Thaniel had never realized how loud silence could get until something dead stepped into his living room.
She took off her shoes.
Like muscle memory. Like she'd done it a thousand times. Maybe she had.
He closed the door behind her. Slowly. The lock clicked into place with the finality of a coffin lid.
She walked in like she owned the space. Her bare feet made no sound against the floorboards, but every step pressed on the air like gravity had changed. The room dimmed—not by the lights, but by her presence.
The silence pressed in around him. Breathing became an afterthought.
Thaniel stood there, gripping the doorframe like a man remembering how to exist. His heart beat—not from fear, but from surprise it still could. It had been so long since anything made it move.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He just watched.
She moved through the apartment like someone walking through a dream they only half remembered. Touching nothing. Studying everything. Her gaze lingered on the photos still taped to the fridge. One of her was upside down.
He hadn't fixed it. He never fixed anything.
"Where have you been?" he asked, voice low. Quiet. Not demanding answers. Just filling space.
Her eyes drifted toward the window. The rain traced long, crooked lines down the glass, like veins trying to escape the sky. Outside, the flickering streetlight buzzed like something dying. The kind of light that makes shadows shiver.
"I don't know," she said after a while. "One second I was nowhere. Then I was somewhere. Then… here."
Thaniel nodded slowly, almost amused.
"Sounds like college."
She turned toward him sharply. Too sharply. The motion lacked weight, like it wasn't attached to anything real. Her face scrunched as she processed the joke—not offended. Just confused. Like the memory of humor was trying to boot back up.
Then, she nodded.
"Yeah," she said. "I… can't really remember what happened."
Her voice trembled. Slightly.
Thaniel barely reacted. The ache in his chest stirred, but he didn't try to name it. There was no point.
It hurt like she used to. Like it always had. That was enough.
She moved to the table and sat down. Her spot. The left chair. The one that had gathered dust. The one he never used.
"You've changed," she said. "Your hair's longer. You look… tired."
"I am," he said, dragging a chair back with one foot and slumping into it. "That's what happens when you keep waking up."
She didn't laugh. She tilted her head—again, too far. Bones creaked like old wood beneath her skin.
He didn't flinch. He just sighed.
"Want anything?" he muttered. Already walking toward the kitchen. "All I've got is overcooked noodles. Or air. Maybe mold, if you're adventurous."
No reply.
He turned, slowly.
She was watching him.
Not looking. Watching. Like a starving dog watches a door that will never open. Like something inside her didn't understand what a body was supposed to do next.
"Meat," she said finally. "Just… meat."
Thaniel stared into the fridge. One lone piece of plastic-wrapped meat sat on the shelf, red and glistening in that way where you're not sure if it's still food.
He didn't remember buying it.
Didn't remember much of anything anymore.
He held it up. "Raw okay?"
"Perfect."
She smiled.
He didn't.
But he felt something pull inside his chest—some buried reflex of kindness. Or loneliness. Maybe both.
He offered the meat to her, hesitated, then stopped.
The look in her eyes…
It wasn't hunger. It was need. Feral. Primal. Not human.
He would probably lose a hand if he approached her.
So he tossed it instead.
Her eyes locked onto the crimson packet as it flew gently towards her mid-air, her legs suddenly hitting the floor, as if instinct took over her brain.
And then—she pounced. Dust dropped from the ceiling. And what happened next was what Thaniel thought would only come from a nightmare.
The sensitive light above them flashed, as her mouth ripped open, jaw dislocating with a wet pop, her teeth unfolding like something born beneath the sea. Rows upon rows of white, serrated death. The room shuddered. The lights flickered violently.
And then—crunch.
Gone.
The meat vanished in a single, brutal bite.
She sat down hard. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then pushed her hair aside. Her lips were smeared red.
Then she looked up at him… And realized.
There was no shame. Only knowing.
"…Oops," she whispered. "Now you know, huh?"
And for the first time, Thaniel smiled. Just barely.
"Yeah," he said. "Guess I do."
Her mouth started to open again. Wider this time. Eyes locking onto him. Hunger twitching beneath the surface.
But before she could move—
Thaniel was there.
Quiet as breath.
One hand gently brushing a smear of blood from her cheek.
She froze, because something was wrong. Off.
Not with her.
With him.
He wasn't afraid. Not even a little. Her brain ran, questions echoing through her skull. Flashes of dead bodies reacting more than him.
"…You've got blood on your face," he murmured.
Her smile twitched.
Something inside her remembered this moment. Not this exact one—but the shape of it. A warm hand. A soft voice. Eyes that didn't look away even when they should have.
And she realized something. She wasn't the only monster in the room.
But she didn't pull away. Couldn't.
He was so calm. So still.
She leaned into his palm, eyes closing as her jaw trembled.
Yes…
This. This was the warmth she had crawled back for. The warmth she saw in the memories of the corpse. This was the gravity that had pulled her across the veil. Not to feed. Not to kill. To remember.
To be remembered.
Thaniel gently placed a hand under her chin. Closed her mouth. She didn't resist.
"I don't care what you are," he said softly. "As long as you're her… you can stay."
The creature didn't speak. She just nodded, her neck snapped forward, then back, violently.
Thaniel winced. But didn't look away. There was something heartbreakingly familiar in the gesture. Broken, yet trying.
He didn't know if she was wearing his girlfriend's body—or if something had clawed its way through death to see him again.
It didn't matter anymore. He was tired. And this ache inside his chest…
It almost stopped hurting when she was near.