’d ever get a break. Maybe at lunch, he’d figure out who she was.
        He made his way to the kitchen, where the chef leaned against the counter, on his phone. Makoto furrowed his brows, a little confused at such lax behavior in such a setting as this. “Um, excuse me? Do you know when lunch will be held?”
        The chef looked up from his phone, looking as if he was about to laugh at the butler. “Is that a serious question?”
        Makoto scratched the back of his head, feeling as if he were being pranked from how embarrassing this day had been so far, and it wasn’t yet noon. “Yes?”
        The chef’s smirk quickly falls, seemingly realizing that Makoto was, indeed, serious. “Lunch is in fifteen hours.”
        Makoto freezes, tilting his head and chuckling anxiously. “Really?” he barely makes out, seriously considering the reality of having fallen for an immaculate prank. “That’d be, uh… two a.m.?”
        The chef nods before returning his attention to his phone. Makoto slowly backs out of the kitchen, heading back toward the utility closet to return his feather duster, thoughts running rampant. Something was up with this house, this family, and while he didn’t have much to back it up, he had a seriously bad feeling about everything. He makes it back up to his room and stares at himself in the mirror, anxiously fiddling with his hair. When he was in here… did I see Byakuya’s reflection? He shakes his head, trying to clear his head of such ridiculous thoughts. What the hell am I thinking? Vampires aren’t real.
        Right?

Notes:

hi hi everyone! i came up with this idea a whiiile ago and am just now getting around to writing it :)

Chapter 2: how did we get here?

Summary:

and it's hanging on your tongue, just boiling in my blood

(decode - paramore)

“Makoto, I swear to God, he’s not a vampire.”
        “But you don’t know that for sure, right?” Makoto laughs anxiously, leaning against the foot of his bed, using this self-appointed break as a chance to debrief with his sister over the phone. “Like, I know they’re not real. Obviously. I’m not stupid.”
        Komaru laughs at the other end of the line. “Are you certain?” Makoto flushes as she continues to tease him, calling him ridiculous, among other things. “If you’re so convinced that he’s a vampire, how about you go ask him whether he is or not?”
        The man pales at the possibility, shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, no… they’d fire me immediately…” He swallows, looking around at the gothic architecture and furniture. “...But maybe I could run some… experiments?”
        Komaru sighs, getting second-hand embarrassment through the phone. “Whatever. Just tell me what happens.”
        “Alright, I will.” With that, they exchange goodbyes and Makoto hangs up. What on Earth did I mean by ‘experiments’? Maybe I should go find him, he thinks. He pushes himself off the bed and pockets his phone, slimming out his suit vest before exiting into the hallway. Byakuya said he’d be in the library… I wonder if he and that girl are in there? Oh, God, where was it… this place has way too many hallways… Makoto lets his mind wander as he carefully peeks inside every doorway, before finding a set of large double doors at the end of a hallway. He’s almost certain this has to be the library. He twists the doorknob gently, almost scared to leave any trace.
        He pushes the door open slowly, eyes landing on Byakuya. Sat at a table across from the girl from before, his slender legs cross over each other. The girl’s parasol is closed, leaning against the dimly-lit table. They both stare daggers at Makoto, Or maybe that’s just how they always look? The butler clears his throat, feeling the hair on his neck stand up. “Sorry for intruding. I just wanted to… see what kind of books you had.” What am I even saying? Agh!
        Byakuya rolls his eyes, pushing up his glasses. “Fine. Don’t bother me and don’t make yourself noticeable.” He returns his attention to his book, while the girl admires her manicure, swirling around what appears to be red wine in a glass.
        Makoto fiddles with his bangs before carefully walking toward her, very intimidated. “It’s, um, nice to meet you. I’m Makoto, I work here now.” He internally cringes at his awkwardness, holding out his hand for her to shake.
        She looks up at her through her long false lashes, letting out a short scoff at the idea of having to make physical contact with him. Her fat cat snakes between Makoto’s legs, letting out quiet purrs and leaving behind a new coat of fur on his slacks. “Celestia Ludenberg,” she states, taking a sip of her drink while shooting a look at Byakuya.
        Makoto swallows, more intimidated than he had been before. He eyes her drink, almost worried at the thought that it could possibly be blood. No, no, that’s so stupid… Before he can stop himself, he’s already speaking. “What’re you, uh, drinking there?”
        Byakuya lets out a half-snort, not looking up from his book while Celestia stares up at Makoto again, this time somehow even more annoyed by his presence than before. “Cranberry juice,” she says firmly, before returning her gaze back to the blonde.
        “Cranberry juice, huh?” Makoto repeats, awkwardly laughing as he shifts his weight on his feet. “Kinda bitter, don’t you think?” She doesn’t bother responding this time and Makoto takes it as his cue to finally leave. He speed-walks off toward a corner of the library and prays to be put out of his misery. Went through years upon years of public school and never learned how to talk to people, huh? He combs his fingers through his hair as he pulls out his phone to text Komaru, a little frazzled from how hard he bombed that interaction.

        Makoto, 13:58
        y would a girl drink cranberry jiice???
        juice*
        seems sus to me… could b blood…

        Makoto taps his foot, waiting for a response from his poor baby sister, who has to put up with antics like these. He looks around at the books lining the shelves, all of which seem dusted over. Ugh, I’ll be in here a lot… He doesn’t recognize many authors, though he didn’t tend to pay the most attention in school, so he’s not that surprised. Byakuya seems like the guy to keep around a bunch of classics just to look cool… His phone buzzes and he looks down.

        Komaru, 14:00
        bffr are you serious rn

        Makoto, 14:00
        yes!! :(
        random girl not part of the fam came in earlier. drinking blood says its cran juice

        Komaru, 14:01
        she with byakuys?
        baykiya*
        ugh
        the main guy

        Makoto, 14:01
        she is rn yeah
        in their huuuuuge libary

        Komaru, 14:01
        makoto istg,,,
        its a thing with girls that drinking cranberry juice can make ur pussy taste good

        Makoto, 14:01
        WHAT ?
        
        Komaru, 14:02
        yeah lmfao
        shes prob his gf
        plus like, people can like drinks. its not blood bro
        weirdo

        Makoto, 14:02
        hey! :(
        im gonna go investiate more

        Komaru, 14:02
        go make kyoko proud

        Makoto pockets his phone, a little humiliated and grossed out if Komaru was right in her assumptions. He scratches the back of his head, trying to think about more stereotypical vampire-like behaviors that he could try and identify. However, not only was Byakuya a ‘suspect’ in his head, Celestia was as well. Maybe the whole family is?
        He wanders around the back corner of the library, trying to find any so-called hints. His eyes lock onto a random book in the middle of an eye-level shelf that’s noticeably less dusty than the rest. He picks it out and eyes the engraved title. He almost lets out a laugh. There’s no way… In his hands was Bram Stoker’s Dracula. He almost was more convinced of the Togami family pranking him now, rather than them being vampires. It’s too on-the-nose! If I was a vampire, I don’t think I’d wanna own books that portray my kind like this… Out of curiosity, he flips open the front cover and stops dead in his tracks.
        It’s signed.
        Makoto quickly returns the book to its place on the shelf, the hairs on the back of his neck rising again. It has to be from a reissue or something, he tries to convince himself. No way an Irish author from over a century ago somehow signed this Japanese guy’s book… He wanders alongside more bookshelves, trying to recount all the odd behaviors or coincidences he’s noticed in his short time here. He thinks about both Byakuya’s and Celestia’s pale, pale skin, and how Celestia’s eyes even appear to be red… He shakes his head, calling himself silly for the umpteenth time, before deciding to just bring things up at lunch… in twelve hours.

