"That's the last can. But seriously, you should eat real food."
Real food. Charlie's gums ached. He could feel his fangs trying to descend and fought them back.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"I need to use your bathroom," Charlie said, standing too quickly. The room spun.
He locked himself in Brent's bathroom and gripped the sink, staring at his reflection. His eyes had a reddish tint he'd never seen before. His fangs were partially extended despite his best efforts.
This was bad. This was very bad.
He splashed cold water on his face. It didn't help. He could still hear Brent's heartbeat through the door, could practically smell the blood flowing through his friend's veins.
His stomach cramped again, hard enough that he had to brace himself against the wall. The protein bar was not sitting well. His body wanted to reject everything that wasn't blood.
He needed to get out of here. But where could he go? It was barely past noon. The sun wouldn't set for hours.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Brent was doing push-ups in the living room, his heart rate elevated from the exercise.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
"Feeling better?" Brent asked, not stopping his workout.
"Yeah," Charlie lied, returning to the couch.
His phone was buzzing on the coffee table. Another call from Mr. Denton. Charlie let it go to voicemail.
The message was brief: "8 PM. I'm counting on you, kid."
"Your boss again?" Brent finished his push-ups and grabbed a water bottle. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, and Charlie found himself tracking its path.
"He really needs me tonight."
"Dude, you can barely stand. You're not going to work like this."
"I have to."
"No, you need to rest. Or see a doctor. Or both." Brent sat down next to him, close enough that Charlie could feel the heat radiating off his skin from the workout. "Whatever this is, flu, food poisoning, extreme method acting exhaustion, you need actual help."
"I'll be fine after sunset," Charlie said quietly.
"Why do you keep saying that? What's magical about sunset?"
Probably nothing, but Charlie wanted to believe that nightfall would make everything better somehow. Even if he didn't know how he could get food even if hedidleave this house.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Brent's elevated heart rate was starting to slow, but Charlie could still hear every beat, could practically taste?—
No. He pressed his palms against his eyes.
"Seriously, man. You're scaring me a little." Brent's voice was gentle. "Just lie down for a few hours at least. If you still want to go to work later, I'll drive you."
"Okay," Charlie said, because arguing took energy he didn't have. "I'll rest."
"Good." Brent grabbed a blanket from his closet. "Take the couch. I'll be in my room doing some work, but yell if you need anything."
Charlie curled under the blanket, even though he wasn't cold. His body didn't regulate temperature the same way anymore.But the weight of it was comforting, something to hold him down when every cell in his body wanted to follow the sound of Brent's heartbeat.
