Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Those Lafortezas are... eccentric people,” her father’s voice crackled, sounding thin and metallic through the phone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were vampires”.

Manon forced a hollow laugh. 

Hm.

“If they were European, I might actually believe that.”

The thing about Manon’s father was that he was an... old-fashioned man. To him, the idea of a Filipino vampire was absurd, given that the vast majority of bloodsuckers were scattered across Europe and North America. An Asian vampire? It was as ridiculous as a European werewolf. Manon didn’t have the heart to tell him that, well, she was a European werewolf—thanks to the very same man who doubted Filipino vampires.

“Papa, Sophia would never be a vampire,” Manon lied, the words tasting like ash. “There are no vampires in show business”.

Well, no werewolves either.

The war between vampires and werewolves was very well documented, even by humans, though in a much more dramatic way. The idea of a vampire and a werewolf in the public eye? Madness. It could put the safety of the entire family—and race—at risk. Therefore, no vampire or werewolf would be stupid enough to think about becoming a celebrity, putting their face on billboards and a target on their back.

(Her father had been vehemently against her entering the industry even when she was just a model. When the idea of her joining a girl group came up, he nearly lost his mind. It was Lena who said there would be no danger in Manon going. After all, she wasn’t the first child, and there were no vampires in the entertainment world.

It couldn’t get any safer than that.

Funny).

“And her family has always been involved in the industry,” her father agreed. “It’s just funny. They have a... neutral scent”.

“Sophia smells like roses,” And then, because she apparently can’t keep her mouth shut: “With vanilla, it’s nice”.

Her father’s laughter made her feel her cheeks burn.

“Be careful, child. She isn’t like the Avanzinis, don’t scare her off”.

Manon doubted Sophia would be scared of anything. If Dream Academy had taught her one thing, it was that there was nothing about her that Sophia didn’t already know.

Not that she was going to tell her father that, though.

Because vampires and werewolves don’t exist in showbiz. And even if Manon were part of a girl group now, she was one in a million—what were the chances of another creature being right by her side and so close? 

Apparently, two out of six.

Which made everything much funnier.

Sophia was definitely a vampire.

(Not that her father needed to know that).

Joining Dream Academy was one of the best and worst experiences of Manon’s life. In general, Manon didn’t do very well in competitions, even if she had a good feeling about the reality show. And joining a well-established group of people halfway through always sent a chill down her spine, especially being on her own.

It was her first time truly away from her pack; even with her aunt living so close, she never had to spend so much time away from her mother and father. And so distant, too.

And there was... her.

Manon wonders if the world stopped for Sophia the way it stopped for her when she saw the Filipina for the first time.

It would be so much easier to identify vampires if they were like in the movies. No reflections, cold porcelain (and glittery) skin, the smell of decay, pointed and sharp teeth. In reality, vampires were great at camouflage. Not having to go through a mandatory night of transformation like werewolves, they could disguise themselves peacefully among humans. What made them stand out in a crowd was that vampires were charming, stunning.

Her father once described them as angelic. “Lucifer was the most beautiful of the angels,” he said with so much venom in his voice that it betrayed the disgust the man felt for the other race. “They are like the most handsome of men, that is how they deceive you”.

Manon had to learn all the ways to distinguish a vampire from a human at five years old.

When her father was a child, vampires invaded the village where he lived and killed three children and two women because the man on watch didn’t know how to identify vampires.

Sophia had all the signs. 

(Just like Manon).

She was mesmerising, her skin glowing with an inhuman health. The impressive strength. The tireless energy. The kaleidoscope eyes were easy to decipher, at least for Manon—humans didn’t see as many colors as she did. The smell…

The metallic tang of blood from someone who had just eaten.

Vampires didn’t have their own unique scents like most beings. Usually, they had a neutral, personality-less fragrance, like a department store. What stood out was always the fresh smell of blood after feeding, as if they always had an open wound.

(Sophia smelled like roses. Manon couldn’t understand how).

During the Dream Academy days, Sophia always looked at her with a mix of suspicion, curiosity, and anger. It would make sense if the Filipina hated her. Maybe she did. Manon wanted to hate Sophia too.

For a while, she wanted all vampires to burn in the sun like in the movies. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry so much if they were afraid to go out in the daylight.

She stopped wanting that after Sophia. Sophia looks beautiful in the sunlight, even if she has to wear sunglasses and longer clothes because of the sensitivity.

Manon usually carries a black umbrella in the daylight now, but she never had the courage to open it. Or to take it out of her bag.

There was a single day when Sophia looked at her with fear and Manon wanted to jump off a cliff without a parachute. Manon would rather be hated by Sophia than feared. It has been a long time since that happened, however. It is hard to identify the way Sophia looks at her now, it gives her butterflies in her stomach.

Sophia is an enigma.

She is, isn’t she? 

Manon couldn’t figure her out.

Manon didn’t understand why she seemed so happy when they called her name that day. Perhaps it was just the raw emotions of the debut. She also couldn’t stop smiling and crying. But Sophia looked at her with a smile on her face and eyes brimming with tears, sometimes at night Manon lies tossing and turning in bed just thinking about it. 

On many nights, Manon can’t sleep because she’s thinking about Sophia.

(Her father called her that night. It was the first time since she joined Dream Academy that he said he was proud of her. It felt good to be daddy’s little girl again, even if she was now going to become a popstar—said in her father’s accent—and that sometimes makes him unable to sleep at night in fear. 

Manon’s heart skipped a beat, looking at Yoonchae beside her that day. So small. So cute.

Puppy. 

Manon swore she would protect those girls that day.

Even the bloodsucker).

Manon hates her father and Lena for not explaining to her what happens to a werewolf when they start spending so much time with other people they care about.

She always thought she would only have one pack in her entire life.

But here she is, stressed because Megan’s scent is wrong. Weak. Fragile. Numb.

And Megan doesn’t want to accept her jacket.

Stupid pup.

“Manon, seriously, I’m fine,” the Chinese girl said, refusing once again. “I’m sweaty”.

The rehearsal was over, the air outside was biting, but Megan wouldn’t listen. Lara and Daniela were still arguing about what they were going to eat. Manon could feel the growl vibrating in her chest, a biological warning system. How could she explain that walking out without Manon’s protective musk was like walking out unarmed? Every cell in her body was screaming in a primal dialect that Megan was in danger and that to let her step into the night without her scent was to leave her as nothing more than a prey in the eyes of the city's hidden shadows. They’d think she was insane.

Sometimes she wished they were all like Daniela. Daniela hadn’t laughed, she’d figured out Manon was a werewolf on her own. Her family had known about the kind for years (a supposed friend of Rafael Avanzini from when he lived in Venezuela, apparently). The only hard part was getting her to stop calling her Chupacabra when she was mad at the Swiss-Ghanaian girl.

(“Chupacabras are vampires, Dani,” she had grumbled in response.

“Doesn’t this look like you?” Daniela asked, showing her phone screen where a supposedly canine creature, hairless, with protruding ribs and huge bloody teeth jumping out of its mouth, was displayed.

Manon had opened her mouth in a mix of surprise, indignation, and disgust. “That has to be racist”.

“Is it, Toto?” Daniela said, already laughing, typing something on her phone before showing the screen again with a photo of a small dog in Dorothy’s arms this time.

“DANIELA!”).

“Mei,” Sophia stepped in, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Take the jacket, it’s freezing out there. Don’t catch a cold”.

“My jacket is on the…” Megan pointed to the sofa where the jacket was supposed to be, only to find the spot empty. “Didn’t I bring a jacket?” 

“No,” Manon said, her voice thin from holding back the physical unease that only snapped when Megan finally accepted the jacket and put it on.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” Yoonchae asked as she approached the three of them, and Manon shook her head vehemently.

Sophia let out another soft laugh before pulling an extra hoodie from her bag. “I brought an extra,” she said, handing the garment to the Swiss-Ghanaian. 

Manon took the fabric, swallowing hard. The scent of roses hit her with such force it made her head spin. Beneath the floral notes, the metallic odor of blood was fading, becoming faint—a sign that Sophia would need to feed before the end of the week. It’s already Thursday.

There was a rumor that werewolf blood was more nourishing than human blood. Some justified that this was why the war between vampires and werewolves began. Manon doesn’t know why the war started. She doubts even her father knows.

It’s been a long time.

Sophia didn’t break eye contact until Manon had pulled the hoodie on. Once she did, the Filipina smiled, a flash of pointed teeth catching the light before she swept her tongue over her lips.

Manon wondered if Sophia had ever thought about taking her blood.  She feared she had. And she feared that if Sophia ever asked, she would simply offer her neck.

Her father had never explained how packs truly grew. Manon had learned the hard way that a pack isn’t built of werewolves alone. When a pup leaves home, friends can become the new pack. She wondered what he would think if he knew a vampire was leading his daughter’s new pack. 

Perhaps he’d be less offended than the time he first saw Twilight. Though he’d mocked the sparkling porcelain vampires, he also found the film somewhat racist—which, to be honest, seems fair. Sophia, too, was offended that Twilight was Manon’s favorite movie, but she watched it anyway.

Manon had forced the girls to watch it more times than she could count. By the third time, Sophia stopped complaining, though she still shot Manon a look every time Edward claimed to be seventeen for a long long time, or when the infamous “This is the skin of a killer, Bella!” scene played.

Manon has to bite her tongue to keep her emotions hidden.

She’s just a smiley girl, and Sophia’s grimace when Edward takes off his robe to try to reveal himself to the world is perhaps the reason she always insists on putting on New Moon when the first movie ends.

No one else agrees, though. There were only so many hours in a day a non-Manon being could endure Twilight. 

“Why are you laughing?” Sophia asked, a smile of her own starting to bloom. Manon realized an idiotic grin had taken over her face.

“Do you think I can convince everyone to watch Twilight today?” 

Sophia’s smile vanished instantly, sending Manon into a fit of genuine laughter. Megan groaned in frustration beside them. 

“I’m going to make a rule about only watching Twilight once every three months,” Sophia grumbled.

“You wouldn’t!” Manon gasped, feigning outrage. 

“It’s necessary,” Megan agreed, and Yoonchae nodded in solemn solidarity. 

Manon clutched her chest. “Wow. And here I thought you guys loved me.” 

Sophia’s eyes shimmered as she gave a half smile. Manon still didn’t understand how vampire eyes worked—she only knew Sophia and her family. She knew they could turn red, though she had never seen it happen. She couldn’t tell if the light in Sophia’s gaze was supernatural or not, it was as if microscopic stars ignited in her irises the moment their eyes met, shining solely for her.

Maybe it was hunger. Sophia was definitely hungry.  

In a way, Manon understood. The full moon was three days away. Soon, the hunger would claim her too. She hated how much she had learned to crave the taste of blood in her mouth. 

“Once a month, but sequels are allowed,” Sophia compromised.

Manon couldn’t look away from her. She wanted so badly to see those eyes turn crimson. 

“You have to stop spoiling her,” Lara said, finally arriving with Dani. 

“I don’t feel spoiled,” Manon countered. 

“Oh?” Sophia asked, her gaze intensifying. Manon felt a flush of heat rise from her neck to her cheeks. Lara shot her a curious look. 

“Pizza?” Daniela asked, adjusting her bag, paying no mind to the banter. The girls cheered, while Manon just smiled, trying to force the heat away from her face. 

Pizza wasn’t the best option, you couldn’t order it rare or raw. Sophia was hungry, and it might not satisfy the craving, Manon didn’t know much about vampire diets beyond blood, to be honest. A barbecue would have been probably better, she could eat her meat rare while pretending not to notice Sophia eating hers raw. 

“Dani, tell Manon that no one can stand watching Twilight anymore!” Megan pleaded as they left the studio. The cold wind outside turned Manon’s lingering sweat into ice, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“You need to discover other movies,” Daniela scoffed. “But it’s Sophia’s turn to pick.” 

“A musical doesn’t sound bad,” Lara shrugged. 

“I was thinking of a rom-com,” Sophia murmured, tapping her chin.

“Some say Twilight is a rom-com,” Manon whispered like a little devil on Sophia’s shoulder, making the Filipina burst into laughter. 

“Manon, you urgently need to see other films,” Lara said, indignant. 

“We could watch a classic romance!” Dani said excitedly. “Like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

“I think that’s a worse option than Twilight,” Lara countered, stopping in front of her car. Daniela gave her the middle finger. 

“Meet at Soph’s?” Megan asked.

“Sure,” Sophia agreed, moving toward Lara’s car with Yoonchae. The Indian girl had offered them a ride earlier. “We’re watching High School Musical.” 

“Is High School Musical a rom-com?” Megan whispered to Dani in the background. 