---

        After cleaning some more and taking a short nap in his butler attire, Makoto readies himself for a very late lunch. At around one, he fixes up his hair and smoothes out any wrinkles, slipping on his shoes and staring at himself in the mirror. He rubs away sleep from his eyes before stepping out of his room and making his way to the kitchen.
        He greets the chefs and other butlers, who all seem as awake as if it were daytime. Makoto nervously helps set the dining table in the room next door. He sets out food as members of the Togami family, alongside Celestia, all file into the room. He makes brief eye contact with Byakuya, suddenly nervous any time he’s around the man. He quickly reenters the kitchen, swallowing as the other butlers give him looks. “Um, excuse me?” He asks one of the chefs apprehensively. “Are… am I allowed to eat with them? Or… or do we have, like… our own lunch time…”
        The chef looks at him judgementally, tilting his head before nodding with a small sigh. “You may eat with them if you wish.”
        “Cool, thanks,” Makoto quickly mumbles before rushing out of the kitchen and sitting at the first open seat he spots in the dining hall. It’s right across from Byakuya. Oh jeez.
        Lunch is eaten in silence for an excruciating five minutes, while Makoto hyperanalyzes every movement the blonde makes. He’s not eating as well as I’d expect… Steak is a pretty hefty lunch choice, though. Oof, and his is pretty raw… or maybe the chefs made it that way on purpose? His eyes dart over to Celestia’s, which is prepared similarly. He swallows a little, realizing that means the steak is bloodier. He looks down at his own plate briefly, which doesn’t seem to have anything amiss. He returns his gaze to Byakuya, who continues to prod at his food.
        Makoto lets out a light chuckle, shrugging. “I’m more a fan of Italian, personally,” he jokes, before taking a bite. Oh my God, what was that?! The entire family stares at him, and he feels the gaze burn through his skin. Especially Byakuya’s.
        The latter clears his throat. “My family can’t have Italian cuisine. Nor can Celestia,” he responds curtly, taking the most pathetic bite of steak Makoto’s yet to witness.
        The shorter man nearly shakes, both from embarrassment and anxiety. “Oh man, why? Allergic or something?” Makoto laughs nervously, looking down at his plate. I swear to all that is holy, if he says they’re allergic to garlic, I’m gonna snap.
        Byakuya nods, huffing a bit. “Yes. We all have a garlic allergy.”
        Makoto involuntarily laughs aloud, his hand flying up to cover his mouth as everyone in the room whips around to look at him. His blood runs cold as he almost begins to spiral. “Are you serious? That’s a little obvious, isn’t it?” Stop humiliating yourself, oh my God!
        Byakuya furrows his eyebrows, leaning in across the table just a tad. “Now what do you mean by that?”
        Just stop talking! Say ‘never mind’! “I mean, the parasols, the lack of windows, the nighttime lunch, the signed copy of Dracula in the library, the massive mansion, Byakuya smelled my blood and acted weird about it, Celestia was drinking something red and I don’t believe it was cranberry juice because cranberry juice is gross, you guys are crazy rich, everything’s very gothic, we’re clear out in the middle of nowhere, you’re all super pale, and uh…” Makoto trails off, noticing the absolute daggers that Byakuya’s shooting him from across the table. He slides down in his seat a tad, face turning pink. “That’s… all I’ve gathered so far, I think.”
        Byakuya groans, pinching the bridge of his nose behind his glasses. “Makoto, what on Earth are you insinuating?”
        Makoto nearly wishes he could just seep into the ground and cease existing. If I’m wrong… which I am… I almost hope they fire me. God, Kyoko’s gonna be so mad at me for losing this job! “I, uh… I kinda think you guys are vampires.” There it goes. Goodbye, Komaru’s college fund!
        Celestia nearly spits out her drink, holding back a laugh as she eyes Makoto, while Byakuya simply sighs, exasperated. He opens his mouth to speak multiple times before anything ever comes out. “Is that a serious inquiry?” he mutters, the look in his silver eyes making Makoto’s stomach turn. The shorter man slowly nods, and it gets a slight laugh out of the other. “How amusing. Dad, did you fail to mention a certain few things?” He turns to face the end of the table, where Kijō sits, sipping a drink as red as Celestia’s.
        The older man sets his glass down and smiles, entertained by the situation. “Ah, yes, it seems so. I apologize, Makoto,” he addresses. “For the miscommunication. While we typically don’t refer to ourselves as such, yes, we are what would commonly be referred to as ‘vampires’. I’m sorry, I did truly think that with all the rumors spread about our family, you would’ve already known.” He lets out a short chuckle, sipping his drink, as if Makoto’s world wasn’t just rocked.
        The latter man’s mouth hangs open, looking between the faces of everyone else at the table. “Are you guys serious? Are you all actually vampires?” He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was simply being pranked due to being a new hire and awaited the big reveal.
        Kijō nods, giving a kind smile. “Yes, and we come from a long line. Well, us Togamis do. Celestia was turned, oh, what was it… a year ago now? About when she started dating Byakuya.” He chuckles as Byakuya grumbles something incomprehensible while staring down at his plate.
        So they are dating! And he… turned her? Gross! Makoto shakes his head, still trying to get a grasp on things. “Are the workers, uh, human? ‘Cause, like… I am…” He shoves another bite into his mouth, hoping it’ll shut him up.
        “Yes, they’ve all simply adapted to our schedule. Again, I do apologize for the confusion. I hope you’re not too bothered.” Kijō offers another smile as Makoto continues to stress-eat. Oh my God, what if they drink my blood?! Ahh!
        Makoto shakes his head, laughing nervously again as he swallows his bite. “Oh, I’m okay!” he lies. “I’m just, uh… worried! About the, um… sun exposure! In case I might… open one of the windows… or something…” Makoto rambles, pausing inconsistently as his brain runs faster than his mouth can keep up with.
        Byakuya scoffs from across the table, shaking his head. “Ugh. That is such an annoying stereotype. We don’t turn to dust in the sun or anything like that. We’re just more sensitive.” He rolls his eyes as Makoto shrinks in his seat again. “When I was much younger, I didn’t realize this, and now I wear glasses.” He gives a brief tight-lipped smile, trying to seem personable to the man across from him. It’s not working.
        Frazzled, Makoto finally convinces himself to shut up for the rest of the lunch, quickly finishing his meal and thanking the others for their company. He stands and enters the kitchen, efficiently washing his dishes and trying to mind his own. He overhears a few of the other workers commenting on the fact that he didn’t know the status of the Togamis, and his face turns pink again. God, I feel like such an idiot… wait, no, I shouldn’t! How would I have ever predicted this?!
        He washes his hands and hurries back to his room, closing the door behind him and flopping onto his bed. He takes a breather for a moment before pulling out his phone to update his sister.

