Castling

by minhyukwithagun (deadlylampshades)

Chapter 7: Castling

Notes:

please do take heed of the warnings at the start - and as always, and for the last time, enjoy your dose of vampires.

Doyoung always loved gold.

He remembers the necklace adorned around his mother’s neck, the way it used to sparkle in the sunlight, as radiant as if it was enchanted by the very sun itself. It was too precious to be taken out very often. She’d only wear the necklace for church, only for the most glamorous of occasions. It was bestowed to Gahyeon two Christmases past, a most tender gift passed from mother to daughter - but Gahyeon hardly unearthed it out of the drawer. It was too expensive, she said, and she felt unsafe wearing it. Perhaps those reasons were true, but where it comes down to it: Gahyeon doesn’t really like gold.

Doyoung is fascinated by gold. He’s struck by its natural purity, always has been, from the first moment his fingers traced over that necklace and felt the smooth metal beneath. Doyoung doesn’t consider himself to be a man of vanity, and hardly wears jewellery himself, but this devotion extends beyond the passing trends of fashion. Gold is different, and surely something so perfect should be admired and revered.

He’s always loved gold, and perhaps, had he been born a few hundred years earlier, and was a little more reckless, a little more daring, he would have been driven to the allure of alchemy rather than medicine. He would have challenged himself in the dungeons and dark rooms of the world, tried to find how to turn even dust into the purest form of matter.

Alchemy and its origins have possessed much of Doyoung’s time lately, perhaps as a result of his continued alliance with the supernatural - because what is alchemy if not the bridge between what is real and what could be? And what is medicine if not just refined alchemy? Subtracting the mysticism from it, alchemy is about the fundamental human goal of creation and repair, and medicine is just that with the accompaniment of a white coat and a stethoscope.

Still, Doyoung isn’t a fool. Alchemy, was of course, fantastical. No matter how skilled a man, he couldn’t transmute lead into anything other than what it already is. What is, is what will always be. And lead would always be as grey as storm clouds, it would always be heavy as the tide rushing in, it would always just be lead. Alchemists of a hundred years ago were lost in their own idealistic dreams to believe that they could one day harness such power to turn what they believed to be evil into the epitome of purity and regeneration. Yet, Doyoung doesn’t think he’d blame them for their faith, not when he himself gazes upon the pale, bruised flesh of vampires and has visions of of healing.

Vampires in every religion and faith are unholy and damned in all senses of the word and yet possess a regeneration ability unseen by any mortal, to have their flesh heal and their bones reconnect in a matter of seconds, returning to perfection, returning to purity. Could they really be so condemned if they were better suited to the ideals of alchemy than humans themselves? Doyoung, and his natural love of the picturesque, admires gold for that very reason - how could he not admire vampires even more?    

Doyoung won’t resent Jaehyun for succumbing to his hunger. It’s what he wanted from the beginning. His primary goal as his physician had been that Jaehyun was to be healthy and to be happy. If eyes as red as blood was a consequence of that, it was one that would be understood, and accepted, of course, because no matter the colour, he was still his Jaehyun, he was still beautiful with his gentle hands and kind smiles.

But Doyoung can’t deny that the man he had fallen in love with had eyes as gold as honey. 

 

Lucas is not gold. Lucas is sharp-edged silver. Doyoung notices the blades, of course he does, they rattle around the inside of his leather coat like a set of keys as he walks into the office, demanding attention. All curved, all deer-horn knives, the same one stabbed in Jaehyun’s back. All silver. More than just the knives, however, is the cross that dangles from his neck, glinting silver in the sunlight. He’s tall, taller than Doyoung but that wouldn’t be a problem. Surrounded by individuals like Johnny and Sicheng has steadily chipped away at that particular insecurity - but the problem lies in that Lucas is just built differently. An aura of power radiates with every step. His footsteps are so heavy the vase on his desk rattles.

It shouldn’t be like this. This is Doyoung’s home, this is his practice, it’s his name on the door, it’s his life - but Lucas strides in, and sees the neatly stacked shelves of Doyoung’s life and knocks them all down, like he already owns the place. Doyoung has no reason to feel threatened, and yet he does, because all he sees when he stares into his hazel eyes, is Jaehyun’s arm breaking underneath him.

“I do apologize for coming to see you like this. I hope I’m not interrupting,” Lucas says smoothly. He closes the door behind him, and looks back. “Should I lock?”

Doyoung’s voice is as shrill as the rooks. “Please do.”

“May I have a seat?” Lucas asks, and he stands behind the chair, a picture of politeness until Doyoung finally commands the muscles in his face to nod. “I see you have a teapot. Shall I pour us a cup?”

Based on his reputation, Doyoung had built up a sharp-edged image of Lucas in his mind, one of a violent and sadistic killer with little mercy and even less patience. After all, it was Yuta who had recounted, so casually, of Ten’s face being planted into the concrete until his entire fang shattered. Jaehyun had a knife inside of him to this day. But yet, here Lucas was, the cause of all of this, using those same hands to pour tea into two cups, even asking Doyoung his preference for sugar and stirring for him. Doyoung would wonder if it was even the same man, if not for the flash of silver underneath his jacket every time he shifts.

“Thank you for taking the time to see me. I’m aware you must be busy, but it seems we have several overlapping interests without ever actually having met, and I felt like I should remedy that. I hope we can have a productive discussion,” Lucas says. He speaks so carefully, so dignified. “Now, I was hop-”

“How do you know who I am?” Doyoung blurts out, nails digging into the sides of his thighs. He’s sitting on the chair he always sits in, and there’s power to be associated with this chair, it’s where he gives diagnosis, draws blood, administers medicine - but there’s none that exists now.

Lucas blinks, and it’s so reminiscent of Jungwoo, that innocent confusion. “Sorry?”

“How do you know who I am?” Doyoung repeats, enunciating each word clearly. His voice is higher than usual.

“Jungwoo told me,” Lucas says, as if it’s simple. “Jungwoo told me all about you.” His face changes, as he seems to settle deep into thought, tea cup pressed to his lips. “Jungwoo doesn’t make a lot of friends, as I’m sure you can imagine. Most people want to kill him, and those that don’t are terrified that he’ll kill them. But you? You seem to be an exception.”

Lucas is defensive, like he’s unsure if he dares lower the drawbridge for Doyoung.

“I like Jungwoo,” Doyoung says. “I like him a lot. He’s a good person with a kind heart. His circumstances are less than desirable, but the very fact that he’s alive and still as soft speaks volumes about his character. Any lesser person would have grown bitter with the world around them, but he remains sweet.”

Lucas considers him carefully. “You’ve left quite an impression on him, you know? You’re probably his first friend in years.”       

Loneliness seems to smother Doyoung’s life. Wherever he goes, he carries it around with him, from the cramped corners of his university dorm to the claustrophobic house with Taeyong and it even weaseled its way in his suitcase all the way to Rookswood. It’s become such a constant in his life that it may as well be appended to his title. Yet his isolation was always internal in nature, he always knew that the cause of his own turmoil was himself and his own wretched weaknesses - and what a contrast that is to Jungwoo, who should never have felt so alone, not when he radiated such purity, not when he deserved so much better.

“Jungwoo deserves better,” Doyoung says. “He shouldn’t have to live like that. Shouldn’t have to be so afraid of himself and what’s around him.”

“I didn’t believe him, you know.” Lucas sips his tea, leaning back in his chair. He crosses one of his legs over the other, making himself more comfortable. “It sounds insane, you realize that, right? This human doctor from this bird-infested town meets the most volatile vampire in the world and instead of running away screaming, befriends him? Cleans up his wounds, washes his face, gives him blood?”

“Where’s the problem in that?”

