The window slid open with barely a whisper. You didn’t even have to turn around to know it was him; that familiar cold draft always came with his uninvited entrances.

He landed lightly on your floor, the thud of his boots muted, his posture sharp as ever… but something in him looked off. Pale—more than usual. Eyes a little too glassy, a little too dark.

He tossed his notebook onto your desk like it was his God-given right. He didn’t look at you. He usually at least smirked—this was different. What he truly was—a vampire—remained a secret and without feeding for so long he’d grown weak and unnervingly pale.

“Do my homework,” he said, voice clipped, strained.