        Makoto, 2:16
        komaruuu!!!!!!!
        r u awake??
        
        Komaru, 2:17
        yeah

        Makoto, 2:17
        omg!!! they r vampires!!!!
        they told me at lunch!!! which they just had!!!! at night!!!

        Komaru types for a long moment before finally sending her reply.

        Komaru, 2:18
        omg im actually dead look them up rn

        Makoto lowers his eyebrows, switching over to an internet tab on his phone. He types ‘Togami family’ into the search bar, nervously biting at his nails as he waits for the page to load. He scrolls over the results, finding many social media posts, online forums, and articles discussing their vampiric nature. He facepalms, feeling incredibly stupid for simply blindly trusting Kyoko’s dad’s job recommendation and not bothering to look into it at all.
        He continues biting at his nails, on the verge of spiraling as he reads more and more. He rolls onto his back, opting to stare up at his phone instead, careful to make sure his shoes are hanging off the bed. He didn’t often bite at his nails, as Kyoko had helped try to train him away from that. But in moments of incredible duress such as this, he couldn’t help it.
        He seethes slightly, pulling his hand away from his mouth, staring at the hangnail he had pulled a little too far back. A small spot of blood forms on his finger, and within seconds, there’s a knock at his door.
        The man scrambles, sliding off his bed and pocketing his phone once more, quickly opening the door to face Byakuya. Because of course it’s him! Makoto clears his throat, nodding as he opens the door a little wider. “Good evening- er, good afternoon?”
        Byakuya sighs, rolling his eyes. “You can say good evening. May I come in?”
        Makoto chuckles anxiously, scratching the back of his head. “Heh… having to ask permission… vampire stuff…” After being met with Byakuya’s deadpan expression, he quickly quiets and lets the taller man inside his room. “Um, what can I do for you?”
        Byakuya stands in the middle of the room, fixing his hair. He doesn’t bother walking over to the mirror to do such. Makoto steps closer and looks in it, however. Wow, you really can’t see him! I guess it’s all real, then? He swallows, turning to the other as he begins to speak. “My father wanted me to make sure you were… alright. Not all of our recruits tend to… want to stay.” He rests his hands on his hips, spinning to face Makoto.
        He shrugs, messing with his hair mindlessly as he thinks of what to say. “I think I’m alright. It’s all just so crazy! Like, I thought vampires were completely fantasy!” He smiles a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you guys turn into bats?”
        Byakuya groans lightly, looking away. “No. What an idiotic question.” He scoffs, crossing his arms tight across his chest. “And…” He abruptly pauses, eyes flaring as he turns back to face his butler. “Are you bleeding again?”
        Makoto’s eyes widen, staring down at the nail he had bit too hard moments earlier. “Oh, um, yeah. Sorry. I’m not sure if it makes you guys… hungry or something?” He, without thinking, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks away the small drop of blood.
        Byakuya’s stare hardens at Makoto’s supposedly innocent action. His shoulders tense and all he does for a moment is take in the other’s appearance. “…Sure,” he mutters, before hurrying out of the room without so much as excusing himself.
        Makoto dons a concerned look, moving to close the door to his room after Byakuya. Did I offend him? he worries, still feeling so foreign to everything that was happening around him. He cards his fingers through his hair, feeling as overwhelmed as ever. He sits on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, trying to think of ways to calm himself down. He could always just go to bed, he thought, except for the fact that everybody around him now expected him to be awake at obscene hours.
        He pulls out his phone to try calling his girlfriend, but of course, she doesn’t answer. Great, so not only do I live away from her now, but we’re on completely different schedules. He huffs, pocketing his phone and deciding to just dust the library like he was planning on before.
        Steeling himself in case anyone tried to talk to him, he heads toward the utility closet to grab his trusty feather duster. Maybe I should name him! He swings the duster around his finger as he makes his way back to the library, trying to keep his head up.
        The library is empty when Makoto gets there, and he lets out a small breath. He picks a shelf to his left and starts there, going through and dusting from top to bottom. He has to stretch on his tiptoes to reach the upper shelves, and it makes him feel a bit ridiculous. He shuffles on his tiptoes down an aisle, opting to get the entire upper shelves in go, mostly in fear of someone like Byakuya walking in and making a fool of him. I wonder how old he actually is? He lands back on his feet and tucks his shirt back in, hair standing on-end as he hears the door open. He leans over to get a better view and, Great, it’s Byakuya. He swallows, beginning to dust the eye-level shelves and mind his own.
        They exist in a silence that’s awkward only on Makoto’s end. Makoto makes his way down the entire aisle, dusting every level of the bookshelf, before turning around to dust the other side. More tiptoes… He sighs, cursing himself for not growing any taller since primary school as he reaches higher to get the tops of the shelf. He hears footsteps clicking against the hardwood floor behind him and he attempts to not react much.
        Makoto feels a hand on his shoulder and drops to his feet, turning to look up at Byakuya standing there. The taller man clears his throat, holding his hand out toward the feather duster. “Allow me. You look ridiculous.”
        Makoto sighs, handing over the duster and taking a step back as Byakuya, with ease, dusts the tops of the bookshelves. He scratches his head, looking away while his face gets a bit warm from embarrassment. “Ah, um, thank you,” he mumbles, waiting for Byakuya to finish.
        The blonde turns to hand the duster back, but hesitates. “Were you going to dust the entire library?” Makoto nods and Byakuya’s eyes dart away. “I might as well stay here, then. To dust the places you can’t reach.”
        Makoto’s eyes widen and he can’t help but smile slightly. “Aw, man, really? Thanks, Byakuya!” He takes the feather duster back, starting on finishing off the shelf Byakuya had started. Sure, the man made him mildly terrified, but he might as well accept this small shred of kindness that was almost certain to be rare.
        In a similar manner, Byakuya continued to aid Makoto in dusting the library well into the morning. He didn’t seem as bothered by it as Makoto would’ve expected, but he didn’t ever make any conversation. They worked in silence, spare for the odd song Makoto started to hum out of habit. When finished, the shorter man turned to Byakuya with a smile. “Thank you for your help,” he remarked, before hurrying out of the library to busy himself elsewhere. Maybe it was the fact he was a vampire, maybe it was the fact he was almost a foot taller. But something about Byakuya made Makoto incredibly, undoubtedly nervous, any time they were in the same room.
        After spending the rest of the day cleaning random rooms and eating dinner by himself, he makes his way back to his room and lays down on his bed. I guess it’s time to sleep… He rolls onto his side, looking at the analog clock on the wall. Nine o’ clock in the morning. Makoto sighs, sitting up and fishing through his wardrobe for any sort of pajamas to change into. This’ll definitely take getting used to…

Notes:

i have a whole plot-order playlist for this fic muahaha >:)

Chapter 3: gimme gimme some of that vampire money

Summary:

sing it like the kids that are mean to you!

