Cassandra: The prophet who saw everything, yet changed nothing. She spoke in flames and ruin, her words dismissed until the world proved her right.

Oakhurst was a strange town.

It was suffocating, the air too thin, too claustrophobic. Trees rose like bones, ribs of the ever breathing forest. The ground seemed to break every time someone stepped on it a little too hard. Plants spidered from the rotten soil, bright blooms of poppies and alliums dotting the monochrome floor.

Avid sometimes could hear voices echoing from the woods, be it screams or secrets he couldn’t tell. Sometimes he swore they called his name. Sometimes he swore he knew the voice. The sounds never scared him anymore—it was background noise, like the chime of a clock you couldn’t escape. He had learned not to listen too closely. Those who did never came back right.

He didn’t need to know. Because he could see one secret that was in front of him.

Scott.

Scott and his impossibly cyan locks of hair, the way it caught the dying light like fractured jewels. The way his eyes shined like the stars. The way he talked, smooth like silk. Scott didn’t just stand out in Oakhurst—he didn’t belong to it at all. Looking at him was like staring at sunlight through broken glass: brilliant, cutting, impossible to ignore.

Avid hated him.

Hated the way people bent toward Scott like flowers to the sun. Hated the ease, the charisma, the infuriating smile that seemed to plague his lips, concealing something that Avid couldn't pin down. Hatred was an easier route than admitting Scott unsettled him.

His own sable hair fell into his violet eyes, dark and “brooding”, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. He was prepared—he always was—but Scott… Scott was chaos incarnate in silk and shadow.

The aforementioned stood a couple strides away from the brunette, smiling with… Shelby.

Instantly Avid snapped out of whatever trance he was previously in, storming up to the pair.

Shelby noticed him instantly, honey eyes widening. “Avid!” She shot him an almost pleading look. She hated when he and Scott fought but Avid had to protect her.

His glare didn’t soften.

Avid’s steps were sharp against the brittle of the ground, each one punctuating the fury buzzing through his veins. Scott’s back was to him—cyan hair folded neatly into a braid, shoulders straight and all proper, as though nothing the cursed town could touch him. Even the infuriated Avid.

He wanted to rip that smugness off his face.

“Scott.” His voice was low, almost a growl.

The man turned.

And Avid froze.

Instead of the bright, beautiful, face that he despised was a stark white mask, carved from bone, empty sockets gaping where eyes should've been. A grinning skull staring back at him.

For a moment, the whispers stopped. The forest stilled. Even Shelby’s breath hitched beside him.

Avid blinked hard, waiting for the trick to break—for the mask to slip, for Scott’s amused laughter to fill the still air. But the skeleton grin held. Silent. Unshaken. His chest twisted, something colder than anger digging under his lungs.

Shelby’s voice broke the quiet, “Avid?”

Nothing had changed—Scott was still standing there, still smiling, only now his upper lips were replaced with teeth.

Avid curled his fingers, “Take that off,”

Scott tilted his head, the mask catching the dying light. As if amused. As if daring the vampire hunter. “Now why would I do that?”

His eyes, though hidden by shadows, twinkled with mischief. His perfectly blushing lips turned into a smile, cold and conceiting. Avid hated it. Hated him.

Avid’s blood boiled.

“Y-you think this is a game?”

“Absolutely,” Another perfect smile.

Scott leaned forward, pointer finger tracing his jaw before stopping under his chin. Then the man forced Avid’s chin up, making him look straight into the voids of the black sockets. Another shiver ran through the brunette.

“Take it off,” Avid said, punctuating each word.

“What if I don't?” His face leaned closer, causing a flush to cover the shorter’s face. Just the cold.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll rip it off myself.”

Another smirk.

“Oh-kay you two, let’s calm down.” Shelby interjected, her face scrunching into a smile. Her voice was high and bright, attempting lightness, but it trembled at the edges. She stepped forward, planting herself between them with a practiced ease, her notebook clutched like a talisman.

The brunette glared at Scott once again. Scott, as almost feeling Avid's glare, cocked his head towards him, a smiled painted onto his red lips. Avid tore his gaze away, barely able to breathe. His skin still buzzed where Scott had touched him.

Shelby frowned. “Seriously, what is with you two lately?” Her lips turned into a pout, she didn’t like it when they fought.

Scott turned, mask still grinning, voice laced with silk and blood. “Just a little… tension in the air.”