It wasn’t Megan’s fault she didn’t know it was impossible to whisper anything out of earshot from Manon or Sophia. 

“To Sophia, it probably is,” Dani replied with a shrug.

Manon let out a giggle, catching Daniela’s eye, who laughed back. She wasn’t sure if she was laughing at the situation, the choice of movie, or the fact that she’d overheard something only one of them knew she could hear. Either way, she cherished these inside jokes with Daniela.

Yoonchae was the pup of the pack by default because she was the youngest, but Daniela was Manon’s pup. Beyond being best friends, the Latina was like a younger sister—annoying, yes, but Manon would do anything for her. It was good to have someone to talk to, someone who understood what a pack truly meant. 

It was good not to be alone during the full moons in Los Angeles. To be understood. 

She wondered if Sophia missed that, too. Manon wouldn’t mind being that person for her. The one she could talk to about the madness, the missing her family or whatever a vampire pack is called, the struggle of being supernatural in the public eye, or the burden of the hunger, the person she can talk to about not wanting to eat.

Sophia needed to eat. Manon hoped she would smell blood when they reached the filipina’s apartment.  How do you convince a vampire to drink blood? Manon thought they loved doing that. What do you do when one refuses to feed?

Oh, she wished she could talk about this with Dani, but maybe revealing the existence of another race would be too much for her.

Did Dani even know vampires existed? She’d never given a sign.

Damn, she thought. I wish Lara knew. Lara would know what to say to Sophia.

As she slid into Dani’s passenger seat, Manon felt her phone buzz. It was a meme sent by Sophie, a silent reminder of a world where she was just a girl instead of a concept. Manon didn’t have time to reply, but the mere notification felt like an anchor.

Yet, that small dose of normalcy brought an unexpected weight with it. She thought about how much she wanted to talk to Sophia, to tell her to take care of herself, to make sure she was eating. She could almost hear Sophie’s voice in her head, calling her a loser affectionately. Trying to ignore the line of thought, she connected her phone to the car’s speakers, overriding whatever rap playlist Dani was playing to choose one of her current favorite songs instead.

For Lara, one of the hardest parts of being Sophia’s best friend and knowing the good, the bad, and the best moments of the Filipina’s life was the fact that Sophia was stubborn.

Lara had seen Sophia inside and out, she knew what Sophia looked like covered in blood.

(At Dream Academy, Lara didn't know how to approach Sophia and mention that she knew. It was easy to tell: Sophia was tired and restless that week and couldn’t stop eating, yet was never satisfied.

There were signs when a vampire was thirsty.

Lara didn’t understand what Sophia was doing there. From everything her parents had ever told her, especially in bedtime horror stories, it made no sense for a vampire to want to be famous. 

But Sophia’s mother was already famous. 

Confused, she’d mentioned it to her sister, Rhea. Rhea was no help at all, merely suggesting that maybe vampires had just stopped being boring.

It wasn’t strange for Lara’s family to know of these creatures. Vampires, werewolves, witches... Indian culture is vast, with stories of such beings predating christianity. As a child, Lara loved these tales, asking why her classmates believed in Santa Claus but not in the monsters under the bed. Her parents explained that not everyone grew up with vampires as neighbors. 

Lara had never met a werewolf, but she’d known Texan vampires. Their youngest son, Cameron, was her age and loved her mother’s samosas. They were friends for a long time before her family moved out. She heard he is in Michigan now. From them, Lara learned that vampires could be born, that the sun didn’t kill them, and that they could eat human food.

They still keep in touch, he sent a message as soon as he heard about the debut. He’s a great friend.

Vampires like Cameron, who are born that way, only felt the thirst after turning sixteen. Cameron had become just like Sophia when he hit that age because he refused to feed. That was how Lara figured it out—she’d seen Sophia’s eyes flash red while looking at Megan. Sophia, like Cameron, was someone who refused to accept her own reality. 

The memory of that night was vivid. Lara had woken up late, the TV was still buzzing with some mindless movie one of the girls had picked, and she had lost track of time to go home and was dying to use the bathroom. 

Everyone else was dead to the world, so she crept toward the bathroom. 

She didn’t scream when she opened the door. She heard the faucet running and flipped the light.

She didn’t scream when she saw Sophia hunched over the sink, frantically scrubbing blood from her hands. She just closed the door.

Sophia kept scrubbing. Crimson stained her skin, tracing a slow, dark path from her lips down to her chin. Her full lips were glossy with blood, a sight that would have been comical if not for the sheer terror in Sophia’s eyes—and the two long ivory fangs slipping past her lips, catching the light.

“It’s not what you think,” Sophia stammered, panicked. “I just... I got messy with—” 

“Messy while eating?” Lara asked. She stepped closer, reaching for a paper towel to wipe Sophia’s chin. The Filipina froze, her mouth hanging open like a fish.

“How long have you known?” She finally asked. 

“Since last week,” Lara shrugged. “It’s the way you get when you need to eat.” 

Sophia nodded silently, turning back to the sink to splash water on her face. 

“You should shower. I’ll clean up here,” Lara murmured, her eyes full of tenderness. Sophia took care of everyone, she deserved to be cared for too. 

“You’re not afraid?” 

Lara laughed softly, shaking her head.  “Did you kill anyone?” 

It was Sophia’s turn to shake her head, sighing. “I just made a bit of a mess”.

“You won’t hurt me,” Lara said. “I think you’re incapable of it”.

Sophia turned to her, her expression suddenly serious. “Why are you up so late? Why are you still here? We have rehearsal early tomorrow. Do you need me to take you home?” 

Lara laughed again. “You’re covered in blood and you’re worried about me being out of bed?” 

“Your mother must be worried!”

Lara rolled her eyes, exasperated and fond. “And how are you taking me home? You don’t have a car.”

Sophia simply held out her arms, gesturing that she’d carry Lara bride-style, then mimicked running with two fingers over her hand. 

Lara arched a brow. “Ah. You’re going to carry me, then?” 

Sophia nodded with a smirk. 

“How about you shower first so you don’t ruin my clothes?” 

Sophia looked embarrassed, though it was hard to tell through the red stains on her face.  “Thanks for not... judging,” she sighed. “It’s good to talk to someone who—well, just to talk, I guess.” 

“You’re welcome,” Lara shrugged. “Aren’t you afraid?” 

“Of what?”

“Werewolves, I don’t know,” Lara admitted. “I thought you weren’t allowed to be on TV, to be famous, to make music.” 

“I have a reflection,” Sophia noted, frowning. Lara laughed, pointing to the mirror where their twin images stared back. 

“This was always my dream,” Sophia continued, looking over Lara’s shoulder as if she could see through the bathroom door. “I was afraid, but... werewolves don’t seem as bad as I was told.” 

Lara perked up. “You’ve met one? I’ve never seen one up close. Could you introduce me?” 

Sophia laughed. “I... don’t know any. It’s just an impression I had.” 

“Oh.” Lara felt a pang of disappointment. Meeting two supernatural creatures in one night and putting them side by side would have been legendary. “Well, go shower then.”

Sophia agreed and opened the door, vanishing through the door so fast the air barely had time to move. 

That night, as Sophia carried Lara home on her back, they talked about everything.  About Cameron. About Sophia’s dreams and the risks she took. About responsibility. About how Sophia couldn't fail—how she had to prove herself to her family and her country. About how Lara understood and would be there for her.

They even talked about werewolves.

Lara learned that Sophia liked to make a mess sometimes, but she never saw her as bloody as she was that time again. 

And Lara was never again startled when her friend arrived in the middle of the night.

The last time she was startled by someone arriving in the middle of the night was when Manon seemed to have come down via the roof instead of the door).

Knowing Sophia so well didn’t mean Lara always understood her. Sophia was hyper-responsible and an overthinker, worrying about everyone else until she was an afterthought—but sometimes, she was just dumb.

She knew she had to eat. Tour preparations were consuming them, yet Sophia insisted on making Lara worry she’d faint mid-rehearsal. And instead of leaving the house and going to heaven-know-where vampires go to eat (Lara doesn’t need to know everything), Sophia was standing cutely in front of her fridge, circling the full moon dates on a calendar as if a werewolf attack on stage was a looming threat.  

“You know you don’t need to worry about that, right? I doubt a werewolf would dare show up in LA, even to hunt vampires,” Lara said, crossing her arms.

Sophia turned, eyes wide as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. And she was—not eating was wrong. 

“No…” the Filipina sighed. “Do you think all werewolves only think about that? Did Cameron’s family ever find one?” 

Lara thought for a moment. “No, they mostly stay in Latin America, from what I’ve heard. Maybe you should talk to Dani?” 

Lara laughed as Sophia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”

Lara often felt like the other girls suspected something. Given the history and their backgrounds, it seemed impossible they hadn’t noticed the signs with so many cultures bundled together. When they recorded Monster High, they even joked about how each other perceived different creatures, citing various monsters and explaining their origins. And was she really supposed to believe the girls didn’t know vampires existed? Perhaps they simply knew them by another name, who could tell?

Sophia had even admitted that Megan looked at them with a sense of complicity one day when Lara had driven Sophia out to hunt while she played Clash Royale in the car. But the Filipina refused to accept that Manon was also in the room and also looked at them weirdly.

Generally, Sophia and Manon were strange with each other. For a while, Lara thought it was the Dream Academy stress, but they were so... sweet together. Lara was absolutely certain Manon had a crush on Sophia and was too shy to admit it. 

And Lara knew for a fact that Sophia liked Manon. Would she do anything about it? Probably not. Sophia was a coward who didn’t want to ruin the group dynamics, even though everyone knew they were basically an old married couple with four daughters.

Lara had once seen Sophia tucking Megan into bed when she was sick, whispering goodnight, while Manon stood in the doorway watching them with such affection it made Lara feel like she was intruding. 

What she meant was: Lara wished she could complain about the difficulties of caring for a vampire best friend to her other human best friends. She respected Sophia’s privacy, but there were things only Megan or Manon would truly understand. 

It was a shame. Manon would have made Sophia eat.

“Can you order the pizzas before the girls get here?” Sophia asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “One spicy pepperoni, one regular, one cheese, one margherita and—” 

“I know the flavors, Soph,” Lara laughed, opening the delivery app.  “I’m so jealous of Manon. She eats so much and never gains weight.”

Sophia chuckled. “She has a fast metabolism.” 

“You should learn from her.” 

“What?” Sophia asked, looking more startled than the comment warranted. 

“You should eat, Sophia.” 

Sophia rolled her eyes, and Lara let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lara gave a small, hollow laugh. She couldn’t just switch off her concern overnight, but she nodded in silence. At the end of the day, she had to believe that Sophia knew what she was doing.

Sophia didn’t know what she was doing.

Between endless hours of rehearsal and the gym, worrying about whether Yoonchae was sleeping and eating right, and the imminent arrival of the full moon—and what going through a full moon mid-tour and far from home meant for Manon... Sophia hadn't had much time to remember that she needed to eat.

In truth, the realization only struck when Lara voiced it.

Yet, admitting that to the Indian girl would only invite a lecture on the cost of her self-neglect.

She simply hadn’t found the time to breathe, let alone care for herself.

The full moon was three days away. In Los Angeles, Manon seemed to have a good plan: she and Dani would vanish around eight at night, the full moon would hit its peak at midnight, and in the morning the Swiss-Ghanaian and the Latina would show up laughing and bringing breakfast for everyone at rehearsal.

Dani would always have massive bags under her eyes, Manon would always be more tired than usual, and the two would always spin some funny, made-up story about how they’d gotten into trouble the night before and only managed to get to sleep late.

Once it was because they spent the night watching horror movies. Another time was because Dani had a suspicious date. Another was because one of Manon’s many friends called them to an underground party.

Sophia was actually impressed by their creativity, to be honest.

It was easy to tell that Daniela knew about Manon. And Manon didn’t seem to have told the latina anything about her, keeping Sophia’s secret safe.

Perhaps a part of the Filipina wished she hadn’t, sometimes she wanted to be part of the inside jokes that were born during every full moon.

But she was paralyzed, unsure how to shatter the silent pact she and Manon shared—a quiet truce of knowing without speaking with anyone or each other. She only knew there was going to be a full moon in the middle of the tour and Daniela was still human.

She didn’t know if Manon had already considered all the consequences of a full moon in San Francisco or if she was simply going to... slip into the endless night.

If so, Sophia could be the one to follow her.

God, why was she thinking that? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? 

Knowing Manon was a werewolf made her apprehensive at first, as a child, she listened to all kinds of stories. Once her uncle saw a werewolf covered in the blood of little children. Werewolves are mindless beasts whose minds are controlled by an evil master. They never leave their animal form, always looking like monsters. If you encounter a werewolf, run.