(vampire money - my chemical romance)

After hopping in the shower and trying to tame his hair, Makoto dresses in the fancy silk pajamas the Togami family had provided him. He settles into bed and scrolls for a bit on his phone, doing more research on the supposed, now confirmed, vampirism of the Togami family. While “Togamis vampires” yields a lot of online results, nothing has been confirmed by a primary source. It’s all speculation, almost like an internet-wide inside joke. Makoto huffs, setting his phone down and clicking off his lamp. He stares at the wall for a moment, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush he had much earlier in the day. Plus, he wasn’t tired at all. Sighing, he rolls onto his back and opts to stare at the detailed ceiling. Maybe I’ll just count the swirls… Counting the sculpted curls in the design on the ceiling, Makoto eventually drifts off before passing fifteen.
        The sound of the alarm on his phone beeping shocks Makoto awake, and he sits up urgently. After catching his breath and rubbing his eyes, he reaches over and turns off the alarm. As soon as he sees the time, he groans, flopping back down onto his back. The sun hasn’t even set yet! Limply, he rolls onto his side and grabs his phone and checks his notifications. Yay, Kyoko! Sticking his tongue out a bit as he focuses, he quickly texts her back.
        
        Kyoko, 10:28
        Good morning. I slept in.
        I’m assuming you might be sleeping, though.
        Komaru updated me.

        Kyoko, 14:58
        How has work been so far?
        Oh, you might still be asleep.
        
        Makoto, 18:31
        aaahhhjhh kyoko!!!!!! im so sorrryyyy i just woke up!!!!!!!
        vampire sleep schedules are so crazy :((
        
        Kyoko, 18:32
        Haha. I imagine so.
        
        Makoto, 18:32
        its so so so scrazy!!!! but im making so much money! :D
        i get paid for wthe first time onnnn friday i think
        i could payf or komarus college! and i could get my own horse!
        house*
        BUT I COULD BUY A HORSE TOO OMG!!!

        Kyoko, 18:33
        Hahahaha. Maybe you should get the house first.
        Also, if you’re still in bed, which I know you are…
        Go get to work.

        Makoto, 18:33
        boooooooo you sound like byakuya :P
        hehehehehehe
        ok ok text you llater!!! love youuuu

        Kyoko, 18:34
        Love you, too.

        Makoto smiles, sitting up, setting his phone down, and turning to hang his legs off the edge of the bed. He yawns, stretching out his arms above him before rubbing his eyes and standing. Entering the en suite bathroom, he groans a bit at the sight of his unruly bedhead. Damn you, wavy hair… Efficiently getting ready for the day and dressing in his uniform, he exits his room, unsure of what specifically to do today. Planning on just sucking it up and asking one of the other, higher-up butlers, he makes his way to the kitchen.
        He enters apprehensively, peeking his head in first before stepping all the way in. A few chefs and butlers move around the space, preparing breakfast. Makoto clears his throat awkwardly, trying to get someone’s attention. “Good, um, morning?” He swallows as eyes start to turn to him. “Is there anything I can help with?”
        They all glance at each other, willing someone other than themselves to answer. Nobody wanted to have to train the new guy with no experience. After what feels like ages of silence on Makoto’s end, one of the other butlers finally speaks up. “You may go set the table.”
        “Okay, great, thanks!” Makoto immediately scurries out of the kitchen and into the dining room from the other door, so he wouldn’t have to walk past any of the surprisingly intimidating workers. From a little cart by the door, he grabs only a plate at a time, knowing that with his luck, one might end up shattered on the floor not too long from now. Thinking almost manually about how on Earth a table is properly set, he gently puts down each plate before going back to the cart to grab the utensils. Whoa, gold! How did I not notice these earlier? I guess they can’t have silver… or is that a werewolf thing? Oh my God, are werewolves real?! Entertaining himself with his mild case of daydreaming, Makoto zones out as he sets the utensils, glasses, and napkins with surprising ease. After finishing, he dreads going back to the people in the kitchen to ask, “What now?”, so he opts to just sit at one of the seats and simply be at breakfast early.
        Zoning out and almost painfully bored, he starts to fiddle with his napkin, folding it in a way he remembered seeing on a cruise with his family when he and Komaru were little. He smiles to himself, content. Hehe, a little duck. His name is Jerry! At that moment, the door to the hallway pushes open, and Byakuya walks in, immediately locking eyes with Makoto.
        The latter man stands up quickly, placing his napkin duck on his plate and brushing himself off. “Good evening, Byakuya, sir!" He grins.
        Byakuya’s eyes narrow slightly, eyeing Makoto, then the plate, then Makoto. “I told you not to call me sir,” he chides. Oops. “And what the hell is that?”
        Makoto laughs anxiously out of habit, looking down at the humble napkin duck on his plate. He picks it up and holds it out, as if he were showing off. “Oh, I was bored, so, uh, I made a duck!” He smiles again, as if that would make it any better.
        The man across from him makes an unreadable expression before sighing. “...If you’re bored, find work to do.”
        “Okay, on it! Sorry, sir! Ah, Byakuya! Sorry!” Makoto drops the napkin duck on his plate before bolting into the kitchen, smoothing his suit vest out of habit. “Hi, everyone! Need help taking the food out? And, like, serving it?”
        A few of the other workers shrug, and that’s the most acknowledgement he gets. He takes it as a “yes” and begins to pick up some trays, very carefully taking them back into the dining room. He sets dishes down on the center of the table, almost immediately noticing that Jerry the Napkin Duck was missing from his plate. He must’ve thrown him away! What a jerk! Byakuya sat at his usual spot, now joined by some family members and other employees.
        Breakfast goes by quickly and quietly, with Makoto afterward immediately rushing to some odd corner of the house with a bottle of all-purpose cleaner and a rag, determined to find something to clean. Maybe after this, I’ll do some laundry… He still at this point had no clue what a butler did, as up until the point of hiring, he was pretty sure they only existed in movies. He starts wiping down any desks or shelves or any place that seemed like it needed cleaning. He hears the door open, but makes no mind of it. In his own little world, he hums a bit to himself while he cleans a table in this auxiliary room. “You missed a spot,” a recognizable voice calls from behind.
        Makoto sighs. There are so many people in this house and it’s always him! He turns to face Byakuya, limply holding his rag, straightening his posture. “I’m not done yet, so of course I’ve missed a spot.” Oh no, that was rude, wasn’t it?
        Byakuya scoffs, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he looks away, shaking his head. “Funny.” He pauses, tilting his head a bit, like he’s struggling to think of anything productive to say. “I was worried how you’d do when unsupervised.”
        Makoto huffs a little, turning away from Byakuya to continue cleaning. “What, are you worried I’ll break something? I’m not that clumsy…” It was quite the lie, but as of his technical second day on the job, he had yet to break anything.
        Byakuya quirks up an eyebrow, leaning over a bit to supervise Makoto’s cleaning. He mumbles something in response that Makoto doesn’t quite catch. The shorter man cleans away, humming quietly. “Wait,” he begins, changing the subject. “Am I allowed to ask you vampire questions?”
        Byakuya groans exaggeratedly, leaning his head back. Makoto excitedly turns around, pausing his cleaning as he awaits approval to ask all that’d been on his mind. “…Sure.”
        “Okay! So, whose blood do you drink? Animal or human? Does drinking human blood kill or turn the human? Does it hurt, or, uh, what’s it like? Do you have fangs? Can you turn into a bat? Do you have, like, super speed?” A plethora of other, similar, questions were asked one after the other, with Byakuya taking a step back and raising his eyebrows, looking away. Makoto pales slightly, quieting down after his umpteenth question. “…Sorry. You can pick and choose what to answer. This is just kinda cool for me.”
        Byakuya closes his eyes for a moment, before looking back at Makoto. “Oh, don’t worry, I can tell.” He rolls his eyes before crossing his arms tight across his chest, shifting his weight on his long legs. “We drink animal blood. Some of our other butlers go hunting every weekend and we drain the blood. When feeding, there’s a minimal transformation where my fangs unsheathe, akin to a cat’s claws. No, I don’t turn into a bat. No, I don’t have super speed, or strength. I have a heightened smell for blood, akin to a shark.” He purses his lips slightly, trying to avoid all the blood-sucking-related questions. It was… touchy. “I haven’t fed directly off a human in years. It’s a tad dangerous but everything is handled on the feeder’s end. I’m not sure if it hurts or not, but I’ve heard it described as,” he trails off, tightening his arms. “Interesting.”
        Makoto’s eyes are sparkling, totally enthralled like a kid in a candy store. “Whoa! That’s so cool!” He laughs anxiously, a little embarrassed from how excited he got. “Man, am I glad that I’m not one of the hunters…”
        “Oh, you’ll get there one day. Soon enough.” Byakuya eyes Makoto, whose expression changes a bit at the odd sentence. “Now, do you have any other ways to waste my time or will you get back to work?”
        Ouch. Makoto purses his lips, humming in thought as he fiddles with the rag in his hands. “Well, earlier, I was wondering… well, since vampires are real and all… are werewolves real, too?” He winces preemptively, preparing to be scolded for his audacity.
        Byakuya stares at the younger man, deadpan, before sighing. “I’ll be in my room. Don’t follow me.” With that, he leaves, the clicking of his heels on the floor the only sound he makes.
        Makoto sighs, turning to resume cleaning off the table and surrounding area. I’ll take that as a no… Man, the constant embarrassment is not very fun! His mind wanders while he cleans the auxiliary room, thinking over the things he still finds a bit suspicious. Since touring the property, he hadn’t seen any specialized butcher room, so they must clean the kitchen very well. If Byakuya was born a vampire, how did he age? Can vampires age at all? Are they dead or alive? He continued to think of new questions to ask, but with how the last “Q&A” session went, he didn’t quite know when he’d get his answers.
        After cleaning that room and the one next door, and eating lunch, he takes a short break in his room and opts to text his mother, just to check in with her.
        