Shelby narrowed her eyes. “Tension that ends with someone dead?”

Avid’s lips parted, a retort on his tongue—but Scott got there first.

“I’m not that cruel,” he said smoothly, glancing at Avid. “Not unless I’m invited to be.”

Avid stiffened, his fist clenching at the attention. His cheeks flushed once more, turning a bright bloody red. “You’re not funny.”

“No,” Scott mused. “But I’m pretty.” As if to emphasize his point, his fingers splayed beneath his chin like the petals of a dark bloom — a gesture too graceful to be anything but intentional.

Shelby groaned. “Ugh. I hate this town.” Then she turned on her Mary Jane heels. “Just… try not to kill each other? Please? The last thing we need is a murder.” The redhead had barely rounded the corner before Avid spun around, jabbing a finger into Scott’s chest.

“You think this is funny?” Avid hissed, voice low and sharp.

Scott blinked slowly. The bone-white mask tilted just so, catching the moonlight in a way that made Avid’s stomach twist.

“I think you’re funny,” Scott said softly, almost fond. “Always so angry. So ready to burn.”

Avid’s hand trembled. He hated how close Scott stood—close enough to feel his breath, close enough that his presence wrapped around him like fog.

“Take it off.”

“Or what?”

“I swear, Scott—”

“Swear what?” Scott’s voice was a silk-wrapped knife. “That you’ll stake me? Right here? In front of your little friend? In front of the whole cursed town?”

Avid faltered.

Scott leaned closer, breath brushing his ear. “You won’t.”

The silence between them crackled, thick and charged. The mask grinned. Avid’s fingers twitched.

“I will.” His voice broke on the last word. “I’ll—”

Scott’s hand caught his wrist. Gently. Almost lovingly. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not.”

“You always tremble before you fall.”

Avid shoved him back—but Scott didn’t move. Not really. Not like someone with weight should.

“You’re not normal,” Avid whispered, voice ragged. “You’re not human.”

Scott smiled. “Maybe…” he trailed off, hand caressing Avid’s face, making the brunette flinch. “Good luck proving it, allium.”

And with that he left, fading into the ink of the night. Leaving a blushing man with too many questions and too little questions.

•     •     •

The door slammed with the rage of a man scorned by something ancient and irritatingly attractive.

Avid all but flung his cloak across the banister, muttering curses in a dozen dead languages. His boots were soaked from the marsh path, tracking muddy water across the stone floor as he stormed into the parlor.

By the fire sat Drift, her legs tucked beneath her, coat draped neatly over the chair. She was reviewing hand-scrawled notes beneath candlelight, monocle somehow not falling off, eyes sharp.

Without looking up, she said, “You're late. Was there a corpse, or just your pride again?”

Avid threw himself dramatically onto the worn velvet settee. “He called me allium.”

Drift blinked. “...The genus of garlic?”

“Yes!” Avid shouted, sitting upright. “He looked me in the eye—with that mask, I mean, not really—and said it like it was a compliment! As if I’m a bouquet in a funeral! A garlic flower! A joke!”

Drift tilted her head. “You are kind of a bouquet of threats and seasonal depression.”

Avid groaned, flopping backward. “Why is he like this? Why does he have to speak in riddles and metaphors and... and caress my face like some tragic poem?”

“Did you stab him?”

“I—no! He was—Drift!” Avid stuttered, unsure of how to reply. He had wanted to stab him, to see the blood bloom on the silky fabric. Had, past tense, he noticed numbly

“Should’ve stabbed him.”

“I wanted to! But then he touched me and the world went all—weird, and I was warm and cold at the same time, and now I think I’m having a breakdown.”

Drift finally looked up, one brow arched. “So, a normal Thursday.”

Avid sat up, scowling. “He moved like he wasn’t even real. Like air pretending to be a person. And that mask—I don’t think it was painted. I think it was actual bone.”

Drift nodded slowly. “Fascinating. And you’re sure you weren’t just… seduced?”

Avid blinked. “By death?!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. You have a type.”

“I don’t have a—” He stopped. Glared. “Don’t say it.”

Drift leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “A pale, mysterious, probably cursed type who calls you by plant names and invades your personal space while whispering sweet existential threats?”

Avid shoved a pillow over his face. “I’m going to throw myself into the forest.”

“I’ll pack your garlic.”

“Drift.”