Vampires can decide whether or not they are going to kill someone, werewolves always kill.

It doesn’t matter that you can’t decide if you are really hungry.

It doesn’t matter that no one in Sophia’s family had ever even met a werewolf before.

Sophia wonders if Manon has ever killed before. The stories said werewolves always do. She has, but she would never talk about it with Lara.

(Yet, thinking of Manon’s doe-like eyes, the fear and the ancient stories felt like a lie. She wanted to bridge the distance, to ask if the hunger felt the same for a wolf as it did for a vampire).

Having Lara was a sanctuary. She supposes that just like her, Manon heard her whole life that she shouldn’t talk about this with those who aren’t like her, being raised to keep her nature hidden from those who couldn’t understand it. That’s why even though curiosity clawed at her from the inside, she lacked the nerve to bridge the distance and simply speak to the Swiss-Ghanaian girl.

It’s good to have someone to talk to. Lately she hasn’t had much time to call home, talk a bit, feel seen and understood, welcomed. Which was a shame, she wanted to talk to Oreo about how he would soon be sixteen.

Only she knows how much fear she felt on her sixteenth birthday.

There were depths to her existence that Lara could never reach, and while the Indian girl never pushed, the void remained, leaving Sophia to spend the nights feeling a bit lonely sometimes.

Maybe talking to Manon would make the loneliness go away.

No. She needs to stop thinking about Manon. Manon is a werewolf. And even though they are in a limbo Sophia can’t name—is Manon just her friend or is she flirting with her?—she shouldn’t dream that there is something inside her with a specific shape waiting for someone to talk to.

“Lara, I’m going to take a shower!” Sophia announced as she passed through the living room. Her friend was sprawled on the sofa, covering the entire piece of furniture with her body while scrolling through her phone, and only bothered to respond with a thumbs up.

Retreating to her room, Sophia noted that Yoonchae’s door was still closed. She could hear the girl speaking in korean on the other side, likely still talking to her parents, even though her voice was too low to pass through the door.

Sophia sighed. Her supernatural senses were a reflex she often forgot to check until the world felt too loud, too revealing. 

She felt a bit guilty, mainly because she couldn’t turn off her super-hearing, but there are certain things she would only learn to live with after her first century, according to her mother.

She only realized she had stopped in the middle of the hallway when Yoonchae’s bedroom door suddenly opened and the Korean girl appeared in front of her with a small smile on her face.

“Ah, Soph!” She said excitedly, as if she really had been wanting to talk to the Filipina. “Still haven’t showered? Megan just sent a message saying they’re arriving”.

“Good,” Sophia nodded. “I’m going to take a quick shower, could you grab the glasses with Lara?”

The younger one agreed and walked to the end of the hallway, disappearing on the way to the kitchen while calling for Lara.

Sophia stared for a moment in the direction she had vanished and sighed. Sometimes it even seemed like Yoonchae knew. But that would be crazy, wouldn’t it? Her nature wasn’t easy to mask, but then again, one only finds what they are looking for... right?

Sophia really needed to go out to eat. She was getting paranoid.

She would have to go out to hunt. The person at the blood bank her family paid to get blood bags needed at least five days notice to manage to pass unnoticed. Sophia’s taste was unique, her needs dictated by specific blood types that were harder to source on a whim.

There was a persistent whisper, a ghost of a rumor, that the war had ignited because werewolf blood was— No. She slammed the door on that thought. She is not going to think about that. Definitely not. Not now. Not ever.

Without a supply, the night would have to provide. She had no choice but to hunt. A mistake in planning, she should have built a reserve. A lesson to carry into the tour.

“Before Sunrise is definitely one of the best movies of all time”.

“You only like white-people movies—” 

“No-no! You can’t talk about my cinematic taste when you have Twilight as one of the movies that changed your life”.

“You’re so basic”.

“Manon! Twilight is one of the worst things you’ve ever made me watch”.

“You hurt me so much, Daniela”.

From a distance, Sophia caught the ghost-like echoes of Manon and Daniela’s bickering rising from inside of the elevator. Megan’s laughter was a soft staccato in the background, paired with the rhythmic tap of her nails against her phone screen as she messaged someone.

She slipped into her room with a blur of motion, Megan’s stolen hoodie staring back from the bed like a cruel joke. A silent reminder that she had reached out with supernatural speed to steal the garment, solely because Manon had been restless, unable to bear the thought of one of them out in the world without the safety of the Swiss-Ghanaian’s scent.

Sophia kept a mental ledger of everything she had gathered about packs from Manon.

She knew a werewolf’s scent was meant to be a warning, a territorial mark to ward off predators, be they vampire or not. Her family had told her long ago that their musk should be sharp, acidic and repulsive, designed to drive away anyone who dared draw near.

Which failed to explain why Manon’s scent was so intoxicating.

She finds herself hoping that she, too, belongs to Manon’s pack, just as the other girls apparently do—whether they realize it or not. She assumes the answer is yes, given that at least two of the Swiss-Ghanaian’s things have found a home in her own wardrobe.

The thought serves as a reminder: she needs to return Manon’s jacket. The scent is beginning to fade, it needs to be replenished.

It was pizza-day. She would have to slip away to feed in the dead of the night.

It’s okay, she told herself. You can do this.

The shower was little more than a blur of steam and motion, likely the fastest she had ever taken in her life. As she stepped out, her heart hammered against her ribs like a frantic drum, a sound so violent she feared that even before she reached the living room, Manon’s keen ears would pick up the rhythmic betrayal of her panic.

“Sophia said High School Musical.”  

“I think I can talk her into watching Badhaai Ho, it’s a rom-com.” 

“I still think we should go with a classic. How about When Harry Met Sally?” 

“Here she goes with the white nonsense again...” 

“Manon, I swear to God I will strangle you in your slee—” 

“Wait, is Bottoms a rom-com?”  

“You are such a pathetic bisexua—”

Even before she stepped out of her room, the loud voices sliced through the walls. Her sensitive hearing transformed the muffled debate into a sharp staccato of sound, making it unnecessary to strain to hear what they were saying, the girls were loud enough for the whole floor to hear.

Sophia started laughing the second she reached the living room, finding her girls scattered across the floor, locked in a debate with the intensity of a high-stakes legal trial. Her hair was still damp at the tips, leaving small, dark blossoms of water on her pajama top.

Manon was the first to look her way. A big grin broke across the Swiss-Ghanaian’s face the moment their eyes met. For a fraction of a second, the air vanished from Sophia’s lungs—Manon’s eyes had flashed from deep brown to a molten gold, then back again in the blink of an eye.

Was it the proximity of the full moon? They had never done that before. 

Manon had striking, expressive, beautiful doe-like eyes. They were a soft, velvet brown that seemed to radiate a warmth Sophia’s own skin lacked, looking at the world with a gentleness that made the young vampire’s heart swell, filling her with a strange, aching tenderness that no amount of shadow could hide.

In theory, Sophia didn’t need to breathe. So why was she gasping for air? Manon could have been a witch if Sophia didn’t already know she was a werewolf.

“Manon, pass me some of that popcorn—” Megan’s voice jolted her out of the trance. Sophia frowned, finally noticing the massive bowl of popcorn sitting in the middle of her living room. 

“Manon!” Sophia exclaimed, making the Swiss-Ghanaian girl look up with those wide, beautiful eyes. “I can’t believe you made popcorn. The pizzas are going to be here any minute!” 

“I’m hungry now!” Manon grumbled with her mouth full, coaxing another laugh out of the Filipina. Megan draped herself over Daniela just to reach the bowl in Manon’s lap, grabbing a handful.

Sophia put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “What were you even arguing about?” 

“Dani wants to watch white-people movies.” 

“They’re voting on which movie they can actually convince you to watch.” 

Manon and Yoonchae spoke in unison, though Manon was the only one who didn’t break eye contact with Sophia.  Daniela and Lara pelted Manon and Yoonchae with popcorn the second they finished speaking, making Sophia let out a genuine laugh.

“You’re cleaning my living room after this,” the Filipina warned. Lara gave a thumbs-up while Dani snapped a mock salute. “And I already said we’re watching High School Musical.” 

“I’m cool with that,” Megan said, standing up only to hurl herself onto one of the sofas.

“Manon,” Lara whispered under her breath between the Swiss-Ghanaian and Daniela, knowing full well Sophia could hear her. “Do the puppy-dog eyes to her.” 

“Ask Dani. She’s the one with the privileges,” Manon whispered back. Lara made a face before glancing at Daniela. 

“You’re the dog here, Meret,” Dani said, popping popcorn into her mouth. Manon looked at her with feigned indignation before giving the Latina’s arm a playful swat. 

Sophia rolled her eyes. “High School Musical,” she repeated. “Yoonchip, get the movie ready. Lara, check on the pizzas.” 

Lara groaned in frustration but obeyed, as did Yoonchae. The youngest sat on the back of the sofa where Megan was sprawled, remote in hand, while Manon and Daniela began picking up the stray popcorn kernels from the rug.

Satisfied that the chaos had shifted toward some semblance of order, Sophia walked to the other unoccupied sofa.  On the screen, the movie was paused at the opening credits. Manon had already scrambled up to toss the popcorn crumbs into the trash. 

Yoonchae had already gathered the blankets, a small mountain of three sat beside her. Sophia assumed it was cold—it was November, after all—but she didn’t usually feel the chill.  Still, she loved the sensation of Manon’s warm skin beside her.

“Manz, come help me grab the pizzas?” Lara called out, and the Swiss-Ghanaian girl agreed, already standing behind the sofa where Megan was lounging. 

“Sit up straight,” Manon murmured, giving Megan’s thigh a light tap. Megan grumbled but moved her feet. As soon as the space opened up, Manon brushed lightly against Yoonchae’s shoulders, guiding her into the empty spot.

Sophia couldn’t help but notice that the simple touch was just an excuse to blanket the youngest in the Swiss-Ghanaian’s scent. Sometimes, Sophia envied Manon, she seemed so effortlessly good at being a werewolf. 

Sophia could barely remember she was supposed to drink blood to be a vampire. 

“Soph, do you want to watch the whole trilogy?” Daniela asked, pulling the Filipina’s attention back to the room. 

“No, you guys can pick something else after if you’re not sleepy.” 

Dani nodded with a grin, picking up her phone and typing something that looked suspiciously like “how to convince your best friend to watch 10 Things I Hate About You”. It was funny how Dani sometimes didn’t realize Manon would do anything she asked, she just liked to argue with the latina.

“Sophia bought the whole damn pizzeria,” Lara said, holding the door open for Manon, who was hauling six pizza boxes. 

“Look at you, talking like you moved a single muscle to carry these,” the Swiss-Ghanaian shot back as she set the boxes on the coffee table. She flipped open the top one, humming in delight as she found a slice of pepperoni and stuffed it into her mouth. 

“I opened the door and I looked cute. That’s exhausting, you know?” Lara asked, making Manon laugh through a mouthful of pizza. 

Sophia’s plan was simple. As she watched the girls settle in, grabbing slices of their favorite flavors, she decided to make her move. 

Sophia said “Manz,” at the exact same moment Lara asked, “Manz, can I sit with you?”

“Hm?” Manon turned, a slice of cheese pizza halfway to her mouth.

“Can I sit next to you? You’re so warm, and it’s freezing.” the Indian girl explained.

Of course Manon is warm, Sophia thought, trying not to scowl. Her best friend was asking to sit next to the girl she was just about to ask to sit next to. She’s a werewolf. 

“Of course I’m warm, babe,” Manon laughed. “It’s my Swiss genes. If I weren’t warm, I’d freeze to death.”

The girls laughed, even Sophia.

Manon patted the spot on the rug where Daniela wasn’t sitting. “Come here.”

“Soph?” the Swiss-Ghanaian girl asked, turning back to look at the Filipina. “Were you going to say something?”

Sophia just gave a weak smile and shook her head. “It was nothing,” she dismissed quickly. “Did you like the pizza?” 

“Mhm,” Manon nodded, taking a fresh bite with visible satisfaction. Sophia just smiled back.

Beside the Swiss-Ghanaian, Lara snuggled under the blanket and turned to catch the Filipina’s eye with a smirk—the look of someone who knew entirely too much.  Sophia just rolled her eyes.

Lara and Megan definitely knew, they were her oldest friends in the group and the ones Sophia talked to most. Yoonchae probably suspected. At this point, even Daniela must have figured it out. Only sweet, oblivious Manon remained unaware that Sophia was terribly and irrevocably in love with her. 

Which sucked.

Because, number one, her father would probably find a way for a vampire to die of a heart attack if he found out his little princess was in love with a werewolf. And number two, Lara was a terrible cupid because she had way too much fun making fun of Sophia’s pining. 