        Makoto, 23:19
        hey momma!
        work is suuuper cool. done a lot of cleanin
        
        Mom, 23:20
        Honey! That’s wonderful!
        Now if only you could clean your room! Lol.
        
        Makoto, 23:20
        hey! i dont even really ljve there anymore
        
        Mom, 23:20
        Honey I’m a bit worried for you…
        
        Makoto, 23:20
        ?
        
        Mom, 23:21
        There’s been a lot of missing people out in that area…
        You’re clear out in the middle of nowhere!
        
        Mom, 23:21
        oh jeez! thats no good :/
        ill be ok momma, dont worry !!
        
        Mom, 23:21
        Alright honey. Stay safe
        I love you
        
        Makoto, 23:22
        ily 2 momma!!!
        
        Makoto exits his texts, eyebrows a bit furrowed. He hadn’t heard of any missing people, but then again, he lived clear out in the suburbs and almost never checked social media. He pulls open an internet tab, typing in a quick search of “missing people near me”. Well, they wouldn’t be ‘near me’ if they were missing! Good job, Makoto! He sighs at his own expense, clicking on a government website and filtering by location. His stomach starts to drop at the sheer amount of missing people in the county he now resided in. I mean, we are near a forest, so maybe that’s it! He swallows, trying to calm himself as he puts his phone away. What am I even worried about? I don’t leave the house! I’m not gonna get… kidnapped… or whatever. Running fingers through his hair, he exits his bedroom.
        He doesn’t make it two steps out the door without bumping into Byakuya, who groans upon seeing the younger man. “God, I can’t get rid of you,” he mutters, wiping a spot of red off the corner of his mouth.
        Makoto clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, putting his hands on his hips. “I live here too, y’know.”
        “How could I forget,” Byakuya deadpans, adjusting the lapels of his blazer. “Where are you off to now?”
        Makoto stares for a moment. Shoot! I forgot to decide! “Um, I was going to go… do some laundry!” He smiles, exuding a false confidence that Byakuya could see right through.
        The latter man raises an eyebrow, tilting his head down. “Oh yeah? Have you ever used a steamer before?”
        Makoto blinks. What? “Oh, totally! I like… steam all the time…” He grins.
        “Because you’ll have to steam nearly all the garments to remove the wrinkles.” Byakuya pinches the bridge of his nose behind his glasses. “Do you know how to dry clean?”
        I thought only stores could do that! “Yeah! My mom actually taught me. She’s, like, the dry cleaning expert…” He tilts his head to the side, scratching the top of it.
        Byakuya sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Makoto, you are one of the worst liars I’ve ever met. I don’t think I trust you around any of our garments.”
        “What? Come on!” Makoto practically whines, taking a step in the direction of the laundry room. “I’m great at figuring things out! Or I could just… look it up online…” He mutters the last part under his breath, beginning to turn.
        Byakuya’s blood, If he even has any?, runs cold at the thought and his eyes widen. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m coming with you.” He crosses the gap in an instant, standing beside Makoto as they continue on down the hall. “I’m going to make sure you don’t screw everything up for everyone. I have a feeling you have a knack for that.”
        Makoto huffs, taking the insult and just shrugging. He couldn’t deny he wasn’t the most graceful person on the planet, but his intentions were always good. He just hoped this laundry session wouldn’t entail Byakuya berating and micromanaging him the entire time.
        They walk in silence down halls and downstairs, Makoto’s head down. He couldn’t shake the missing people’s faces from his mind. They were all so young and healthy… Gosh, I wonder what happened to them! I should ask Byakuya if he knows anything… He turns his head to face the blonde man, taking in his profile. A shiver runs down his spine as something inside him screams, “Don’t.”
        Byakuya sighs, shaking his head but keeping it forward. “It’s rude to stare.”
        Makoto jolts to attention, quickly whipping his head forward and approaching the door to the laundry room. “Sorry!” He opens the door for the two of them, intimidated by the sheer amount of expensive-looking that had been dropped down the chute.
        They spend what feels like hours, with Byakuya painstakingly correcting every single one of Makoto’s actions. When all the clothes are drying, Makoto sits atop a washing machine and fiddles with the laces of his dress shoes. It feels like there are weights holding his mouth shut whenever he tries to speak to Byakuya, who leans against a wall coolly, waiting until the clothes are dryer so they may be steamed and folded. When he finally works up the courage, he wishes he hadn’t. “So, how old are you really?” He immediately cringes, shrinking into himself.
        Byakuya pauses for a moment before looking over, eyes piercing into Makoto’s. “Do you want the real answer or do you want to live in ignorance?”
        I’m given a choice, oh gosh! Makoto swallows, scratching the back of his head. “Um… the real answer?”
        Looking forward, Byakuya crosses his arms tighter across his chest. “We physically age very slowly. It’s why I’m not still a baby, or why I'm not a decrepit old man. I was born in 1922. So not that long ago.” He shrugs casually.
        Makoto’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh! You’re, like, a hundred years old! That was so long ago!” Hey, dude, shut up!
        Byakuya lets out a curt chuckle, shaking his head with a smirk. “Please, there are a handful of alive humans older than me. It really wasn’t that long ago. I still have some memories from back then.”
        The much, much younger man was at a loss, trying and failing multiple times to start his next sentence. “Man, you’re… exactly 80 years older than me.” He doesn’t like the feel of that on his tongue, and his stomach turns a bit. This is so weird…
        It’s silent for another moment, a carousel of worry running rampant in Makoto’s mind. I need to ask him. He probably has only just heard of the disappearances. Seriously, why on Earth would he have anything to do with them? He’ll probably just get mad at me stereotyping him… Oh, screw it. Makoto clears his throat, straightening his posture. “So, have you, um, heard about all the missing people in the area? I read about it earlier…”