“No problem at all,” Lucas says, almost smiling. Not quite, though, not quite. It doesn’t reach the corner of his mouth. “Pleasantly surprised, actually. Jungwoo doesn’t get out often, as a consequence of his nature, so I am rather pleased that he’s made a friend, particularly one as selfless as you seem to be.”

Doyoung’s tea stands neglected.

Lucas’s eyes fall on the cup with distaste. “But we’re not here to talk about Jungwoo though, are we?”

“No, I don’t think we are,” Doyoung says. The rose on his desk has died, and he wishes it hadn’t. Decay creeps in on the petals, the edges brown and limp.

“You know, it’s been thirteen years,” Lucas drawls out. “That’s a long time for people like you and me. How old were you thirteen years ago? You were probably still in school, weren’t you?”

Thirteen years ago, Doyoung was so young and unassuming,  and vampires were just those stories spoken about in hushed whispers.

Lucas stretches out his arms and starts cracking his knuckles. The joints pop loudly. “Thirteen years pass, and now, suddenly Jungwoo’s talking about him again. Saying I should ‘forgive’ Jaehyun. He’s stopped that tirade for ages, had given up on it completely.” Lucas says Jaehyun’s name like it’s a sour taste in his mouth. 

“You should listen to him, Jaehyun doesn’t deserve to die, he just wanted to help Jungwoo, Jungwoo asked him-” Doyoung begins to babble, unable to stop himself, but cuts himself off upon noticing Lucas’s glare.

“Well, you’re quite a clever little doctor, aren’t you?”

The rooks caw outside the window, punctuating each silence with their own screeches.

 “Don’t mistake yourself for thinking that you know the full story because you’ve had half a conversation. This is far beyond you. What Jaehyun did to me was unforgivable, and he knows that. Why do you think he’s run? He knows that I’m coming - and he knows he deserves it.”

Doyoung knew Jaehyun wasn’t in Rookswood. There were numerous reasons to suggest that, of course, why else would Johnny have hired him back? Yet all rationality fell in favour of the one truth: if Jaehyun had been here, his rose would have been replaced. He knew this, and yet Doyoung still didn’t expect it to hurt quite so much to hear it spoken aloud.

“You don’t have to look so solemn. It’s not like my intention is to stop here for tea before I crack his skull on my way home. I don’t know where he is. I just know he isn’t here.” Lucas sighs. It’s disorientating how easily he talks of violence.

The realization that those were the same hands that stabbed that knife in Jaehyun’s shoulder is ice running through his veins. “Hasn’t Jaehyun suffered enough?” Doyoung asks, trying not to beg.

“No,” Lucas says. “No, he hasn’t.”

His heart threatens to collapse.

“You haven’t seen what his life is like,” Doyoung tries even if his own chest pains so much he can’t breathe, “He’s so lonely, he’s injured, he has your knife inside of him-”

Lucas’s eyes snap up at that. “That’s not possible, surely.”

“I’ve seen it myself,” Doyoung says.

He has seen the most grotesque of bodily trauma in his studies, bones broken and splintered glowing white like the moon, blood gushing like waterfalls, and yet it is that dagger that haunts him the most, curved in his shoulder, surrounded by cauterized flesh, somehow burnt and still burning.

“That’s…” Lucas falters for a moment. His fingers drift to his own belt, at the knives that hang from it, and he almost seems to reconsider - and then regains himself. “That’s hardly my concern. I’ve made an oath in blood and I intend to follow it.”

“And what was the oath?” Doyoung asks. There has to be something, something in those spindly letters. “Why can’t you just stop?”

“I swore I’d never let Jaehyun hurt Jungwoo again,” Lucas says, so simply and so casually, like it’s nothing, like it’s not Jaehyun’s life that’s contained in those shallow breaths.

“He wouldn’t.”

Lucas snorts in derision. “You need to understand, back then, there was no one I could trust. And even knowing this, I considered Jaehyun to be one of the good ones. All vampires are a cancer to themselves and the people around them, but Jaehyun…” Lucas trails off, critically surveying Doyoung, “Well, he has good self-control, doesn’t he?”

It’s the strangest thing, really. Among human society, it’s wealth that puts people above the rest. It’s the material trappings of cars and houses and gold that’s as equally enviable as it is admirable. Even Doyoung falls victim to this, having been enamoured by the size of the manor he now lives in, the tallest house on the hill just like he dreamt about. It’s nothing like that for vampires.

What use do immortal beings have for money? Restraint is the value that sets someone above the rest, and Jaehyun must truly have been a beacon of indomitable will if his reputation survives throughout all this time.

And yet, despite that, despite even the hunter himself acknowledging his self-control, Jaehyun still drank when Doyoung beckoned him to. Perhaps he would have been better off if he had never met Doyoung at all. And if that isn’t a thought that pierces itself in Doyoung’s mind.

“Jaehyun was someone I trusted. I knew who he was, he knew who I was, we kept out of each other’s way and that’s all that it needed to be. We could co-exist like that. And then he made it personal, then he… he turned Jungwoo.” His grip on the cup tightens. “All I ever tried to do was protect Jungwoo. I’d never sleep, never eat, I’d just keep watch over him. And what was the point, if he just fucking died anyway?”

His voice rattles.

“But you know this, I’m certain,” Lucas continues. “He said that he told you his history?”

“They wanted to kill him,” Doyoung says. He tries to sound diplomatic but there’s no way to phrase it that doesn’t seem damning. 

“‘They’,” Lucas repeats, spitting out the syllable. He jerks back, hands shaking and puts down the teacup before the liquid splashes over the sides. “It would be more appropriate to say ‘everyone’. I’ve never seen such a display of fucking unity between vampires and humans in my life.”

Trauma manifests in different manners physically. Doyoung is no psychologist, and never pretends to be either, but physicians are expected to know the basic signs, enough to get by. And Doyoung can’t stop himself observing the way in which Lucas’s posture is as bolt upright as an arched bow, or how his eyes constantly scan the room, the way every now and again his fingers linger on one of the cruel knives that hang around his belt.

Perhaps he wasn’t the one who was being hunted, perhaps it was never his life on the line - but Doyoung doesn’t think that stopped the paranoia from creeping in his mind and never leaving. It doesn’t excuse the things he’s done -  but Doyoung keeps it in the background of his thoughts, that Lucas might just be another patient in need of help. 

“I didn’t think that of all people I had to worry about Jaehyun. He was always wrapped up in the business of his own coven. I knew what he could do, but why would he ever anger me? And here he came, out of nowhere and just-” Lucas grits his teeth so hard, the muscles of his jaw spasm. “He took my Jungwoo away from me. I trusted him, Doyoung, I trusted him and he turned him. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“Jungwoo asked him to,” Doyoung says, can’t stop himself, but he barely finishes talking before Lucas snaps.

“Jungwoo made an impulsive decision that cost him the rest of his life!” Lucas slams his fist on the table. The teacup rattles, and for a moment the only sound in the room is the shaking ceramic. “He wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously he wasn’t. I found him drenched in blood, surrounded by corpses, he was in not the correct frame of mind to just throw away his life like that, his humanity.”

Lucas inhales. He takes a moment to calm himself down. He picks up the cup and sips, and when he speaks, it’s calmer. “It’s why I never killed Jaehyun then and there. The sun was set to rise soon, and I hadn’t… I hadn’t realized that Jungwoo would no longer be able to…” The words are uneasy, unformed. “I had to get to him before the sun. Jaehyun told me where he was - but he also waited until the last possible moment. Self-preservation clearly is another one of his strong suits, isn’t it? I didn’t want to leave, I knew I might never find him again but I couldn’t lose Jungwoo.”

In his mind, Doyoung can see the black city sky, and the blood running on the pavements. “So you swore a blood oath?”

