Heads or Tails? — K de la Renta (Patreon)

Maybe it’s a hot or cold demeanour.

K de la Renta isn’t the easiest person, vampire, to figure out.

Their aesthetic, body language and overall personality would scream ‘unapproachable’. But it’s been months, almost a year since you’ve known them now, and unapproachable isn’t what you’d describe them as. K’s sensitive, empathetic, if you’re to dig past the surface then you’re sure you’d encounter a bit of pain and trauma too.

But that’s the thing.

K won’t let you dig any further. They’re keeping you at an arm’s length. At a distance. At a flirtatious-filled distance with no intent to even consider closing the gap.

“It’s almost 2am,” they murmur to you when they open their apartment door to see you standing outside it.

You tilt your head. “You called, so…” Your words trail off and you slip past them into their apartment and let out a sigh.

“I texted,” K says back.

“Same difference.”

K’s home feels similar to a furnace, it’d make sense considering how much they hate the cold. It has you unzipping your jacket and slipping it from your torso.

They slip a hand into their pocket and take a seat on the sofa. K’s eyes subtly flit from you to the seat across from them, and it’s clear what they’re saying. Or maybe it’s only clear to you, the way the two of you have the ability to read each other from the slightest of actions.

You oblige. You take the seat, stretch out your legs, and find that they’re close to brushing K’s before you pull them away.

Their jaw clenched ever so slightly. “Should I have not texted?” K asks after what feels like a long minute.

You chew the inside of your cheek because maybe this is the problem. If K calls, you’d come. But you know that if it was vice versa, they would do the same in a heartbeat. That’s a K you can completely adore, one that doesn’t have you in two minds about what the two of you could be.

“I just don’t know why you did,” you answer candidly.

K shuffles a little, pulling a thread from the hem of their top. “I thought that would be obvious.”

You raise a brow. “Not possible. I’m not a mind reader.” The tone of your voice is sharp, filled with more venom than you intended and to your disbelief, K smirks at it.

It’s a sarcastic smirk, one that’s masking a few profanities and other unspoken words.

They lean forward, drum their fingers rhythmically on the table and then glance up at you.

“If coming here was such an issue for you, you didn't have to.” You expect K’s words to match the harshness of yours, but they don’t. They’re soft, tender, almost begging you to leave but hoping you’ll stay.

A sigh escapes you. “It…isn’t an issue,” you murmur.

“Okay,” K utters. “Then why do you seem so pissed off?” Your eyes study K for a moment. The way their brows are upturned, the way their eyes are a shade lighter.

“I don’t know what this is,” you say.

K ponders. “This?” they question, confusion dripping from their tongue.

You suck in a breath and point between the two of you. “This, K.”

The realisation hits them after that. K stays leaning forward, they swallow hard, part their lips as though they have something to say…but the words don’t come instantly. You roll your eyes a little. The vampire who usually has so much to say happens to be speechless.

“We keep doing this, spending our time with each other,” you continue, “and I don’t even know how you feel. Yet, you know exactly how I do.”

Your name falls from K’s mouth lightly. In a soft way that seems it’s preparing you for rejection, but it’s not what you’re about to get.

“I don’t…” K begins before thinking better of it. “I didn’t call anyone else. You’re the only one I wanted to see.”

There aren’t many things K de la Renta will admit to themselves, but saying that is a big step in itself.

“I wanted you here because I like your company,” they add.

You blink rapidly. You’d be lying if you thought you were going to hear that. But what does it change? You’re still left wondering if K would accept anyone else’s company in a different scenario, whether this is only for a moment or whether this could be something long term.

“I feel like I’m putting my heart on the line when it comes to you,” you utter back. “I want whatever we could be and I want you no matter what, but—“

K knows how easy it would be for some to admit what they’re feeling. When people have their crush in front of them giving them a confession, the words you say are, ‘I adore you too. Let’s go on a date and give this a go.’

But, K’s brain, and heart in a sense, are wired differently. They have to protect themselves, avoid letting people in. There’s damage within them that they can’t share…but for you it could be worth it.

It has to be.

K swallows hard and looks over their coffee table. The regular stuff is on there: a glass (one that had blood in it but they washed it out quickly when they heard your heartbeat outside the door). There’s the TV remote, a book P recommended they read, K’s phone, and a coin.

A fucking coin.

K quickly grabs it between their fingers. They spin it twice in their palm and look up to you.

“Heads or tails?” they ask.

“What?”

Their lips purse. “Heads or tails?” K asks again.

Your brows furrow and you stand. “That’s what you want to do after I told you—“

You’re interrupted when K stands up and wraps their hand around your wrist. It’s a gentle touch, one that’s a mixture of warmth and chill, one you’d crave to have more of.

“Heads, I kiss you,” K blurts out with honesty shining in their eyes. “Heads, I kiss you,” they reiterate. “Tails, you kiss me.” The coin is suddenly cold in their hand. “And whichever it lands on, the kiss will mean something. It’ll mean something.”

It’s the last of their words that stand out to you. It’s what you’ve been wanting from K. To mean something to them, to actually mean something to them.

You nod your head to their statement.

K’s arches a brow. “Is that a yes to this coin flip and what happens after? I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you answer. K’s eyes stay on you for a split second longer to be sure they aren’t hearing things, and then they turn back to the coin.

They throw it into the air. It flips once, twice, a third time—as if in slow motion, and then, with ease, K holds out a hand for it to fall into.

It’s a win-win situation. There isn’t any need for either of you to hope you get one result over the other.

But when K opens their hand, you find yourself pleased with the side of the coin you can see.

“Heads,” you murmur.

K silently slips the coin into their pocket, and in a swift but steady motion, their free hand cups your cheek.

“You’ve always meant something to me.”