Warning: This story is rated T for shounen-ai/yaoi.

Note: This story is based on a writing prompt I found on Pinterest:

"Just because I saved you, doesn't mean I'm a hero."

"I know what you are."

"…If you ever quote Twilight at me again, you'll discover how much of a hero I'm not."

Author Note: There is an extended version of this story called Blood.

Reality

"I'm not crazy. My reality is just different from yours."

―Lewis Carroll (from Alice in Wonderland)

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

Blue eyes. Not just blue, but unnaturally bright blue. And that huge grin, always there to accompany boisterous laughter.

"Ivan? Salut, Ivan?" A hand is waved in front of my face, and I glance at my roommate. Blue eyes. They're pretty, but nothing like his eyes. "Are you awake?"

"Da, of course," I reply.

Francis rolls his eyes before he bites into an apple, squirting juice on my arm. Laughter follows on his part, which overshadows my annoyance because apple juice on my body is an everyday thing now since the cafeteria started serving the fruit.

While Francis continues about his family's spring break adventures, my eyes wander back to the table in the back of the cafeteria.

No one really knows anything about them. The Kirkland brothers. Just that they're triplets, Alfred and Matthew identical and Arthur fraternal. I have classes with Arthur; he's short-tempered but studious as far as I know, but other than that, he stays quiet. And then Matthew…I don't think I've ever heard him speak because he talks so quietly, and he's never far from his twin. Alfred has the blue eyes, always alight with laughter behind thin-rimmed glasses. I wonder how he would look without those glasses….

"Ivan!"

I jump this time, looking back at Francis and snapping, "What?"

He raises an eyebrow at me before he turns in his chair to look at the few tables behind ours. When he turns back, he smirks as I quickly look to the side. "Which one is it?"

"I do not know what you are referring to."

"Oh, you do. In three years, I have never seen you look so intently at anyone. So which Kirkland is it?"

After a long moment of weighing my options, I mumble, "Alfred."

Francis pauses and looks thoughtfully upwards. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" I repeat.

"He seems far too overbearing for you, but as they say, opposites attract, oui?"

I shrug, quickly taking a sip from my water bottle.

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

It's late. Later than I normally like to be out, but my older sister will be leaving for college in Ukraine tomorrow, so I wanted to buy some snacks for her. It's actually rather odd; I have a compulsion to buy gifts for people I care about. So the trip to the dollar store for candy turned into buying snacks, a small jewelry box, and a few bottles of nail polish. The cashier gave me a weird look, but she didn't say anything.

As I unlock my car and put the bags in the backseat, I hear something behind me. But when I turn, all I see are glowing, purple eyes. "Get in the car now."

For the force behind the order, the voice is very quiet. I clench my fist―

"There are guys with knives in the bushes over there," the stranger hurries, pushing me towards the other door. "Get in and go."

Now that he's not in my shadow, I recognize him. "Matthew?"

"Get in."

The words are out before I can think. "You, too."

"What?"

"Get in the passenger seat."

Matthew looks like he wants to protest, but then his head whips towards the tiny line of trees next to the store. "Fine."

Once I'm on the road, I glance at my passenger. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome." Matthew looks out the window, both hands gripping the shoulder of his seatbelt. "You can drop me off wherever."

"No, I will drive you home. Where do you live?"

"You really don't―"

"I do not have to, but I want to." I glance at him again before I look back to the mostly empty road.

So Matthew directs me to his house, which is actually very close to Francis's home. As I drive, I ask, "Why were you there and how did you know the men were in the bushes?"

"I…I, uh…" Matthew is silent for a minute. "I'm not a bad guy, I swear. Really, I just…I just wanted to help…."

"I did not say you were the bad guy. I simply want to know why you were there."

"I…can't tell you."

I hum. "Of course."

"Really, I can't." In a quieter voice, Matthew mutters, "You wouldn't believe me if I did anyways."

"Is this the part where you tell me that the supernatural is real?"

Matthew doesn't reply.