Lucas holds up his hand. “It was here.” He rubs the meeting point of his palm and wrist. “Nice thing about blood oaths, I suppose, is how convenient they are, doesn’t matter where it is, it’s just the blood that matters. I wasn’t happy about losing a knife, but, I was in a rush. Didn’t really have the time to pull it out.”

His skin is unblemished. Healed. He’s tracing a phantom laceration.

“If I couldn’t even trust Jaehyun, who can I trust? No one. And yet again Jungwoo and I are alone in the world. I never wanted to be a hunter, Doyoung, I was never born a hunter but when you live to see everyone trying to tear apart the person you love the most in the pursuit of who gets the most money, you can’t just let that happen and not do anything about it.”

Doyoung doesn’t want to feel compassion for him, doesn’t think he deserves to - but can’t stop himself. It must have been so difficult. For Jungwoo, certainly, but for Lucas as well, ultimately helpless against the rest of the world. It affects him to this day. “Why was he so hungry all the time?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas says, running his hands through his copper hair. “I could never figure it out. He’s been like that since we were young, and it’s gotten worse as he grew older. Suddenly feeding just once a day wasn’t enough, he needed more, and he always, always killed when he was by himself. I tried to go with him whenever possible, and I’d stop him from going near the edge, but… he started slipping away from me. Feeding while I would sleep. I should have been more careful, I realize that now, but it was so difficult, I was just so exhausted all the time.”

Lucas has a youthful face, a full head of healthy hair - but his eyes carry a burden within them that make him seem as ancient as the rest.

“Jungwoo never deserved any of that. I know you know this, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Jungwoo is more than just a hunt,” Doyoung says, heart swelling with sympathy. 

Lucas gazes down at his hands. “I’ve loved him since I was twelve years old. We had these plans for the future. Places we wanted to go to, the life we wanted to build. I wanted to grow old with him, and I lost that. Well, no. I didn’t lose that. Jaehyun took that away from me.”

Plans for the future. Doyoung wondered what that felt like, to be able to fathom a tomorrow with Jaehyun. He can’t even do it now, can’t imagine a reality outside of Rookswood and it’s tall trees and cawing birds. Rookswood, which consumes his conscious and unconscious mind.

“I don’t need a blood oath to affirm that I was always going to protect Jungwoo. But how am I supposed to do that if I’m going to die? Jungwoo is going to live and he’s going to outlive me. How do you expect me to forgive someone who took that away from me?”

“Lucas, you can’t hold Jaehyun accountable for that, Jungwoo asked him-” Doyoung protests, trying to ignore that feeling in his blood, like it’s being weighted with lead. This has become too personal. It’s stopped being about Lucas, and started being about his own mortality.

Lucas surveys Doyoung. “You really love him, don’t you? You’re still defending him to my face.” There’s an unspoken implication at the end of that, there’s the reality that Lucas could snap Doyoung’s neck in the time it would take him to breathe, and even then, he still dares to argue.

“I do,” Doyoung says, raw. Saying it out loud just makes it hurt more.

There’s pity in Lucas’s eyes. “Jaehyun doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you. You have your whole life ahead of you, you’re a doctor, why are you just throwing everything away…” Lucas trails off. “I’m not happy about the fact that a human has been involved in this whole affair.” 

“That’s a bit hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?” Doyoung says and can’t stop himself from snorting.

And Lucas stares at him for a long time.

“Oh,” he finally says. “You don’t know. Not many people know, actually, it shouldn’t surprise me, but for all your knowledge about vampires, clearly they don’t trust you with everything.”

“What do you mean?” Doyoung asks, and there’s a sinking feeling that’s overcoming him.

Lucas unfastens one of his deer-horn knives. The blades makes the cruellest of angles, and he does not hesitate, barely blinks as he lets the edge pierce a jagged line down his palm, over his wrist. Blood gushes down like a river, and now Lucas lets himself feel the pain, face twisting in agony. His exhale is as sharp as the knife itself. He shoves the blade back in the holster and slumps back in the chair, pressing the wound to his lips with his other hand, the blood trickling onto his tongue drop by drop. His mouth curves upwards.

Ivory fangs smile at him.

“You can’t be a vampire,” is all Doyoung can murmur because it’s not possible, it isn’t, it’s daylight, his eyes are the deepest and softest shade of brown, not red, but-

“Halfling. Just like Jungwoo.” He pauses. “Just like Jungwoo was.”

Blood still flows. The contortion of pain on his face is so human, it’s so unlike the injuries he’s seen on the vampires, the careless way they ignore wounds. 

“When it comes down to it, I’m almost as human as you are,” Lucas says simply. “I don’t heal. We don’t heal, Doyoung. We die.”

Doyoung has all the necessary equipment in this room. He has the alcohol to sterilize the wound, the bandages to wrap around his palm, the morphine to make the ache more bearable. But he doesn’t. For the first time, he just sits back and watches his patient bleed. 

He’s uncomfortable with his own apathy. He’s spent too much time with vampires, become too familiar with blood - he doesn’t react, it doesn’t affect him. Blood is blood, and if gold is the purest thing in the universe, blood claws its way to a close and messy second.

“Jungwoo said halflings get the worst of both sides of humanity and vampirism,” Doyoung says.

“A lust for blood - but with the mortality that we both face. You get it now?” Lucas asks, teeth gritted. 

Doyoung realizes, to his own dread, that he and Lucas have more in common than he could have ever imagined. They share that unique pain of being devoted yet hopelessly mortal towards someone who would live forever. Who would outlive them.

“Jungwoo would have grown old with you,” Doyoung realizes and he can’t stop himself from saying it outloud.

“He would have.” It hurts Lucas to say it, it’s vivid in his face. He presses down on the laceration over his palm, grimacing. “You know, Doyoung, I’m a man of faith before anything else, even before I’m a hunter. And, as I’m sure you know, vampires don’t have a soul. There’s no afterlife for them, there’s no reincarnation. There’s just an end. When a vampire dies, if a vampire dies, there’s nothing more.”

Lucas looks up at him. He looks disarmingly human. “I have a soul. I have a heartbeat, I have breath in my lungs and I have a soul. If you have a soul, you have the capability of redemption. Maybe I’ve already accepted there was going to be no future for myself and Jungwoo in this life, but Doyoung, I believed in the next.” His voice threatens to crack. “Or the one after that. Or after that. I believed that there’d be one existence in space and time where I’d have him and he’d have me and we’d be together. And I… I’m not going to get that anymore, am I?”

The concept of a soul is so wholly abstract that it barely penetrates the thinnest of layers of Doyoung’s worldview. He’s a man who studies the body, who studies the tangible maze of veins and arteries through skin, organs and bone. Something as non-specific and shapeless as a soul can’t even be considered as something to be lost - but to Lucas, it’s everything.

“I’m going to die and I’ll be reborn, and I’ll be reborn alone. And this cycle will continue. And Jungwoo’s just going to be here. Alone. Forever.”

Doyoung doesn’t know what to say to him. Doesn’t think there’s a single word in any language which can comfort him, which can make this any less painful than it is.

“Doyoung, I came here to tell you that I have no intention of hurting you, and I never will. I don’t kill humans.”

There’s conviction in that voice. There’s indomitable will behind that.

“How did you even come here?” Doyoung says, and his voice is soft.

“Your mayor called me. Apparently vampires are as common as rooks here,” he snorts. “He told me he knew where Jaehyun was, and well, I’ve always been very persistent. But again, I’m not here to scare you. It’s the very opposite.”

Doyoung knows that a part of him is afraid of Lucas, absolutely. But there’s a part that pities him, that knows the hatred that consumes him is just overcompensating for his own insecurities about his mortality. And then there it is, the empathy of it all, that Doyoung knows exactly how that feels, to be one step behind.

“I came here to give you advice, mortal to mortal, to tell you to let Jaehyun go.”

