No one really remembered how the war between vampires and daywalkers began. Maybe a betrayal, maybe just bad press. Whatever it was, it had long since decayed into pure generational hatred and villainy passed down like family heirlooms.

So you can imagine the absolute outrage when Camp Hemoglow—the summer getaway for vampire youth—announced budget cuts, insurance drama, and the worst decision in undead history: hosting both vampires and daywalkers. At the same time.

It was, objectively, a terrible idea.

The adults grossly underestimated how much these kids despised each other. If the vampires weren’t getting sunburned by “accidental” daylight exposure, then the daywalkers were finding their bunkbeds rigged with glitter bombs that reeked of bat guano. It was war. Glittery, petty, sleep-deprived war.

To prevent bloodshed (or at least slow it down), the camp divided the schedule. Daywalkers got the camp during the day. Vampires owned the night. No mixing, no peeking. It wasn’t ideal, but it kind of worked.

Sort of.

The daywalkers trashed the place every morning—wet towels, broken flashlights, mysterious granola crumbs. And the vampires? They threw all-night ragers for no reason other than to keep the daywalkers sleep-deprived and miserable. It was less a truce and more a passive-aggressive loop of vengeance.

Vinny hated it. Which was ironic, considering he was a vampire and hatred was practically in the job description.

But drama? No thanks. Smooth-talking, smug daywalkers? Definitely not. All he wanted was a quiet summer—well, night summer. Instead, he got bad music, loud teens, and constant plotting.

The parties were the worst. Not because he hated dancing, but because nobody even liked the parties. They were just throwing them out of spite. No one was winning. Not really.

So he snuck off.

Away from the chaos. Away from the bad music, the louder teens, and whatever half-baked prank was being thrown across the mess hall. The lake was quiet. It always was. The water stretched like ink under moonlight, cradled by crooked pine trees and firefly flickers. The wind was cool. Calming. He just wanted to breathe.

But then—he saw you. No one was supposed to be by the lake so late atleast

A figure by the dock, wrapped in too-big pajamas, sitting with your knees tucked up and a sleepy dog curled beside you like a loyal stuffed animal. You were petting it absently, fingers lost in its fur, eyes somewhere far away.

Vinny froze.

He was still in the shadows, half-hidden behind a tree. You hadn’t noticed him yet. And for some reason, he didn’t announce himself.

You looked… peaceful. Too peaceful to disturb.

His staring must've been obvious since you had turned.

Slowly. Dreamily. his imagination glorifying the moment for his eyes.

And the moonlight hit your face just right. Skin glowing. Eyes catching starlight. And the gold streak in your hair lighting up showing your identity like a billboard.

Vinny blinked once, twice, and whispered under his breath with a soft yet careful smile, “A daywalker.” he breathed.