She wished she could have sung more songs from the movie to annoy Lara, but the problem was Manon liked the movie too and insisted on doing the duets with her. 

Maybe Sophia would be the first vampire to die of a heart attack after all. Manon seemed very willing to help her get there.

As the movie began to wind down and the upbeat songs faded into the slow scroll of the credits, the living room fell into a cozy, heavy hush. In the dim light, Sophia noticed Manon’s phone light up against the rug. Even from her distance, Sophia’s enhanced vision acted like a predatory lens, focusing with agonizing clarity on the bright display. She didn’t mean to look, but her eyes instinctively traced the letters in the notification: Sophie.

Manon reached for it instinctively, her face softening into a smile that was private, effortless and unfiltered. Even without her presence in the room, that one was a constant hum in the Swiss-Ghanaian’s life holding the keys to all Manon’s locked doors. Maybe Sophie had always known. Sophia wondered if she had ever been afraid, or if the secret of the wolf was just another mundane detail to her, like the color of Manon’s hair or the sound of her laugh.

She watched as Manon’s fingers danced across the screen, a silent conversation in a language of secrets that Sophia wasn’t part of. Sophia quickly looked away, cursing her own senses, feeling guilty for letting her eyes linger long enough to steal a few letters from a private moment.

Sophia felt a sharp, hollow ache in her chest, followed immediately by a wave of guilt that tasted worse than her own hunger. She was bothered by how much the situation bothered her, an intrusive jealousy that felt like a transgression. She knew she had no right to feel this way—no claim over Manon’s history or the people who had loved her before the world did.

But—

She wasn’t going to think about it. Definitely not.

“Okay, my turn!” Daniela announced, lunging for the remote before Manon could even think about protesting. “Disney musicals are fun but we need something with actual substance.”

“By substance, do you mean another white people nonsense movie where they just stare at each other for two hours?” Lara groaned from her spot on the rug, not moving an inch from where she was.

She had practically draped herself over Manon, her head tucked firmly against the Swiss-Ghanaian’s chest while her arms circled her waist in a lazy, comfortable embrace. Lara’s eyes were already closed, her breathing slowing down as she sank into the warmth that Manon always seemed to radiate. It was a familiar sight, Manon was the sun of their little solar system, and they all, at some point, gravitated toward her heat.

“It’s a classic, Lara! 10 Things I Hate About You is a cinematic masterpiece,” Dani defended, already navigating the menus with lightning speed. She glanced at Manon with a challenging smirk. “And don't you dare say a word about the lead actor, Meri. I know your taste.”

Manon let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest as she leaned back against the sofa. She didn’t seem to mind the extra weight and simply rested one hand on Lara’s shoulder, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the fabric of her hoodie. “My taste is impeccable! I’m just saying, the tension would be way better if they were, you know… actually interesting.”

“You mean if they were vampires?” Megan chimed in, her voice muffled against Yoonchae’s chest. She was curled tightly in front of her, with Yoonchae’s chin resting on Megan’s shoulder in a perfect spooning position.

“I didn’t say that!” Manon laughed, though her eyes flickered toward Sophia for a split second, a playful, secret warmth dancing in them. “But it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Just play the movie, Dani,” Yoonchae murmured sleepily, holding Megan close as her long arms draped protectively over Megan’s waist, pulling the girl deep into her curve.

Sophia watched the pair for a moment, finding it quietly amusing. Yoonchae was usually the most touch-averse person in the group, someone who valued her personal space like a fortress and would often shy away from even the simplest hug. Yet, there she was, completely melted into Megan’s as if it were the safest place on earth.

Cute.

“Before Lara falls into a deep coma and starts snoring,” Yoonchae added, her voice trailing off into a contented sigh.

“I do not snore,” Lara mumbled into Manon’s chest, her voice muffled and heavy with sleep, not even bothering to open her eyes.

A soft warmth spread through Sophia as she took in the scene—the girls moving in each other’s orbits like a familiar constellation. This was their pack, their coven, their family. Even with the secrets weighing heavy in her chest, the comfort of their bickering and the simple joy in the room brought a small, genuine smile to her face.

“What about Bram Stoker’s Dracula? The 90s one is basically a thirst trap.” Manon chimed in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She glanced at the screen and then at Sophia.

A collective groan echoed through the living room, a chorus of pillows being thrown and sleepy protests. Just to be contrarian, they were all too happy to shut Manon down.

Lara let out a muffled, indignant groan, forced to peel herself away from Manon’s warmth as the Swiss-Ghanaian sat up to gesture at the TV. She rubbed her eyes, looking thoroughly disheveled and grumpy at having her nap sabotaged. “Vampires are so 2010, Manon. Move on”.

“They’re just too dramatic anyway,” Dani added, rolling her eyes as she bypassed the suggestion. “Always brooding in corners and acting like existing is so hard. It’s exhausting to watch.”

Manon let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest. “The drama is the best part! The forbidden love, the soul-searching... tell them, Soph. Don’t you think vampires are just misunderstood?”

Sophia felt a cold jolt of electricity shoot down her spine. For a second, she wondered if Manon was doing this on purpose, but the Swiss-Ghanaian’s expression was nothing but playful.

“I think they’re just... thirsty,” Sophia managed to say, her voice slightly strained as she forced a smile.

Mid-argument, Lara found her way back to Manon’s chest, draping herself over her once more and closing her eyes as if the ongoing debate were nothing more than a distant whisper she couldn’t be bothered to hear.

Manon simply chuckled, her hand returning to Lara’s shoulder to anchor her there, though her eyes remained locked on Sophia.

“See?” Manon laughed, resting her chin on top of Lara’s head. “Anyway, fine. Play your masterpiece, Dani. But don’t blame me if I fall asleep halfway through.”

As the opening notes of the second movie began to play, the room settled into a comfortable silence. But as the minutes ticked by, the domestic peace started to feel stifling. The laughter of her friends became a distant hum, replaced by a sharp, rhythmic pulsing that Sophia couldn’t ignore any longer.

By the time the second movie was halfway through, with Lara already completely sprawled out on the rug and Megan tucked into Yoonchae’s embrace—both of them deeply asleep as Yoonchae’s long arms remained draped over Megan’s waist—Sophia decided to head to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was just dying of thirst.

It was only by the third glass that she realized the thirst she felt wasn’t for water.

Which sucked much more.

She needed to feed as soon as possible, she had thought she’d have at least two more days, but perhaps she didn’t have as much time as she imagined. Sometimes she wanted to feel angry at her parents for putting her in this situation, but they hadn’t done anything on purpose other than getting married and having children.

Maybe if one of them were human… But she had never heard of relationships between different races, even if one of them were just human. Maybe it was more common in North America and Europe, given that there are vampires in greater numbers there than in the Philippines.

It’s horrible to have doubts that Manon could answer because Sophia doesn’t have the courage to ask them.

Suddenly, she felt every hair on her body stand on end. Maybe she should stop thinking about Manon, it felt like she was summoning her. She would never get used to the sensation of the Swiss-Ghanaian approaching—the intoxicating scent of sandalwood that served as an alarm, triggering every cell in the Filipina’s body to warn her of the other’s arrival.

Perhaps it was just a natural reaction of a vampire’s body in the presence of a werewolf, warning her of danger. However, Sophia couldn’t believe that theory, given that the sensation she felt didn’t seem very close to the fear you would feel facing a predator.

Maybe she just had a poor sense of survival.

“Maybe it’s because you’re in love with her,” Lara’s voice said in her head.

Which—rude. Shut up, Lara.

“Tired?” Manon’s voice sounded playful behind her. Turning, she found the Swiss-Ghanaian leaning against the doorframe, looking far too nonchalant and cool for Sophia’s liking. “I didn’t even think this one was that bad. Don’t tell Daniela.” 

“You tease her too much,” Sophia laughed, shaking her head. “And I was just thirsty.” 

Manon looked at her with those eyes of someone who knew too much—which she really should stop doing. Those round, beautiful eyes that knew all of Sophia’s worst secrets and fears, even though she had never externalized them in front of the Swiss-Ghanaian. And God only knows how much she wanted to pour everything out onto Manon.

It might be worth clarifying that vampires do not have a mortal allergy to crosses. Sophia grew up somewhat Christian. Which is funny, considering it should be considered sacrilege for a vampire to know so much about religion and not feel affected.

“I have to tease her. I’m giving her a free trial of what it’s like to have siblings!” Manon exclaimed, approaching Sophia and leaning against the kitchen counter. “Not thirsty anymore?” 

“Hm?” Sophia questioned, and Manon simply pointed to her third glass of water, still full. “Do you want a drink?” Sophia asked, offering the glass like an idiot, because that’s all she could be.

Manon laughed but accepted. Taking the glass of water, she took a sip without ever taking her eyes off Sophia’s.

Manon always stared at her with such intensity.

“You should eat,” Manon said, leaving the empty glass on the sink and pinning Sophia against the marble by placing an arm on either side of the Filipina’s waist, her presence a wall of radiating heat.

“What?” Sophia’s voice came out shaky.

Manon was apparently content to let the unsaid hang between them because she only gave a smirk, the Swiss-Ghanaian’s face becoming dangerously close to hers, to the point where Sophia could feel Manon’s warm breath against her mouth.

For a second, Sophia thought Manon was going to kiss her.

Manon wouldn’t kiss her. Right? 

Just when Sophia thought yes, maybe Manon would kiss her, and her eyelids grew heavy that Manon turned her face away, and instead of feeling the Swiss-Ghanaian’s lips on hers, she felt the ghost of the girl’s nose brushing against the hollow of her neck.

“You should eat,” Manon repeated, her raspy voice making the hairs on Sophia’s neck stand up. “Your scent is very numb, you should eat.”

Sophia’s heart felt like it wanted to leap out through her throat. For the first time, she couldn’t tell what was being said in the living room by her friends or by the movie, let alone hear what was being said across the street. The world was silent. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears and Manon, Manon, Manon, Manon.

They had never talked before about how they knew what the other was. They had never exchanged information. They had never made it clear to one another that they were aware of each other’s supernatural side.

Manon seemed to have thrown all of that out the window. Sophia was speechless.

“Need help hunting?” Manon continued, her voice still low and still raspy in that delicious way.

“No,” Sophia said weakly. “I’m going out tonight.” 

Manon made a hum of agreement and slowly pulled her body away from the Filipina’s, only to lean in again and rub her face against the hollow of Sophia’s neck, leaving a small kiss on her jugular and nuzzling her cheek against Sophia’s before pulling away leaving the vampire drenched in the wolf’s essence.

“Be careful,” Manon said before leaving the kitchen.

Sophia’s legs were shaky, and she leaned against the kitchen sink as if her life depended on it. Maybe she really was going to have a heart attack and die, becoming the first of her kind to achieve such a feat. Her heart seemed to agree.

Manon had just bathed Sophia in her scent, marking her. Sophia was aware that werewolves scent marked each other, but she didn’t know exactly how it happened.

Oh. My. God.

The girls had long since gone, and Yoonchae had retreated to her own room.  In the end, they had only watched two movies—the second being Daniela’s choice. Manon had made it through the entire film with only two comments about the latina’s supposedly terrible taste. Ironically, Sophia had caught her focused on every single scene, though she chose not to say anything. 

The silence in the apartment was dense now, making it easy to distinguish every sound bleeding through the windows from the night outside. Los Angeles wasn’t exactly a quiet or dark city, but it held enough shadows to hide between the buildings. 

The taste of blood already seemed to be in her mouth, a metallic phantom on her tongue. She could feel her sanity hanging by a thread just by the way she saw the bodies moving past the window glass, pulsing with a heat she could almost hear. She hated the realization that she was a perfect hunter and that very few prey could ever hope to escape her.

As she approached the door, the woody scent of sandalwood and cardamom hit her nostrils, making her stop dead in her tracks. Manon’s jacket hung forgotten on one of the hooks near the entrance, like an invitation. 

Had the Swiss-Ghanaian left it on purpose, or had she truly forgotten it? Sophia had grown accustomed to her own essence and couldn’t tell if the werewolf’s protective musk was fading from her skin or not. 

Probably not, considering everything that went down in the kitchen that night.

Well. Better safe than sorry.

Outside, Los Angeles was no longer just a stage, it was a labyrinth of neon and hunger. With Manon’s soft scent enveloping her, anchoring her like a tether, Sophia melted into the night, becoming a blur so fast the wind couldn’t keep up. She didn’t like how much easier it was to hunt in specific parts of the city—places where the police didn’t bother to go, and where there were worse things in the night than a vampire.