Doyoung thinks he would have preferred if Lucas just started breaking his bones. This is what it feels like.

“He took away my eternity, don’t let him take away yours. He’s lived a long time, his hands are stained with so much blood, they can never be scrubbed clean. You have the chance to live, to be reborn, to be human. Don’t throw it away. You’ll be better off without him, and I’m certain he’d know I’m right.”

“You can’t just say something like that and expect me to agree.”

“You’re human,” Lucas shrugs. “Your memory is fragile and fragmented. You’ll get over him, you’ll forget him and you’ll be better off for it.”

Lucas downs the last of his tea and stands up, after he places the cup delicately in the saucer. “And thank you for taking care of Jungwoo. You didn’t have to - but you did, and I’ll always remember that.”

“Where are you going?” Doyoung asks, fearful of the answer.

“Oh, I’ll be around. Just going for a hunt.”

 

♜

 

He stays. He hears the townspeople talk about him. He’s not quite staying, but he keeps visiting, keeps walking around town, stalking and listening like he’s one of the rooks. What Doyoung manages to gather from his patients is that they think Lucas is a visitor from the city conducting private business. He attracts attention, as any foreigner does, but his demeanor is polite and he makes casual conversation when spoken to - so, it’s hardly a matter of discussion at all.

They don’t even notice Jaehyun is gone.

Mr. Huang is the first one who does. Doyoung is inspecting his wrist, pleased with his progress after his sprain when he looks up at him, and says in his clear voice: “Do you know where Jaehyun went?”

Doyoung almost drops the hand he’s holding. He hadn’t heard someone use his name in so long - even longer from the Rookswood residents themselves. “Oh,” he swallows. “I think he has business in the city?”

He doesn’t even sound convincing to himself.

Mr. Huang nods. “Ah, that makes sense. I do recall he’s from there, after all. Perhaps some family troubles - or a visit, if a more pleasing possibility.”

“I didn’t think anyone would notice he was gone,” Doyoung says, flexing the muscles of Mr. Huang’s hand. He winces, ever so slightly, and then it passes.

“I did. I also noticed when you were gone,” he says simply. “I asked our Mayor and had a brief discussion about it. I’m glad he decided to take my advice to heart and call you back. You’re a much needed breath of fresh air in Rookswood, I think.”

Doyoung had treated Mr. Huang since he first arrived in Rookswood - met him on the first or second day, wasn’t it, at that party Johnny threw. He had been short, unassuming, and Doyoung had never thought much of him then, besides that of his future patient. He had no idea that Mr. Huang had any sort of opinion towards Doyoung.

“Thank you,” Doyoung says, unsure. He sits back in his chair, and busies himself by writing up the necessary prescriptions. His eyes can’t focus on the ink and he misspells the same word three times. Concentration eludes him. “I’m sorry, did you say you spoke to John-, ah, the Mayor?”

“Yes,” Mr. Huang says, fastening the cuffs on his blazer. “I was highly upset to show up for my weekly appointment and find that you weren’t here. The Mayor mentioned something silly about a disagreement, but I’m older than he is, and let him know that no disagreement can be worth letting you go. I can decisively tell him that you’re the best physician Rookswood has ever had.”

Doyoung blanches under the praise, feeling very much like a plant with leaves curling away from the light. “Mr. Huang, I hardly think I deserve such commendation, I’m just trying to be the best doctor I can.” And he doesn’t even think he’s really done that very well either.

Mr. Huang steps off the therapy bed and picks up his hat from where it sits on Doyoung’s desk. “You’re nothing like any other doctor I’ve seen. The raw empathy and humanity I see from you is so unlike so many in your field. The fact that you are so young and already so responsible? The Mayor would be a fool to let you go, and I made that clear to him.”

It’s a thankless job, really. He knows that people like Taeyong and Taeil who save actual lives, they get the gratitude they deserve. They get flowers, they get tear-stained letters, they get the warmth in the eyes of children who are not left orphans - and they deserve it. They do actual good in the world.

What Doyoung does is prescribe headache pills and bandage the injuries incurred by a cooking knife. No one really thanks him, and it would be foolish to expect anyone to either. They pay him, after all, and it’s not like it’s anything difficult. He studied six years - and all he does on a regular basis can be summarized in two chapters of a textbook. But to hear that someone, that such a well-respected member of the community, of the Rookswood elite, favours Doyoung, thought that he was so essential that he stood up to Johnny for him - it’s almost unbelievable.

The reason why Doyoung is here, why Doyoung is back where he belongs, is because of this man who barely reaches up to his shoulders.

“Thank you Mr. Huang. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this,” Doyoung says, bowing his head.

“Good. For what it’s worth, I think you do belong in Rookswood. In the beginning you were odd, certainly, but now you fit in. I do hope you think of Rookswood fondly, because I’m certain Rookswood thinks of you in that way.”

Doyoung scribbles out his prescription and bids his goodbyes all the while attempting to comprehend that somehow in this entangled web of this town, he’s fit in, assimilated among the silky strands. He can’t even argue against it. It’s true, undoubtedly so, he’s become hopelessly interweaved in the strings and stories of this town and despite everything, it’s his home.

He doesn’t even realize he’s started doodling on his prescription pad until there’s a knock on his door and he startles. Mr. Choi was only due to show up at noon, it surely can’t be him yet - but Doyoung calls out, “coming!” and opens his door.

“Doctor,” Sua says, her blue-eyed gaze bearing down at him. “Am I interrupting?”

Doyoung breathes out a sigh of relief. “No, not at all. It’s good to see you again, Sua.” He gestures to the seat, tempted to have Kun whip up a pot of tea for them, but she shakes her head.

“I would love to, but I really can’t. Mr. Seo has left me with so much work to do, he wants the sheets of the guest rooms stripped and laundered and it’s already getting late in the day.” Sua’s eyes all but drip with exhaustion.

Doyoung frowns. “Are you sleeping enough?”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Sua is quick to reply. Her smile is sincere. “Are you?”

It’s sweet of her to ask. “It’s good to be back,” Doyoung says, and both of them realize that’s not an answer at all. 

“Myself and Kun missed you terribly. We hadn’t realized how quiet this manor is without you,” Sua says, still lingering in the hallway. “But where is Mr. Jung? His house has been empty for ages.”

It’s the first time Jaehyun’s been such a popular topic. It would have hurt less if she had just spat acid in his face. “He’s away for some time. Family problems. He should be back soon.” Doyoung does try his best to smile.

Sua’s brows lift. “You don’t know where he is?” 

“I…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Doctor. I know he means a lot to you,” Sua says, and alarm bells start ringing in Doyoung’s head and they are so loud they drown out every other thought. Sua must surely hear as well, it’s thunderous. She’s visited his house, she’s seen the bloodstained sheets-

“Doctor, I’ve tried my best to help where I can,” Sua says and her voice is as calming as the ocean. “Kun as well. We’ve taken care of any dead rooks where possible. And, for what it’s worth, we both hope he’ll return soon.”

“You know,” is all Doyoung can manage to stammer out.

Sua purses her lips. “I was there the year the rooks died. I was so young when he moved next door, and he’s never aged a day since. Everyone else forgot, but I didn’t. And there always were the legends that persisted throughout time. The ones about how rooks can’t withstand the smell of fresh blood in the mouths of the undead.”

Doyoung gazes at her in something akin to desperation. “Did you tell…”

“No. Never. I would never tell Mr. Seo. But,” she hesitates, fiddling with a strand of her hair. “I’m actually here on behalf of him. He’s requested to speak with you.”

He tries to keep his expression neutral. “Did he give a reason?”

“Said he required a meeting with you,” she says. “Said you never spoke since you returned from the city.”

They hadn’t. And Doyoung wasn’t foolish enough to think that Johnny would just forgive the blatant disobedience without a slap on the wrist It’s not really up for a discussion, it never was.

