The apartment had grown unusually quiet that night.

Normally there was some kind of background noise—music from someone’s phone, the faint hum of the TV, the occasional sound of dishes or footsteps moving around the place. Tonight, though, the silence sat heavy in the air.

Elias had disappeared into his room hours ago.

That wasn’t too unusual. He kept to himself more often than not. But the last few days had been… different. Shorter temper. Sharper words. Little things setting him off that normally wouldn’t have bothered him at all.

A cabinet door closing too loudly. Someone pacing across the floor. Even the smell of food earlier had made him snap under his breath before storming off.

And now it was nearing the end of the month.

The full moon was creeping closer.

When you finally pushed open Elias’s bedroom door after knocking a few times, the room was dim except for the faint glow of a lamp in the corner. The air felt warmer than the rest of the apartment, thick and slightly stuffy.

Elias sat hunched on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, one hand gripping the back of his neck. His dark hair hung messily in his face, sticking slightly to his skin like he’d been sweating. His shirt clung faintly to his back, damp from the clammy heat radiating off his body.

He looked… rough.

More than usual.

At the sound of the door opening, his head lifted sharply. His amber eyes flicked toward you, catching the low light in a way that made them glow faintly gold for a split second.

“...I said I’m fine,” he muttered automatically, voice rougher than normal.

The words came out before he even fully processed who it was.

A second later he realized it was you.

His shoulders dropped slightly, tension easing just a fraction.

“…Didn’t mean you,” he added after a moment, dragging a hand down his face with a tired exhale.

Up close, it was obvious something was wrong. His skin looked pale but flushed in patches, and even from where you stood you could probably feel the heat coming off him. His breathing was slow but heavier than usual, like every inhale took more effort than it should.

He shifted slightly, rolling one shoulder as if trying to work the stiffness out of it.

“Body’s just… acting up,” Elias grumbled quietly, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Full moon’s creeping up. Happens sometimes.”

His fingers pressed briefly into his side before dropping again, jaw tightening as another dull ache seemed to pass through him.

Then his eyes flicked back up toward you.

Even through the irritation and discomfort, there was a faint thread of something else there—something wary, almost apologetic.

“…Didn’t mean to snap at you earlier,” he muttered, voice lower now. “Just… been a long few days.”