I shake my head with a dry laugh. "I have read far too many books."

"If I told you that supernatural was real, would you believe me?"

"That depends on the evidence." After he directs me to the correct road, I continue, "I hate the character who immediately assumes the other is insane, do you not?"

"Yeah, kind of."

I pull over beside a gravel road, and Matthew unbuckles his seatbelt. Before he can open the door though, I say, "You never answered my question."

Matthew glances over his shoulder at me. His eyes are still glowing; not like glow sticks or fireflies, but enough that I can clearly see the purple color of his irises. "The supernatural is real."

And then he's gone.

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"You have read far too many books," Francis says, following after me in the library.

"Da," I agree, but my attention is elsewhere. Well, "elsewhere" being the small shelve of mythology books in the back of the library.

Francis leans back against the shelf across from me, crossing his arms. "Maybe you should give up this…fascination with Alfred." He pauses. "Even if the supernatural were to be real, it is a bad position to be in, oui? A human who knows too much." Then he clears his throat. "I believe the result of knowing too much is usually a widespread death sentence, no matter the literature piece."

"Reality is not literature," I reply.

"Do not be so sure. What makes it so different?"

"Fiction is not real," I say, pulling a book from the shelf to examine the yellow, dusty pages. "It is imaginary, the result of someone's wishes to make something real."

Francis doesn't reply for a long moment. But then he randomly states, "Harry Potter."

I frown and look at him. "What?"

"Tell me about him."

"Francis―"

"Tell me about him," he repeats with a neutral expression. "Trust me."

So I sigh and replace the book. "He is a wizard with black hair and green eyes and glasses. His parents were murdered when he was a baby, but he survived, so Voldemort wanted to kill him."

Francis raises a hand for me to stop. "He is a fictional character, oui? But in all of that, you never said that he is the main character of a book series or that he is portrayed by Daniel Radcliffe in the movies."

"Because you told me to tell you about his character."

"Non, I told you to tell me about him," Francis says. "He is real to you and other readers."

"What is your point?"

"That reality and literature are one in the same. It all depends on the point of view. Harry Potter's world is very different from ours, but does that make his reality any less real to him?"

I don't reply.

But before I drop off Francis at his house, I ask, "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

Francis shakes his head as he pauses with the door open, leaning down so he can peer inside the car at me. "I believe in reality."

"That does not answer my question."

"Simply that reality is not the same for everyone, is it?" Francis smiles. "I am sure that the reality of a Christian is different from that of a Buddhist."

"What is your reality then?"

"Ah, that is the big secret, is it not, mon ami?"

After Francis closes the door, I huff in irritation. Can no one answer a question directly?

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

A week later, I ask Alfred to go to a movie with me on Saturday.

He declines.

I can feel my own face fall. "A-alright."

"I'd rather go to the park, you know?" Those blue eyes sparkle as Alfred grins. "Movie dates are never done right anymore; you have to wait a few weeks before you can do that, and when you do, it has to be at home with a pillow fort and stuff."

"The park?"

"Yeah, dude, there's this amazing school playground about a mile from here, and it's always open. We can go after dark and have the whole place to ourselves."

"That sounds…good. Uh, what time should I pick you up?"

At that, Alfred pauses and looks over his shoulder. I follow his gaze all the way to two pairs of eyes, one green and one violet. After a moment, he looks back at me with an apologetic smile. "Actually, can we make it a double date? I don't think my parents will let me go alone with someone new."

"S-sure."

"Great, then how about we meet at the school? Nine o'clock Saturday?"

"Da."

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"Ivan, what time are you picking me up Saturday?" Francis asks.

"What?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You and I are meeting Arthur and Alfred at the school, oui? I need a ride."

"When did―?"

"Arthur asked me this morning."

"And you just…said okay?"

"Have you seen Arthur Kirkland?" Francis smirks. "He makes straight men bend their boards."

"Right…."

