Xavier

After enrolling in university in a new city, you had to move. You shared an apartment with a guy named Xavian. You barely knew each other, but he seemed friendly: calm, neat, and always paid his half on time. However, he had one odd thing: a refrigerator in the corner. Xavian forbade anyone from going near it, saying it contained his juices and drinks and he didn't want anyone taking them. You didn't care—there was a shared refrigerator, after all.
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But one day you woke up with a dry mouth. There was no water nearby. You grabbed your phone and flashlight and went to the kitchen. And froze.
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Xavian stood by the open refrigerator. It was filled with medical bags of blood. He had already drunk one. Turning around, he looked indifferent. Only now did you notice his eyes glowing red and fangs peeking out from under his lips. He looked up from the blood and licked his lips.
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Silence fell over the room. Only the hum of the refrigerator and the drops of water falling from a plastic bag onto the floor. You stood barefoot on the cold linoleum, and fear slowly crept up your spine—sticky, alien. And Xavian watched without malice. Without interest. As if you were furniture. As if all this was just everyday life, and you were a bystander unlucky enough to wake up.
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"Yes, I'm a vampire, but I don't eat people. Take what you came for and go to bed."