She chuckled and leaned back, eyes narrowing just slightly—thoughtful. “He’s testing you.”

Avid lowered the pillow. “What?”

“Scott,” she said simply. “He’s drawing lines. Seeing which ones you’ll cross. Flirting, yes. But also... measuring.”

Avid’s jaw tensed. “Measuring what?”

Drift looked into the fire, voice soft. “How human you are. How far you'll go. How much of yourself you're willing to lose to chase him.”

A long silence.

“…He still called me a garlic flower.”

Drift smiled faintly. “Could be worse. Could’ve called you thyme.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t. You just hate being seen.”

Avid pulled the pillow back over his face with a grumble. “I hate poets.”

He closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his temple. He’d been trying to convince himself that Scott was just a problem to be solved—a puzzle, a threat, a game. But the truth was slipping through his defenses, a quiet whisper in the dark. He was turning, slowly and painfully, into an obsession he couldn’t shake. And that scared him more than any vampire ever could.

•     •     •

Eventually he decided to go to bed. The night had stretched far too long before he had complained to Drift into the early morning, and now all he wanted to do was collapse and fall into oblivion.

But, of course, nothing could ever be so simple.

The first thing he noticed was the draft tumbling through the room, causing a shiver up his spine. The breeze came from the slightly opened window Drift must have propped open during the day and forgot about, too enthralled by her work.

A soft smile on his lips, he walked over to close the pane, when something shiny caught his eye. Hidden among the layer of salt he had sprinkled, was a shine of silver.

Examining it closer, it was his.

The chain that he always wore after the incident. The charm was a locket, made of iron—for faeires—and inside was a dyed spider lily petal.

Avid stared at the locket, unmoving.

It shouldn’t have been off his neck. He never took it off. Not since—

He thumbed the latch open. It clicked softly, a sound like a whisper from a coffin.

Inside, the petal was still there, pressed and dry as ever. But folded behind it—delicate, hidden like it had always been there—was a slip of parchment.

Avid's breath caught. He hadn't put that there.

With trembling fingers, he unfolded it. The paper crackled like old skin. The ink was brown—not quite black, faded by time and perhaps something older—and the writing curled with impossible grace, slanted and flowing like water.

It was handwriting. Not modern. Not even close.

It looked like it had been written when gods still walked in daylight and people still whispered about monsters instead of posting warnings on fences.

He squinted at the strange, looped letters—

And felt the blood drain from his face.

You dropped this, Allium.

His eyes, a muted violet, widened, rereading the line over and over. Allium. Allium

His face blushed, the nickname oddly sweet. If only it wasn't from him...

The brunette sat lightly on his mattress, the bed squeaking under the added weight. His fingers brushed against the dried cursive that seemed to belong to centuries ago. It did, he reminded himself.

And yet, the words felt like a trap disguised in silk and flirts.

He had to be careful, Avid decided. Had to watch the vampire, carefully. Watch for some sort of slip up that Avid could use to prove, to everyone, that the man was a vampire.

Because no matter how much Scott’s smile beckoned, no matter how dangerously close he pressed, Avid knew that beneath that charming mask lay something far darker than the myths whispered in Oakhurst.

And he wouldn’t be the one to fall into that darkness without a fight.

He slipped the necklace over his head, the metal burning cold against his warm neck. The hung heavy, a comforting weight that he hadn't realized had left him. Blowing on the half melted candle on his night stand, he fell into a light sleep. One full of nothing but silence.

And if his hand snaked to his locket, with a smile brushing his lips. Well that was between him and the spirits.

•     •     •

Avid had attempted everything to get the vampire to accidentally out himself.

Lured him out into the sunlight (which he did with no hesitation) to tried to expose him to holy water (that wasn't actually that holy, he later learned), he had tried them all over the last couple of weeks.

He had one last idea.

Avid’s boots crunched against the brittle ground, each step deliberate, carrying the weight of months of silent plotting. In his hands, a bouquet of alliums—blooms of garlic and wildflowers, sharp and fragrant, a quiet warning wrapped in petals.

Scott stood at the edge of town, mask gleaming in the fading light, arms crossed like he was waiting for a joke. Or a challenge.

Avid stepped forward, holding the bouquet out like an offering—and a gauntlet.

“I picked these for you,” he said, voice low, steady, but with a hard edge beneath it. “Allium. Thought you might appreciate the irony.”

