Chapter Text
Miu’s POV
The funny thing about being in love with your best friend? You memorize them. Every freckle, every habit, every micro-expression. You become fluent in a language no one else speaks. So I knew. Somewhere beneath the fog of finally, finally having her look at me like I was something worth consuming, I knew the thing wearing Lena's body wasn't entirely Lena anymore.
But she was still mine.
And when boys from our school started turning up hollowed out in the woods, their insides missing like something had scooped them clean—I looked at Lena's perfect skin, her new impossible glow, the way she'd started calling me baby like she'd always known how badly I needed to hear it—and I made my choice.
My name is Miu, don’t ask for my last name, it’s long. I'm a junior at Colin Hale University. My best friend is a demon, or maybe something older than demons, and I love her so much it's rewriting my DNA.
This is the story of how I damned myself.
And honestly? I'd do it again.
Midnight settled over the house like a heavy blanket, the kind that made every sound feel louder and every shadow feel alive. The digital clock on the stove blinked at 3:00 AM in a dull green light. The kitchen light hummed faintly overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow across the room.
Lena stood by the refrigerator, her fingers resting lightly on the handle, as if she hadn’t decided yet whether to open it—or if she already knew what was inside. Miu lingered a few steps behind her, arms folded tight against her chest. Something felt wrong. Not just “late-night creepy” wrong—but deeper. Like the air itself had thickened.
“Lena… what are you doing?” Miu’s voice came out quieter than she intended.
Lena didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, almost amused. Then, slowly, she pulled the refrigerator door open.
The cold light spilled out, illuminating her face from below. It made her look different—sharper, hungrier.
“Just getting a snack,” Lena said casually.
Miu took a hesitant step closer. “At this hour?” she looked around. “In my house?”
Lena glanced back at her, a small smile tugging at her lips—too slow, too deliberate. “You used to come over this late all the time.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t…” Miu trailed off. She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Not like this. Not with Lena acting like a stranger wearing her best friend’s face.
Inside the fridge, something shifted.
Miu froze.
“Lena,” she whispered, “what is that?”
Lena leaned in slightly, blocking Miu’s view. “You worry too much.”
But Miu moved closer anyway, peering past her shoulder—and immediately wished she hadn’t.
There was something in there that shouldn’t have been. Wrapped poorly. Dark stains seeping through plastic. Not food. Not anything normal.
Her stomach twisted.
“That’s not funny,” Miu said, her voice shaking now. “Tell me that’s not—”
Lena grab her snack and shut the fridge door with a soft but final thud.
Silence filled the space between them.
Then Lena turned around.
Up close, Miu could see it clearly now. The difference. The subtle wrongness in Lena’s eyes—too bright, too empty at the same time.
“You’re acting like I’m a bad guy,” Lena said, almost teasing. “I thought we’re best friends.”
Miu swallowed hard. “We are. That’s why this is freaking me out.”
Lena stepped closer. One step. Then another.
Miu didn’t move.
“You always said we’d tell each other everything,” Lena murmured. “No secrets.”
Her voice was softer now, almost intimate—but there was something underneath it. Something sharp.
“Then tell me,” Miu said, barely holding it together. “What’s going on with you?”
For a moment, Lena just stared at her.
Then she smiled again—but wider this time.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Miu’s heart pounded. “Try me.”
Lena leaned in close, so close Miu could feel her breath—cold, unnaturally cold.
“That depends,” Lena whispered. “Are you hungry too?”
Miu flinched.
“Lena..”
At first, it was subtle—just the faint brush of her presence near Miu’s neck. Then Miu felt it: Lena inhaling, deep and quiet, like she was savoring something.
A shiver ran through Miu’s whole body.
“Lena… what are you doing?” she asked, barely audible.
Lena didn’t stop.
Her nose hovered just at the curve of Miu’s neck now, her breath cold, sending chills down Miu’s spine. She inhaled again, slower this time, like she was memorizing the scent.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then Lena’s lips parted slightly.
