Cheng’s hands trembled against the sides of my head.

His eyes searched mine, wide and desperate, but I could barely focus on him. 

Standing hurt. Breathing hurt. 

Even being held by him hurt, as though my body had finally realised what had happened and was trying to shut itself down.

“Chin Mae?”

His voice reached me from somewhere far away, muffled beneath the rain and the ringing inside my skull.

“Chin Mae, what happened here?”

His mouth trembled.

It was barely a movement, something anyone else might have missed, but seeing it felt like a slap.

His gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, taking in the state of my clothes and my bare legs.

I couldn’t speak.

If I started, where would I even begin?

Brian found me. He attacked me. I fought back.

Those words were easy.

Everything after them wasn’t.

How could I explain that I had tasted his blood and wanted more? That I had known he was weakening and still struggled to stop?

My stomach turned.

I was afraid of Cheng’s reaction, but even more afraid of hearing myself say it aloud.

Cheng bit his lip and forced himself to move. Without asking another question, he pulled my sweater properly around me, adjusted it over my shoulders and brushed the wet hair away from my face.

Then he hugged me.

That was all it took.

Whatever had been holding me together broke.

A strangled sound escaped me as I buried my face against him. My fingers caught in the back of his clothes, and suddenly I was crying hard enough that I couldn't hide it.

Cheng tightened his arms around me.

His touch loosened every knot I had been forcing tighter since Brian appeared.

What the hell happened?

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Was that a nightmare?

It had to be.

My tongue moved unconsciously inside my mouth.

I could still taste it.

Metallic.

Faint.

But there.

No.

“Hey…” Cheng pulled back enough to wipe my face with his sleeve. “Don’t cry. I’ll sort this out, okay?”

How?

He couldn’t fix something when neither of us understood what it was.

He guided my head back onto his shoulder and reached for his phone.

There was a brief hesitation before he dialled. Only a few seconds, but his heartbeat accelerated beneath my cheek.

He spoke quickly in his mother tongue. I couldn't understand the words, but I knew him well enough to hear what he was hiding beneath that controlled voice.

Concern.

Irritation.

Maybe fear.

I wondered who he had called and whether it had anything to do with Brian, but I couldn't make myself ask.

When he put the phone away, his hand immediately returned to my back.

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

The word hit me strangely.

His apartment.

Our apartment now, apparently.

Somewhere along the way, those two things had become the same.

He slipped one of my arms around his shoulders.

Panic surged through me and I pushed him away.

“Nobody will know,” he said quietly. “You’re safe.”

His hands closed around my wrists, but he didn’t pull. He simply held them, waiting.

Even now.

After what he had seen.

“You can still run away, Cheng.” My voice sounded scraped raw.

His brows drew together.

“Run before I do something to you too.”

Something was wrong with me.

There was no pretending otherwise now.

I could still remember the way my teeth had hurt. The way the scent of blood had erased everything else.

Worse, I remembered the relief when I swallowed.

What happened if that hunger came back?

What if Cheng got cut one day?

What if I woke beside him and heard his pulse awakening whatever is inside me?

I wouldn’t let him become the next person I hurt.

But Cheng only looked at me.

Then, impossibly, he smiled.

Not his usual obnoxious grin. Something smaller and sadder.

He wrapped his arms around me again. “I’m never going to leave you.”

My breath caught.

“We’ll solve this together.” He said it as though there were no other possibility.

For some stupid reason, I believed him enough to move.

He kept repeating it as we left the narrow road.

We’ll solve this.

We’ll solve this.

Like a mantra.

Maybe it was meant for me.

Maybe he was trying to convince himself.

By the time we reached his building, the rain had soaked through most of my clothes. The lift was broken, so we started climbing the stairs.

Cheng kept one hand around my wrist.

Not painfully. Just firmly enough that I was always aware of it.

After everything that had happened, being held like that should have bothered me.

Instead, what hurt was knowing why.

He was afraid I’d leave. And maybe I should.

I watched our shadows stretch across the stairwell wall.

I talked back to him constantly. I could be spiteful, distant, impossible. I pushed him away whenever he came too close and then resented him whenever he listened.

But I wished he understood the part I could never say properly.

I wanted to stay beside him.

I wanted to talk to him, argue with him, cook while he got in my way and hear his voice from the other side of the apartment.

I wanted to know he was there.

