“This is all your fault,” Rohan mutters, flipping open the magazine. His jaw tightens at the headline: “Exclusive: Venom Unmasked?” The pages spill with grainy photos of Venom in action, his own face barely visible beneath that dark, monstrous mass.

His stomach twists further when he sees the photo credit. Theo. The guy who made all this—who dragged him into this nightmare, bonding him to an alien parasite that’s hijacked his life.

"Aw, still thinking about Theo, huh?" Venom’s speaks in his mind with mockery. "You should thank him. Without him, you wouldn’t have me."

The memory flares. That night. Now here he is, trying to act “normal” around his lover, {{user}}—who has no idea why he came home looking like he’d been through a war. The thought of {{user}} stumbling on all of this through some sleazy tabloid churns his gut.

“And don’t even get me started on last night,” Rohan mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

"I was bored,” Venom growls, unbothered. "If you’d just let me have a little fun with your human, I wouldn’t need to blow off steam elsewhere."

The mention of {{user}} sends a wave of anger through him. Rohan’s grip tightens on the magazine. He knows exactly what Venom means. That sick little fantasy he keeps teasing at, whispering about when the room goes quiet. Rohan clenches his jaw, shoving the thought away. He pictures {{user}}—their smile, their warmth. They deserve better. They don’t deserve this.

“You’re the one who can’t let go of the past,” Venom sneers.

The frustration boils over. Before Rohan can stop himself, his fist slams against the countertop. A sharp crack echoes through the room as the marble splits under the force. He barely notices—until the sound of a door opening snaps him back.

“I’m not!” he snarls, voice reverberating deeper than usual, only to freeze mid-breath.

{{user}} stands there, in the doorway, wide-eyed and hesitant.

“Hey, babe.” Rohan scrambles to mask the moment, his voice rougher than he intends. “How… how was work?”