Miu felt it—the shift. The hesitation breaking into something sharper. Hungrier.
Her fingers tightened at her sides. “Lena—”
Lena’s head dipped just a fraction lower.
Teeth barely grazed Miu’s skin.
A pause.
One second.
Two.
The tension snapped.
Lena jerked back suddenly, like she’d burned herself. Her breathing uneven now.
Silence crashed into the space between them.
Miu stayed frozen, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “What happened to you, Lena?” she tried asking, barely.
She turned away, running a hand through her hair, pacing once like she didn’t know where to put the energy building inside her.
“No..” she muttered. Mostly to herself.
When she finally glanced back, her eyes weren’t empty this time—they were conflicted. Fighting something.
Miu swallowed hard. “I don’t understand...”
Another silence.
Lena’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. “I should go home,” she said quietly.
Miu didn’t move. “Lena—”
“I’m going home.” Lena repeated, sharper now—but not angry. Desperate.
For a moment, it looked like she might say something else. Explain. Apologize. Warn her.
But instead, she just stepped back into the shadows of the kitchen, putting distance between them.
Miu stayed there a second longer, shaken, her hand slowly rising to her neck where Lena’s teeth had almost—
Almost.
And somehow, that felt worse than if she hadn’t stopped at all.
My daydreaming was cut off when I saw the door creak open, and our professor walked in, slower than usual, a stack of papers clutched tightly in his hand. He didn’t greet us the way he normally did.
No small talk. No forced smile.
He just stood there for a moment.
“I’ll keep this brief,” he said finally, his voice measured but strained. “As you all know… another incident occurred on campus.”
Another.
The word made my chest tighten.
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Someone in the back muttered something under their breath. I didn’t turn around.
“Because of this,” he continued, “the administration is organizing a memorial gathering tomorrow morning. Attendance is… strongly encouraged.”
Strongly encouraged. That meant it was required.
My grip tightened on my pen.
“He was a member of this community,” the professor added, softer now. “We owe him that respect.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
Another boy. Another body.
Another late night no one could explain.
My mind flickered—unwanted, uncontrollable—to Lena standing in our kitchen at midnight. The refrigerator light. The way she had looked at me.
The way she almost—
I shut my eyes briefly, forcing the memory down.
“Details will be posted online,” the professor said, setting the papers down on his desk. “That’s all for today.”
That’s all.
Just like that.
No lecture. No discussion. Just a quiet dismissal wrapped in something nobody wanted to say out loud.
Chairs scraped softly as people started packing up, whispering again—quieter this time, like they were afraid of being heard.
I stayed seated.
“Are you okay?”
I looked up. It was Leonard.
Leonard and I have been friends for quite sometime now. We were both majoring in physics and a member of the cheerleading squad. We got along pretty fast. It was actually nice to have him around since Lena’s missing in action.
Last time I saw her, she was practicing at the gymnasium with her drum peers. I waited for her to finish but when she did, she was quick to exit the place. I haven’t seen around after that.
“Yeah..” I smiled, barely. “I was just thinking about the upcoming exams.”
He nodded, “Okay. Well, I’m going to grab something to eat. Are you coming?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah.. sure. Let’s go” I said quietly.
When we walked into the cafeteria, it was packed with teenagers of all seasons—at least, that’s how Leonard liked to describe it. I exhaled slowly. With all the killings that had been happening around here, it was hard to stay optimistic, hard to pretend everything was normal. And yet, here we were. Inside the cafeteria, students were eating. I was eating. The world, somehow, kept spinning.
When I tried to look around I saw her before my brain could even process it.
Lena.
Just… standing there in the cafeteria line like she hadn’t been missing for two weeks. Like she hadn’t completely disappeared without a single text, call, or sign of life.
For a second, I thought I was imagining it. Like my brain finally snapped and decided to hallucinate her into existence.
