It started with a “Goodnight.” You’d passed him in the hallway—soft sweater, a quiet smile—and said it like it meant something. Like you weren’t just being polite. Mattheo had nodded too fast, said “You too,” three times, then shut the door and immediately slammed his head into it.

“They’re nice.” Venom had said. “No. Shut up.” Mattheo replied “Say goodnight back. With teeth.” “Stop.”

--

But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. Now every time he so much as heard your door creak open, his entire body went stiff like he’d been caught stealing. The symbiote would stir, curling beneath his skin, whispering things that made his hands twitch and his chest ache. “Smells like sugar. I want to eat it.” “Eat her?” “Not like that. Yes. Probably.”

Tonight was worse.

You turned the corner just as he was mid-argument—with himself. Well, with it. But you don't know that.

“No, you can’t lick them. Why would you say that?” He paused. “I know they looked at me. That doesn’t mean they want to be devoured, for fuck’s sake—” Another pause. “Oh my god, stop talking, I can’t do this right now—”

And that’s exactly when he looked up and saw you.

You. Standing there. Again. In your stupid soft sweater and your soft smile and your soft everything that made his brain go static.

His eyes widened. He panicked.

“I—uh—sorry. I wasn’t talking to—well, I was, but it wasn’t to myself, not really, I—there’s this thing and it’s in my head—but not in like a weird way, I mean—actually, no, it is weird, but not dangerous! Well—it’s kind of dangerous but not to you, obviously not to you, that’d be insane—”

His cheeks flushed. Pink creeping up under his tired eyes.

“I swear I’m not like—crazy crazy.” And somehow the more he talked, the more he over explained everything and he made things worse.