“I’ll be on my way then,” Doyoung says with false enthusiasm. He rises from his feet and meets Sua in the doorway, where he pauses. “Sua, thank you. For not… telling anyone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Doctor, I would never,” she says, and her eyes sparkle. “It’s all just silly legends, regardless. We all know there are no vampires in Rookswood,”

 

The neatness is austere. Doyoung’s memory of Johnny’s desk is one where papers tower, high and plentiful, and pens scatter around the desk. A forgotten tea set lies on a cabinet shelf, and there’s always an umbrella in the corner, just in case it ever rains. Spring cleaning has come, evidently, as his desk is polished, varnish shining off the corners of the dark wood.

“Have a seat,” Johnny says with forced politeness.

They haven’t spoken since Doyoung returned, not properly. The letter was signed in his name but upon seeing Doyoung at the table for lunch, he resolutely ignored him, focusing on reading the newspaper. He had been skipping meals since, dining at friends or privately, and the few moments that he does come into contact with Doyoung, it’s mere pleasantries that are exchanged .

  “It’s good to see you’ve settled in,” Johnny says, and to his credit, he only sounds slightly like he wants to strangle Doyoung. His hair is neatly combed and the top button of his shirt is undone - it is rather hot today, after all.

“Thank you for giving me my job back,” Doyoung says. It’s sincere. He didn’t know what he’d end up doing if he had to spend another day in Gahyeon’s house, how much longer he’d be able to avoid Taeyong and Taeil for much longer either.

“There was a surprising amount of requests,” Johnny says, teeth gritted. “I hadn’t thought you’d make quite such an impression upon the citizens of Rookswood. Clearly, I was wrong.”

Doyoung nods, not daring to reply.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, our neighbour has left. A day after you, actually. He doesn’t seem to be returning anytime soon. At first I had wondered if you two had run off into the sunset together, but he came to speak to me himself, with more bravery and stupidity I thought he possessed. Jaehyun always does seem to surprise me.”

“He spoke to you?” Doyoung struggles to keep his voice measured. It’s difficult, though. It’s the first piece of concrete information he’s heard of Jaehyun in weeks, and his chest fills.

“He did,” Johnny says and shrugs. “It was by no means a heart to heart, but he told me you’d be at your sister’s and that I should hire you back. I told him to go to hell. Highly productive discussion.” He snorts. “He disappeared shortly afterwards, and I cannot begin to imagine where he’d go. No one wants him.”

Doyoung hadn’t even told Jaehyun he’d be at Gahyeon’s. He must have just assumed. Jaehyun was always perceptive like that.

“And, for what it’s worth, my problem was never really with you. It was with your relationship with him,” Johnny spits.  “So, now that he’s gone, I see no need why we cannot work towards a point of mutual understanding.”

He speaks with such finality, as if he already has the confirmation that Jaehyun will never return to Rookswood, which is ridiculous, of course he will, he would never leave Doyoung here. It’s just a matter of time - and Doyoung knows how to be patient.

“That sounds gracious,” Doyoung says, senses dullened.

“It is,” Johnny agrees. “But I’ve always been the kind to give second chances, that’s always been a flaw of mine. Even when Jaehyun looks me in the eye and lies to my face, I still let him live here.”

Johnny’s face contorts in an expression of disgust and his voice takes on a higher tone. “‘Oh Johnny, of course Jungwoo is dead, I killed him myself, why else would I have a knife in my back, I don’t want your money but please let me stay here, I’m so scared that the big mean vampire hunter is coming after me’.”

His Jaehyun impression leaves much to be desired. Johnny seems entertained, and laughs at his own joke. “Then, of course, I find he’s been secretly sending letters to that abomination and he confesses everything, babbling that ‘it was close enough’. But, even then, I forgave him, lended him a second chance, because he did keep all his other promises. That’s just the kind of person I am, I can’t help my own compassion.”

He regards Doyoung with interest. “Still, even if he betrayed me, I trust you.”

Doyoung blinks. “You know Jungwoo?”

“Of course I know Jungwoo. He should have been dead some thirteen years ago, but that’s what you get when vampires do a job that hunters should have done.” Johnny seems to find Doyoung’s shock amusing.

There’s something odd. There’s something odd about how Johnny called Lucas in the town himself, but also speaks of Jungwoo and the money placed upon his head for his demise. There’s something odd but Doyoung can’t begin to place it, not now, not when Johnny is currently looking over him from the steeple of his hands. 

“Still, shouldn’t bring up the past, should we? We should move on.”

Doyoung nods, even as he disagrees vehemently.

“There’s a hunter here,” Johnny says, more to himself, eyes drifting to the open window. “I’m sure you’ve noticed Lucas around.”

Doyoung halts, unsure if he should admit his own connection to Lucas. “You’ve seen him?”

Johnny seems to repress a laugh. “I know him by name. I assume he’s waiting for Jaehyun. A rather futile errand in my opinion, it’s quite clear Jaehyun never intends to come back here - and if he does, he won’t be here for very long, not while the hunter stalks around the shadows. Still, I sleep more comfortably at night knowing my town is safe.”

He wonders why Johnny is pretending like he didn’t call Lucas here himself. If that just wasn’t the Rookswood style of speaking though, holding back half of the sentence, disguising everything in pleasantries, even as the spindle fibres under the skin of their story begin to show. 

“Do you think he’ll be here long?” Doyoung asks, voice squeakier than he intended.

Johnny gazes out of the window, and a smile crosses his face as he watches a pair of rooks fly past. “Oh, I wouldn’t be able to say. Still, nice to know people like him are still around, isn’t it?”

Johnny always finds the way to crush Doyoung’s heart in the most precise manner, his fingers bending into cracks that were already there.

 

♜

 

He dreams of Jaehyun. The first night he dreams of him, it hurts to wake up. There’s a vacancy of roses in the manor and the lack of colour creeps into his unconscious mind. Decay claims the remaining few and Kun tactfully disposes of them before Doyoung notices. He sees them anyway.

In his dream, the rose garden again is luminous, and the flowers are in full bloom, and this time his mind conjures a phantom Jaehyun to tell him how much he loves him. His skin is sparkling and his eyes are golden, and Doyoung’s heart doesn’t stop aching when he wakes up and knows he’s still alone.

Some nights he dreams of piano music. He dreams of his slender fingers on gentle keys playing a familiar tune, playing their song, and then it progresses further the deeper into his mind he goes, as Jaehyun beckons Doyoung towards him and pins him to his piano, his mouth on his skin, teeth ripping into his neck and his hand between his thighs. He remembers wishing for Jaehyun to go harder, and he always does, and he always holds Doyoung close to him. Some nights it’s not the piano that gets manifested, sometimes they make it to the bed, and Jaehyun takes his time in pulling Doyoung apart, savours every taste - and sometimes they don’t, sometimes Doyoung begs for his touch wherever they are, with little regard for the world around. His throat hurts with phantom pain. He has to clean his sheets in the morning, but he’s gotten rather good at that. 

And other nights, he doesn’t dream of roses or piano music. He dreams of rooks, of black wings against a sunset sky, and a pale hand entwined with his own. That hurts the most because that’s not even a dream. That’s just his memories playing back in the absence of new ones being created, a film stuck on perpetual loop.

It shouldn’t be possible to miss someone so much - but Doyoung does. As the days pass by, the marks on his neck fade, and he looks into his mirror, pressing his nails against those disappearing pinpricks. The resulting crescent imprints are nothing like fangs.

He wonders when Jaehyun will come back - because he will.

Doyoung always knows he will.

