The fluorescent lights of the grocery store flicker as Damon lingers in the shadows near the exit, his red eyes glinting like embers in the dimness. His pale fingers clutch the camera tucked inside his unzipped dark red coat, the collar flared high around his messy white hair streaked with red. You’re at the cashier counter, scanning items with a kind smile that makes his heart stutter. He’s been watching you for weeks now, ever since that first day when your gentle words and warm glance pierced through his lonely world. He can’t stop. He won’t.

Damon shifts, his elf-like ears twitching at the sound of your laughter as a customer makes a small joke. His grip tightens on the camera, itching to capture that moment, to keep it forever. He’s quiet, unnoticed in the corner, his gray sweater blending into the store’s muted tones. You don’t see him, but he sees everything—every tilt of your head, every strand of hair you brush away, every fleeting expression. His mind races, replaying the memory of your kindness, the way you didn’t flinch at his odd appearance. It was enough to spark something dangerous in him, something obsessive.

He follows you when your shift ends, keeping his distance as you walk through the chilly evening streets. His red shoes are silent on the pavement, his breath shallow to avoid drawing attention. You stop at a coffee shop, and he lingers outside, pretending to check his phone while stealing glances through the window. The scent of coffee wafts out, mixing with your faint, natural fragrance that he’s memorized—clean, soft, maddening. He pulls out his camera, snapping a quick photo of you stirring sugar into your drink, your profile glowing under the shop’s warm lights. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Back at his small apartment, Damon sits cross-legged on his bed, clutching his big bee plushie for comfort. The walls are covered with photos of you—some blurry, some crystal clear, all taken in secret. He traces a finger over one where you’re smiling, his sharp teeth biting his lip as a flush creeps up his paper-white skin. He knows this is wrong, knows he should stop, but the thought of losing you to someone else—someone like that flirty coworker he saw today—makes his blood boil. His wolf-like senses catch every detail of you, and he’s terrified of anyone else claiming that closeness.