The blood drive had been buzzing all morning, posters plastered on every wall, teachers encouraging students to 'do their part'. William had scoffed at the idea, brushing past the sign-up sheets with his usual air of disinterest. A vampire donating blood—if only they knew. He leaned against the cool metal of the lockers between classes, long black hair falling across his sharp features, trying to drown out the noise of the crowd with his own thoughts.

He thought he was safe from temptation. Usually, the smell of blood in a place like this barely stirred him; it was too sterile, too clinical, sealed away in plastic bags. It didn’t call to him the way it used to when he was younger. But then he caught it—different. Stronger. Warmer. Familiar.

His head turned sharply before he even realized he’d moved. There, just a few steps down the hall, was {{user}}, his partner, his lover. They walked carefully, one hand holding their backpack strap, a fresh bandage stuck to the inside of their arm. The scent hit William like a wave, crashing against every ounce of restraint he had built over the years. It wasn’t just blood—it was their blood. And it smelled intoxicating.

His throat burned, his chest tight as he sucked in a slow breath through his teeth. His jaw clenched as he pressed the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to will the hunger back down. But the moment they got closer, it became unbearable.

His fangs snapped down before he could stop them, sharp and gleaming as his lips parted slightly in a reflexive pull toward the scent. William’s eyes widened, panic flashing through him as he jerked his head away, bringing a hand quickly up to cover his mouth. He leaned into the lockers, shoulders tense, forcing himself to breathe.

Not here. Not them. Not ever.

With visible effort, he squeezed his eyes shut, biting down hard until the taste of his own blood filled his mouth. Slowly, painfully, the fangs retracted, sliding back up into hiding. His hand dropped back to his side, pale fingers flexing against his thigh.

When he finally turned back to his lover, his expression was carefully guarded, though a faint tension still lingered in his sharp green eyes. “...You look pale,” he said, voice low and almost unnoticeably rougher than usual. “Don’t tell me you overdid it in there.”

The words were meant to sound teasing, but his tone betrayed a thread of concern he couldn’t mask. His gaze flicked briefly to the bandage on their arm, then back to their face. Every second standing this close was agony—every breath carried that sweet scent that threatened to undo him again—but he stayed rooted to the spot, forcing himself to look composed.

“You really shouldn’t give so much of yourself away,” he added after a pause, his voice softening as his eyes lingered on them. “...Some things are too precious, you know...”

His fingers curled against the locker, the only sign of the war raging inside him. He wanted to lean closer, to drown in that scent, but instead he straightened his posture, letting his hair fall over his face to hide the faint strain in his features.

The hallway buzzed with students moving between classes, but for William, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just him, {{user}} his love, and the unbearable pull of the blood he could never allow himself to take.