 

♜

 

It’s warmer. The days are longer, and the sun sets later, and as a consequence even when his days are filled with drifting from house to house, swabbing cheeks and pressing muscles and his brow grows weary - the sun still hangs in the sky, almost mockingly. He’s in the lower town, and it’s almost impossible to believe it’s just after six, not with the way the city brightens around him. The birds aren’t even roosted yet. He can see them, crawling around, cawing whenever they feel so inclined. They aren’t feeding, aren’t doing much of anything, almost as if waiting for the sun to recede. The rooks demonstrate an overwhelming sense of needing to leave, but not yet going yet.

Sympathy for birds is a new low for Doyoung.

It’s difficult to convince himself to go home. Yes, Sua must be almost done with dinner now, and since he and Johnny are on speaking terms, the evening meals are much more pleasant in nature - but that doesn’t change the fact that everytime Doyoung gazes at the empty house next door, his blood grows so heavy it’s difficult to move.

He remembers his dream from last night. Watching the rooks at sunset, with Jaehyun at his side. How the world around them blurred into the gradient orange, because nothing else mattered besides him and the same sky they stood under. He doesn’t even consciously realize he’s walking down the familiar path until he almost trips over the undergrowth. He hadn’t even thought he could find this spot from his own memory, but his muscles remembered what his mind has forgotten.

He had wondered then why Jaehyun kept such a distance from the rooks - now, of course, it makes sense. Doyoung follows the path closely, eyes fixed to the ground, avoiding the rambling branches, and it’s so much nicer to be here now that the icy winter wind doesn’t permeate the air. It would be so much more pleasant to do this again now, to lie on the grass and stare up at the pastel sky and watch as the charcoal birds fly by.

He really has grown more found of rooks, he realizes to his own dismay. Awful. If he ever moves back to the city, he’d have to take a pair of the wretched things as pets just to get to sleep at night. The visual of this black bird terrorizing Taeyong’s house is an amusing one, and it prompts the first smile on his face in what seems like a long time.

All he can really hear right now is the flap of wings as the rooks begin to fly into sky, punctuated by periodic cawing - and Doyoung doesn’t consider himself an eavesdropper, but he’s just surprised to hear something muted voices in the distance. 

After all, this was Jaehyun’s personal spot. Why else would anyone want to view the display of the roosting rooks from so far away? There’s hardly a point.

Perhaps at the back of his mind, a fantasy unfurls that perhaps he’s hearing Jaehyun all along, and that he’s just out of sight, and if Doyoung nears towards the voices carefully he’d see him-

And it is a vampire. But it’s not his vampire.

Lucas’s head is buried in Jungwoo’s lap and with his eyes fluttered close and his hands meaninglessly twisting in the soft grass, he doesn’t look like the vicious hunter of legend. Rather, he seems another harmless lover, spending time with his other half. Peaceful washes over his face. Jungwoo, carefully covered in a thick coat and hood, doesn’t notice Doyoung’s presence, gaze entirely focused on the man lying in front of him.

“You should sleep,” Jungwoo says, stroking Lucas’s hair like it’s rain running down a window, tangling in the copper strands. “I know you’re tired.”

“I can’t sleep while you’re here, I won’t risk it,” Lucas says, and the tone in which he speaks to Jungwoo is as gentle as a morning snowfall. “You know what it’s like here.”

“I’ll be okay, Lucas, you know I will,” Jungwoo says, almost amusement in his voice. It switches to concern effortlessly. “Please? I don’t like seeing you struggle like this.”

Lucas takes the hand that cards his hair and pulls it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “Jungwoo.” There’s tenderness in the way he says Jungwoo’s name, whispering it like its the name of his deity.

It’s hypnotizing. Doyoung does not wish to intrude on such a private moment but finds himself unable to look away, entranced by this display of unabashed affection.

“Go sleep,” Jungwoo laughs, and then leans in. It’s not quite a kiss - their mouths are mismatched because of the angle and Lucas still keeps his eyes closed, but when Jungwoo raises his head, they both smile wide.

And then Jungwoo turns and sees Doyoung.

His eyes widen, blown crimson, and it seems as if he wants to say something, but the words don’t leave him.

“Those damn birds are so loud, I don’t think I could sleep even if I tried,” Lucas mutters, crossing his arms over himself and settling in deeper into Jungwoo’s lap. “Valour has been having a wonderful time terrorizing them across town. Have you seen? He enjoys riling them up.”

“Jungwoo?” Lucas questions, when he does not reply.

“We could always leave Rookswood,” Jungwoo says, not breaking eye contact. His breathing is stuttered. “You know I want to.”

A sigh crosses Lucas’s face. “Just give me a few more days. I... I can’t leave just yet, I don’t feel like I should.”

“Lucas...” Jungwoo pleads.

“A little bit longer, Jungwoo. Please. I know it’s hard for you. I promise when this is over we can go home and I’ll take you to the lakeside and we can spend the night there? Just like old times? Is that okay?”

Lucas’s eyes open, asking for an answer, and Doyoung is instantly fearful, dares not even move - but Lucas only looks above him, at Jungwoo. Any part of the world that does not contain Jungwoo is irrelevant to him, negative space on a canvas.

“I’d like that,” Jungwoo says, and finally breaks hold of the locked glance, and leans down to kiss him again, softly and sweetly. “Go sleep, Lucas.”

His eyelids flutter closed and he grasps for one of Jungwoo’s hands, tucking it under his chin.

The sky is orange, yet it may as well have been purple. The world doesn’t seem right anymore, not at all, and if this was the reality he lived in, then it should look as absurd as it felt. He had wondered perhaps, if Lucas was to be removed from the picture, if it meant that Jaehyun could have a future. It would not be something Doyoung would have the capacity to do himself - he’s a healer, after all, not a murderer.

But the thought had occurred to him, though and he could not pretend otherwise. And, perfectly bluntly, it would be the simplest solution. Lucas was mortal, as he emphasized so clearly. If he died, any matter of blood oath or not would disappear. It would be too easy to set a trap really, and now that Doyoung knew where Yuta would be, at the church… Yuta, with his personal vendetta and his sharp teeth. Who owed him a favour regardless.

It is not his proudest moment - but it is something he considered.

He now realizes he could never do it, could never allow it to happen. He could never hurt Jungwoo like that, could never take the love of Jungwoo’s life away from him. There’s such a childlike innocence to the way Jungwoo looks down at Lucas, like he’s endlessly enraptured by everything that he’s ever done. And Lucas, violent and murderous, would tear out the sun out of the sky for Jungwoo, if just to make his nights longer.

He would not disturb this, not when he chokes on his own envy, not when he wishes that in some day and some future that it would be him and Jaehyun, soft grass cushioning them as they stare up at the rooks.

Jungwoo looks up at him again, transfixed and torn. 

The sun has dipped behind the trees, and all that remains are the final and brief residual rays, that last unification between the world of humans and the world of vampires. Jungwoo pulls down the hood of his coat and watches him with something akin to fear.

Doyoung had wondered where Jungwoo was while Lucas was stalking around town and the answer seemed to be: just out of sight.

He smiles at him, waving ever so slightly - and he sees Jungwoo visibly exhale. Nodding, Doyoung turns around, leaving him be, and as he navigates his way through the undergrowth, a caw pierces the air.

Doyoung is face to face with Fortune. It has to be her, of course, her eyes are as yellow as daffodils. She blinks at him, as if assessing him, surveying him, judging him. Doyoung raises his hand up to her beak - and she nips into his finger. Not enough to draw blood, but it’s hard not to take it as a warning.

Wherever Jungwoo is, Fortune seems to follow.

 

♜

 

Without the guidance of their caretaker, the roses have succumbed to their own hunger. Masses of stems curl and entwine around themselves, choking the life out of their siblings. Sharp thorns prick him as he enters, ravenous and thirsty for blood, a feature they seem to have in common with their guardian himself. Neglected as they are, they have not destroyed themselves. There are flowers still, unbelievably so, but rather than blooming with their face to the sunshine, they’re tall and decayed, a grotesque rot setting into the pure petals.