But no. Same messy hair. Same lazy posture. Same annoyingly normal vibe.
Something in my chest twisted—relief, anger, I didn’t even know anymore
“Excuse me, Leonard..” I said quietly, attempting to stand up.
Leonard held my wrist and said, “where are you going?”
“I forgot I wanted a drink..” I said hesitantly.
“You..forgot?” He asked. His tone sounded confused. But he removed his hand anyway, “Get me one as well, please.”
“Okay..” I gave him a faint smile.
My chair screeched loudly when I stood up. I barely noticed the people staring as I made a beeline straight for her.
I stopped right in front of her.
“Wow,” I said, folding my arms tightly. “So you do still exist.”
She didn’t even flinch. Just set her tray down like I wasn’t about to lose it.
“Surprise,” Lena said, completely deadpan. “I know, I was declared legally dead last week. Tragic.”
I stared at her. “Where have you been?”
“Busy.”
I felt my eyes twitch. “Busy?” I repeated. “You vanished. No texts, no calls, no ‘hey Miu, I’m not dead just ignoring you’—nothing.”
She finally looked at me, raising an eyebrow like I was the dramatic one. “I’m a senior, Miu,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “It’s a very delicate time. I have responsibilities now. I have status.”
I nearly laughed out of pure disbelief. “Oh my god.”
“And,” she added, holding up a finger, “I’m also a drum major. Do you know how hard it is to look this authoritative while waving a stick around? It’s a full-time job.”
“You couldn’t send one message?” I snapped.
“I could have,” she said thoughtfully. “But then I’d have to type. With my fingers. After conducting. It’s a whole thing.”
I exhaled sharply, trying not to explode right there in the middle of the cafeteria. She was being ridiculous. Completely, intentionally ridiculous.
And the worst part? Part of me was just… relieved she was here.
“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered.
“I’ve been told,” she said, taking a casual sip of her drink. “Do you want some?”
She was offering me her drink. I hated how normal she was acting.
“You had me worried,” I said, quieter now, but the words felt heavier. “Like actually worried. I thought something happened.”
She paused.
It was quick—so quick I almost missed it—but something in her expression shifted. Softer. Less… Lena.
Then it was gone.
“Well,” she shrugged, “something did happen. I was tragically overbooked.”
I rolled my eyes, but it didn’t land the same. “I’m serious.”
“I know.”
That made it worse somehow.
“You suck, you know that?” I said.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “But I’m a busy suck. Very important distinction.”
I glared at her, trying to hold onto the anger because it was easier than whatever else I was feeling.
There was a pause.
Then she groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “Okay, fine. You’re doing that face.”
“What face?”
“The ‘I’m mad but also sad and I hate that I care about you’ face,” she said. “It’s very specific. Very guilt-inducing.”
I didn’t say anything. Which was basically confirmation.
She sighed again, less dramatic this time. “Alright. I surrender. You win. I’m the worst best friend in existence.”
“Glad you finally said it.”
“I’ll come over later,” she added quickly. “We can… watch something. I’ll even let you pick.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You hate my picks.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s how you’ll know I’m serious.”
I tried to stay mad. I really did.
“…You better actually show up,” I said.
She picked up her tray, that crooked grin already back in place as she walked past me. “Relax. I already came back from the dead once last week. I think I can manage your house.”
The class ended earlier than usual. I hurriedly made my way into the gates, my mind still drifting to a certain someone.
Lena had never looked more suspiciously normal.
Meanwhile, I spotted her and immediately stopped walking. What the hell?
She stood just outside the campus gates, leaning against a post like she hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth for two weeks. Same lazy posture. Same half-lidded eyes. Same annoying habit of acting like everything was fine.
And of course, she had to show up like that.
Leaning casually against her car—an Audi, because of course she drives one—like she was in some kind of ad I didn’t sign up to watch. Black exterior, clean, polished, stupidly reflective under the afternoon sun.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lena lifted a hand casually. “Yo.”