        Byakuya noticeably stiffens, quickly turning to face Makoto with wide eyes. He’s frozen for a moment, before finally breathing. “Oh, Makoto…” he chides, shaking his head with an anxiety-inducing smirk. “I really wish you hadn’t asked that…”
        Trying to convince himself that Byakuya was simply messing with him, Makoto dangles his legs off the edge of the washing machine. “What do you mean by that?” he asks quietly.
        Byakuya shakes his head again, shrugging slightly as he moves over to one of the drying racks, rubbing the hem of a shirt between his slender fingers. “Oh, nothing. It’s a topic I’d rather not bring up.” He looks over to Makoto, smirk gone and replaced with his usual glare. “Now get over here. I need to teach you what to do.”
        Makoto lets out a deep breath, hopping down and shaking out his arms. He keeps a bit of a distance, beginning to transfer clothes off of drying racks and onto hangers. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on-end as he tries to listen to what Byakuya is saying. It’s going in one ear and out the other, with all of Makoto’s senses replaced by fear. God, if you’re listening, or even real, please don’t let Byakuya make me go missing.

Notes:

me when i've written 10k words in 3 chapters but i have 20 chapters planned... oops. whatevs. 70k word fanfic realness

Chapter 4: qu'est-ce que c'est?

Summary:

i'm tense and nervous and i can't relax

(psycho killer - talking heads)

By the dawn, or rather the dusk, of his fourth day at the Togami estate, Makoto felt he had settled into a pathetic excuse for a routine, but a routine nonetheless. He’d never gone this many days without leaving the house, however, and he was starting to feel intensely cooped up. He looks forward to being paid tomorrow, but otherwise, the lack of sunlight was starting to get to him.
        Carefully entering the kitchen, cautious of any judgemental looks, he stands to the side anxiously, fiddling with his fingers. He tries to get someone’s, anyone’s, attention multiple times, but opts to just sit at the dining table until breakfast is served.
        After a few other members of his family and Celestia sit down, Byakuya enters and sits directly opposite Makoto. They exist in silence until Makoto works up the courage to ask what he’d been trying to ask this entire morning. “Do you guys, um, have a garden?” He stares down at his plate, feeling a bit ridiculous for asking vampires if they had an outdoor excursion.
        Byakuya chuffs, shaking his head at Makoto. “Yes, I believe we do, right?” He looks to his father, who nods. “I mean, I wouldn’t know. You’re welcome to go… garden.” He shrugs a bit, adjusting his glasses as Makoto, upon hearing confirmation, begins to scarf down the rest of his meal.
        He quickly stands and excuses himself before exiting the house through the mudroom. He hasn’t seen the sun since Monday. Sure, it was sunset, but the breath of fresh air was divine. He takes a moment to center himself before walking around the side of the house toward the back, where he is greeted by the sight of a grand, expansive garden, consisting of flowers and crops alike. He makes his way toward a shed and grabs the tools he’d need to weed the garden beds before setting off to do just that.
        It was so refreshing to have his hands in contact with fresh earth. He hummed to himself happily as dusk illuminated his hair orange, plucking weeds one by one and tossing them into a small bin. He’d never considered himself an outdoorsy guy, but he was desperate for any activity that got him out of that manor.
        After a good deal of time, during which he had zoned out completely, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fishes it out and grows excited when he sees Kyoko’s name pop up. He accepts the call and presses the phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “Hey cutie, what’s up?” His grin is heard through the phone.
        Kyoko chuckles lightly. “Just checking in. What are you up to tonight?”
        Still weeding, Makoto begins to blab on excitedly. He mentions how he’s finally out of the house, how he’s getting paid tomorrow, how the sky is so pretty at dusk, et cetera. “Oh, and you’ll find this interesting,” he starts. “Momma told me there’s a butt-ton of missing people around this area.”
        Kyoko falls silent, taking a beat to respond. “Interesting.”
        “What?!” Makoto exclaims, a little shocked at her lax reaction. “That’s all you have to say? I thought stuff like this was, like, your whole thing!”
        “No, it is, it is… it’s just… interesting. I’ll look into it more and get back to you with my thoughts. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of this sooner.”
        “I was surprised, too! ‘Cause, like, I was so super certain that you would’ve told me by now. So crazy!” He lets out a semi-anxious chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but ending up simply energetically rambling. Kyoko brought that side of him out.
        After a good deal of catching up, Kyoko hangs up and Makoto is left feeling especially lonely as he pockets his phone. No Kyoko, no Komaru, no momma… He sighs, tidying up the garden beds and watching as a few brave bugs crawl over his still hand. He stares at the soil for a moment, letting himself sit in his thoughts and feelings. Is Kyoko okay without me? Well, I obviously know she’s okay… she’s always okay… but does she even miss me? I know it’s only been a few days, but I’ll be here a good long while… Will she still bother with me after such a long time? Will I have any friends left by the end of this? I haven’t even heard from anybody since moving here…
        He wipes his nose with the back of his wrist, gently nudging the bugs off his free hand. “Come on, little guys… time to go back to the dirt…” He tries to poke them off without hurting them, and watch as they scutter back to underneath leaves, rocks, and dirt. He sighs, thinking about all the bugs and their bug families and friends. His lip quivers with the threat of tears, but he shakes his head and stands up before letting himself succumb to his emotions. He brushes off his knees and opts to go inside and make himself a hot chocolate to cheer up. Gosh, I don’t think I can have this job for as long as I originally thought…