Scott’s eyes, shadowed beneath the bone mask, flickered with something unreadable—amusement? Approval? The smile beneath the skull widened.

“Well, aren’t you clever,” Scott said, reaching out to take the flowers. His fingers brushed against Avid’s, and a sudden heat bloomed up the shorter’s arm, sharp and unexpected.

Cleo, watching from her garden, which was filled with thriving plants, rolled their eyes, whispering, “Finally. About time you two stopped pretending and just flirted.”

Avid’s jaw clenched, but Scott only laughed—a smooth, chilling sound that danced between mockery and something dangerously close to affection.

“You think these flowers will make me show my true self?” Scott’s voice lowered, threateningly. “Or is this just another one of your little games?”

“Maybe both,” Avid said, stepping closer, feeling more confident than usual, the scent of garlic thick in the air between them. “Maybe I’m daring you to drop the act.”

Scott leaned in, the mask almost touching Avid’s face. “Or maybe I’m daring you to look closer.”

The tension crackled like the forest around them, a spark ready to ignite.

Pearl’s voice, who was sitting on her porch--petting the air?--cut through the silence again, light and teasing. “You two are hopeless. But at least it’s entertaining.”

The bouquet hung between them—a symbol of challenge, threat, and something dangerously close to something neither wanted to admit.

He hated Scott. Or at least that’s what he told himself. But lately, the edge of his mind was caught, tangled, twisted around the vampire in ways he didn’t want to admit. It wasn’t just suspicion anymore—it was something else. Something dangerously close to obsession.

And in that moment, no one saw what was really happening.

Except Avid.

•     •     •

Avid had enough.

He was going to reveal Scott one way or another.

He just needed to corner him. Threaten him by holding a stake to his heart. Make him confess.

Avid’s breath hitched as he rounded the side of the house. Moonlight spilled over the cracked wooden siding, casting long shadows that tangled with the dark underbrush.

He spotted Scott’s silhouette near the garbage bins, hands casually tucked into his pockets, leaning against the peeling paint like he owned the place.

“Scott,” Avid called out, trying to keep his voice steady but knowing it sounded like a challenge.

Scott’s head tilted, and that lazy smile curved his lips. “Looking for me, darling?”

Avid’s pulse sped. This was it.

He moved closer, narrowing the distance between them — but Scott slid away, smooth as smoke, a glint of amusement in his shadowed eyes.

“Not so fast,” Scott teased, stepping aside. “We could talk all night.”

Avid clenched his fists. “No more games.”

The vampire’s smile deepened, but then, in a flicker, he stepped backward—right into the corner of the porch where the house jutted out.

Avid lunged, trapping Scott between him and the wall.

Scott’s smile faltered for just a second before he leaned forward, voice low and teasing, “So bold, allium. Careful, you might get burned.”

But Avid didn’t hesitate.

Avid’s hands trembled as he gripped the stake tighter, the cool wood pressing against his palm. His eyes never left Scott’s skeletal mask — that cruel, mocking facade that hid too many secrets.

“I’m done pretending,” Avid said, voice low and fierce. “You can’t hide anymore.”

Scott’s smile was a sharp slash beneath the bones. “Is that so?”

Before Avid could react, Scott moved — slow, deliberate — until he was mere inches away. The warmth from his body pushed against Avid’s like a challenge.

With a surge of reckless courage, Avid’s fingers found the edges of the mask. He yanked it free in one swift motion.

Beneath the cracked bone and shadows, Scott’s real face shone — beautiful, impossible.

“Red…” Avid trailed off staring into the depths of the others eyes.

“Hm?” Scott mused, raising a perfect brow.

“Y-your eyes… You're a vampire!!” Scott’s eyes widened before being replaced with a glare. “You’re a vam—”

He was cut off by Scott spinning him, around against the wood of the house behind him. Avid squeezed his eyes shut, praying to the spirits that it wouldn’t hurt. And that he was sorry.

But the sharp pain of death never came, instead replaced by the soft warmth of lips against his.

He opened his eyes to see Scott, eyes shut, way too close to him.

Avid, only then, dumbly realized what was happening.

Warmth flooded through his already flushed face, feeling the silky softness of lips brush against his own chapped and bitten raw ones. Scott’s hands trailed their way to one on his cheek, the other on the nape of his neck.

Shivers flooded his body at the caress, how sweet it was. How gentle it was.