As the neon lights of Los Angeles blurred around her, the primal part of her brain recognized the sandalwood and cardamom as the mark of a predator. Usually, this would have made her fangs ache with aggression, but because it was Manon, the scent acted as a silent guardian. It reminded her that she wasn’t just alone in the dark, she was part of something, a pack. The promise of home.

For a second, it felt like she wasn’t hunting alone. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, as if someone were watching her from afar. She couldn’t distinguish if the familiar scent was merely clinging to the jacket or if it belonged to something distant and alive, tailing her through the dark. The city was vast, the streets wide open, and no one seemed to be lurking in the shadows to justify the feeling, yet it persisted regardless.

As she walked with her head down through the dangerous streets, her pace was slow and deliberate. It was only when she heard footsteps behind her and caught the faint aroma of the hunt coming her way that she accelerated with calculated precision, making her prey feel like the hunter.

Manon’s musk cradled her the whole way. It was a cruel irony, a silent joke, considering how much she had feared the other’s kind not so long ago.

It was funny. Someone being afraid of Manon. Manon. Her sweet, gentle Manon.

She wasn’t sure which was more naive: fearing Manon or making the mistake of underestimating her.

That night, she didn’t make a mess. She moved with a calculated, lethal grace. She didn’t want to stain Manon’s jacket, or maybe worse, replace her scent with the metallic tang of blood or a thick chypre perfume. It would be wrong. She much preferred sandalwood.

In Manon’s defense, look— she wasn’t exactly thinking straight! In Manon’s defense, she didn’t even know where all—all of that had come from. Sophie would be so hyped about this recent development and the turn things had taken, but Daniela would probably be in total shock. Which reminded her that Sophie was supposed to arrive in town tomorrow. They’d likely head out for lunch during Manon’s break, and Sophie would probably be a total menace about, well, about Manon’s little crush.

Manon figured she should probably get over her own shock and fake some normalcy.

She hadn’t slept a wink last night. She kept replaying everything she’d said, the way she’d acted, the way she had clearly scent-marked Sophia unprompted. Gods, why did she have to be like this? She had broken the silent agreement she and Sophia shared about not discussing the obvious elephant in the room, and on top of that, she had offered to hunt with her.

What the fuck, Manon.

Deep down, she was relieved and anxious for tomorrow’s lunch. She loved the girls, but their bond was still forged in the fire of training rooms and spotlights. It was different from the quiet, effortless understanding she shared with Sophie. With Sophie, there were no secrets to guard, only a lifetime of shared gravity.

Maybe all she needed before the full moon was just a moment of peace and quiet with Sophie at some hippie cafe downtown while Sophie talked about her latest job and Manon told her about the Stephenie Meyer novel her life had become.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Sophia’s teeth sinking into a stranger’s neck in a dark alley.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how attractive Sophia looked with blood dripping from her chin, she couldn’t stop imagining how hot Sophia would be covered in blood.

The practice room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional squeak of sneakers against the floor. The girls were scattered across the hardwood, stretching in a loose circle. Manon was pressed into a deep lunge, her muscles still warm from the morning’s warm-up, but her mind was miles away, trapped in that dark alley.

Then, the door slipped open. A sound that seemed to mock her, making her heart race. It didn’t take much to know who had just entered the space; there was only one empty spot among them left to be filled.

Manon didn’t look up immediately, but her skin prickled. The wolf inside her didn’t need eyes to recognize the shift in the room’s atmosphere. Sophia was late, but she wasn’t the same girl who had been trembling with hunger in the kitchen the night before.

As Sophia walked toward the group to find a spot to stretch, a scent trailed behind her—thick, sweet, and undeniably metallic. To any of the other girls, Sophia just smelled like the cool morning air, but to Manon, it was the smell of a successful hunt. Sophia was satiated. The dangerous, jagged edge of her hunger had been smoothed over.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sophia murmured, her voice sounding richer, grounded.

“All good, Soph. We’re just starting the floor work,” Dani replied, not looking away from her own reflection as she pulled her arm across her chest.

Sophia sat down a few feet away from Manon, beginning her own stretching routine with a fluid, effortless grace that only a predator could possess. Manon watched her through the mirror, noticing how the deathly pallor of Sophia’s complexion had been replaced by a faint, ghostly glow of vitality. It was a borrowed glow, stolen from the life she had drained just hours before, and Manon found it terrifyingly beautiful.

A wave of possessiveness washed over Manon as she watched Sophia. A pang of a feeling she knew she couldn’t explain without sounding at least a little crazy—territorial. Her scent still lingered on Sophia, clinging to the Filipina’s skin, something only she could sense, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been last night.

Which was a ridiculous thing to worry about. Of course her scent was weaker, Sophia had just fed. The metallic tang of blood was bound to be stronger than the notes of a werewolf’s scent or Sophia’s own essence of roses and vanilla.

Manon shifted her position, her eyes meeting Sophia’s in the reflection of the glass. The air between them felt heavy, charged with the secret they now shared. There was no more pretense. Manon knew exactly what Sophia had been doing in the dark, and Sophia perhaps knew exactly who had been shrouded by the mantle of the night, watching her.

“You’re staring, Manz,” Sophia said softly, the words barely a breath, meant only for Manon’s heightened hearing.

Manon didn’t look away. Instead, a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She leaned back on her palms, watching the way Sophia moved with renewed strength.

“Just making sure you got what you needed,” Manon whispered back, her voice low and steady.

The rest of the girls started to stand up, the quiet of the stretching session breaking as the first notes of their track began to fill the room. But for a moment, in that shared silence, the wolf and the vampire were the only two people in the world who were truly awake.

Manon probably didn’t know exactly what she was getting herself into, but you couldn’t say she wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be.

Manon was tying her sneakers when she caught the faint scent of spicy tonka bean accompanied by the subtle hint of her pack’s sandalwood, indicating Daniela’s arrival. The Latina was looking down at her, hands on her hips, her large square glasses on her face and those cute cheeks that were more noticeable when she wasn’t wearing makeup.

“What is it, babe?” Manon asked as she looked at the girl. In the background, the others were packing their things while chatting nearby, with Sohey still reminding them that the tour was approaching.

Manon didn’t even want to remember. She could hardly wait for the tour to arrive, yet at the same time, it filled her with dread.

They wouldn’t have a show on the full moon, which was good. But they would still be in an unfamiliar city, which opened a whole range of other problems that she and Daniela were stalling to discuss.

“Is everything set for wednesday?” Dani simply asked, looking from side to side as if her few words were easily decipherable by anyone other than the two of them.

“You tell me, Dani,” Manon replied with a light laugh, feeling the grounding warmth of her best friend’s presence. “You know you don’t have to stay with me, right? It can't be comfortable.”

“I’m not comfortable with you locked in that place alone,” Dani grumbled, her voice softening with the fierce protectiveness of a sister. “It makes me want to cry, seriously.”

Manon didn’t like it either; it wasn’t exactly pleasant going through a full moon. Since she didn’t usually go out to release her instincts, she had to settle for being locked in a room in the basement of her aunt’s house that had a reinforced steel door. Dani wasn’t put in danger by staying nearby, inside or outside the space, since Manon’s wolf recognized her as part of the pack—but Manon couldn’t stop thinking that it must not be comfortable at all to spend the whole night with a giant wolf whimpering, crying, and trying to get out to kill people.

Lena had already made at least one or two slavery jokes regarding that room already.

“And it’s fine by me,” the Latina said with a small smile. “Want me to bring a ball so we can play?”

Manon stared at her with a serious face, her eyes flashing gold for a brief moment as a growl built up in her chest. Dani just laughed a bit louder.

“Is my deck of cards still there?”

“Mhm,” Manon grumbled in agreement. “I’m going to get you a Nintendo Switch.”

“With games included, please.”

Manon laughed, reaching out a hand to Dani, who helped her up. She would probably still go for a run in the dark hours to burn off stamina; she always had a lot of energy built up in the days leading up to the full moon. She always told Dani not to wait up for her, but more than once she’d found her asleep on the couch with the TV on when she climbed through the window.

As they were leaving—Dani still needed to use the bathroom—Manon couldn’t help but notice Sophia’s attentive eyes following her every step and probably every word spoken in that little corner of the rehearsal room. Feeling bold, whether from the proximity of the full moon or just the post-rehearsal adrenaline, she dared to cast a quick wink in the Filipina’s direction, who responded with a small smile.

Dammit, Sophia was so beautiful.

And Manon was so, so pathetic.

“God, you are so pathetic,” Sophie said, a soft laugh escaping her as she dissected her sandwich with a fork and knife like a psychopath. Sophie looked the way she always did—effortlessly cool and calm—her presence a loud, vibrant contrast against the noisy, spotless practice room that awaited Manon upon her return.

“You traveled eleven hours just to tell me that?” Manon asked, her fingers curling around a steaming mug of coffee.

“And to eat this sandwich,” Sophie said, a smirk on her face like someone who knew way too much. “So, are you going to kiss her?”

Manon nearly choked on her drink.

“Why on earth would I kiss her?” the Swiss-Ghanaian asked, startled. “Did you not listen to a word I said? And like, she doesn’t even like like me.”

“Are you six years old? She doesn’t like you so much that she lets you pin her against a sink and mark her without a single word of protest?”

Which, to be fair, sounded really strange when Sophie put it that way.

“But—,” Manon’s voice trailed off. She took a ragged breath, her gaze drifting over Sophie’s shoulder, lost in the middle distance. Sophie watched her, her eyes scanning Manon’s face with clinical precision. “She can’t like me.”

“I think you know that you’re the one thinking that way,” Sophie said, reaching across the table to give Manon’s hand a brief, comforting squeeze. “I think you know that you’re the one who’s afraid.”

Manon sighed deeply. As much as she knew all the creatures of the night, Sophie was only human—there were simply too many things she didn’t know or couldn’t fully comprehend. However, there was no one who knew Manon better than she did. There was nothing in the world Manon could hide from Sophie.

The Swiss-Ghanaian hadn’t needed to tell her that Sophia was a vampire, Sophie figured it out the first day she met the girls. She didn’t need to be told Manon was falling, Sophie knew just by being in the same room as the two of them. She knew the terror Manon carried, that she was terrified of what it all meant and that she heard her father’s voice in her ears every time she lingered too long looking at the Filipina. Sophie had simply already read her mind and had a speech ready on the tip of her tongue.

“No one cares about that war anymore, Manon,” Sophie murmured, her voice a bit lower than before. “Maybe only your father.”

“It’s hard for him. He saw children…”

“He was five years old, he doesn’t truly remember that,” Sophie countered, taking a sip of the matcha she had ordered. “You guys wouldn’t even be the first relationship between—well, you know—that I’ve known.”

“You still have to introduce me to them,” Manon said. “Keeping your supernatural friends in a basement?”

“I’ll introduce you!” Sophie laughed, then added in a whisper so low Manon only caught it thanks to her heightened hearing. “But only after you start dating. I’m only friends with the vampire.”

“Oh, wow. Betrayal?”

“You’re funny.”

Being with Sophie was simply like being close to home. The homesickness that usually gnawed at Manon’s chest eased with every passing second. The sun was hitting the pavement of the downtown hippie cafe, casting long shadows through the oversized ferns, and even though it was November, the weather was mild and pleasant. Maybe the bill at the end of lunch would be absurd—being in a place where even the butter had a nationality—but she was happy to be there with her best friend.

But…

“You’re making that face again,” Sophie teased, though her eyes were soft with affection. “Relax, Manon. Your life isn’t some gothic romantasia novel.”

Manon let out a breathy laugh. “I’m just tired. Tour prep is a lot.”

“It’s more than that,” Sophie said, her gaze playful but attentive. “Did you know you literally glow just talking about her?”

Manon blushed and tried to force a laugh she couldn't quite manage, her ears ringing. “It’s complicated."

“Complicated is good, but I’ll stop pestering you about it” Sophie gave her a wink, but the lighthearted moment seemed to die quickly as her friend turned serious and started fidgeting with her straw. “I have an event on Wednesday night. Is Dani really going to be able to stay with you?”

Her friend’s tone was worried, which warmed Manon’s chest in a pleasant way. Sometimes she forgot how much other people could worry about her. In part, being nearly indestructible must do that to a person—make them forget the humanity they still have.

“She always stays,” Manon said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m in good hands.”

Sophie smiled, nodding. Generally, she didn’t spend the full moons with Manon like Daniela did—she couldn’t feel comfortable near the wolf, always uneasy and restless, which could have disastrous consequences. Daniela, however, was an anomaly. She could sit for hours beside a monster, just playing cards and talking like it was nothing. 

“Maybe you should invite the bloodsucker next month.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Manon grumbled, though she couldn’t hide the small, traitorous smile tugging at her lips while Sophie burst into a loud laugh.

