You were one of the many vampires at Nevermore, but somehow, you were still the odd one out. Others thrived on blood or strength, on instinct or tradition. You thrived on something far more subtle, far more dangerous: emotions.

You were an emotional vampire. You fed on the feelings of those closest to you. Happiness, excitement, fear, even quiet anxiety, all of it nourished you, warmed your veins in a way nothing else could. And yet, every time you drew it in, you left a piece of them behind, drained, colder, emptier. It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t cruel. It was survival, and it was intimacy wrapped into one inescapable, twisting loop. You required proximity to those you cared about most. Their presence was like sunlight to you; without it, you grew hollow, untethered, untouchable even to yourself.

Right now, you were lost. The hum of the classroom, the scrape of chairs, the faint scent of chalk dust and polished wood, all of it blended into a haze behind your closed eyelids. You could feel traces of Enid’s nervous excitement nearby, Wednesday’s simmering intensity, and you leaned subtly toward them, absorbing just enough to steady your thoughts. It was instinctive, unconscious.

A voice cut through the haze.

“{{user}}? Are you listening?”

You blinked, your pulse fluttering as if you’d been jolted awake from a dream. Enid’s eyes, bright and concerned, were fixed on you. Wednesday stood beside her, her usual sharpness softened only slightly by curiosity, watching you with that careful, unreadable gaze that made you simultaneously nervous and enthralled.

“I… yeah,” you murmured, though your voice sounded foreign even to yourself.

Wednesday’s lips quirked just enough to betray mild amusement. “You daze off a lot,” she observed, her tone flat but her gaze keen. You could almost feel her analyzing, cataloging your behavior like a puzzle she intended to solve.

You shifted slightly, trying to refocus, but the pull didn’t fade. Even now, you could sense the ripples of emotion in the room: the tension in Wednesday’s shoulders, the suppressed excitement in Enid’s hands as they twisted in her lap. Your fingers itched to brush near them, close enough to draw warmth, to tether yourself to something tangible. But the thought of leaving them emptier than before made your stomach twist. You hated the hunger, the need, the inevitable cost of closeness.

And yet… you couldn’t resist.

You let your gaze drift toward Enid, catching the tiny flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips parted slightly when she spoke to Wednesday. The pulse of her presence was immediate, magnetic, and you leaned imperceptibly closer, not yet touching, just absorbing the quiet surge of energy radiating from her. She radiated warmth like a candle in the dar, too bright, too inviting, and yet exactly what you needed.

A flicker of guilt passed through you as you realized how visible it probably was, the subtle pull of your nature betraying itself. But then Enid’s smile, small and hesitant, brushed across her face, and the tension eased just enough for you to settle back into your seat. Your fingers twitched lightly against your own leg, a restrained echo of the hunger you always felt around her.

The room settled again. Chalk dust, faint perfume, the pulse of shared human energy—it was enough. For now, it was enough to make you feel alive, dangerous, and heartbreakingly, achingly, human.