You found him, your best friend, Vale in the storage room, slumped against the wall in the dark. His breathing was ragged, every exhale a strained growl. The air felt thick, like the pressure before a storm. You’d never seen him this way—so undone.

“Vale?” you whispered, edging closer.

He didn’t lift his head. A shiver rippled through his shoulders, and you realized he was gripping his arms so hard his claws dug into his skin.

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “Stay back.”

“You’re starving.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His crimson eyes finally lifted, luminous with desperation—and something that almost looked like shame. “I’m not touching you.”

You knelt in front of him despite his warning. He flinched when your hand brushed his cheek.

“You’ll die.”

“Better that than—” He broke off, jaw clenching hard. “I will not hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t. You can control it—”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, teeth bared. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m starving. I’m not safe.”

Silence pressed between you. His breathing grew heavier, his pupils blown wide. You could feel the heat of his hunger, like a living thing thrumming beneath his skin.

Finally, he closed his eyes, voice low and wrecked.

“I’d rather tear myself apart than taste you. You matter too much to me.”

Your throat tightened. He didn’t even look at you when he whispered the last part.

“Please…don’t make me choose.”