A/N:

My trial examinations are over, finally! This is a continuation of the flashback since chapter 7. This is written in Zero's POV for the first part, followed by Yuki's, then a short paragraph at then end of Zero's. Enjoy =)

Do not come in. I glared at her, hoping to scare her off but to no avail. She stood there dumbly, holding the keys Cross had thrown at her. "I don't need you," I had told you then. I didn't know it then, but I was lying, even before I started loving you, I had already begun to need you. You gave me a smile and set breakfast on my side table. That was the first time you smiled at me, your sincere smile. At least back then I thought it was sincere. Now, I don't know what to make of it.

"You need to eat to get better." I know that. But our sources of nutrition are different, you see. You'd be my breakfast. "I can take care of myself." You scooped a spoonful of oatmeal, holding it out to me. "Eat it. It's been out so long so if it's too cold let me know. I'll heat it up for you." "I don't like oatmeal." You tried convincing me, as if you were pacifying a little boy. "It's good, healthy food for you, especially since you're injured. It'll help you heal faster. Eat it alright." Why would you care? Why should you? Why should anyone?

But her eyes, stared at me unwaveringly, so clear, so honest, so sincere. I didn't realize it then, but I found myself wanting to believe her; I found myself wanting her to care. I took the spoon from her and swallowed the oatmeal. "It's cold." But I've never felt warmer. She made an apologetic face and hurriedly took the bowl to the microwave. "Here. And I'll make you some porridge alright?" "You don't have to." She smiled, "But I want to."

I couldn't comprehend why she would want to do anything for me after how I had rudely shoved her out of my apartment last night. "Finish it up, alright. Then get some sleep. And when you wake up, there'll be nice, hot porridge for you." She smiled at me again with the same sincerity I wanted to believe. I ate several mouthfuls. She watched me till she was satisfied then went to the kitchenette. I lie down, trying to sleep. But I can't. You're too much of a distraction.

I'm not used to it. Not used to having someone care, not used to having someone to rely on. Not used to appearing weak. She unhinged me. And that thought scared me. I watched as you fumbled your way through my kitchen cabinet noisily. Then, as if in slow motion, I smelled it.

That divine scent. I don't know how but you managed to cut your finger with a scissors. The hunger – oh God! – it hurts. I couldn't resist. I'm starving. Just a lick, just a tiny drop… Anything. I clutched my chest, limping towards the kitchen. She was running her finger under the tap. "Are you trying to nurse me or deafen me?" I took her finger and pressed down on the cut. "I tried that. It doesn't work." I could hear my heart thumping faster and harder. I wanted her. I wanted her blood, there and then. I wanted to take her blood, even if it's just placing her bleeding finger to my lips. I want it, any miniscule drop I can get. That's how desperate I was. That's how pathetic a lowlife like me is.

"Get out." I growled at her. She shuffled to the side, nursing her own bleeding finger. I dragged myself around, making my own porridge. I couldn't risk her anymore. She's so accident prone that if she cuts herself anymore, I'll devour her. I can't risk that. But the hunger, once incensed, couldn't be extinguished so easily. It took almost all of my self-control not to drink from her. And the pain was unbearable. It hurt everywhere. My chest especially, because my inhuman wounds were healing humanly slow and because I was one severely malnourished vampire who couldn't heal properly.

I left the pot to bubble itself while I leaned against the counter to steady myself, to calm myself down. She reached her hand out to touch me. I brusquely pushed it away. "Your hand is hot." "It's the pot you idiot." But I was lying. I dragged myself back to bed, each step more difficult than the last then crashed onto it. I could feel her watching me, trying to gauge me, trying to come closer. Please don't.

I pulled the covers over myself and just to keep her in the kitchenette, told her to make sure the porridge didn't dry up. Hopefully, she doesn't know enough about cooking to know that the porridge wouldn't start drying up for another hour or so. Hopefully, she would just stay put and not come any closer. Hopefully, by the time she gets smarter, this hunger pang will pass. Unfortunately, she got smart way too soon and tried to sponge me with a damp cloth. I had snapped and yelled at her and stupidly hoped that that would be enough to deter her from coming near me. I was wrong.

And I was hungry, absolutely starving. Usually, I tried sleeping through these phases. Usually, there wasn't a distracting presence a mere 5 metres from me. So, when she finally set that bowl of porridge in front of me and told me she had to go to work, I was relieved. Yes, get out. Don't stay near me for too long. Go away. Go as far away as possible. Don't come back. And when the door shut, I inhaled her scent deeply. Hers was a scent that could satisfy my stomach more than that miserable bowl of porridge could.

And after several, long breaths, I couldn't smell her anymore. And I closed my eyes, feeling worse than ever. I tried telling myself that at least I hadn't bitten her. Hell, I didn't even suck her bleeding finger. I didn't do anything wrong. I had done everything in my power to stay away. It wasn't my fault she refused to leave. It wasn't my fault that she was so bloody stubborn. My mutterings, convincing myself that I was innocent, lulled me to a fitful sleep.

The first part of the act was a complete disaster. I played the part of a girl trying to nurse the injured boy back to health. Unfortunately, my lead actor was a complete let-down, refusing my help, pushing me away, scolding me, yelling at me. But I told myself to go with the flow, to endure. Because things were just getting started. I didn't know it then, but deep down I wasn't acting. I was starting to truly care.

So when I came back from work, I was prepared to continue acting the part of the girl sponging the feverish boy throughout the night. But that wasn't what I came back to. I opened the door and the first thing I saw was him, gripping the sides of his bed so tightly that his knuckles were white. There was something very wrong with this. I was just too blind to see it then.

I sat beside him and watched. He was mumbling under his breath. He squeezed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists, gritting his teeth. I thought I heard a choked, strangled cry. At that time, I didn't know what to make of it, didn't know what it was he was going through, didn't know the demons he was facing. I held his hand.

He went berserk. He started shivering slightly. His lips mouthed silent screams. His grip on my hand tightened to the point I thought he was going to wrench it off. I used my other hand to stroke his face, trying to calm him down. That's when he started to tremble terribly.

He started to convulse, blood trickled down the corners of his lips. Then as suddenly as it had started, his eyes flew open and he slammed me against the wall and pinned my arms. His eyes flashed murderously, as if he wanted to kill me; his breath was heavy. It was as if he was in combat mode, ready to kill. We stared at each other for some time, me with confusion and him with blood on his mind.

Then, I think he realised that I was not who he thought I was and his grip loosened. "Sorry…sorry…" he muttered, turning away from me. "It's okay," I reached for his arm but he jerked away. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He sunk on the bed, his head bowed down, this defeated expression on his face. I walked towards him but before I could touch him, he looked up at me and suggested that I leave. It wasn't a suggestion, more of an instruction. And I couldn't bear to say no to him. "I bought supper. It's on the table." And I turned to leave.

I'm a monster. I could have killed you. But your eyes stared at me, not with fear, but with curiosity. You're stupid, you know that, and you're freaking feeding the monster. What the hell is wrong with you? I hoped that that incident would be enough to scare you off for good. But I secretly hoped that you would stay. But do the Gods listen to prayers of monsters? They did listen to me because you didn't leave me then. But that would have been too good to be true. They should have just killed me off.

A/N: If you've been following this story closely, you would realize that the situation here is what Yuki described in a short paragraph in chapter 6.
Thanks for reading and your feedback is much valued =)