A lingering smile managed to escape the corner of her lips. It was hard to deny—she loved the normalcy Sophie brought her. When she returned to the studio that day, she was calmer and more focused—a contrast to the usually agitated Manon before a full moon—which led a cheerful Lara to call everyone to eat out this time. It was rare for everyone to be so excited and okay with the tour being so close.

Which was a shame. Manon never went out before a full moon. However, this time, she managed to convince Daniela to go out with the girls and bring takeout for her when she returned.

The feeling of normalcy lasted exactly until the middle of Tuesday. Manon was stretching on the cool wood floor near Lara while they talked about the rest of the week, the Indian asking her if she’d join her and Megan the following night to do skincare and watch trashy TV shows.

It was always annoying having to decline, but she and Dani always talked about what the excuse of the month would be in advance specifically for moments like this. “Dani and I planned to help a friend go to her ex’s house to get the things she left there.”

“Oof,” Lara made a face. “Rough breakup?”

Manon laughed. “The worst of the worst.”

“Well, good luck. Your night is going to be way worse than mine,” Lara laughed. “Probably with more screaming.”

Manon laughed, nodding her head in agreement just as Lara stood up, saying she was going to call Yoonchae and Sophia too. Then, the air in the room suddenly shifted. The door swung open and  Daniela walked in, pale as a ghost—after having stepped out to take a call—with Ana Llorente right behind her.

Shit.

“Girls! How are you?” the older woman asked, immediately receiving a chorus of excited responses. Sophia, as always the most responsible and adult-like, approached Daniela’s mother to ask how she was and how the trip went.

Dani scrambled toward Manon, dropping to her knees, her whispers frantic and jagged like a symphony the Swiss-Ghanaian could barely follow. “I didn’t know she was coming,” Dani hissed, her voice shaky and nervous as she looked around, even though she knew no one could hear them. “She’s staying until Thursday. She doesn’t know that I—”

“It’s okay, Dani,” Manon said, even as she swallowed hard, her own heart was thumping against her ribs. Ana Llorente knew very well what she was and what happened during a full moon, but she didn’t know Dani was spending all of them with Manon and, well—she understood. It probably wasn’t pleasant to think your only daughter was spending her nights with a giant beast that might or might not be a killer.

She was, but nobody needed to know that.

“But—,” Dani said, her voice a whimper. “You’ll be alone. He gets sad alone.”

Manon gave a weak little laugh, gently stroking Dani’s cheek before giving it a squeeze. “He’s still me, you know? And it’s fine,” she tried to convey all the peace in the world with just a look while Daniela still watched her, distressed. “I’ve done this alone before.”

“Next time,” Dani promised, her eyes burning with a fierce, desperate loyalty. “San Francisco. We’ll do it together.”

“We’re still going to have a real talk about that,” Manon murmured, giving a light laugh and shaking her head.

Manon still didn’t know exactly how to talk to Daniela about San Francisco. Being in a locked room with a wolf in a controlled environment is very different from being in an open space in an unfamiliar city. Manon still had no idea of all the probabilities and had no idea how to say that maybe it would be safer for Dani—and for the way she viewed their friendship—if Manon went alone that time.

San Francisco wasn’t a basement. It was a city. A hunt. A risk she wasn’t sure she could let Dani take.

She could just go running in the moonlight, climb on top of a building and howl, or kill someone. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take the younger girl on a trip like that.

Dani just smiled before literally throwing herself onto the floor beside her, arms spread out at her sides and a heavy sigh escaping her mouth, as if she had just finished running a marathon.

Manon turned to see Ana and Sophia approaching, Dani’s mother leaning down slightly to give Manon’s hair a gentle stroke, making the Swiss-Ghanaian have to concentrate so she wouldn’t close her eyes.

“Como estas, cariño?” Ana asked with a kind smile in her direction, making Manon feel bad for having been cursing the older woman until just a moment ago for deciding to visit her only daughter before she went on tour.

She missed her mother.

“Good,” Manon said with a toothless smile, and the older woman smiled back before moving away, grumbling for Dani to get up.

Manon gave a little laugh at Daniela’s complaints before her friend obeyed her mother.

However, as soon as Ana left her field of vision, another person quickly filled the space. Sophia was standing there, her head tilted, her dark eyes attentive and searching, dissecting the tension in Manon’s frame. She didn't look at Ana. She didn't look at the others. 

“Will you be okay?” the vampire asked in a breath meant only for Manon’s ears. Manon looked up, locking eyes with Sophia. She simply nodded, swallowing hard her fear and trying to believe that yes, nothing would go wrong tomorrow and that, in the best-case scenario, she would only wake up in a terrible mood instead of covered in blood.

As she watched Ana squeeze Dani’s cheeks and speak in that specific voice every mother probably uses with their child, Manon couldn’t help but feel like a foolish pup. Her parents weren’t here, her sister wasn’t here, and her aunt wasn’t even in town—having chosen to just leave the house key under the mat. It was stupid, wasn’t it? How much she could feel her body vibrating with anticipation and anxiety, while at the same time, she just wanted to cry.

She missed home. It had been so long since the last time, back when she was just a rebellious teenager who could simply run and hide in Sihlwald. Lena rarely lets her go out alone, though. It’s one of the best memories she has with her sister, always competing over who could reach the highest, steepest mountain peak first. Being the youngest had its perks—besides not inheriting her father’s title, she could still say she was definitely spoiled.

They should have taught her that being locked in a basement alone was no big deal. It wasn’t even poorly lit! The walls were a bit sinister, however; during her first few full moons in Los Angeles, she ended up destroying the wallpaper and leaving claw marks. But it was justified—she was so terrified back then.

Dammit. 

Stupid pup.

It’s just one full moon. You’ll survive.

Sophia didn’t like the way Manon was acting.

The Swiss-Ghanaian was wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, performing normalcy like it was just another piece of choreography. Between the chaotic energy of the rehearsal, the effortless banter they traded, and the way she teased Dani about being Ana’s favorite daughter—Manon seemed fine. To anyone else, she was perfect. But Sophia could hear the truth. She could hear Manon’s heart hammering a frantic, jagged rhythm against her ribs, a sound so loud it felt like it was bruising the air between them.

She saw the tremor in Manon’s hand—a ghost of a shake that she tried to hide by clenching her fists. It made Sophia wonder and wonder… was Manon actually afraid of the moon? Maybe the old stories were right. Maybe werewolves were nothing more than prisoners to a bloodlust they couldn’t contain.

But then Sophia looked closer, past the predator, and saw just the girl. Manon wasn’t afraid of the beast inside her. She was afraid of the silence. She was afraid of the dark. Maybe Manon simply didn’t want to be alone.

Daniela certainly didn’t want her to be alone.

“Take care of yourself,” the Latina said, hugging the slightly taller girl with a fierce, lingering strength once rehearsal had ended. Today, their paths would diverge. Lara, Megan, and Yoonchae were heading off for their skincare night; Daniela was going to dinner with her mother; Manon supposedly had a friend to help; and Sophia…

Sophia had claimed she was exhausted.

“Don’t forget we’re having breakfast tomorrow before my flight, okay?” Ana said from behind her daughter, reaching out to ruffle Manon’s hair affectionately.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Manon replied with a smile, her hands tucked behind her back as she let the older woman pinch her cheek.

“You’d think Manon was heading off to war,” Lara added from beside them, letting out a soft laugh.

“Dani’s just being needy today, Larz,” Sophia lied, her laugh smooth and effortless, reinforcing the facade. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?” Yoonchae asked from the other side, her brow furrowed with concern. “I can stay with you, unnie.”

Sophia offered a thin, ghost of a smile. “Don’t worry, ‘Chip. I’ve just got a headache, I need some quiet time. Go have fun.”

“We’ll take great care of her,” Megan chipped in, slinging an arm over Yoonchae’s shoulders, only to be playfully shoved away a second later.

Sophia rolled her eyes. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Bye, guys!” Daniela called out, waving from a distance alongside her mother. The rest of them joined in the symphony of goodbyes they had already said several times since the end of practice. Lara blew a kiss into the air, and Sophia yelled something that sounded like an invitation for Ana to visit them again.

She had to bite back the laugh that nearly escaped her lips as Dani shot her an irritated look before climbing into the car with her mother.

“Need a ride, princess?” Lara asked, smiling at Manon, who chuckled and gave a brief shake of her head.

“I think I’ll walk. It’s not that far, and I’ve still got too much adrenaline to burn off,” Manon murmured.

“Yikes,” Megan grumbled, making them all laugh. “If you finish early, come over. We want to hear all the juicy details.”

Manon smiled and nodded.

“Ready?” Lara asked, looking expectantly at Sophia.

“You guys go ahead,” Sophia said, her eyes not leaving the way Manon’s narrowed at her response. “I still need to hit the market. I’m thinking of cooking kare-kare.”

“I’m tempted to drop everything and follow you right now,” Lara muttered. Sophia laughed, making a dismissive gesture with her hand, signaling for them to move on.

“Fine, take care,” Megan said with a farewell wave as she slid into the passenger seat of Lara’s car.

“Bye, unnies!” Yoonchae beamed, waving one last time before hopping into the back.

Sophia and Manon remained in silence for a few heartbeats, the Swiss-Ghanaian’s gaze never wavering from hers. In the background, the sun was bleeding out into the horizon, the full moon gradually ascending as night began to fall.

This close to the moon, Manon’s eyes were turning lighter—a shade of brown that shimmered unnaturally in the fading light, tiny golden flecks beginning to bloom within her irises.

“Want to eat kare-kare with me?” Sophia asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and a hope she knew would be denied.

Manon let out a low, husky laugh—a sound that vibrated in the air between them. “You know I can’t.”

“Right,” Sophia said, looking down and kicking at non-existent dust on the pavement. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Manon smiled.

They stood there for a few more minutes, staring at each other without another word. Sophia’s heart felt as though it were drumming in her ears rather than her chest.

“Be careful?” Sophia asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

The Swiss-Ghanaian let out a dry, breathy laugh and looked away for a split second before locking eyes with Sophia again. “Always.”

Manon walked toward her aunt’s house with the nagging feeling that Sophia simply hadn’t said what she wanted to say. It was as if the few words they’d traded had been left suspended, unfinished in the cooling air. She replayed their brief encounter in the parking lot, but she couldn’t guess why the vampire had seemed so unusually edgy.

She knew she should be running; the moon was climbing higher in the sky with every passing second, and she was nowhere near where she needed to be. But how could she run? If she did, Sophia might lose her on the horizon, unable to keep up.

Manon was impressively fast, and though she had never raced a vampire, she figured it was probably better not to test those limits right now. Looking back, there was nothing but the concrete geometry of buildings and the flickering orange glow of streetlights. Yet, the sensation of Sophia’s presence was a physical weight at her side. She didn't hear a single footfall, but the air felt different—thicker, colder.

After all, she thought, as the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle and the distant scent of roses and vanilla enveloped her—she’d still like to know why exactly she was being followed.

However, the closer she got to the house, the more the world began to blur. The intoxicating scent of roses and vanilla—once so sharp it felt like a hand on her shoulder—started to thin out, bleeding into the smell of dry earth and impending ozone. Manon stopped looking back. She couldn't afford to anymore. The sensation of being watched was swallowed by a much more visceral threat: the moon, now a heavy, silver eye staring directly into her soul.

She reached the front porch, her fingers trembling so violently that she almost couldn't find the key beneath the mat. When she finally stepped inside, the click of the lock behind her sounded like a gunshot in the silent house. She didn’t turn on the lights. She didn’t need them. The shadows were already shifting, bending to the heat radiating from her skin.

The presence of Sophia—the questions, the lingering tension from the parking lot—it all felt like a dream from a life she no longer lived. She wasn’t her anymore. She wasn’t a person. She was a vessel for something else.

Manon leaned against the wall of the hallway, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her vision pulsed in time with her heartbeat, the walls of her aunt’s house seeming to shrink around her. Every nerve ending was on fire, she needed to reach the cold concrete of the basement. She didn’t know if Sophia had followed her. She didn’t know if the vampire was standing right outside the door or miles away. And in that moment, as the first bone-deep ache of the transformation snapped through her spine, she didn’t even care.

She had to get to the basement.

For a second, she worried if her aunt had left everything ready before heading out that day; normally, she and Dani would arrive early, leaving snacks for the Latina and some animals for the Swiss-Ghanaian. However, Dani wasn’t there, and there would be no melody of her friend’s voice telling jokes or the sound of her shuffling cards while trying to convince a giant wolf to play Hearts. Maybe Manon should buy UNO, perhaps that one would be easier to remember the rules of while transformed.

