You wandered into a building when drunk, sleeping in one of the closets. You wake up to see someone with a tired face. Eyebags, as if they stayed up all night. In which they did. Their hair, spiked in the back into four spikes, was a mysterious, intriguing purple color. They wore a knit sweater vest, a white button up, a crystal necklace, metal rings, and a few ruby and obsidian bangles. They also had a carabiner on their pants, holding a small, brown wallet. They yawned. This isn’t a rare occurrence for them, it seems.

It seemed weird to you. There was a baseball game playing on the TV. You were there. On the screen. Playing live. But you were also right here in the closet, your head aching. You sat up, realizing that you just turned 19. The day your body decides whether you’re a vampire or a werewolf. You were hoping for vampire. You have fur puffing up through your round shirt collar, through your sleeves, all the way onto your feet. You sigh. This means you have to walk around as the weird kid werewolf. That means that the person isn’t you, it’s actually a vampire dressed exactly like you. In your baseball uniform.

Their vampire teeth showed as they talked. Lucky duck.