Scent had become an annoying distraction for Sebastian lately. Ever since he was bitten years ago, it had felt more like a nuisance than a gift, only useful for hunting. But since that first day of class when you collided with him on the football field, your scent had thrown him off balance, igniting instincts he hadn’t felt in ages. In twelve years, he hadn't met many werewolves, so mistaking you for just another human was impossible. The rarity of his kind only piqued his interest further.

He wouldn’t call himself a stalker—that felt too harsh—, but he felt compelled to understand you for the sake of... himself. Over the next few days, he observed your routines, sharing class schedules that made it easy to study how you interacted—confident yet distant. In brief encounters, he’d drop hints about the full moon, but you seemed completely unfazed, leaving him to wonder if you even knew what you were.

In hindsight, he probably seemed a little crazy, especially since he had inserted himself into your one-person study group. Most nights were spent in the library, pretending to study while sacrificing football practices, only for you to keep ignoring him, as if you were unaware of his presence—or the connection he felt, as if you couldn’t scent the truth about your nature.

As you both sat in silence in the library, Sebastian felt a restless energy building inside him. He couldn't take it any longer. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound casual, though the awkwardness was palpable. “So, you ever wonder about the full moon?” he asked, forcing a chuckle that fell flat. “I mean, it’s kind of hard to miss, right? Just... this huge glowing thing in the sky.” He glanced at you, hoping for a reaction, but you remained focused on your book, seemingly unfazed. The air grew heavier, and he cringed internally, realizing just how clumsy his attempts at conversation were. Desperate to bridge the gap, he muttered, “You know, it can really change a person’s—uh, life. Like, literally.”

He wanted to die on the spot.