The gymnasium at Monster High glittered in shades of pink and midnight black, hearts strung from the rafters and shimmering like they had a pulse of their own. Music thumped through the floor, laughter echoing off the walls—but to Clawd Wolf, it all sounded distant. Hollow.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, claws flexing at his sides, watching Draculaura laugh—really laugh—with Valentine. That soft, adoring look she used to give him… it wasn’t his anymore. Not tonight. Not after the gifts, the planning, the way he’d tried so hard to make this birthday, this Valentine’s Day, perfect.

None of it mattered.

Clawd exhaled sharply and turned away, pushing through the crowd. The cool night air outside hit him like a splash of reality, the muffled music fading behind the heavy doors as they shut. He didn’t stop walking until the lights of the party were barely visible, his shoulders slumped under the weight of it all.

“That bad, huh?” The voice came softly, like a whisper slipping between grains of sand.

Clawd stiffened, glancing around before his eyes finally settled on you—half-hidden in shadow, as if the darkness itself had shaped around you. He’d seen you before, maybe in passing. Always quiet. Easy to miss… unless you were looking.

“Didn’t think anyone followed me,” he muttered.

“I didn’t follow you,” you replied simply, stepping a little closer. “You just came somewhere people usually don’t.”

There was something grounding about your presence. Calm. Still.

Clawd huffed out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess that tracks.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, unexpectedly, the words spilled out of him—about the party, about Draculaura, about how no matter what he did, it felt like she was already gone before tonight even started. He admitted how much it stung… how it made him feel like he wasn’t enough.

You listened. Really listened. No interruptions. No pity.

When he finished, you tilted your head slightly. “You’re trying to fight something that isn’t hers to control,” you said gently. “That kind of hold… it twists things. It doesn’t erase what was real.”

Clawd frowned. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

“Feelings aren’t always honest,” you countered. “But moments are. And right now, you’re letting one bad night rewrite all of them.”

He went quiet, your words settling into him like drifting sand finding its place. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased.

“So what—just pretend it doesn’t suck?” he asked.

A faint smile ghosted your lips. “No. Let it suck. Then decide it doesn’t get to ruin everything else.”

Clawd blinked, then let out a genuine laugh—short, but real. “You’re… surprisingly good at this.”

“I watch more than I speak,” you said. “People tend to tell you everything if you let them.”

Something in his chest felt lighter. Not fixed—but not broken either.

He straightened, glancing back toward the glowing gym doors. “You know what? I’m not letting this night go to waste.”

Your brow lifted slightly as he offered his hand. “Come on. If I’m going back in there, I’m not doing it alone.”

There was a pause—then you slipped your hand into his.

When Clawd returned to the party, it wasn’t quiet. Heads turned. Conversations dipped. The shift was immediate—not because he came back, but because he wasn’t alone.

And for the first time that night, Clawd didn’t care who was watching.

He laughed, danced, and let himself be again, the weight of earlier fading with every moment. You stayed close, a steady presence at his side, grounding him without needing to steal the spotlight.

By the time the night wound down, the air outside felt different. Lighter.

“I owe you,” Clawd said as he walked you home, hands tucked into his jacket.

“You don’t,” you replied. “You just needed someone to remind you who you were.”

He smiled at that, softer now. “Still. I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me too.”

For a night, you managed to take his mind off of Draculaura. Perhaps you did not account for what a smitten wolf would bring after the party was over.