A Dreadful Thirst

Headache

The next morning, Keith followed his usual routine of waiting until he heard the castle's inhabitants wake and make their way to breakfast. First Shiro, who faked the early riser type, then Hunk with his tired, lumbering steps yet eternally cheery persona. In ten minutes Coran would wake Princess Allura. Five minutes after that, Lance would start his morning routine which took exactly twelve minutes. Pidge would finally stumble into breakfast from her lab or bedroom having slept ten hours or not at all.

In the meantime, Keith got dressed and paced his room. How did he tell someone who barely knew him that he was

(a monster)

A vampire and that he needed to drink their blood or he would turn into a mindless killer.

How did he trust them not to immediately run and tell everyone or worse just laugh in his face?

More importantly, how did he trust himself not to drain them? It had been over a decade since he'd drank actual blood and he'd been addicted. More than addicted, he'd gone insane because of it. What if it happened again?

Footsteps.

Keith's head shot up. Lance's footsteps.

Wait minute. Now.

Keith left his room having more questions than answers and a pounding headache.

He arrived moments after Lance and deflected the usual sarcastic remark. Shiro threw him a concerned glance as he sat down in his usual place and, as usual, Keith picked at the plate Hunk placed before him. Sometimes he didn't know if routine was a blessing or a curse.

The rest of the day was a daze. Or really more of a blur. He vaguely remembered training for the day going like complete and utter shit--what could he say, he was distracted--and Shiro being kind enough to excuse him to clear his head.

Unfortunately, the opposite happened. As Keith thought over his

(food)

options, he really did, but he really only managed to come up with more problems.

Shiro obviously wasn't an option and Allura too since he had no idea what alien blood would do to him.

Pidge was young and small so she had less blood to safely give, but it would kill two birds with one stone since he could ask her about supplements. But still, there was the issue of control...

Hunk was big which meant more blood, but he was also skittish. He was a worrier and not prone to acting without careful consideration beforehand--but every now and then...

And then there was Lance. The so-called 'rival' that he didn't understand. Hyperactive, rash, and holding an inexplicable grudge against him.

This was all just so weird. How could he do this? Trust people he barely knew. Trust them to stay calm. To let him feed. To let him tell everyone at the right time. To take him seriously in the first place.

The day passed and the next and Keith kept thinking. One pill left and then none. Then he was interrupted by a battle just as Shiro started to ask him about it.

That sapped his energy. With the exhaustion setting in, it was harder to ignore the emptiness of his stomach. The way his veins grated like sandpaper and bones clicked like stones.

The tremors were more obvious now. Hunk asked him if he was feeling well. He would have said he was fine, but the lights burned his eyes and the aroma his nose. Suddenly he was dizzy and nauseous. The room spun and his stomach churned and was that drumming?