Alex didn't sleep that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it — the heat of Liam's breath against his neck, the cold sharpness of those inhuman teeth breaking through his skin. His heart would race like he was still running, like his body hadn't figured out he was safe now. If safe was even a thing anymore.
The worst part?
It didn't feel like an attack.
It felt like a kiss.
And that messed him up more than anything.
He sat curled at the edge of his bed, hoodie zipped to the chin, the lights in his room still on. He'd stuffed a tissue against the bite, but it barely bled. It was almost neat, almost… gentle. That only made it harder to hate.
But he did.
Didn't he?
He tried to think of it like his dad would — monster, monster, monster. But his chest ached when he pictured Liam's face afterward. The way his voice cracked when he kept saying he was sorry. The way his hands had shaken like he was the one broken.
Alex hadn't told his father.
He couldn't.
Not yet.
He didn't even understand what had happened himself.
And if Marcus found out Liam had bitten him — really bitten him — Alex didn't want to think about what would come next.
He stayed home the next day.
Told the school he was sick. Faked a cough. Closed the blinds. Ignored every message on his phone.
But around noon, Harper texted him.
Harper: hey
Harper: i'm not asking you to talk to him
Harper: i just want to know if you're okay
Alex stared at the message for a long time before typing back.
Alex: I don't know
A moment later:
Harper: i get it
Harper: for what it's worth, he didn't mean to hurt you
Alex didn't reply.
Because that was the problem.
He knew Liam hadn't meant to.
That didn't make it better.
It made it worse.
By the time the sun started setting, the air in the house felt too tight, like the walls were pressing inward. His father had been in the basement most of the day, working on one of his weapon cases — probably adding blades or garlic or whatever the hell he kept in there.
Alex knew better than to ask.
He wandered the halls like a ghost, thinking he might forget. That time and space and silence might make it all seem like a fever dream. A fantasy.
But then he caught his reflection.
He tugged the collar of his hoodie down.
Two tiny puncture marks stared back at him.
And his stomach twisted.
After dinner — another quiet meal eaten across a long table like they were strangers — Marcus finally broke the silence.
"You've been off," he said, cutting his meat without looking up. "Something happen at school?"
Alex hesitated. "No."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "You're pale."
"I live in fog and fluorescent lighting."
Marcus gave him a long look. "If there's something going on, I need to know."
Alex pushed his food around with his fork. "Nothing's going on."
"Nothing to do with that boy you mentioned? Liam?"
The fork stopped.
Alex swallowed. "Why are you so sure something's wrong with him?"
Marcus leaned back in his chair. "Because I can feel it."
"You always say that. 'I can feel it.'" Alex scoffed. "You're not psychic, Dad. You don't know anything."
"I know the signs."
"No, you think you do."
Marcus stood, slow and calm, but his voice carried an edge. "Do not let yourself be blinded just because someone makes you feel seen."
Alex's breath caught.
His father's eyes softened, just slightly. "I know what it's like. To want connection. But these things — these creatures — they know how to wear your trust like a mask. It's what they do."
Alex clenched his jaw.
Marcus came closer, lowered his voice. "If he's touched you — if he's bitten you —"
"He hasn't," Alex said quickly.
Too quickly.
Marcus froze. His jaw ticked once. But he said nothing.
Alex stood up, plate still half-full. "I'm going to bed."
But he didn't go to bed.
He went outside.
The street was quiet. Mist curled over the pavement, soft and silver under the porch light. Alex walked without thinking — hands in his jacket pockets, hood up — down the same path he'd taken the day he first followed Liam's scent through the air like a lure.
He didn't know where he was going until he got there.
The woods behind Eastbridge High. The edge of the school grounds. That broken part of the fence where Liam always stood like he belonged to the shadows.
And there he was.
As if summoned.
Liam.
He looked up like he'd been expecting him.
Alex stopped ten feet away.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Then Liam said, "I didn't think you'd come."
"I didn't think I would either."
Liam looked tired. Hollowed. Like he hadn't fed. Or maybe like he'd been punishing himself since it happened.
Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Is it… always like that?"
"What?"
"The hunger."
Liam exhaled slowly. "Sometimes it's worse."
Alex walked closer. Not all the way. Just a step.
"You could've killed me."
"I know."
"But you didn't."
Liam looked up sharply. "That doesn't make it okay."
"I know."
A pause.
"I just… I needed to understand," Alex said, voice softer. "You're not the first vampire I've heard about. But you're the first one that made me doubt everything I've been told."
Liam's throat worked. "I wish I could undo it."
Alex stepped even closer now. "I don't."
Liam blinked.
Alex pulled down the collar of his hoodie. The mark was still there. Barely visible in the moonlight.
"I should hate you," he whispered.
"But you don't," Liam said.
Alex shook his head.
"I don't."
And then—quietly, bravely:
"If you ever bite me again…"
Liam tensed.
"…be gentle next time."
Liam's breath hitched.
"You don't know what you're asking," he said.
"I think I do."
They stood in the mist.
Two hearts out of sync.
One beating too fast. One not at all.
And for the first time since the bite, neither of them ran.