“Yo?” I repeated, incredulous. I crossed my arms. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, slowly walking closer. “Just… admiring the effort.”
“What effort?”
I gestured at her. “This whole thing. The car. The leaning. The timing.” I tilted my head. “What is this? A comeback tour?”
Lena huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re overthinking.”
“No, I’m observing. There’s a difference.” I circled slightly, eyeing her up and down. “You ghost me for two weeks and then suddenly you’re here looking like you’re trying to impress me.”
“I’m not trying to impress you.”
“Mm,” I hummed. “Sure. Then why the dramatic entrance?”
“It’s not dramatic. I was just waiting.”
“With your Audi.”
“It’s just a car.”
“It’s not just a car,” I shot back. “It’s a statement.”
“What statement?”
“That you’re annoying and rich and—” I paused. “…and very aware of what you’re doing.”
Lena smirked slightly. “You think I’m trying to impress you?”
“I think,” I said, stepping closer, “that you disappeared for two weeks and came back trying extra hard to make up for it.”
“I said I was busy.”
“You said one message.”
“I was busy sending that message.”
I stared at her.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“…I’m here to complain.”
“Sure you are.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped.
Because she was looking at me like that again—calm, amused, like she already knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
It was irritating.
Also—unfairly—she looked good.
Annoyingly good.
“Whatever,” I muttered, looking away. “Don’t think this makes up for anything.”
“Didn’t say it did.”
“Good.”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
Lena grinned. “Missed you too.”
“I did NOT—”
“You’re about to say it again, aren’t you?”
“I’m about to leave.”
“You won’t.”
“…I might.”
“You won’t.”
I groaned. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re still here.”
“…I regret it already.”
By the time we got to my house, Lena had attached herself to me like I was some kind of emotional support object she forgot she owned.
Her arm slung over my shoulders. Her weight leaned into me. Her presence—way too close.
“Lena,” I said, trying to push her off, “why are you glued to me?”
“I’m catching up.”
“From what?”
“Two weeks of absence.”
“That’s your fault!”
“Exactly. So I'll fix it.”
“That’s not how this works!”
“It is now.”
I shoved her lightly. “You’re heavy.”
“I’m not heavy, you’re weak.”
“I will actually kick you out.”
“You won’t.”
“…I might.”
“You won’t,” she repeated, completely sure of herself.
I hate that she’s usually right.
“…You’re insufferable.”
“You let me in.”
“…Worst decision today.”
We ended up in my room, a random romcom playing on my laptop that she picked without asking.
And of course, she sat too close.
Like—too close.
Our legs were touching. Her arm was behind me again. I could feel her there in a way that made it impossible to ignore her existence.
“Personal space,” I said.
“No.”
“Lena.”
“I was gone for two weeks.”
“That’s not an excuse!”
“That's the reason.”
“It’s a bad reason!”
She hummed, completely unbothered.
We watched for a few seconds.
Then I turned to her.
“So.”
“So,” she echoed.
“…Where were you?”
“Busy.”
I stared at her. “Do you want to get hit?”
“With what? Your tiny hands?”
“I will use something solid.”
She snorted. “Relax. It’s nothing dramatic.”
“Then tell me.”
“I told you.”
“You told me nothing!”
On screen, the couple was flirting.
I paused the movie.
“No,” Lena said immediately, leaning closer. “Don’t.”
“Yes,” I said, turning fully toward her. “We are not continuing until you answer me properly.”
She leaned in slightly, trapping me between her and the bed again.
“You’re intense,” she said.
“You disappeared!”
“I told you—”
“Busy is not an answer!”
“It’s a summary.”
“It’s a bad summary!”
She smiled.
That stupid, calm smile.
“…Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said.
My eyes twitched. “That’s it. I’m hitting you.”
She caught my wrist easily.
“Violence again?”
“You deserve it!”