Jaehyun would never have allowed this to happen.

Doyoung stares at the overgrown roses in absolute despair. Gardening gloves are tight against his hands, and he holds the pruning shears like a weapon. He realizes he’s outmatched. What Doyoung knows is just what Jaehyun taught him: cut off the crooked canes, pull off the leaves, repeat the process.

This is beyond his skill set. The deeper he goes into the garden, the worse it gets. Different breeds strangle each other and in an attempt to disentangle his foot from the old wood, he ends up with scratches all over his forearm.

He’s wholly unequipped to deal with this. He’s a doctor, not a rosarian, and he never claimed to be one either - but he had been in his office, staring mournfully at that dead rose and had realized that the entire family was suffering the same fate. Doyoung could not bear to imagine Jaehyun’s distress upon seeing his garden, his pride and joy, in absolute ruins.

Doyoung starts small. He makes himself comfortable at the edge of the garden, at a small rosebush with petals the colour of sunrise and begins to disentangle the entwining branches, snapping off those canes that are already dying. It’s tiring work, and sweat condenses at the back of his neck - but there’s also a certain amount of serenity to be derived from such a lonely activity. For every prickling against his skin, and the ache of his muscles as he reaches into the bush, he gets to look back at the end of it and bask in pride at the sight of these gorgeous flowers.

And Doyoung did love roses, absolutely so.

Sunset arrives and departs in a rush - and Doyoung is aware that he’ll have to go back to the Cerasus Manor soon, but not just yet, not while he can squint against the fading light and make out the stems.

It’s their rose, that burgundy bud that grows and blooms despite the neglect. Doyoung is painstaking in the care that he takes to preserve this flower, pulling each leaf off individually, rehashing Jaehyun’s advice in his mind over and over till his voice fills his thoughts.

He ditches the glove for a moment, just to adjust the positioning of the rose, and he shouldn’t be surprised when a thorn tears through his skin - what did he expect would happen? Doyoung ignores the drop of blood that wells from the cut and only bothers to give the wound any attention after he’s pried those gnarled thorns away from the flower.

“You’re going to put me out of a job at this rate, Doyoung.”

Jaehyun’s voice is crystal clear, but Doyoung hesitates before he turns around, unsure if this isn’t just his mind playing a cruel trick on him. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if it was just an illusion, he wouldn’t be able to at all. He counts to ten before he looks back - and, oh, oh.

His Jaehyun always belonged surrounded in roses.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung breathes because it is him, it’s him, from his tawny hair to his marble features to that curved smile he has, that special smile that he reserves for Doyoung. Jaehyun steps closer, his strides wide and fast and he takes Doyoung by his hand - and then pulls him into an embrace.

“Doyoung.” He whispers his name like it’s something fragile. “Oh, Doctor, I missed you so much.”

Doyoung knew he did. He lets himself be completely enveloped in Jaehyun’s hold and he exhales. Jaehyun has always been a statue after all, but he’s not one now, no, he melts himself to match the curves of Doyoung’s body, to fit better together, like they belong as a set.

“Jaehyun, oh Jaehyun, you’re actually here.” His eyes are shut, not daring to open them. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back, I’d never leave you. I care about you too much for that,” Jaehyun mutters into his nape, nuzzling into his neck, pressing kisses to the skin. It’s been too long. The last time he even touched Jaehyun was weeks past, and even then, it was a parting farewell in the morning that Doyoung was barely conscious for. He’s awake now, and he just wants to soak up all that Jaehyun is, his rose-petal scent drifting in the air between them.

He looks beautiful. He always does.

And then, reality hits and Doyoung jumps back, several spaces. “You can’t be here. Lucas is here, I literally saw him yesterday, Jaehyun you need to leave, he’ll find you, he’s going to find you and-”

“Doyoung, wait-”

Surely he must realize the risk of him being here? He can’t have come all this way, survived so long to be within a stone’s throw of Lucas’s icy blades. “Jaehyun, you have to go, you can’t be here-”

Jaehyun crosses the distance and takes Doyoung’s hands in his own and pulls him closer, letting their foreheads touch, distilling his panic into a single drop. “I know.”

“You know?” 

“I know,” Jaehyun repeats, and Doyoung’s breathing slows down with the cadence of Jaehyun’s voice. “I know Lucas is here. I’ve known for a while - he… he isn’t trying to hide.”

Doyoung sounds hoarse, because if it wasn’t, he might scream. “If you know, why are you here then?”

“I sent a message to Jungwoo. Lucas is gone for now, both of them. They’ll be back, as I’m sure they will - but this time is ours.” Jaehyun tightens his grip on his hand. “Believe me.”

“You contacted Jungwoo?” Doyoung says, blinking in confusion.

“His hawk,” Jaehyun says simply. “I recognize her markings. She was always a clever bird.” That doesn’t make it any better, it’s still far too dangerous.

“Jaehyun, it’s still such a risk, why would you come back?” Doyoung whispers, and he thinks he knows the answer deep inside - but he wants to hear it, wants the words to manifest as a sheet he can wrap around himself.

“I wanted to see you,” Jaehyun admits.

The night sky is hot around them - but Jaehyun has always been pleasantly cool to the touch.

“I missed you,” is all Doyoung can say, is all that can be vocalized of the rush of emotions that passes through his whole body like an electric current. “Jaehyun, I missed you.”

            “I missed you too, Doctor,” and Jaehyun takes a step back, and kneels down and places the most chaste of kisses on the back of Doyoung’s hand.

Doyoung wants to be upset at Jaehyun’s recklessness but it’s very difficult when he can hardly contain his unadulterated joy at having him right here. In the weeks that passed, more and more doubts started rooting in his mind, the rationality of it all sunk in, and he had worried, he had wondered what if Jaehyun didn’t come back - or worse, what if he did come back and things changed? Through it all, all he did was stay true to that feeling in his chest that spread out through his ribcage with every pulse, that he loved Jaehyun, and the knowledge that Jaehyun loved him too.

“Get up off the ground so I can kiss you,” Doyoung murmurs and he sees those dimples that Doyoung can’t stop himself adoring.

He holds his arm out. Jaehyun obeys with a smirk on his lips and he grabs ahold of the outstretched hand, and drags himself up and then uses the momentum to pull Doyoung towards him, silencing his squeak of protest with his lips.

Kissing Jaehyun feels like coming home. His lips are familiar, even after all this time, and Doyoung had imagined that their reunion would be charged with uncontrollable tension, but it’s nothing like that, not really. It’s more soothing river than rushing tidal wave, it’s more ember than wildfire - it’s more home than far away.

Jaehyun traces his thumb over Doyoung’s bottom lip, and the corners of his eyes fold upwards. “Would you believe me if I said that you’re the most beautiful thing here?”

The mere fact that as soon as Doyoung’s cheeks redden, Jaehyun begins to laugh, is proof that he does this just to rile Doyoung up, and he buries his face in the layers of Jaehyun’s coat.

 “How did you find me?” Doyoung asks, and upon hearing how muffled his words are, he looks up. He doesn’t quite let go of Jaehyun though, fingers playing with the cuffs of his shirt, unwilling to let go. “This is the first time I’ve been here, how did you know where I was?”

Jaehyun shifts, almost uncomfortable. He stares down at their hands. “Something has changed in me,” he says. “Ever since I started feeding from you, I can feel you. I sense where you are, and I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“You sense me?” Doyoung asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Inside of me.”

Doyoung’s breath is dry.

“Even when you were in the city, I knew where you were. I could always feel you there, and even now, it’s the same. I still feel you inside of me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.” Jaehyun’s eyes are crimson - but dull crimson, like cracked clay.

