It starts with a shopping spree. In the middle of Asda you discard any pretence of self-control, bouncing from aisle to aisle with the excitement of a little kid. There is no rhyme or reason. Canned hot dogs land next to a joint of lamb, itself wedged between every flavour of Pringles and a frozen vegetarian lasagne. I watch with awe and mounting horror as I realise how much this is going to cost me.

You have two wardrobes, Crow. I know when I spot you walking across the station concourse that a particular jacket means you have recently hunted. Not only hunted, but gorged yourself. It’s the only explanation for how much weight you put on. We nod to one another. Nothing more, not here. Truth is I haven’t had the courage to call you since that evening after Euphoria. But as you patiently wait for the train, I steal glances.

The touch of your hand on her face makes her flinch away but then lean against it. Her cheek feels hot against your cool hand. She answers you honestly, in the most oblique fashion. “Are they really real? Show me…” Your fangs are not flashed in brazen display. Instead, without taking your eyes off hers, you take one of her hands and bring the wrist to your lips. Without pause, only with that same deliberate inevitability, you dip the cutting edge beneath the sensitive skin.

A stag do, leaking slurred Geordie accents at the volume of a football match, staggers along the dockside road. This little seaside town has its charms but such spectacles are not one of them. Most of them amble or shuffle past your steady tread, but one of them seems surprised to find you breaking through the middle of their meandering group. Maybe he doesn’t like the purpose in your tread. Who knows?

The signs were there this morning before you left. No fizzing energy, no drive. Rote answers. I’m winding down again. When you return in the evening you’re the only thing that animates me at all. If I’m a stopped clock, my hands at least judder to the next notch when I look at you. You’re curled up around a hot chocolate I made for you on your request. A warning sign, that I don’t anticipate your desires.

I return from the bathroom. You are in the water again, your face flushed. “I’m surprised you went back in, love. You’re going to get cramp after eating so much!” I push past the trolley which for some reason has been moved to the entranceway. You visibly flinch, just a head peeking up over the side of the pool. “I fancied—oof—a swim to let everything settle down. ~BRAuuuoraAuch~ (‘Scuse me.)”

When you asked what the special occasion was I told you because it was a Friday and I got to spend it with you. You made a gagging noise and threw a cushion at me. As you complete your fifth lap of the hotel’s heated pool, you admit to yourself that maybe Friday is worth celebrating. Fat is lighter than water so swimming is effortless. With each slow, luxurious breaststroke you feel water break over shoulders and swirl along each curve, tumbling away in eddies wherever your body tucks back in.

In a secluded courtyard somewhere. A body still warm but drained of life lay down out of sight. Everything you took was parceled up behind straining shirt buttons. You had the gape, my dear Crow. Shouldn’t have worn such tight clothing. No part of me planned on backing off as you advanced. I was looking into your eyes and then poof, there was a wall behind me. You stopped close enough to kiss.

Another time, another happenstance. Same souls. We caught the same train every day. The crowd was familiar to you as background. You generally refrained from engaging with anyone, and when you fed, you fed lightly, to avoid patterns. I don’t actually know if I stood out to you. We made eye contact a few times and I certainly remember it. Your expression was always intense, like you were thinking furiously. I’ve learned since that you just have Resting Dom Face.

I’d been reeling from being chewed up all day. And we’d spoken about Crow. So it was with some nervousness that I studied your sigil called your name. When I sat up and looked at the darkness shrouding the wall by the foot of my bed, I saw your eyes first. Often do. “Hungry to devour your mind and your resistance”. Your mere words do this to me: reassure me that you want obedience; make it okay if I want to submit sometimes.