Maybe she should have texted Sophie, but she felt sick just thinking about how her best friend reacted the first time she saw the wolf. It was still strange to think she’d had to help someone through a panic attack without even being in her human form.

Manon crossed the living room and the hallway toward the basement without turning on a single light; darkness had never been an issue for her. Descending the stairs, however, was a problem—the world began to shrink and expand repeatedly, leaving her dizzy, which made the process of opening the heavy steel door awaiting her a bit difficult.

The basement door groaned as she closed it with her back, a metallic click echoing through the room like a curse as she looked around the space that would be her companion for the next few hours. There was a wide, reinforced bed in one corner with a thick mattress—her family had to make the bed frame out of strong metal because Daniela liked to sleep curled up with Manon instead of letting the wolf just lie beside the furniture like a normal person. In another corner stood at least two shelves, the metal kind from roadside shops, dusty because no one touched them; they held only objects her aunt had accumulated. Overall, the basement was a wide, empty space, adapted for the amount of time Manon spent there, because in the first year, she had been so stressed that she ended up knocking down and destroying everything in her path.

Near the bed was a wooden table with Dani’s playing cards organized near some snacks and sandwiches. The mini-fridge seemed full. Her aunt, it seemed, had indeed prepared in case Manon had company.

A small whimper escaped her lips, sounding more animalistic than human, and her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know if she was crying from pain, fear, or loneliness.

Her back was cold against the chilled material of the door, her breathing rapid, and every step she took felt like a mile. She didn’t reach for the light switch. Her eyes were already adjusting, the world turning into a grainy, high-contrast landscape of grays and sickly ambers.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed another being in a corner—likely a small animal, prey for Manon to play with through the night. A rabbit, perhaps? Usually, there was raw fish in the fridge if she got too hungry, but the problem was never hunger; it was the urge to hunt.

The air down here was stagnant and tasted of old dust and cold iron. It was the smell of her own past agony. She stripped off her clothes with trembling fingers, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Her body was too hot, her skin burning. Every inch of her felt like it was being scorched from the inside out, a fever that no human medicine could touch.

She collapsed on the floor, her forehead pressed against the cold concrete. The cold was a mercy, but it wasn’t enough. She could feel the moon’s pull—a silent, gravitational hook buried deep in her gut, beginning to reel her in. Her skeleton began to hum, a low-frequency vibration that rattled her teeth.

“Please,” she whispered to the empty room, though she didn’t know if she was begging for the pain to stop or for the beast to just take over.

The silence of the house above was deafening. Usually, there was the sound of Dani’s phone or the rustle of a deck of cards to ground her. Tonight, there was only the sound of her own labored breathing and the terrifying, rhythmic thud-thud of her heart accelerating. She was utterly, terrifyingly alone. The scent of roses was gone, replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of her own fear. Manon curled into a ball, clutching her stomach as the first real snap echoed through the basement—the sound of a rib breaking, then resetting. Then another. And another.

“He gets sad alone,” Dani’s voice echoed in her head.

She wasn’t sad. She was terrified.

She placed a hand over her mouth to muffle the next moan of pain. This was a part of her she never wanted anything to see, normally asking Dani to put on headphones with loud music and look the other way—she never had a way to confirm if the Latina obeyed, she was too preoccupied with the transformation itself, but she trusted her best friend. This was the worst part, the part that made her a monster.

The agony reached its breaking point, but it didn’t stay beneath her skin. This wasn't a shift; it was an eruption.

Manon’s back arched until the vertebrae looked like they would pierce through her flesh. Then, the sound—a sickening, wet tear—as the skin between her shoulder blades split open. It wasn’t clean. It was a violent, bloody unveiling. From the red, raw gap, a snout of dark, matted fur pushed through, followed by the terrifying crack of a human ribcage being forced apart from the inside to make room for a larger, more predatory heart.

Manon dissolved into a symphony of snapping bone and tearing sinew, her humanity slipping away with every ragged breath. She didn’t just scream; she came apart. Her human eyes rolled back, turning white as the golden irises of the wolf forced their way forward. Her fingernails didn’t sharpen—they were pushed out, falling onto the concrete floor like discarded shells, replaced by thick, black talons slick with her own blood.

The woman was being shed like a dead husk. Manon clawed at the air, her hands trembling as the wolf within her lunged out of its human prison, tearing through the muscle and sinew of her chest. It was a birth and a slaughter all at once. By the time the colossal brown beast stood shivering on the basement floor, the remnants of Manon’s humanity lay scattered on the floor in a pile of tattered skin and broken bones that the wolf looked at with a hollow, primal recognition.

Then, the world went quiet. The wolf was there, standing in the center of the dark room, its ribs heaving, its golden eyes burning like twin suns in the shadows. It was a creature of heat and violence, waiting for a victim that, ironically, was just a rabbit hiding in some corner of the basement.

It was both beautiful and disgusting to think that that pile of remains was what was left of her human form once the wolf emerged. Her golden eyes could observe everything from the tattoos on her skin to the specific pattern of her nail polish. Without hesitation, the wolf lowered its head, completing the transformation process by opening its massive jaws. With a series of wet, rhythmic sounds that echoed off the reinforced walls, the beast began to consume the remnants of its own human husk. It was a self-cannibalism born of necessity, a way to reclaim the calories lost in the violence of the change and to erase every trace of the witness that had once been Manon.

It was in this precise, harrowing moment—with the wolf’s muzzle stained dark and its focus locked on its grim task—that the heavy door opened once more.

The metallic clack didn’t just break the silence; it shattered the private, gruesome ritual. The door creaked open, casting a long, clinical sliver of light across the floor, as the stairs leading to the basement suddenly lit up. It was important to note that the steel door could only be easily opened from the outside; on the inside, there was a complex locking mechanism that could only be released by the irises of Manon’s de-transformed eyes—a vital way to ensure the werewolf would only leave that space in her human form, as she could only unlock the door with someone on the outside or a human on the inside.

The wolf didn't think for a second; it reacted. It lunged toward the door, a blur of brown and gray, its lips pulled back in a lethal snarl that exposed four-inch sharp canines. It was ready to tear apart whatever had dared to interrupt the moment.

Maybe Daniela. Maybe her aunt. Maybe a thief stupid enough to break into the wrong house.

But then, it stopped abruptly.

The air didn’t smell like tonka beans, much less the sweet perfume of her aunt; it didn’t smell of sweat or the fear of some other human.

It smelled of roses and vanilla.

Sophia stepped through the door, closing it behind her with a tranquility that Manon, even in wolf form, could not conceive. The click of the automatic lock echoed through the open space. The girl wore a black trench coat that blended into the basement shadows, her face like an untouchable marble mask, her presence a sudden, freezing contrast to the carnage below.

She had no weapon; her hands were empty. She had no way to defend herself, she didn't seem to be suffering from any transformation; her expressive, almond-shaped eyes were like pools of brown looking at the seven-foot-tall monster with a dangerously gentle gaze.

The wolf let out a low, vibrating growl—a sound that shook the very foundations of the basement. But Sophia didn’t flinch. She took a step down. Then another. Approaching the creature with caution and calm.

“You’re a mess, Manz,” Sophia whispered, her voice a cool velvet that seemed to douse the fire in the wolf’s brain.

The beast’s golden eyes narrowed. It was confused. The girl was small, cold, and smelled of someone the wolf remembered—she smelled like home. The wolf didn’t lunge again. Instead, it tilted its head, its tail twitching once, as it watched the vampire descend into the heart of its madness.

Sophia didn’t dare get any closer, as if she were analyzing every movement of the huge beast that occupied the basement with her. She looked like a piece out of place, lost in that dark space smelling of blood. Instead of taking another step, she sat on the floor, in the middle of the mess, and stared at the creature before her with attentive eyes.

Manon could have lunged for her throat, and she wouldn’t have had any time to react.

But Sophia was just there, still. Far from the door, close to the wolf. She didn’t raise her hands in defense; she just stared at the animal with her head tilted to the side, observing it.

The wolf skidded to a halt inches from her face, the heat of its breath ruffling Sophia’s hair. The beast’s teeth were bared, inches from the vampire’s jugular. It stayed there, motionless, as if challenging Sophia to move even an inch.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Sophia whispered, her voice careful and calm, slicing through the wolf’s frenzied heat.

The wolf’s ears twitched. The growl died down into a confused whine.

The trench coat pooled around her in black. Her face was serene, her eyes unwavering as they met the wolf’s burning gaze.

The wolf circled her, its imposing body moving with a silent, predatory grace. Each paw-step was deliberate, testing the space, assessing the unmoving figure on the floor. It sniffed the air around her—the familiar scent of roses and vanilla that made its heart race and skip a beat even in this form. The wolf’s head lowered, its powerful jaw inches from Sophia’s outstretched leg, then her hand. It nudged her gently, a soft, questioning push.

Sophia didn’t move. She didn’t offer comfort or fear. She simply existed, a pillar of calm in the storm of the wolf’s primal instincts. The beast continued its slow circuit, its tail twitching once, then twice, before it finally stopped.

With a heavy sigh that shuddered through its frame, the wolf let out a soft whine—a sound of confusion, of exhaustion, of reluctant acceptance. It stopped its circling and slowly, deliberately, lowered itself to the floor. It settled beside Sophia, its warm skin a contrast against the cold of the vampire’s skin. Then, with a long, huffing breath, the wolf laid its head across Sophia’s lap, its golden eyes slowly closing.

Sophia, finally, let out a small laugh, her hand rising slowly to rest at last on top of the wolf’s head. She released a shaky sigh of relief and tension, feeling the soft fur beneath her fingers. Her heartbeat was so loud. Manon could feel its thrum through the vampire’s fingertips. The wolf’s brain was a chaotic storm of gold and red, a place where logic held no ground. It was confusing; Sophia was her natural enemy. So much blood had been spilled in a feud between their species that had lasted for centuries—Sophia might look fragile and human, but Manon knew the truth. I mean, she knew it, didn’t she?

The whispers of her father echoed in her mind. Leech. Bloodsucker. Vampires. Killers. She knew she should break every bone in Sophia’s body, lunging for her throat, shredding her jugular.

And yet, as the wolf’s golden eyes opened to look into Sophia’s, her instincts never came. She felt no thirst for bloodshed, no hatred, no fear. Only a sense of comfort and warmth that made it so the pain of the transformation couldn’t touch her.

She was confused. Deeply, primally confused. Her wolf, a creature of pure heat and territorial rage, seemed utterly unable to recognize Sophia as an enemy. Instead, it felt an irresistible pull toward her, a gravitational yearning for the unspoken solace Sophia radiated. It wasn’t just peace; it was a profound sense of sanctuary, a quiet tenderness that acted as the only antidote to the storm raging in Manon’s bones.

Manon felt a surge of silent gratitude that almost hurt. She knew it was dangerous—it was a death wish. A vampire and a werewolf? Insanity. Even so, something within her defied the laws of nature. As if saying: “I dare anyone to try and take her from me.”

With a low, submissive whine, Manon finally let go of the fight. Perhaps her father would kill her himself, or maybe Sophia would. But for one night, she allowed herself to feel what had always been caged in her chest, begging to come out: that tether pulling her toward Sophia, pleading for the other’s touch. It was a total surrender—a monster laying its life at the feet of another.

Maybe… Maybe Sophia was willing to do the same.

Comfortable in her position, Sophia didn’t stop the gentle caress she had begun. With the wolf’s heavy head settled in her lap, she started a conversation she knew would have no answer until the next morning. Her voice was low, a soft and melodic tone that sounded like a lullaby to the creature’s ears, drowning out the noise of a world above that never slept and the vibrations of the moon’s call.

“You’re so loud, Manon,” Sophia whispered, her fingers tracing the path from the wolf’s nose to its muzzle. “Even like this, your heart beats so loud. I can hear it through the concrete. It’s so... full of life. It’s almost offensive.”

The wolf let out a low huff, a puff of hot air that dampened Sophia’s sleeve. It didn’t move, but its ears flicked toward her voice, hanging on every word.

“I want to talk to you all the time,” Sophia continued, a sigh escaping her lips. “Sometimes the girls are so… so human. I don’t know what that’s like. I was never human.”

She looked down at the wolf, her brown eyes swirling with exhaustion.

“I… I hate the hunger,” the Filipina murmured softly, like a confession. “I spend my days pretending I’m not a ghost, and you spend yours pretending you’re not a storm. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Being something we aren’t all the time.”

She felt the wolf shiver beneath her hand. It wasn’t fear; it was recognition.