“I probably do.”
I froze.
“…Probably?”
She blinked once, then smirked. “For ghosting you.”
“…You hesitated.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
The movie kept playing in the background, completely ignored now.
“…It’s just stuff,” she said after a second. “Things I had to deal with.”
“What things?”
“Things you don’t need to worry about.”
“That’s not your decision!”
“It kind of is.”
“It’s not!” I snapped. “You don’t get to vanish and then come back and act like everything’s fine!”
“I’m not acting like everything’s fine.”
“You are!”
“I’m acting like I’m here.”
“That’s not the same!”
She looked at me.
Really looked this time.
“…I know,” she said quietly.
And that—
That threw me off more than anything.
“…Then tell me,” I said, softer now.
She held my gaze for a moment.
Then—
She flicked my forehead.
“Focus on the movie.”
I recoiled. “Are you serious?!”
“Yes.”
“I was having a moment!”
“And now it’s gone.”
“I hate you!”
“No you don’t.”
“I DO!”
“You missed me.”
“…That’s not the point.”
“It is.”
“…Maybe a little,” I muttered.
She softened for half a second.
Then immediately ruined it.
“Aww. Say it again.”
“Never mind. I take it back.”
“Too late.”
“I hope your car gets scratched.”
“My Audi?”
“Yes, your stupid Audi.”
“You think about my car a lot.”
“I don’t!”
“You called it attractive earlier.”
“I did NOT—”
“You stared at it.”
“I was judging you!”
“Mm. Sure.”
I grabbed a pillow and hit her.
“You’re impossible!”
She laughed, finally blocking my attacks. “Okay, okay—”
“You’re hiding something!”
“Maybe.”
“Lena.”
“But I’m here now, right?”
I stopped.
“…Yeah.”
She nudged my shoulder gently.
“Then let me annoy you properly.”
“…You’ve been doing that since you got here.”
“Good. I’m consistent.”
I sighed, leaning back despite myself.
Lena had decided her mission for the day was to make my life harder than it already was, she was doing an excellent job. We were supposed to be watching the movie. IInstead, she was half-lying against me like she had no concept of personal space, one arm behind my back, her knee nudging mine every few seconds like she needed constant confirmation that I was still there. And I was trying—trying—to focus on literally anything that wasn’t her.
Then she spoke.
“Who’s Leonard?”
I froze.
“…What?”
She didn’t look at me. Just kept her eyes on the screen, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb into my nervous system.
“Leonard,” she repeated casually. “Ling mentioned him. She said you guys are hanging out.”
I remain silent. My heart was beating through my chest.
After a couple of seconds I finally asked, “When?”
“When what?”
“When did Ling mention it?”
“somehwere among lost conversations..”
I narrowed my eyes. “You remember selectively.”
“I remember interesting things.”
“You ghosted me for two weeks”
“We are not going back to that.”
“I wanna talk about it.”
“That is not interesting!” Lena raised her hand.
“…And Leonard is interesting?”
Now she turned slightly, just enough for me to catch the hint of something in her expression.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Is he?”
Why does that sound like a trap?
“He’s just a friend.”
“Just a friend,” she echoed.
“Yes.”
“You said that fast.”
“Because it’s true!”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“Because there’s nothing to think about!”
She shifted closer.
Closer.
Why is she getting closer?
“Wow,” Lena murmured. “You’re defensive.”
“I am not!”
“You are.”
“I’m clarifying!”
“You’re panicking.”
“I’m not panicking!”
“You sound like you’re panicking.”
“I sound like I’m talking!”
She let out a soft laugh.
And then—because she enjoys ruining my life—she rested her chin lightly on my shoulder.
“…So,” she said, voice quieter now, “what kind of friend is he?”
My brain short-circuited. “Lena.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re too close.”
“Answer the question.”
“He’s normal.”
“Normal,” she repeated. “That’s not a description.”
“He’s just—he’s in my class.”
