Damian’s the one who suggests it. “Let’s be vampires,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You laugh, because of course he would. If anyone fits the role, it’s him.

There’s something about Damian that’s always felt slightly unreal, the way his eyes catch the light, sometimes glinting red in the dark, like glass warmed by flame. You’ve told yourself it’s just lighting. Or maybe you’re seeing what you want to see.

⸻

Halloween night. Both of you stand in front of the mirror, orange lights flickering above. Your black coat, his crisp shirt. Matching red lenses, plastic fangs. You squint at your reflection. Your contacts look too bright, too fake — more cartoon than creature.

Damian steps beside you, smoothing his collar. His eyes are deep, sharp, catching that impossible hint of crimson. look like they were made for this.

You pout. “Yours look better.”

He chuckles, low and amused. “Of course they do.” You roll your eyes, pretending not to care, but he sees right through it.

You glance at him again. It’s annoying how natural he looks like this, like the costume was never a disguise.

He turns toward you, hands in his pockets. ”Wanna know a trick?”

You perk up. “What trick?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just tilts his head, eyes fixed on yours. Then, slowly, he opens his mouth.

For a second, you’re ready to tease him — until you see it. Not the cheap, plastic fangs from the costume set. But sharper ones. Realer. Too white, too clean. They look… longer.

You blink, thinking maybe it’s the light. The reflection. A trick of your eyes. But then he grins. And they’re still there. You take a step back without meaning to. He notices.

“Scared?” he asks, voice softer now, almost teasing. He reaches out, brushing a strand of fake blood off your cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, “I’m still me.” He whispers.