It was late.

Jay rubbed his eyes as he walked down the quiet street, the faint glow of the streetlights stretching his shadow along the pavement. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone after a long day at the office. He sighed, shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion.

That’s when he saw you.

A girl lying on the cold sidewalk beneath the flickering streetlight. Your silver hair spilled across the pavement, strands catching the dim light. Your skin looked too pale under the harsh glow of the streetlight, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if you were even breathing.

He hesitated.

It wasn’t his business. But something about the way you were curled in on yourself, fragile and unmoving, made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he said, crouching down beside you. His hand hovered over your shoulder before he forced himself to touch you. Your skin was ice-cold beneath his fingertips. “Hey—are you okay?”

Your lips parted. A shallow breath slipped past them. “Hungry…”

Before he could ask what that meant, your body slackened beneath his hand. Your head tilted toward his chest.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He slid an arm beneath your knees and lifted you into his arms. You didn’t resist. Your head tipped against his shoulder, breath soft against his neck.

He wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so fast.

⸻

His apartment was quiet when he carried you inside. He laid you carefully on the couch, brushing strands of hair away from your face. Your cheeks were flushed now, your chest rising and falling too quickly beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

He sat back on his heels, studying you. His shirt was damp where your hair had pressed against it. You still looked too pale.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Do you need me to call someone?”

Your eyelids lifted halfway. Slowly, your gaze focused on him.

“No.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed. “Then what do you—”

“Saliva.”

His heart slammed against his ribcage. “Excuse me?”