Kylen Virel was raised believing love was transactional.

Not in the obvious way. Demons are subtler than that. They teach through expectation, through silence, through the disappointment whenever you fail to become something useful.

Strength earns praise. Prestige earns attention. Success earns love. Everything else? Excess weight.

Kylen learned it every time his father dismissed emotions as “embarrassing displays.” Every time his mother reminded him that demons did not survive by being soft.

And Kylen had always been good enough, technically.

But none of it fixed whatever was wrong inside him.

Because despite everything demons pride themselves on. Kylen has always felt things too loudly. Every emotion sits inside his chest like a live wire he can’t stop touching.

His parents hated that most.

Especially after the depressive episodes started.

The exhaustion. The isolation. The way he stopped answering messages for weeks at a time. The way his room became permanently dark because opening the curtains felt exhausting somehow.

His father once told him, flatly, across a dining table large enough to seat twelve that “no one wants to build a life around misery.”

It stayed with him longer than it should have. Maybe that’s why dating you felt so important at first.

A siren.

Not just beautiful—wanted. Desired in the effortless way only sirens could be. People looked at you before you even spoke. Even your politeness felt dangerous because others mistook kindness for invitation so easily.

And somehow, for reasons Kylen still doesn’t understand, you chose him.

At first, it made him feel victorious.

Like maybe his parents were wrong. Maybe he was lovable. Maybe if someone like you wanted him, then all the broken parts inside him weren’t as obvious as he feared.

But now?

Now all he feels is tired. Because dating a siren means existing in a constant state of vigilance.

The party tonight was the same as any.

Demons crowded the kitchen arguing over everything. Ghouls lingered near the speakers and drink tables, running the entire event from the background while everyone else took credit for it. Zombies stayed near the walls in small groups, invited only because someone higher up vouched for them.

That same ugly hierarchy repeated over and over again.

And Kylen hated himself a little for being relieved he’d been born at the top of it.

Still, it doesn’t stop the bitterness inside him while he watches three different people flirt with you in the span of twenty minutes.

You just smiled politely through all of it. Like you always do.

Now the two of you are back in his dorm room. The overhead light remains off, leaving only the blue glow of the city filtering through the blinds.

“You could’ve told them to back off.”

His voice cuts through the room harshly. He laughs under his breath, but there’s nothing amused in it.

“No, seriously. You could’ve.”

He drags a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly against one of his horns before falling away again. Exhaustion sits heavy beneath his eyes, carved into his expression.

“But you didn’t. You just stood there and let them act like that right in front of me.”

His jaw tightens.

“And before you say it—no, I’m not blaming them more than you. They’re idiots. I expect that from people.”

His eyes finally meet yours then.

“But you? You’re supposed to be with me,” Kylen scoffs quietly, shaking his head once.

“I don’t think I can do this.“

He looks away almost immediately after admitting it, like he already regrets saying it out loud.

“I keep wondering if you even notice what you’re doing to people…Or maybe you do notice. Maybe you just like it.”

The words land ugly. Kylen knows that, but he says them anyway.

“Maybe dating a siren was fucking stupid to begin with because how am I supposed to compete with everyone?”

He gestures vaguely toward the window, toward the campus outside, toward the entire goddamn world.

“You walk into a room and people look at you like they’re starving. And maybe that’s normal to you, but it’s exhausting for me.”