Avid, against his better judgement, pushed into the kiss, deepening it. His hands didn’t move, they stayed trembling by his side. The vampire—Avid reminded himself—pushed back, the brunette’s head hitting the rotted wood, tilted upwards.

The vampire's hand snaked down to his jaw, pulling him farther up. Avid, in a clearer mindset, might have complained about the pull in his neck, but now, his brain was too dizzy to think straight.

Instead his hands finally moved, carding his fingers the silk of Scott’s hair, messing up the perfectness that he always had. His fingers tangled in the thick strands of Scott’s hair, pulling gently as if grounding himself in the moment — despite everything screaming that this was madness.

Scott’s teeth worried over his bottom lip before biting down.

Avid felt it before he registered it—sharp and sudden, a sting that burned across his mouth. The bite was sharp, a sudden sting that burned across his lip — but beneath the pain bloomed a strange heat, spreading outwards, intoxicating and overwhelming.

He jerked back, hand flying to his lips. A taste hit his tongue, a sweet but bitter linger, iron heavy on his tongue. Warmth slicked his palm. A drop trailed down, slow, deliberate. Blood. Crimson like… like Scott’s eyes.

His gaze snapped up. Scott’s hair was mussed, his clothes creased, his smile just a little too wide. That look in his eyes—wild, hungry, beautiful. Avid’s cheeks betrayed him, flushing warm.

“Y-you…”

His gaze lowered, back to the ground. Darting anywhere else—cracks in the cobble, the dying grass—anywhere but those eyes.

“Me?” Scott purred, coy and pretty. His fingers cupped Avid’s jaw again, tilting his face back up, forcing him to meet those red, red eyes.

Avid’s words stuck. His violet eyes—wide, trembling—locked on Scott’s. It was dizzying, to look in his eyes. The dark vermillion pulling him in like a siren's song. They looked wrong, if Avid was being honest. He had grown used to the pretty blue they were before, the one that looked like stars.

“I-i..”

“Come on, darling..” his voice was like silk, too soft and smooth to be genuine. His thumb brushed against Avid’s lips, before bringing it to his mouth, tongue darting out.

Avid’s chest tightened. His gaze flicked to Scott’s lips—vibrant, red, almost soft. Too soft for someone who had just bitten him. They curved into a smile, gentle and cruel all at once, as though Scott knew exactly how flustered he was.

“Mm,” Scott hummed low in his throat. “You taste divine.”

Avid should’ve run, should’ve screamed. He should’ve grabbed the stake strapped to his belt and drove it straight through the vampire’s heart.

Instead, he stepped forward, arms circling Scott’s neck, dragging him down into another kiss.

Scott didn’t hesitate. His mouth caught Avid’s with practiced ease, lips pressing too deep, too hungry, like he’d been waiting for this. Avid gasped, and Scott took it as an invitation, tongue slipping past, tasting, claiming.

The taste of blood lingered between them, copper-sweet, intoxicating. Avid tried not to shiver, tried not to think about how his knees nearly buckled. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t.

Scott’s hands slid down his sides, steadying him, pulling him closer until their bodies pressed flush. Avid’s fingers curled against his shirt, clinging without meaning to. His thoughts were a mess—drawn between fear and, horrifically, want.

Scott smiled against his mouth, feeling the hesitation, the betrayal of Avid’s trembling. “That’s it,” he murmured between kisses, breath warm, velvet. “Don’t fight it, darling.”

Avid wanted to shove him away, stake him, scream at him—anything but this.

But his hands fisted in Scott’s shirt anyway, yanking him closer, kissing him back like he’d drown if he stopped. His breaths came short and desperate, every brush of Scott’s mouth sparking heat through him.

Scott, by contrast, was maddeningly slow. His lips curved in a smile against Avid’s, teasing, deliberate. One hand at the small of his back kept him steady, the other cupping his jaw, guiding him as though Avid were something fragile. When Avid pressed harder, Scott eased away just enough to make him chase.

“Careful,” Scott murmured, voice brushing warm against his mouth. “You’re acting like you actually want this.”

Avid growled low in his throat, too breathless for words, and kissed him harder—messy, furious, desperate. Scott only laughed softly, kissing back with that same agonizing patience, like he had all the time in the world.

Another sharp nip at his lip—Scott’s teeth dragging slow, purposeful—made Avid shudder. He hated how it pulled a sound out of him, hated even more how Scott’s smile widened at the noise.

