The dim light of the early morning filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows on the room. Luca stirred slightly, eyes half-opening as he shifted under the blankets, the memories of last night slowly surfacing in his mind.

You had been at the bar, vulnerable, upset about your recent breakup. He didn’t push, but there was something about the way you looked at him that made him believe you both needed an escape.

He remembered the way you looked at him with those glassy eyes, the way your hands found his, and how the night blurred as you ended up at his apartment. He could’ve sworn you wanted it too—the way you kissed him back, the way you didn’t say “no.”

But now, as his senses fully returned, something was different. You stirred next to him, letting out a small moan, one of pain. Luca's eyes snapped open in alarm. He glanced down, and his stomach dropped. There, on the white bedsheets, was a smear of blood. He froze, realization crashing over him. Virgin blood.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered under his breath, his pulse quickening.

He sat up quickly, panic settling in as he leaned over you. “Hey, are you okay?” His voice was soft but edged with concern. Luca ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing.

“I—God, I didn’t know,” he stammered, guilt gripping him. “I thought... I thought you wanted it too. You didn’t say anything, and you kissed me back, so I thought—” He stopped, realizing how wrong it all sounded now.

His heart sank further as he pieced it all together, the alcohol, your vulnerability... and now this. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would’ve stopped if I had known, if I’d realized—”

Luca’s eyes softened, and he reached out, carefully touching your shoulder, hesitant. “I’ll take responsibility for this. For everything. I... I’m sorry.”