---

         Makoto lucks out when, finally, another butler gives him the time of day and lets him know of some jobs that need doing. Through this brief conversation, he finds out that the Togami manor had an at-home theater this entire time. He finds his way to it down a plethora of hallways and expects it to be empty for him to clean. To his slight annoyance, the theater is lights-off with a movie playing, with an unfortunately recognizable blonde silhouette sitting in the back row. The man hadn’t seemed to notice Makoto quite yet and simply continued watching the movie in silence. Makoto, trying to stay quiet, carefully leans the broom he had brought against the wall. It took him a second, but he eventually recognized it as The Phantom of the Opera (2004). He stays in the back for a moment, entranced by the large screen. Man, I haven’t seen this in forever… Wait, why does it sound weird? He pauses, listening closely. Oh my God, it’s dubbed over in French.
        “Serait-ce un rêve encore? Mais cette fois, je sais que le fantôme de l'opéra est là en moi…”
        Makoto sighs loud enough for Byakuya to turn around and discover him. He groans, rolling his eyes before facing forward again. “What do you want?” he asks, cold.
        Makoto pales a bit before clearing his throat. “Um… why is it… I was just wondering why… um, French?” He scratches his head, tilting it to the side. “Do you speak French?”
        Byakuya reaches his fingers up behind his glasses and rubs his eyes, trying not to immediately lash out. “Do you seriously need everything clarified for you? Are you dumb, or are you stupid?”
        Makoto’s eyebrows fly up, a surge of worry fluttering in his chest. “I’m sorry, me?” he stutters out. He takes a step forward, standing just behind Byakuya. “Is there an issue with me asking so many questions?”
        Byakuya groans again, reaching forward for a remote and pausing the movie. “See? Even that was a question. It’s like you’ve never heard of critical thinking in your entire life.”
        Jeez, he’s never been this mean… was he just holding back before? He steps to the side and turns, facing Byakuya more directly, getting a tad fired up. “Excuse you! I do plenty of critical thinking! I found out all on my own that you’re all vampires!” He sticks his hands on his hips, trying to seem more intimidating and serious.
        Byakuya scoffs, smirking as he stands up and turns to Makoto, the only thing separating them being the row of theater seats. Makoto immediately feels much, much smaller. “And you then proceeded to embarrass yourself in front of my family. Which you’ve almost continuously done since arriving here.”
        “If it’s me getting embarrassed, then why does it matter to you?” Makoto huffs, taking a step back toward the entryway, picking back up his broom. “I’m doing my job well-enough, and you’re the one who goes out of your way to help me out or… or bug me!”
        Byakuya’s eyes flare. He rests his hands on the back of his chair, leaning forward a bit. “Bug you? Oh, my bad that I’m trying to make sure you’re doing your effing job right!” He pushes his glasses back up with one hand, standing up straighter. “You know what? Maybe I won’t ‘bug’ you anymore. Good luck getting help from literally anyone else.” He grabs the remote and presses a button that makes the lights turn on and the screen turn off. Setting it back down, he walks around the side of the seats and exits the theater with a curt wave and smile.
        As soon as the door shuts, Makoto screams, his hands flying up to dig into his hair, dropping the broom. “God! He’s such a… bitch!” His stomach flips when he curses, not used to it. He crouches down to grab his broom, grumbling under his breath as he starts to sweep the hardwood floor. “Critical thinking… Who does he critically-think he is?” Suddenly nervous that someone may walk in and hear what he’s saying, he decides to keep his mouth shut. I’ve done nothing wrong! I’ve even offered to do more than I probably need to! Why does everyone here dislike me? Gosh, it’s like high school all over again… ‘Oh, Makoto Naegi? He’s that loser, right?’ He sighs, trying to rid his brain of such negative thoughts. Maybe I should just turn the movie back on… Stepping between seats, he reaches the remote and turns the screen back on, keeping the lights on as well.
        “Ceux qui vous voient en face sont pris d’effroi. Je suis un masque pour vous…”
        “Je suis ta voix…”
        While the aim was to drown out his thoughts with the film’s audio, it ended up backfiring fairly quickly. Man, I wish I knew what they were saying. Mask pooh vooh… zjuh swee ta vwah… um… He sighs, finding himself pathetic. Just my luck that I got a job where I’m made to feel as stupid as possible. God, I’m pathetic.
        After cleaning well into the night, he exits the theater and makes his way to the storage closet to drop off his cleaning supplies. He stands there for a moment, trying to think of something he could do that he couldn’t possibly mess up. Maybe I just need to go back to the garden.
        Kneeling in the gravel, he picks up weeding where he had left off earlier. He tends to mainly the vegetables, making sure to prune away any dead leaves or stems, and mushing any rotting or eaten vegetables into the dirt to act as more of a fertilizer. He entertains himself by trying to guess what animal took which bite out of each produce. Turning a collard green, adorned with holes, around in his hand, he smiled. This sure made a, um, caterpillar super happy!
        Zoning out as usual, he neatens up as many garden beds as he can, straining his eyes to see well enough in the moonlight. At some points, he pulls out his phone flashlight to inspect something closer. He tries especially hard to have a significant attention to detail, now hyper-aware of how much he was being judged, more so than he originally thought.
        While kneeling in front of the bell peppers, he feels something in the dirt while trying to pluck a weed. Assuming it’s just a pebble he needs to toss out, he tries to grab it, but it reaches down further in the dirt than he was assuming. Did a potato end up hopping over from the other section? He knew these garden beds weren’t the most shallow, as they went directly into the ground, but as his hand dug further into the dirt, nearly up to his elbow, he grew more and more confused.
        With his free hand he reaches for his phone, turning on his flashlight and shining it on the spot in the dirt. I mean, it sure looks like a potato… Or maybe a rotten one… He tries to move more dirt away, staring closely at the odd-shaped, dusty brown, leathery object. A foul, pungent odor hits him and he leans away quickly, nearly gagging. Yeah, definitely rotten.
        Propping his phone’s light against the edge of the garden bed, he gets his hands deeper into the dirt, leaning forward and trying to pull out whatever this thing was. His gardening gloves struggled to get the best grip, and the smell prohibited him from using all his strength. Eventually, his hands slip, pulling with him the top layer off the object. He looks down at his gloves and recoils, his chest tightening. Good… Lord, what is this? Small pieces of what looked closely akin to skin stuck to his gloves. His brain, slowly entering fight-or-flight, stopped conscious thinking as he threw the gloves off and returned to digging in the soil bare-handed.