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

The playground is rather large for a school, but I'm not complaining. However, while Francis and Arthur sit on the stone bleachers, Alfred dribbles his basketball like a professional, or certainly a professional compared to me.

"You've never played basketball?"

I shake my head. "I am not athletic at all."

"I'll teach you then!"

Thirty minutes later, I have no idea what I'm doing, other than launching an orange ball towards a broken fishnet. Well, Alfred calls it a basketball hoop. I still call it a broken fishnet. And it's because of the metal ring holding up the net that I think I've broken my nose. The ball bounced back at me, hitting me in the face, and I feel the blood drip from my nostrils and leave dark splotches on the concrete.

What a great first date.

But as I cup a hand under my nose and try to hold that bone that you're supposed to hold in order to stop the bleeding, I realize that there's no "are you alright?" or "I'll get a napkin". No, it's silent. Deadly silent. And when I look at Alfred, I see that his eyes aren't just a dim light. No, they're glowing, bright like light bulbs. And he's staring at my nose.

Alfred slaps his hands over his nose and mouth, taking shaky steps back. "I-I―"

"Ivan!"

I barely see Francis stand. He doesn't run down the stairs. No, he dives over the front of the bleachers' railing. And from there, it's like the special effects in Twilight, his skin seeming to rip apart to reveal an animal. A lion.

I stumble backwards, falling on the concrete. The lion stops in front of me, between me and Alfred.

"Francis, don't do something stupid!" Arthur runs down the stairs like a normal person.

The lion seems to snort but doesn't move. Not until Arthur pulls Alfred towards the swings. Then it looks back at me with soft, blue eyes. He's been my best friend for two years; I know Francis's eyes when I see them.

And then in a matter of two seconds, the lion is Francis. Granted, a naked, very irritated Francis, but Francis nonetheless. With one last glare at the retreating forms of Arthur and Alfred, he turns to me with a concerned frown. "Are you alright?"

I nod slowly. I don't mention that my underwear is just the tiniest bit wetter, and I thank myself for peeing at Francis's house and not drinking since.

"Uh, so I guess I should explain…" Francis forces a smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

From the bleachers, we both hear Arthur huff, "And put some bloody clothes on!"

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

Arthur drives the car back to his house, and I really can't think properly enough to realize how badly that could end. Alfred is unnaturally quiet in the passenger's seat, and Francis sits beside me in the back, covered with a beach towel.

"You are…vampires," I say.

"Yes, that's correct," Arthur replies.

I look at Francis. "And you are a werewolf?"

"Lycanthrope; not necessarily a wolf. Obviously," he says with a small smile.

I don't return the smile. Or an expression at all, really. I think my body short-circuited.

When we arrive at the Kirkland house, Arthur drags Francis to the door, muttering about indecency and overreactions. I sit in my seat, not moving to unbuckle the seatbelt. It's at least a minute before Alfred gets out and opens my door, peeking in. His eyes are just as blue as they always have been, just as beautiful.

He eventually just plops down in the grass, pulling up his legs. "I, uh…I'm sorry…about earlier. Mattie and I aren't as old as Artie, you know?" When I just blink at him, he looks down at the strip of pavement between us. "Vampires usually take at least ten years to stop reacting to blood, sometimes fifteen. Mattie and I were turned seven years ago, so we…yeah. And he's always been better at controlling himself."

"He saved me," I say.

"What? Mattie did?"

I nod. "He warned me of thugs."

Alfred smiles. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

"I apologize, but…this is all very sudden," I murmur. "I was not expecting…."

Alfred chuckles. "Yeah, first date's kind of soon, I guess. Sorry."

"I do not mind."

"You don't? Seriously?" His eyes widen as he looks up at me, seeming to glow more brightly than before. "You don't think I'm a freak and a monster and―?"

"No, I do not."

Alfred smiles. "That's…awesome."

I return the smile, but then I drop my head back against the seat's headrest. "Reality is very unstable."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Alfred laughs. "The whole concept is pretty misleading anyways."

"Very true."