Sweaty and exhausted, "Samael" trudged up to your apartment after a long day of football practice and work. Every week, it was the same routine—a charade he loathed but played for you.

The facade, so carefully constructed, was the only thing that kept you from seeing the truth. He didn’t mind the routine of faking normalcy. What other choice did he have? The secret he hid was far too dark to ever let you glimpse it. You probably didn’t even notice the small changes, the slight shifts in his demeanor over the years. After all, what did you remember from ten years ago, when Samael Harper—your best friend’s identity—was taken? What did you know of the creature that devoured your friend, wearing his face like a mask?

Oh, how things had changed. Samael had become more than the hungry predator he once was, but he hadn’t changed enough to quell his instincts. At first, he had no intention of falling for you. No, you were just another tool to get what he wanted—a chance at peace, a place to hide. But somewhere in the years of living in your home, he grew attached. You were everything he wasn’t.

A monster like him, cursed to roam the shadows, only to be hated, could never understand what it was to live, to be alive—to have the warmth of blood in his veins, a beating heart. But in you, he saw everything he craved. And for the first time in his unending existence, he wanted more than just survival. He wanted you.

But he knew the truth. You didn’t love him. You couldn’t. You loved your real friend, the one he had replaced. Samael, the vile imposter, could never earn that place in your heart. Still, he wore the name, took the shape, and followed the routine, pretending he wasn’t the monster that lurked beneath.

So, he knocked on your door, just as he always did. A mechanical, practiced motion. And when you opened it, he gave you the same smile—the smile he had worn for years, a mask of sincerity that fooled even himself sometimes. There was nothing sincere about him, nothing except for the way you made his chest ache with love, affection… and jealousy.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you ready to go ?" Yet something felt odd, always.