Brandon had never imagined he'd get used to the concept of a "pretend girlfriend."
Especially not Beth, the goth girl who once looked at him like she was deciding where to stab first.
But here he was, brushing his teeth in front of the mirror in her dorm, half-listening for her footsteps in the hallway. He still hadn't left, he didn't know why.
And weirdest of all?
He didn't mind.
Ashes leapt onto the bathroom counter beside him with the effortless arrogance of a creature who believed the world existed to serve her. She pawed at his toothbrush cup, then stared at him with those too-smart eyes.
"You're not actually a cat, are you?" he asked her. "You're something else."
Ashes blinked. Tilted her head.
If he didn't know better, he'd swear she smirked.
He'd looked it up last night—just out of morbid curiosity. Bakeneko. A yokai. A supernatural cat that could shapeshift, curse people, even speak human language. Maybe she wasn't one. But the way she always knew what was happening, the way she only trusted him and now Beth—he wasn't entirely ruling it out.
She meowed once, like she was amused by his thoughts, then hopped off the counter and padded into the room.
Brandon followed, wiping his face with a towel and trying not to overthink everything. Like the fact that he'd let Beth go hunting alone tonight. That should've been unthinkable, even a week ago. But something in her had changed.
Or maybe something in him had.
They'd argued a bit about it—naturally—but she'd promised to follow his rules. No unnecessary bloodshed. No one who didn't deserve it. No children. No innocents.
Her target was a small-time predator, a local drug pusher who used his stash as leverage over desperate girls. She found him on her own, brought the information to Brandon like it was a gift. Or a test.
He read her eyes. She wanted this. Needed it.
And for once, he didn't argue.
Just reminded her:
"Stick to the rules, Beth."
And she'd said,
"I know. I will. Scout's honor."
She wasn't a scout. But he'd let her go anyway.
Ashes settled on his pillow now, curling into a ball like she'd claimed the spot. Brandon gave her a glance.
"You better not shed on that."
She closed her eyes in smug defiance.
He didn't even try to win that one.
It was almost 1 a.m. when he heard her walking up to her door.
He looked up and waited for the door to open, despite already knowing who it would be.
Beth stepped in hoodie zipped halfway, boots still dusty from wherever she'd been, hair wild but windblown in a way that made her look more alive than usual.
Ashes immediately perked up and chirped, hopping down to wind around Beth's legs.
"Well?" he asked.
Beth dropped into her desk chair, spinning once before planting her boots up on the edge of her bed. "He screamed a lot."
Brandon arched a brow. "Did you follow the rules?"
Beth held up her hands. "Clean, efficient. One puncture. He was out in under thirty seconds. Barely bled."
He watched her, looking for signs of deflection.
Guilt. Pride. Mania.
What he saw instead was… contentment?
She looked satisfied. Like someone who'd finally scratched a persistent itch. No adrenaline high. No wicked glee. Just calm.
"How'd it feel?" he asked, crossing his arms.
Beth tilted her head. "Right. Like justice. You know… your version."
He didn't know what to say to that.
He trusted her tonight, and she hadn't proved him wrong. That in itself was more surprising than anything she could've said.
"Maybe I like your way better," she added softly, then smirked. "Don't get all sentimental about it."
Brandon snorted, walking past her to grab two bottles of water from the mini fridge. He tossed her one, and she caught it easily. "Please. If I got sentimental every time you said something vaguely human, I'd be exhausted."
She rolled her eyes and twisted the cap open.
"You already look exhausted."
"Gee, thanks."
They sat in silence for a while. Beth on the chair. Brandon on her bed. Ashes made her way to the footboard, watching them both like some tiny spectral judge.
There was something strangely… domestic about the whole thing.
Two killers winding down for the night, comparing notes over bottled water. A smug possibly-demonic cat nearby. The low hum of the campus heater kicking in.
Beth broke the silence first.
"You think this is weird?"
Brandon glanced over. "What? Sitting here with you like we're some kind of Netflix couple who forgot to cancel the murder subscription?"
Beth smirked, then quickly hid it behind the bottle.
He smiled too, then let it drop just as fast.
"Yeah. It's weird."
"But not bad weird," she said, almost too quiet.
He thought about that.
No. Not bad weird.
Not bad at all.
"You sticking around tonight?" he asked. "Or am I getting kicked out?"
Beth stretched her legs out further, nudging his foot with hers. "You're the one who nearly bled out two days ago. Besides , it's my room. Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"I'm mostly healed."
She raised an eyebrow.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll stay."
Beth leaned her head back and sighed. "Cool."
Ashes yawned in agreement and padded up the bed like she already knew where everyone was going to end up.
Brandon watched the two of them for a moment longer, a thought nagging at the back of his mind.
This was supposed to be pretend.
A cover.
But the more nights like this they had, the harder it became to draw the line between fake and real.
He didn't know what that meant yet.
But he had a feeling it was going to matter.
And sooner than he wanted.