        The more Makoto came in contact with the object, the more it felt unusually soft, almost clay-like. No longer thinking this was something organic, curiosity got the better of him as he continued to excavate. Following bends and curves, he tries to pull it closer to the surface, arms straining. He removes his hands, grimacing from the smell that now tainted them. He opts to just start removing dirt until he can get a better look at whatever this is. His stomach sinks and his arms tense, starting to realize what he’s looking at. That object he originally came in contact with looked scarily like a human hand, stained black in some spots, and unnaturally gray. Additionally, it is now missing small amounts of skin, with that skin being stuck to his gloves.
        Shakily, he brushes more dirt away, following the arm… then the shoulder… Then the neck… The pile of dirt around him grew larger as he dug deeper, still trying to resist jumping to any horrifying conclusions. His hand squishes against what should’ve been a nose peeking out of the dirt, and he gags hard enough for his eyes to start watering.
        The smell was almost sickly-sweet and it made everything in him scream, “Run!” He couldn’t leave it alone, no matter how hard he tried. He brushes more dirt away, fingers shaking as he starts to see hollowed cheekbones, leathery lips, and finally, a pair of sunken, cloudy, vacant eyes. He yelps, recoiling and landing on his bottom. He holds his hands away from the rest of his body, trying to simultaneously prevent hyperventilation and fight nausea. “Holy shit. Holy shit!” He stumbles onto his feet, rushing to the garden shed and rapidly turning on the faucet, scrubbing his hands until it hurts. He gags again at the memory of how their tongue peeked through their teeth, how their skin was closer in color to the gravel he’d been kneeling on than human skin, how waxy and sticky everything felt… The ruminating leads to him vomiting slightly in his mouth, which he promptly spits into the sink before letting out a choked sob.
        He remembers he left his phone by the body, which he dreads nearing. He pushes himself away from the sink after turning off the faucet, slowly making his way to the garden bed once more. The smell that he had now unwillingly memorized grew closer into focus as he swipes away his phone, turning off the light as he bolts away.
        As soon as he makes it back into the mudroom, he slams the door behind himself and slides down the adjacent wall, whimpering slightly. He was still shaking like mad, and he struggled to navigate his phone. He let it ring while holding it up to his ear, crumpling into himself. The ringing ends and, assuming the person on the other end picked up, he begins to blab. “Kyoko! Kyoko, oh my… God! There’s a… a body in the… the bell peppers! There’s a goddamn body buried… buried right underneath-”
        “You’ve reached Kyoko Kirigiri. I’m either on the phone or away from my desk. Please leave a message.”
        “At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, hang up, or press one for more options.”
        At the beep, Makoto fully breaks down, sobbing quietly while pressing ‘end call’. Of course she didn’t pick up, it’s two in the morning! He unintentionally drops his phone, his hands shaking so bad, he fears they’ll fall off. He’s scared to close his eyes, knowing he’ll just see that poor person’s face again. Oh my God. Oh my God! Was that the butler I filled the position of? Are they gonna kill me? Oh my God, I’m gonna die!
        He eventually quiets, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, his arms wrapped tight around his knees, which are tucked up to his chest. He hears footsteps, but can’t will himself well enough to stand and make himself presentable.
        “Oh what, was gardening too tiring? Had to sit down?” Byakuya snarks, walking up in front of Makoto, his arms crossed. “Oh, sorry, am I ‘bugging’ you?” His sarcasm is not lost on Makoto, but he doesn’t have the strength to say anything, or even look up at Byakuya. The taller man looks down and sees Makoto’s phone face-up on the floor, opened up to its call history. He lets out a short chuckle. “What, did that girlfriend of yours finally break up with you?” Makoto subtly shakes his head, and Byakuya grows more impatient. He taps Makoto’s knee with the tip of his shoe. “What’s wrong with you?”
        Makoto swallows, almost rocking forward and back from how hard he’s shaking. Feeling faint, he parts his lips to speak, but it takes a moment before anything comes out. “...Bell peppers.”
        Byakuya leans forward, turning his head so his ear is toward Makoto. “What was that? Speak up when you’re talking to someone.”
        Makoto shakes his head again, eyes unblinking. “The bell peppers. The… in the… the dirt…”
        Byakuya straightens, scoffing. “Oh, what, did you get scared by a bug or something?” He waits patiently for a response, but the gears start turning in his head. His eyes widen and his arms loosen across his chest. “Oh. Oh no.”
        Makoto nods, reaching up to gingerly wipe tears off his face. “The… the skin… stuck to my gloves…” He gags again, covering his face in his hands.
        Byakuya steps back, bracing himself against the wall. “Oh no. Oh, God. You… Dammit, you weren’t supposed to know yet!” Frazzled, he begins to pace the length of the mudroom, fingers carding through his side-swept hair.
        Makoto snaps to attention, looking up with wide eyes as he tries to steady onto his feet. “Know yet? Know what? That… that there’s a body in the garden?!” He holds onto the wall, eyes darting back and forth, following Byakuya.
        “Yes!” He yells, whipping around to face the shaking man. “Yes, about the effing body in the garden! We killed him! That’s how we get our effing blood, Makoto!”
        Freezing completely, Makoto fails to answer. He lets out a small whimper, backing up further. “Please… please, I don’t wanna die.” He swallows, shaking his head as his eyes water again. “Please don’t kill me, please-”
        “Goddammit, Makoto!” Byakuya crosses the room in an instant, grabbing Makoto by the shoulders. The latter man squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself for the inevitable. “We don’t kill you! You do the killing! That was just some random man from three cities over!”
        Makoto slowly blinks his eyes open, still shaking in Byakuya’s arms. “Just some random…” He shakes his head rapidly, eyes bugging from his skull. “Wait, what?! What do you mean, I do the killing?!”
        “What, are you stupid? I’d be in prison if I killed enough people to keep me alive!”
        “Why can’t… Why can’t you just… bite people’s necks?”
        “Assault charges, you… dumbass!” Byakuya tightens his grip on Makoto’s shoulders before letting go, taking a step back. “We have our butlers go out and kill on assignment, they bring back the body, we drain the blood, and then we eat for weeks. That’s why you never see any other butlers cleaning! That’s why there are so many effing missing people! How is this not making sense?!”
        Exasperated, Makoto throws his hands up in the air. “Not making sense? I just found a decaying body without any blood in it! How does that make any sense?! And… and now you’re asking, no, telling me that I have to kill people as part of my damn job?”
        “Yes! Do I have to spell everything out for you every goddamn time?!” Byakuya groans, turning on his heel and walking away just like that.
        Makoto sinks, trying to catch breath and failing. Am I dreaming? Please, I’m having a nightmare! He covers his face in his hands, shoulders shuddering with sobs as he collapses back on the floor. Feeling the world shrink around him, he fights off waves of lightheadedness, spiraling completely. This can’t be real!

Notes:

my search history is FUCKED after this chapter lmfao. a body has been discovered!