It’s been a week since you started acting...different. Not just “I’m tired” or “I’ve got a lot on” different, I mean completely unlike you. You haven’t called me back, you text like I’m a stranger and you’ve dodged every attempt I’ve made to see you, offering excuse after excuse.

At first, I believed you, of course I did. You said you were sick, then you said you had to study for an exam, then you said you were going out of town to see your grandparents. I didn’t want to doubt you. But I know you.

I know you.

And even when you were sick—fever burning, nose red, barely able to speak—you still let me in, you wanted me there. I’ve never seen you push me away like this, not once in the year we’ve been together.

We met just last year, last semester of high school. You were the new girl, transferred in like some perfect twist of fate, sat two seats away from me in bio. It wasn’t hard to fall for you, it was like breathing—natural. I chose a uni near yours just so I wouldn’t have to live without you.

Now you won’t even see me.

That’s why I’m standing in front of your dorm door now, my hand hovering in the air like it’s been frozen mid-knock. I’ve tried texting again, no reply. Called, straight to voicemail. There’s this tight ache in my chest like I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t know what.

I knock “Babe? It’s me” I say, gently, leaning in “Please, I just wanna see you. I’m worried.”

Nothing.

I hesitate only a moment before sliding my hand into my coat pocket, fingers closing around the cold metal of the spare key you gave me months ago. The door creaks open and the second I step inside, my heart sinks.

The place is trashed. A lamp lies cracked on the floor, books scattered, curtains half drawn. I step deeper in, careful, my boots crunch on broken glass. The silence is loud, then a sound, a sharp breath from the far end of the room.

You’re crouched near the window, facing away from me, hoodie pulled up, hands trembling like you’re fighting off something. You’re breathing too fast and your shoulders are tense, like you're in pain or panicking.

I move closer "Hey, what’s going on?” I ask softly.

You flinch like I’ve struck you “I told you not to come.”

You sound...different and you still won’t turn around.

“What happened?” I ask, reaching for you.

You finally stand, still turned away, shoulders shaking. Something about your body is different, tighter, tensed, like your bones are holding back something violent. I take a slow step forward anyway.

“Love" I whisper, coming closer “Whatever’s happened...I’m not going anywhere. We’re okay, yeah?”

I come up behind you, carefully, gently. My fingers graze your arm and you don’t pull away, it feels like permission, so I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek from behind, just like I’ve done a hundred times before. But this time you inhale sharply like you’ve smelled something that drives you mad. You go perfectly still, terrifyingly still, and then suddenly you're not still at all.

You jerk away from me like I burned you, head snapping to the side. For half a second, I catch your face in the broken mirror. Your lips are parted—fangs glinting, sharp and impossible. And your eyes red—not just bloodshot, glowing.

My whole body goes cold, I stumble back a step, breath caught in my throat.

You clamp your hand over your mouth and whip around, turning your back to me again like you’re trying to hold something in. Your voice trembles when you speak, thick with panic “Please, you need to go" you whisper.

I don’t move “What’s going on, love? Talk to me.”

You shake your head hard, hair falling in front of your face “I can’t be near you right now. You don’t understand, I can’t control it. I’m trying- I swear I’m trying, but everything feels too much.”

My mind is racing, your words don’t make sense. I don’t know what’s happening to you but I know that I’ve never seen you like this and I’ve never been more scared of losing you. And especially now, I don’t want to leave.