“And?”
“And we talk.”
“About?”
“Things!”
“Wow. Very detailed.”
I groaned. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“You clearly do!”
“I’m just curious.”
“You’re interrogating me!”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re judging!”
“I’m evaluating.”
“Stop evaluating my friendships!”
“Then give better answers.”
“I am giving answers!”
“You’re giving suspicious answers.”
“They’re not suspicious!”
She tilted her head slightly, her hair brushing against my cheek.
“…Do you like him?” she asked.
And there it was.
Direct hit.
“What? No!”
“That was loud.”
“Because it’s ridiculous!”
“Mm.”
“I don’t like him!”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying it like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t believe me!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it!”
“I’m just listening.”
“You’re not just listening, you’re—ugh!”
She smiled faintly, clearly enjoying this.
“…So you don’t like him,” she said.
“I don’t.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
“Not even when he’s ‘normal’ and you ‘talk’ about ‘things’?”
“You’re twisting my words!”
“I’m repeating them.”
“Badly!”
She let out a quiet laugh again.
And for a second, she went quiet.
Too quiet.
“…Good,” she muttered.
I blinked.
“…What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you said something.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did!”
“Delusional.”
She shrugged slightly, like it didn’t matter.
But it did.
“…Why does it matter?” I asked, more quietly now.
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she reached over and unpaused the movie.
“Focus,” she said. “This is the confession scene.”
I stared at her.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“So are you.”
“I answered!”
“You answered loudly.”
“That’s still an answer!”
She didn’t look at me.
“…You’d tell me, right?” she said after a moment.
“Tell you what?”
“If you liked someone.”
I hesitated.
Because the answer was yes.
Just not the way she meant.
“…Yeah,” I said finally. “I’d tell you.”
That was a lie.
A very obvious, very necessary lie.
“…Good,” Lena said softly.
And then—of course—she ruined it.
“Because if you started dating Leonard, I’d have to intervene.”
I choked. “You’d have to do what?!”
“Intervene.”
“Why?!”
“For your safety.”
“My safety?!”
“Yes.”
“He’s not dangerous!”
“You said he’s normal. That’s suspicious.”
“That’s not suspicious!”
“It is to me.”
“You don’t even know him!”
“I don’t need to.”
“That’s not how that works!”
She finally turned to me fully, a small grin tugging at her lips.
“I just don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“I trust you.”
“…That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
“How?”
I opened my mouth.
Then I closed it.
Because I didn’t have a safe answer.
Because everything about her was different.
“…You’re impossible,” I muttered.
“You’re deflecting.”
“You started this!”
“And you’re still losing.”
“I am not losing!”
“You’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered!”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am NOT—”
I slapped my hands over my face.
She laughed.
Actually I laughed.
And somehow, that made it worse.
“…You’re enjoying this way too much,” I groaned.
“Very much.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…You’re the worst.”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause.
Then she leaned her head lightly against mine again.
“…Don’t get a boyfriend,” she added casually.
I went completely still.
“…What?”
“Too much work.”
“That’s your reason?!”
“Yes.”
“That’s a terrible reason!”
“It’s a valid one.”
“It’s not!”
She shrugged. “Then don’t listen to me.”
“…You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” she said quietly, “you still do.”
I swallowed.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
And that was the worst part.
“…Leonard is just a friend,” I said again, softer this time.
“I know.”
“…Do you?”
“Yeah.”
I glanced at her.
“…Then why do you keep asking?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Just watched the screen like it had suddenly become very important.
“…Because,” she said finally, voice lighter again, “you’re fun to tease.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Lena.”
“Miu.”
“…You owe me.”
“I know.”
“A lot.”
“I know.”
“Don’t disappear again.”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she leaned her head lightly against mine.
“…I’ll try,” she said.
I frowned.
“…That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s honest.”
“…You’re the worst.”
“Yeah.”
But I didn’t move away.
And neither did she.