The soft hum of machines filled the lab, mixing with the occasional scratch of Lena's pen against her notebook.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching her from across the room.
Her brow was furrowed, a smudge of ink across her wrist, her hair messily pinned back.
She looked exhausted but beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.
He stood up quietly and walked over, resting his hands gently on her shoulders.
"You need a break, Lena," he said softly.
She shook her head without looking up. "I'm fine. We're so close, Ethan. I don't want to waste time."
He smiled, even though it hurt.
Her dedication was one of the thousand reasons he loved her.
He crouched beside her chair, so he was eye-level with her.
"Lena," he said, voice low and tender, "I can handle things for a few hours. You're running on fumes."
She finally looked at him, and the worry in her eyes almost made him falter.
"But what if something happens?"
"I'll just clean up the samples and organize the data," he lied smoothly.
"Nothing risky. I swear."
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Go home. Get some sleep. Maybe..."
He grinned.
"Bring me one of those terrible coffees you love so much when you come back."
A soft laugh escaped her lips - tired, but real.
"You're impossible," she muttered, but her fingers found his and squeezed gently.
"Promise you'll call if anything happens?" she said, her voice small.
"I promise," Ethan whispered.
He kissed her knuckles, lingering there for a moment longer than he should have.
Committing her to memory.
She sighed, finally giving in, and gathered her things slowly.
As she reached the door, she turned back one last time.
"You better not screw up without me," she teased, a half-smile on her face.
He smiled back, heart breaking silently.
"I'm always better when you're here," he said.
The door swung shut behind her.
Ethan stood in the empty lab, the echo of her footsteps fading.
He closed his eyes and whispered to the silence:
> "I'm sorry, my love."
Ethan stood there, staring at the empty space Lena had left behind, as if by sheer will he could pull her back.
The lab was colder without her - sterile, hollow, like a body without a soul.
Slowly, he turned to the steel table where the vial sat, glowing faintly under the fluorescent light.
The prototype serum.
It was never meant to come to this.
It was supposed to be a cure - a gift to the world.
Instead, it had become a gamble between life and death.
He knew he couldn't risk Lena.
He couldn't risk losing her to this experiment if it failed.
If anyone was going to bear the consequences, it would be him.
Only him.
---
Ethan walked to the sink and washed his hands carefully, almost ritualistically, as if trying to cleanse the guilt from his skin.
His reflection stared back from the metal -
haunted eyes, tired smile.
He picked up the syringe, drawing the shimmering liquid into it with steady hands.
The needle caught the light - a cold glint of fate.
He sat down at the lab bench, the very place where Lena had laughed with him just hours ago.
Where they had dreamed of changing the world together.
The irony burned in his chest.
He found the vein in his arm with mechanical precision.
His other hand hovered, trembling slightly.
A deep breath.
A whispered prayer.
> "For her," he said to the empty room.
And he pushed the plunger down.
The serum entered his veins with a searing heat that made him cry out.
It was like fire flooding his bloodstream, twisting and writhing under his skin.
He clutched at the table as his body convulsed, knocking over trays of glass slides.
A low, broken moan escaped his throat as the world tilted around him.
Pain tore through him - bones shifting, muscles straining - and yet somewhere, buried beneath the agony, he clung to one thought:
> "Lena."
Not science.
Not the experiment.
Only her.
---
He didn't know how long he lay there - minutes, hours - time became meaningless.
When he opened his eyes, the world looked different.
The colors were sharper.
The lights burned his retinas.
Every heartbeat, every breath around him - he could feel it.
He tried to stand but staggered, catching himself against the table.
His reflection caught his eye again -
and what stared back was barely human.
The veins under his skin had darkened into eerie blue-green webs.
His irises were no longer the warm brown Lena loved but tainted, clouded.
He pressed a hand against the mirror.
It was still him...
Wasn't it?
> "Remember her," a desperate voice inside him whispered. "Don't forget."
He clutched at the memory of her - the way she smiled when she pretended not to know the answer in their experiments,
the little frown she made when she was concentrating,
the warmth of her hand in his.
He would not lose that.
He would not lose her.
---
The door beeped and slid open.
A janitor stepped in, whistling softly, pushing a cleaning cart.
He barely looked up until he caught sight of Ethan.
He froze.
Terror flared in his eyes.
"Sir? Are you okay?"
Ethan tried to speak - to warn him - but the sound that left his throat was a low, guttural growl.
His body jerked forward without his will, driven by instincts he couldn't yet control.
"No..." he thought desperately.
"No, no, no-"
But it was too late.
He lunged.
The janitor's scream echoed through the lab, a horrible, tearing sound, before it was cut short.
---
And so it began.
One bite.
One infection.
The virus spread - a wildfire from one man's broken heart.
But deep inside Ethan's fractured mind, as the darkness closed in, one thing still pulsed like a dying star:
> "Lena..."
"Stay away... stay safe..."
"I love you."
Even as the monster in him grew stronger, the man who loved her refused to let go.
He was still hers.
And always would be.