Pride-Niklaus's point of view
♕︎ ♕︎ ♕︎
As I opened a portal and stepped through it, teleporting directly to the lab, I was already prepared for whatever awaited me. But when I arrived, I found Scarlet exactly where I expected her—already settled into our usual seat. She sat there, completely absorbed in her thoughts, her face as blank as it always was when she was lost in her own world.
Her eyes, normally bright and full of life, were now distant, staring blankly ahead at the front of the lab room, completely disconnected from her surroundings. It was as if the rest of the world didn't exist for her in that moment. Her iPad was lying idly beside her, untouched, and her phone was equally abandoned. There was a pen lying next to them, like it had been dropped carelessly in her moment of distraction. The only thing that still tethered her to reality was the ear pods in her ears, which I could only assume were playing music.
But it didn't take long for me to notice that even the music couldn't fully pull her back. Her golden eyes held that faraway look—the kind that only comes when someone is deep in thought, lost in their mind, struggling to focus on anything at all. The ADHD was taking hold again.
I'd known Scarlet long enough to recognize the signs. Her ADHD wasn't a new thing. She'd always shown symptoms, even when we were kids, but it wasn't like it was back then. As a child, she had been so hyperactive, bouncing off the walls with a boundless energy that never seemed to tire. She had been a whirlwind—constantly moving, constantly talking, always one step ahead of the world around her. But over time, the nature of her symptoms had changed.
The hyperactivity had given way to an overwhelming attention deficit, a deficit that often consumed her. It wasn't so much that she lacked energy now—it was more that her focus had become scattered. Her mind darted from one thought to the next so quickly that it was a miracle she ever managed to concentrate on anything at all. I could relate to that, in my own way.
My own ADHD, in contrast, leaned more heavily on the hyperactive side. My mind never stopped racing. It was as if a thousand thoughts were always fighting for dominance, and I never knew which one to focus on. But still, I got it. I understood what it was like to feel your thoughts constantly slipping away from your grasp, the inability to slow them down or keep them on one thing for too long.
It wasn't just the ADHD, though. There was something else—the anxiety. The same kind of anxiety that had haunted me for as long as I could remember, and I could see it in her, too. It was the way she was always on edge, like she was waiting for something to go wrong, for something to fall apart. But for me, the real struggle had always been the panic attacks.
They were most intense at night, when the world was silent and the darkness pressed in, amplifying every thought, every fear, until it felt suffocating. No one knew about that part of me—not even my sister. Diana and Samuel were the only ones who understood, the only ones who had seen the way it affected me. That was why, before Inferno even began, they had arranged for me to have a room all to myself. A dorm of my own, tucked away from everyone else, away from prying eyes.
It wasn't just for privacy—it was for my peace of mind. I needed space, I needed silence, because the last thing I wanted was for anyone to find out what I really dealt with when the panic attacks hit. No one—not even my twin—could know. The idea of anyone discovering what I went through in the dark, when everything felt like it was closing in, was too much to bear.
But none of this seemed to matter to Scarlet in the moment. She was so far gone in her head that she didn't even notice when I slid into the seat next to her. It was like I wasn't even there. I couldn't resist, though. There was something about her, about the way she was always so wrapped up in her own world, that made me want to poke at her, to mess with her just a little. So, I reached over and snatched the left ear pod from her ear, slipping it into my own. The sound of Ava Max's Belladonna immediately blasted in my ear, and I couldn't help but smirk.
"What is wrong with you?" she growled, finally snapping out of her daze when she noticed what I had done.
I didn't give her the chance to take it back right away. I held the ear pod just out of her reach as she made a grab for it. "Belladonna is good," I said casually, "but her best song is definitely her collab with Witt Lowry, Into Your Arms." I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if everyone should know this. "Though her singles _Kings & Queens and Cold as Ice are also pretty good."
"Pretty mature of you," she groaned, her voice laced with irritation. "Give it back."
I couldn't help but grin, enjoying the little back-and-forth. There was something so satisfying about teasing her like this. "I don't feel like it," I said, my grin widening. "I want to hear the song too, and there are two ear pods. You don't mind sharing, do you?"
"'Cause I have two ears," she replied matter-of-factly, her tone clearly irritated.
I raised an eyebrow, playing along with her sarcasm. "Really? I thought I was the only one." I couldn't help but laugh, my hand still keeping the ear pod just out of her grasp. Before she could protest again, I hit play and the song suddenly switched to a sped-up remix of The Hills by The Weeknd, mixed with Where Have You Been by Rihanna.
"Now, this one is good," I said, settling back into my seat and letting the beat fill the space between us. "Who could have thought you'd have such a good taste in music?" I said, pretending to be genuinely impressed.
Let's just pretend I didn't hack into all her playlists on Spotify just to see what she liked.
"I'm stunned," I added with a dramatic gasp, acting far more surprised than I actually was.
Scarlet shot me a look that could have burned a hole in the floor. "Go to hell," she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration. "But give me my ear pod back before you leave, Pride-Niklaus. And for your information, I have a good taste in everything."
I couldn't contain my laugh, not even trying to hide the amusement dancing in my eyes. I loved when she got this worked up. It was one of the things that made her so irresistible to me—the fiery intensity that seemed to pulse in her every movement. "Really?" I teased, leaning in a little closer, my voice low and taunting. "What's your favorite blood type, then?"
Her eyebrow arched, her face a mixture of disbelief and amusement, as if she had no idea where I was going with this. "How would you even be able to judge if I have a good taste in that, when you wouldn't be able to tell?" she shot back, her tone cool and mocking. "Since you don't drink blood."
I couldn't help but laugh. Of course, she'd turned the tables on me. But I wasn't backing down. "That's not an answer!" I pressed, unbothered by her retort. "I'm asking what your favorite blood type is. You're a vampire, right? You drink blood. So, what's your preference? What's your idea of good taste when it comes to blood?"
She stared at me for a moment, the tension between us thickening, as if she was carefully weighing whether or not to answer. I could tell she was taking the question more seriously than I'd expected, and part of me enjoyed pushing her to react like this. It was all part of the fun—getting under her skin, prodding at her defenses, trying to get her to slip. And I had a feeling she would. It was just a matter of time.