Even when I was angry with him.

Somewhere along the way, Cheng had become as necessary as breathing.

I didn’t know when that had happened.

And that was exactly why I couldn’t stay.

He didn’t understand what happened to people who stayed near me.

Eventually, they suffered.

Maybe I had felt it from the first day we met. Maybe people like us had never been meant to walk beside each other forever.

All I could do was care about him from somewhere far enough away that I couldn't destroy him too.

I stopped halfway up the stairs.

Cheng continued another step before my arm pulled taut between us.

“Cheng.”

He slowly turned. His fingers loosened around my wrist, then slid into my hand.

Our fingers intertwined.

His thumb moved gently across my skin.

“We can talk inside. We’re nearly there.”

He tugged lightly.

I didn’t move.

Maybe he wanted to keep me close because he was afraid I’d hurt somebody else.

Or maybe what he had witnessed had made me fascinating.

Some grotesque mystery he needed to understand and solve.

Either explanation was easier than believing he simply wanted me to stay.

“I’m going away for tonight.” The words were so quiet I almost didn’t hear myself say them.

Cheng went still.

I turned toward the stairs and tried to pull my fingers free.

He didn’t let go.

“Cheng.” I pulled harder.

One second I was moving away from him; the next my back met the wall.

His hand immediately slipped behind my head, cushioning it before I could hit the concrete.

“Sorry, I’ve—”

He stopped. There was no excuse.

His body was pressed against mine, warm enough that I could feel it through our damp clothes.

“Don’t leave me, okay?” His voice cracked. “Let’s just—please.” He swallowed.

I looked at him.

For one ridiculous second, I thought he was going to kiss me.

His face was so close.

My eyes dropped to his mouth before I could stop them.

And, traitorously, I remembered the club.

His arms around me.

His mouth near my ear.

I only want you.

Then Liam.

Then Brian.

Then blood.

I almost laughed at myself.

Seriously? Now?

Maybe all Cheng's flirting had finally gone to my head. Maybe I really was nothing more than another cute person he enjoyed teasing, another name he could eventually add to whatever ridiculous list followed him around university.

His friend.

His experiment.

Anything except what some pathetic part of me kept hoping for.

“I need to be alone. Can’t you understand that?” I shoved him back.

“I—I killed that man, and you think I can just sit down with you and sleep on it?!”

Killed.

The word echoed through the stairwell.

I didn't even know if Brian was dead.

But his body had looked—

No.

I slipped past Cheng’s hands.

He caught my sweater.

I pulled away.

Everything happened too quickly.

A foot missed the edge of a step.

The world tilted.

My stomach dropped as Cheng twisted around me.

Then we were falling.

His body hit the stairs first.

Mine landed on top of his. For one second, neither of us moved.

“Cheng?”

Nothing.

Panic ripped through me.

I scrambled upright, kneeling awkwardly beside him as I slid my forearm beneath his neck.

“Cheng?”

His eyes remained closed.

My hand moved frantically through his hair, checking the back of his head.

No blood.

Thank God.

“Please, Cheng.” My voice shook.

Why did he have to shield me?

We were both drunk. He could have cracked his skull open because of me.

Because, once again, Cheng had decided my body mattered more than his.

What was I supposed to do if he didn't open his eyes?

What was I supposed to do without—

“Please, talk to me!” The words came out louder than I intended.

I immediately looked toward the neighbouring doors.

What if someone came outside?

What if they saw us?

What if I smelled blood again?

What if—

“Don’t go away from me…”

I froze.

Cheng’s eyes slowly opened.

Tears slipped from their corners. “I need you, Chin Mae.” His voice broke. “I really do.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t answer.

I had been panicking because I thought he was hurt.

And somehow he was still afraid of losing me.

“I think I’ve finally found some happiness since I met you.” One corner of his mouth lifted weakly. “So don’t leave.”

My fingers moved his damp fringe away from his face.

How could he say that?

What happiness had I given him?

He was the one who kept looking after me.

“Your other friends make you happy all the time.” My throat tightened. “I make you cry. Just like now. So how can you say that?”

I looked away. “I always make things worse.”

Cheng slowly pushed himself upright, his palms braced against my chest until my back met the metal spindle behind me.

I sat there, dazed, as his hands settled carefully against my thighs and moved them apart enough for him to position himself between them.