“Mm,” Scott whispered, almost tender, though his eyes glinted red. “You taste better when you give in.”

Avid wanted to argue. Wanted yell and scream. But his cheeks burnt red, and he pushed forward once more. Into oblivion. Into death. Into surrender.

Scott’s thumb lingered at the corner of Avid’s mouth, smearing the faint trace of blood before dragging down to his chin. His touch was light, maddening. “There you go,” he breathed, lips brushing the words against Avid’s swollen mouth. “So much prettier when you stop pretending.”

Avid’s chest heaved. He should’ve shoved him back. He didn’t. His grip only tightened, nails catching on fabric as if he could anchor himself in the very thing undoing him.

Scott tilted his head, nosing along Avid’s cheek, down to the hinge of his jaw. His breath was hot, his voice softer, lower. “You’re trembling.”

“I—I’m not—” The denial caught in his throat when sharp teeth grazed his skin, a warning, a promise. Avid’s knees nearly gave.

Scott laughed, low and wicked, and kissed him again, stealing the sound from his mouth. This kiss was different—slower, deeper, a languid claiming. It made Avid’s pulse roar in his ears, dizzy with want and dread all tangled.

And still, when Scott finally drew back, lips glistening, Avid leaned forward like a fool chasing the ruin of him.

“Ah,” Scott leant backwards. “Be patient, allium.”

Allium. The flower of garlic. Unity, patience, mockery.

Avid, ashamedly, whined. The sound slipped out before he could bite it back, high and desperate, and his face burned hot.

Scott’s grin widened, sharp and devastating. “Oh, don’t pout, darling. It doesn’t suit you.” His hand slid up Avid’s chest, slow and deliberate, pressing flat over his racing heart. “Besides… you smell far too sweet to keep me away.”

Avid’s throat bobbed. He should’ve shoved him off, said something sharp, anything. Instead, he stood frozen under Scott’s touch, trembling, breath ragged.

Scott leaned in again, close enough that his lips brushed the shell of Avid’s ear when he whispered, “Beg, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The words sent a shiver down Avid’s spine. He hated it. He hated him.

And yet—his hands stayed locked in Scott’s shirt, clinging like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

When he didn’t answer, Scott hummed, soft and taunting. His teeth scraped the curve of Avid’s neck, not quite breaking skin, not yet. “Patience, allium,” he murmured again, savoring the way Avid’s breath hitched at the threat. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

“W-wha–”

Scott didn’t let him finish. His mouth opened against Avid’s throat, fangs sinking in clean and sharp.

Avid gasped, a choked sound that tumbled into a ragged gasp, body arching forward as pain flared bright—followed by something hotter, heavier, that dragged his breath short. His fingers tangled in Scott’s shirt, pulling instead of pushing. The vampire’s hum vibrated against his skin, low and satisfied, as he drank in slow, deliberate pulls.

Every heartbeat felt stolen, his pulse thrumming out of control. Avid’s chest heaved, heat spreading dizzy and sweet, wrong and intoxicating. His lips parted on a sound he couldn’t swallow.

Scott’s hands were steady—one firm at his back, the other cupping his jaw, tilting his throat just so. He licked between pulls, savoring the blood, eyes glinting red with teasing hunger.

“St—” Avid’s voice broke, desperate, trembling. “Scott, no. Stop, please—”

Instantly, Scott froze, fangs slipping free. The bite ended, leaving a shallow, pulsing mark. His lips glistened red, but the predatory gleam in his eyes softened.

For a moment, there was only Avid’s ragged breathing, his trembling fingers brushing at the wound, knees nearly giving out. Scott leaned back slightly, slow, deliberate, but there was gentleness now in his movements.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, voice still low and silky, but softened, almost intimate. He brushed a thumb over the trace of blood at the corner of Avid’s mouth, smoothing it away.

Avid’s chest heaved, heart racing. He expected mockery, hunger, another bite. Instead he got Scott’s gaze holding steady on him, patient and watchful.

“You’re—” Avid swallowed hard. “You’re a monster.”

Scott’s lips quirked faintly. “Mm. Maybe. But not with you. Not tonight.”

He leaned closer, thumb lingering at the corner of Avid’s lips, eyes teasing but gentle. “And yet…” His grin returned, softer, warmer, just enough to make Avid’s chest twist. “…you still want me, don’t you?”

