The graveyard reeked of blood and smoke. You drove your sword straight through a demodog’s throat, its screech echoing into the night—then pain, sudden and sharp, tore down your back. Another one. You barely turned in time to see its claws before you hit the ground.

“{{user}}!” Steve’s voice ripped through the chaos.

He was there in a flash, bashing the creature with his nail bat until it collapsed.

“Come on,” he muttered, hauling you to your feet. You stumbled, pain blinding, and leaned into him as you ran.

You reached the bus and dove in. Steve slammed the doors shut behind you. Lucas, Max, and Dustin were already inside, panting, wild-eyed.

Before you could move, Steve’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into the corner with him. Your back hit his chest, and you winced. He adjusted his grip instantly, holding you carefully.

“You okay?” he asked, breath warm against your ear.

You didn’t answer right away. Your head tipped back, eyes finding his. He was bruised, bleeding, a mess… but alive. Your gaze dropped to his lips before you could stop it.

God.

“Yes,” you breathed, too quickly.

You stood up, putting space between you and Steve. The cold hit first—then the weight of what had almost happened.

Max glanced over. Lucas looked like he was trying not to say anything. Dustin just blinked between you, eyebrows raised.

You turned away, focusing on the blood on your jeans. Not yours. Not Steve’s. Hopefully not Dustin’s.

Steve stayed quiet, still watching you.

You weren’t saying it—but something had shifted in that breathless moment.

You were enemies.

…Or were you?