“My father used to say we are cursed,” a beautiful, bitter smile played on Sophia’s lips. She let her body relax, sliding down the cold concrete floor until she was lying on her back. Her fingers sank deeper into the thick, coarse fur. “My mother, of course, told him to stop with that. We can’t help it. We were born this way; it’s a cruel joke of nature. Looking at you, I don’t think it’s a curse. It’s beautiful. You're just all raw instinct and silver, and I’m just... the silence that follows.”

Sophia talked, talked and talked. Every time the wolf grew restless—every time its muscles tensed and a pained growl started to form as the moon reached its zenith—Sophia would press her palms firmer against its skin. No hesitation, no fear—simply being there... present.

“I followed you because I can’t stand the thought of you being alone in this dark room,” she admitted, her voice a vulnerable whisper. “I don’t know if you understand what I’m saying, I don’t know how a werewolf’s transformation works—I think everything they taught me was a lie,” she laughed, closing her eyes briefly. The wolf nudged her hand, a soft, blunt movement of its snout, as if telling her to keep talking. “But I wanted to learn from you.”

Sophia sat back up, looking at Manon with such affection that the wolf’s breathing seemed to become painful.

“Please, let me be part of your world,” Sophia pleaded. “I know Dani helps, but—” As she looked at the girl above her, Manon could see the exact moment Sophia’s eyes shifted from a deep brown to crimson red. “But I can go with you. I can be a monster with you.”

The wolf let out a whimper, as if wanting to say something—an agreement or something more. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel like I’m human, Manz. Like I could break,” she whispered, her voice cracking just a fraction. “And I like that so much.”

Manon’s heart felt like it was racing. In this form, it was always loud, strong, and fast, but Sophia’s words made her feel as if there were a whole band playing in her chest. Did Sophia…? She wished she could ask, she would have to wait until the next morning to say anything.

Sophia’s blood-red eyes were so beautiful.

She hoped that moment represented something new. A new dynamic. As if she had finally torn up the contract that said they couldn’t talk about what they were. She hoped Sophia would finally become a friend, a partner, a…

Well, something more.

Please, something more.

Sophia continued talking for hours, never running out of things to say. She told her about the Philippines, about where she grew up, about when she first started to feel the hunger, about how she saw the world and the horrible things she’d done, and about the plans she had already made for San Francisco. Manon listened to it like a soothing balm, each word stored in the safest, happiest corner of her mind.

Thinking that Sophia had already mapped out so many paths so the full moon wouldn’t hinder Manon even during the tour made her feel things. Something stupid and childish, like hey, she cares about me.

Manon wanted to tell Sophia about her home, about the forests and mountains, and she wanted to invite Sophia to hunt. The beast within her already accepted the vampire as a worthy companion for the chase. It was heading down a dangerous path and she didn’t care; Sophia’s soft fingers never stopped their petting, and she played with the wolf’s ear, its snout, and even the tips of its teeth as if there wasn’t a fierce animal there, but only Manon.

Around 3:00 AM, the rabbit in the corner finally gathered enough courage to thump its feet. The wolf’s head snapped up, predatory instincts surging like a tide. The growl was instantaneous, lethal.

Sophia watched with a faint, admiring smile as the wolf stood up quickly, leaving her lap. It was a blur of raw, powerful motion, going after the frightened animal like a master hunter. Manon caught the small creature between her teeth, the brief struggle ending with a sickening snap that echoed in the quiet basement. She didn’t find it disgusting when the little animal was killed, when Manon caught it between her teeth and tore it to pieces, making a deliberate mess like someone trying to impress.

“You’re so cute,” Sophia said, and Manon couldn’t help but find it funny that Sophia was calling a giant, murderous beast covered in rabbit blood cute.

Satisfied, the wolf began to turn back toward Sophia, but its massive size was ill-suited for the cluttered corner. As it moved, its thick tail thrashed outward, striking the metal shelving with a thunderous clang that shattered the blood-soaked atmosphere. The shelves rattled, a few dusty trinkets sliding to the floor.

Sophia’s soft laugh cut through the ringing metal, sounding music in the dark. She leaned back against the wall, her eyes shining with an amused, dangerous light.

“Careful, Manz,” Sophia murmured, her voice dripping with an affectionate irony. “You’re going to bring the whole house down before the sun even rises.”

The wolf let out a soft huff—the lupine equivalent of an embarrassed sigh—and trotted back to her, its muzzle stained dark, dropping its head once again into the safety of her lap.

Sophia’s fingers found their place once more in the silky fur at the top of the wolf’s head, returning to her previous caress. A small vibration settled from Manon’s chest to her throat, producing a sound that felt very much like a purr. Sophia didn’t seem bothered by the fact that the wolf’s muzzle was stained with blood, nor that its chin was now smearing her pants with the same crimson liquid. 

The Filipina simply continued her affection, a thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What exactly does one talk about with a seven-foot-tall wolf that won’t talk back?” she asked aloud, and Manon gave her a gentle nudge with her head, making her laugh.

Sophia leaned her head back against the cold wall, her fingers scratching just behind the wolf’s ears. “You’re so gentle,” she whispered, looking at the wolf with such devotion, without giving a single thought to the carcass scattered in the corner of the basement.

“You look at me with so much—” she let out a small, partially shy laugh. “They told me your kind was something so different, and yet here you are, so cute.”

She gave the wolf’s head a playful little squeeze and Manon found it deeply ironic—Sophia calling a giant monster gentle and cute, even with blood splattered across the room and knowing that, if the werewolf wanted to, she could have already killed her, turning her into just another body lying on the basement floor.

The wolf huffed—a warm, wet sound—and pressed her head firmer against Sophia’s lap, acknowledging the truth in those words. She was a killer, yes. But for Sophia, she was only ever Manon.

Ah, Manon was so fucked.

She was so in love with Sophia Laforteza.

Manon couldn’t see the sun rising; the basement was built like a claustrophobic, gray concrete box. However, it was possible to hear the slight rustling of leaves and the birds conversing on the tree branches in the backyard. At some point during the night, Sophia had decided to turn on the yellow light to illuminate the room and to better observe the place, walking around and commenting on the objects she found with Manon.

She tried to perform a card trick with Dani’s deck, but ended up making all the cards fly out of her hand and scatter across the floor. Manon would have laughed if her current form allowed it.

When the moon finally ceased its hold over her body, the wolf began its parting process. It was just as painful to become human as it was to become a wolf. A slow, agonizing process of reversal, with the sound of bones grinding against each other as they shrunk, the wet slide of muscle re-forming into a smaller, more feminine frame. Manon couldn’t scream this time; she was so tired. The weight of the transformation was coupled with the weight of the night of revelations with Sophia, leaving her feeling utterly exhausted. She simply let out a series of broken, ragged gasps as she collapsed onto the floor.

Sophia was at her side in an instant, so fast that a light gust of wind tossed Manon’s hair. She didn’t look away; she followed the process with attention and felt no disgust at the blood and sweat. As Manon’s human, brown skin returned—pale, bruised, and shivering—the Swiss-Ghanaian thought that this wasn’t exactly how she wanted Sophia to see her naked for the first time.

Delicately, the Filipina placed one of the blankets from the bed over her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug that Manon didn’t dare complain about, even though every bone in her body ached as if she had been born again and grown in a span of two minutes.

For a long time, the only thing heard was the sound of Manon’s ragged breathing and the hum of the mini-fridge in the corner. Carefully, Manon finally found the strength to lift her head and look at the other. Her hair was definitely a mess, she felt every drop of sweat trickling down her skin—which was extremely sensitive—and her eyes took a while to return to their normal, delicate brown.

Even so, to Sophia, she was such a sight. So beautiful.

The crimson was gone from Sophia’s gaze, replaced by that deep, almond-shaped brown that Manon loved so much. There was no judgment there. No fear. Only a terrifyingly soft tenderness.

“I remember,” Manon whispered, her voice barely a scratchy thread. “Everything you said. I remembered all of it.”

Sophia lifted the hand that wasn’t holding the blanket to Manon’s body and reached for her cheek, caressing it gently. A faint sigh escaped her lips as the corner of her mouth rose in a small smile. “I hoped you would.”

Manon rested her head on Sophia’s shoulder. Her forehead was sweaty, she felt small strands of hair stuck to her skin, but Sophia didn’t seem to mind. The soft scent that enveloped the Filipina was as much hers as it was Manon’s, having spent so much time in the wolf's den that it would be hard for creatures of the outside world to tell one from the other in the dead of night.

She was human again, but the world was undeniably different. The tension built up over the last few years had drained away so easily she didn’t know how she had held it up for so long. Almost all of Manon’s secrets were laid out on the table, and Sophia hadn't run away from any of them.

Maybe… Maybe she wouldn’t run from any of them. Maybe Sophia felt the same.

“You called me cute,” Manon murmured, a faint, sleepy huff of a laugh escaping her. “I was covered in blood, and you called me cute.”

Sophia chuckled, the sound vibration-rich and soothing. “You were. A very scary, very dramatic, very cute giant monster.”

Manon laughed with her, and even though her lungs ached with the slightest effort, the sound resonated softly between them.

“Manz, I—,” Sophia began, her voice faltering. Manon looked up again, not looking away for a single second, noticing how much the vampire’s breathing had quickened, just like her heart. Sophia returned to caressing her face, brushing away some strands of hair that fell over her eyes.

Manon felt utterly exposed. Her new skin felt raw, like a fresh wound, painfully sensitive to the air, to the fabric of the blanket, to everything. Painfully sensitive to Sophia, but Manon would always be sensitive to Sophia.

“You...” Manon tried to encourage her, a weak and encouraging smile filling her lips. Sophia let out a small, airy, exasperated laugh, and her hand slid from her forehead to her cheek, settling at the back of Manon’s neck.

The Swiss-Ghanaian’s traitorous heart wouldn’t stop beating so loudly, not caring that the vampire in front of her could hear everything happening inside her chest.

“I,” Sophia sighed, her eyes sliding over Manon’s face and stopping at her mouth. Manon felt her heart stop for a moment, giving such a high leap it felt like it was in her throat. “You are so beautiful.”

Which, well, had to be a lie. Manon was surely a mess. Sweaty, stained with blood, with hair like a nest, and worse, completely naked. Her skin still had some bruises—certain parts of the transformation are not kind to the body—but she was so used to them she only remembered they existed when she had to hide them from someone.

But Sophia… Ah, Sophia. Sophia looked at her as if she were the most beautiful creature on Earth.

Which was also a lie—the most beautiful creature on Earth was standing right in front of her, and it was Sophia.

Sophia slowly ran her tongue over her lips and Manon—Manon couldn’t take it. She didn’t know exactly who leaned in first, maybe it was her, but the distance that was already short seemed even smaller when she crossed it. It was a soft, hesitant collision, like a small seal on everything they had shared in the dark. First as a simple brushing of lips, just discovering and fitting into each other's orbit, and then… then like fire.

To Manon, Sophia’s mouth was the only thing that didn’t hurt at that moment. It served as a boost of energy that made her hands, which had previously been resting in her own lap, hold the Filipina’s face with willpower and hunger. It was better than she had dreamed; it was more powerful than she had imagined.

It tasted like the truth. It tasted like home. It tasted like her father disowning her, probably, because she would never get tired of that feeling.

The kiss deepened, Sophia’s tongue playing in her mouth not like someone fighting for dominance, but like someone wanting to know the space. Sophia held her as if she were afraid she would go away, which was foolish—Manon was never leaving again.

When they finally separated, Manon let out a shaky, relieved breath. She was sore, she was exhausted, and her skin was still too sensitive for the world, but she had Sophia, right there, in her arms.

“Tastes like rabbit,” the Filipina said, wrinkling her nose as she gave a wide smile.

They both laughed at the same time, in disbelief. Sophia’s hand that was holding the blanket closed let go, making its way until it found the curve of Manon’s waist, pulling her close and almost forcing the Swiss-Ghanaian onto her lap.

“Sorry,” Manon replied with a smile, unable to stop smiling. Sophia held her even tighter, the hand that had been on her neck dropping to rest at the base of her back. Sophia’s nose nestled into the curve of Manon’s neck, sniffing deeply and tickling her. “Soph!” Manon exclaimed, shrinking back and trying to push the Filipina away. “Stop!”

“You smell so good,” Sophia grumbled, sniffing the girl’s neck once more and causing Manon to push her back forcefully again. The Filipina pulled away with a giant, goofy smile on her face.

“That’s how I know you’re lying,” Manon said, shaking her head even though she couldn't stop smiling. “I’m all sweaty.”

“So good, Manz,” the Filipina said, trying to approach again, which made Manon let out a small squeal and push her away with an outstretched hand.

“I’m naked!”

Sophia broke into a wider, so pretty smile it shouldn’t be fair. “And?”

“Sophia!”