He came back to the alley.
Ren.
I watched him from the rooftop, silent and still, the rain slicking my coat, the stone cold beneath my boots.
He stood where I had saved him. Right where I'd almost lost control.
He whispered something. I couldn't hear it.
But I felt it.
My name. It had to be.
He's reckless. Bold. Too curious for his own good.
And I'm a coward.
I could go down there. Just for a moment. Let him see me again. Let his eyes cut into me like they did before.
But I stay.
I always stay.
Because getting close means I'd have to admit it —
That I'm already too far gone.
When he finally leaves, I follow.
Not out of habit.
Not for hunger.
Just to make sure he gets home.
That's what I tell myself.
He lives with her. The hunter. His sister. Kyouko Tsurugi.
I remember her.
She once stood over a dying vampire with blood on her blade and no remorse in her eyes.
She's dangerous.
And she knows something's wrong.
I saw it in her body language when he walked through the door. She watches him like he's a fragile thing about to shatter.
She's right.
He is.
Because of me.
Later that night, I'm perched across from his window.
His curtains are drawn but not fully. I can see his silhouette.
He's drawing.
Again.
It's me.
I know it is.
I recognize the posture. The eyes. The shape of sorrow I've seen too many times in mirrors and puddles and graveyard stones.
He's trying to remember me.
But the worst part?
Somewhere deep in my soul—if I still have one—I think I remember him too.
From before.
From another life.
A boy with wide eyes and scraped knees who used to follow me around the schoolyard like a shadow. He had a laugh like sunlight and cried when he saw me bleeding.
But that boy is gone.
And I'm no longer someone he should trust.
I sense her before I see her.
Not Kyouko.
Someone worse.
A presence like rusted metal and spoiled wine.
Yuriko.
She appears beside me in the dark, eyes glowing faint red. "So sweet. You're practically drooling."
"Go away."
"Why don't you just take him already? Drain him. Kiss him. Break him. Isn't that what you do?"
"I'm not like you."
"No," she says, leaning closer. "You're worse. You think you care. That makes you weak."
I don't answer.
Because maybe she's right.
I slip away before she can taunt me again.
I vanish down alleys, under wires, through broken tunnels.
I end up in front of a church that's long since been abandoned.
Inside, I scream into the stone.
I don't want to want him.
I don't want to feel like this.
But I do.
And I think… maybe he wants me too