Disclaimer: I have no affilation what-so-ever with Big Wolf On Campus. Pity that.

Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago, but never posted it!

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You're afraid, terrified, shaken to the brittle bones that morph into the monster underneath your skin, the calcium and muscle that changes and there is nothing you can to about it – you are horrified, and it all lies at the feet of a boy. A child, almost, with flesh as clean and ivory as the sky and stars and moon, locks of tangled midnight that stuck into the oddest combination of angles when not styled by handfuls of hair gel, a mind of glass that could shine underneath the shadows, even, fragile, but beautiful.

You can't fight it, the sheer, sweat slicked panic, the rage of trembling, whirl wind emotions that control your thoughts and breath when he's around. You can't help the fact that he is your weakness, he is the only thing you can't seem to wrap your hands and claws around. There is no way you can contort him into a vision of anything that can be understood.

The man – and, if you're being honest with yourself, you too are just a boy – and the beast inside of you agree, if only on this thing, that he is an enigma. He is different, pure in a way that he shouldn't be. Innocent in the way that you used to be, before you understood the way the dark could turn to crimson with the flicker of a whim. Even though he is scared, much more bitter and battered than you, he is still so much more untouched.

And, you think, it's not fair. It just isn't, the way he can be calm and collected and anxiety ridden and fearful, all at the same time. He is everything that you have always silently despised, everything that you once were, everything that you wanted to be, everything, wrapped up into one condensed, nice, broken package.

You're going to hurt him. You know this. You are aware, highly so, more than you wish you were, that someday, there will be nothing – no bars, no consciousness, no humanity left, to keep you from snapping him in two. You're going to destroy him, from the inside out, and there's nothing you can do to change it.

You can fight fate, but you know, deep down, it won't be enough. All the charms and prayers and silver crosses in the world are not going to keep you together. All of his faith you in, every wide eyed smile thrown your way, will not be there to stop you when sanity falls away, when all you are is the demon you fear. You will tear him, rip him apart, sink into the calm of warm, metallic crimson, the heat in his veins that gives him the strength to whisper he believes in you.

In a sick, twisted, disturbing way, you almost want to the boy – your human side – to be there on the day. You want to be witness to his glow, his mind and dreams and heart, becoming yours. It's appealing, really, the thought of him, someone so out of reach, someone so untouchable, unattainable, to belong to you – to be completely underneath your skin.

You're afraid of the way that you can hear his heart pounding, and the way it soothes your mind, and the way it makes your insides curdle. The way his scent is the way home should be, the way it makes you smile, the way it makes your muscles tense, the way it makes your body relax underneath the sun. The way he is so confident in the fact that you will never hurt him – the way you want to prove him wrong.

You're afraid of Merton, because you love him.

And someday, it's going to be the death of you.