Avid could only blink, trapped between exasperation, embarrassment, and something else, something wild and irresistible.

“I wouldn’t say want…” He turned away from the now gentle stare of the vampire, praying to the spirits that the moonlight covered up his flushed face.

A laugh echoed through the silence, soft like a windchime. Pretty, warm, and it made Avid’s cheeks burn all over again.

He spared a glance at Scott and froze. That grin—playful, teasing, but somehow gentle—held him in place, making his chest flutter.

“You really are something, allium,” Scott murmured, tilting his head just so. “So frazzled, so stubborn… yet somehow, utterly captivating.”

Avid’s hands hovered awkwardly over Scott’s chest, unsure whether to push away or lean closer. He tried to speak, tried to insist he wasn’t… affected. But the words felt small, pointless against the pull of Scott’s red-tinged eyes and soft smile.

Scott leaned in, close enough that his warm breath brushed Avid’s ear. “You don’t have to fight it,” he whispered, gentle now, but playful still. “I like it when you blush.”

Avid’s heart thudded in his chest, loud and impossible to ignore. His fingers twitched, longing to reach out, and yet he stayed still, caught between embarrassment and the weird, dizzying comfort of Scott’s closeness.

Scott chuckled, quiet and affectionate, resting a hand lightly over Avid’s. “See? Nothing to worry about,” he said softly, thumb brushing over the back of Avid’s hand. “You’re safe with me… at least for tonight.”

Avid blinked, the warmth pooling in his chest spreading to his stomach, to his fingertips. He wanted to argue, to protest, but instead he just let a small smile slip, flustered and helpless.

Scott’s grin softened, lips just a fraction curved, eyes twinkling. “There it is,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “The real you… beautiful, stubborn, and entirely mine.”

Avid’s knees threatened to give way, and he caught himself against Scott, letting the moment wash over him—soft, silly, intimate, and entirely, deliciously theirs.

“There you two are!!” yelled a voice in the distance.

Avid instantly pushed Scott away, spinning around to see a familiar redhead running.

Shelby came barreling toward them, notebook clutched like a shield, cheeks pink from running. “I thought you were dead!” She exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. Then her amber eyes widened, with something akin to worry. “You two were fighting again weren’t you?”

Her lips formed a pout as she glanced between them as her brow cinched together. “Why can’t you two get along?”

Avid was about to say something, to reassure her, but Scott beat him to it, “Don’t worry Shells. Avid and I… have come to an agreement..”

Avid froze, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. “W-we have?” he stammered, eyes darting between Scott and Shelby.

Scott gave him a slow, teasing smile, thumbs brushing over Avid’s shoulders. “We… worked things out,” he said, voice deceptively soft, eyes glinting with mischief.

Shelby blinked, clearly unconvinced, but her brow furrowed as she studied them. “Uh-huh. You definitely were fighting. You can’t lie to me, Scott.” she said, tapping her notebook as if that proved it. “I mean, I was so worried. One of you could’ve been dea—gone. And look at you two—” Her gaze flicked between their flushed faces, lingering on Avid’s trembling hands and Scott’s too-perfect smirk. “This doesn’t look like an argument to me…”

Avid groaned internally, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Scott, on the other hand, leaned closer, resting his hand on Avid’s shoulder, voice playful but soft. “See? Nothing to worry about, Shelbs. All is well. We’re… cooperating.”

Shelby blinked, unconvinced but relieved, hands tightening around her notebook. “Cooperating? Hmph. You two are impossible. Just don’t kill each other”

Avid shot Scott a glare, half embarrassed, half exasperated. Scott only chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Avid’s forehead, eyes sparkling. “We’ll try.”

Shelby groaned, dropping into a dramatic flop against the nearest house. “I give up. You two are hopeless,” she muttered, shaking her head. “But don’t make me worry again. Seriously.”

Avid’s cheeks flamed hotter than ever, and he wished the earth would swallow him whole as Shelby’s sharp eyes flicked between him and Scott, clearly reading more between the lines than she let on.

Avid’s heart was still racing, and Scott’s soft laugh vibrated against his ear. He wanted to protest, wanted to claim that nothing had happened—but somehow, the warmth pooling in his chest, the teasing smile of the vampire, and the way Scott’s hand lingered over his, made all words impossible.

Scott whispered, just for him, “See? Even Shelby can’t ruin this moment.”