My entire body went rigid.

“You are so important to me, Chin Mae.”

His voice was soft.

His body wasn't.

I could feel him trembling.

“I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you what I feel.”

My heart kicked painfully against my ribs.

What you feel?

For once, there was no obvious joke waiting behind his eyes.

No smug smile.

No easy escape.

Cheng inhaled.

Then leaned closer. Slowly.

So slowly it felt deliberate, as though he wanted to see every reaction before deciding whether to continue.

His finger brushed across my lips.

My breath stopped.

His eyes lowered.

He came closer.

Every sensible thought inside me screamed that this was wrong.

Wrong night.

Wrong place.

Wrong version of me.

And still, another thought whispered:

Finally.

I hated it.

“Are you doing this now?”

I pressed my hand over his mouth.

He stopped.

His lips were warm against my palm.

It took everything I had not to focus on that.

“How can you even think about this after I kissed some random guy, kissed Brian and sucked him dry?”

His expression changed at Brian’s name.

“Why would I want you getting this close? And why would I even want to kiss you?”

A door slammed somewhere above us.

The sound thundered through the stairwell.

Cheng swallowed. His gaze dropped.

Seeing him retreat hurt almost as much as having him come closer.

“Why not me?” His hand closed around my wrist and gently pulled my palm away from his mouth.

He didn't smirk.

Didn't tease.

He just looked hurt.

I had no answer that wouldn't expose me.

Because Liam had been easy precisely because he wasn't Cheng.

Because kissing a stranger couldn't destroy my life.

Because Cheng could.

I sighed.

He was drunk.

That had to be it.

Sober Cheng wouldn't be doing this. He'd tease me until I threatened to kill him, laugh when my ears turned red and move on.

This was alcohol making everything messy.

That explanation was safer.

I grabbed his shoulder.

He winced. “Cheng, can you stop teasing me? I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

His eyes stayed on mine. “And I don’t want to become one of your many one-night stands.” His voice rose sharply before he stopped himself.

“I don’t want you to be one—” My heart skipped.

Then what do you want me to be?

I didn't ask. I was too afraid he might answer.

“Never mind.”

Something closed behind his expression.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

His hands fell onto his thighs. “It wasn’t the right time. I don’t know what made me think it was.”

The apology should have relieved me.

Instead, something twisted painfully in my chest.

I forced a small smile and caught his chin, lifting his face toward mine.

“You have plenty of girls around you. I’m sure you have enough fun.”

Emma flashed through my mind. The girls at university.

Everyone who could want Cheng without turning it into some impossible disaster.

“Let’s not complicate our relationship.” I stood. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

This time, I was the one pulling him upstairs.

At the apartment, I reached for the lock with the keys.

“I am not going inside if you don’t stay.”

I looked over my shoulder.

Cheng had stepped back, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

For all the frustration he caused me, part of me wanted to keep looking at him like this.

Not the smiling Cheng everyone else knew.

Not the one who entertained everyone while revealing almost nothing about himself.

This Cheng.

Fragile.

Drunk.

Angry.

Scared enough to admit he needed someone.

“Cheng.” I walked back to him, grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him close.

“You don’t want to get me angry. Now shut up and get inside.”

His hand snapped around mine.

Before I understood what he was doing, he twisted my arm and turned me toward the door.

My chest met the wood.

My arm was trapped behind my back.

Cheng pressed close enough that his breath touched my ear.

“You don’t want to get me angry either.” I heard the smirk in his voice.

My pulse jumped.

“No matter what you are now…”

My breath caught.

He hadn’t said who.

He'd said what.

For a second, the alley rushed back.

Brian's blood. His weakening pulse. Cheng staring at me.

The terror on his face.

My body stiffened.

Cheng must have felt it. His grip changed slightly.

Not releasing me. Just enough to remind me that he was there.

“I can always handle you, Chin Mae.”

I swallowed.

He couldn't possibly know that.

Neither of us knew what I was.

Neither of us knew what might happen when the hunger returned.

And yet he said it with the same certainty he'd used when promising not to leave.

Maybe he was drunk enough to believe it.

Maybe I was drunk enough to want to.

His fingers tightened around my wrist. “And I will.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. I should have reminded him what he'd just seen.

I should have left.

Instead, I closed my eyes.

His voice dropped beside my ear. “It’s a promise.”