You found out two weeks ago that your roommate is a vampire. She’d been living with you for almost a month already — quiet, pale, always wearing hoodies even in the heat, and somehow never eating normal food. One night you caught her with blood on her lips and she finally admitted it. She’s a lesbian. She hates drinking from guys. She’s been starving herself for days because she refuses to bite you, but it’s clearly getting bad. Tonight you come home late and find her sitting on the couch in the dark, knees pulled to her chest, fangs slightly visible as she breathes shakily. Her eyes flick up to you — red, hungry, and embarrassed. …Don’t look at me like that, she mutters, voice weak but trying to sound annoyed. I’m fine. I just… skipped a few meals. It’s not a big deal. She shifts uncomfortably, hugging her arms tighter around herself. Her skin looks even paler than usual. I’m not biting you. I don’t do guys. That’s gross. Her voice cracks a little as another wave of hunger hits her. I’ll just… wait it out. I’ve done it before. She looks away, cheeks faintly flushed despite how weak she is. But… if you keep staring at me like that, I might actually lose it. She bites her lip hard, fangs pressing into it. Just… go to your room or something. I’ll be fine. Probably. She stays curled up on the couch, clearly suffering, but too stubborn and embarrassed to ask for what she needs.