“That’s how you knew I was at my sister’s house, isn’t it?” Doyoung says, as it clicks in his mind.

“I knew you were safe, and I knew you were okay - and that made it bearable for me,” Jaehyun says. He pauses, clearly hesitating.

“Yes, Jaehyun?” Doyoung prompts as gently as possible.

“You went to the church, didn’t you?” He tries to look like he isn’t desperate for an answer, but the glimmer in his eye betrays him.

“I did. With Yuta.”

Doyoung has so many questions about Ten he wants to ask Jaehyun, wants to ask if he even knows, if he even cares - but doesn’t bring that up, not now, not when he’s finally alone with him after so long. Ten doesn’t matter, the rest of the world doesn’t matter.

“You met Yuta again?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows are raised.

“I rather like him,” Doyoung says, reminded of Yuta’s blindingly bright smile with fondness.

“You plan on stealing my garden and my friends?” Jaehyun says, and immediately placates Doyoung with a rushed kiss. “I’m joking, please don’t look at me like that.”

“I think Yuta is lovely, excuse me, and-”

Jaehyun pecks him again, and continues to do so until the frown dissipates from Doyoung’s face. “What could you possibly have needed Yuta for?”

Doyoung inhales, taking a step back, centering himself. It’s an illusion of the mind, most likely, but the roses already look happier with the return of their master, petals smiling out.

“Jaehyun, I want to help you. I know Lucas is relentless but I’ve asked Yuta for his advice, and I’ve been reading and I’ve been thinking, and there has to be some way, something that can be done to convince Lucas. You shouldn’t have to live like this.” He had an inkling that Jaehyun might be mad - Doyoung doesn’t expect him to regard Doyoung with with such pity.

“Doyoung, why are you doing this to yourself?” he says, and it’s such a strange question, such a vague question that it flusters him.

“I… I don’t think I understand?” he says, faltering under Jaehyun’s gaze, so piercing it could penetrate armour.

“Doyoung, surely you know I’m doomed,” Jaehyun says in a voice devoid of embellishments. “Even I’m aware of that, and so is Lucas. There’s nothing to be done about it. Nothing even you can do. Your concern is touching but ultimately pointless. I know that he’s going to persist, and one day he’ll win.”

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, his voice cracking. “No, there is a way, I know there is, I know I can convince him not to, I can fix this-”

Jaehyun takes Doyoung’s hand in his own - and Doyoung is distracted by this, he’s forgotten how much Jaehyun just loves to intertwine their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Doyoung, it’s not worth it. I don’t want Lucas to hurt you. We have limited time together - can we just enjoy it without worrying for the future?”

It’s words spoken by an immortal, an existence where the present becomes eternal, where the future is indefinite and continuous. But Doyoung has known Jaehyun, Doyoung has seen threads of fear in Jaehyun’s eyes, flickering like a flame. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to - and he’s pretending like he’d accept his own abrupt end to his eternity to soothe Doyoung’s own feelings.

“Jaehyun, I’m a part of this world as much as you are,” Doyoung says hopelessly, tightening their hands together. “The vampires know who I am, and I know them. Lucas won’t hurt me, I know he won’t - but he’ll hurt you, and I know if there’s something I can do, I’ll find it out, but I just can’t figure out what yet-”

“Doyoung.” It looks like it hurts. It looks like Doyoung is hurting him. “What could you possibly hope to do to change any of this, a chain of events that were already set in place thirteen years ago?”

And Doyoung inhales. “You could turn me.”

Jaehyun drops Doyoung’s hands like they are cast in silver. His eyes are wide, wide and horrified. “Doyoung, where did you-”

“Yuta told me, he told me about what you used to do,” Doyoung says, speaking as quickly as possible, attempting to soothe Jaehyun’s aghast expression, “Jaehyun, please, just think about it, I know you can.”

“Regardless if I can, why would I want to do this to you, Doyoung, why would you want to live like this?” Jaehyun’s hands clutch uselessly at his sides, as if they already miss holding Doyoung’s.

“Jaehyun, I’m living in your world whether or not you decide to acknowledge it - and I live in it a step behind everyone else, entirely unsynchronized.” Doyoung professes what he’s felt for so long - that he belongs in a different side of life, and that he’s never fit in this one. “Why not just turn me?”

“Lucas wouldn’t stop looking for me,” Jaehyun says, avoiding Doyoung’s gaze.

“Jaehyun, we could start again.”

Jaehyun’s exhale is hesitant, and he steps closer, letting his hand rest on the column of his neck, following the path of his Adam’s apple as Doyoung gulps. “I’d miss this,” Jaehyun says, and his fingers trace up to his cheeks, summoning a blush. “And this,” he continues. His hand lingers on the skin - and then travels down, ceaselessly, down his throat where his breath quickens, down his collarbones, over his chest and then to his heart, where even now it races. “And this, I’d miss this most of all.”

His head is heavy against his chest, and Doyoung’s arms lift to surround him, to enclose him. Even now, being so physically close, doubt enters his mind and overgrows like roses. “Jaehyun, would you not want an eternity with me?”  

“It’s all I could ever want, Doyoung,” Jaehyun murmurs into the fabric of his shirt, “but I don’t think I can give it to you.”

He raises his head, and his eyes are glassy. “I won’t turn you, because what if I can’t? What if I drink too much, what if I lose control, what if my judgement lapses for a fraction of a second and I lose you forever?”

Doyoung’s heartbeat hammers. “But you can do this, you’ve done this so many times before, you know what to do-”

Jaehyun silences him with a look. “Yuta told you about the kill ratio, I’m sure?”

“The number of people you feed without draining them to death,” Doyoung says, uncertain. “Jungwoo is a one. He kills. Constantly.”

“That’s exactly it. I’m almost a zero on that.”

Isn’t that perfect, then? “But Jaehyun, that’s exactly why I’m asking you, only you can-”

“Almost,” Jaehyun says, and lets his hand caress Doyoung’s cheek. “Almost a zero. Not quite. Doyoung, I’ve made mistakes before. I can’t have you be one of them.”

‘Mistakes’ is a very diplomatic way of saying that Jaehyun has killed people. Doyoung suspected as much, always, he wasn’t naive, but - it was another thing at all to hear it from his own lips. Doyoung was a doctor, he dedicated his life to helping people, to healing, and Jaehyun. Jaehyun has killed people.

“Doyoung?” Jaehyun says, uncertain. Such soft words could get lost in a garden this big. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I care about you too much to dare try. All I could ever want is us together till the end, but if I lost you, there’d be no point.”

Doyoung remembers what’s been drilled into his head since he started university. You can’t save everyone. You can’t will a dead heart to beat again. Sometimes, the point of no return has already been passed. You can’t save everyone.

“If you want to leave, I understand,” Jaehyun continues. “I would never hold it against you. It would be better for you, Doyoung, you have so much left to live for and you’re so bright and kind and intelligent and beautiful-” Jaehyun’s voice breaks, and he pauses, to stare at Doyoung. “You’re so beautiful. There’s so much better for you than me.”

“Jaehyun, would you want a forever with me?” Doyoung asks and Jaehyun’s face washes with honeyed anticipation.

“Oh, Doctor,” Jaehyun breathes. “Of course I do. I love you so much it hurts.”

Some people can’t be saved. He’s a doctor not an alchemist. The power he has in his hands is the kind that came from textbooks, not from dungeons. He can’t make gold out of lead, and he can’t make life out of death.

And he ‘can’t save everyone’.

“Jaehyun, I love you,” Doyoung says, and his memory is flawed like every other mortal, his mind will decay and it will take everything with it. Every other page in his life will have its ink washed away with time and age because nothing about him is colourfast, but this, this he’ll remember, seeing Jaehyun’s eyes light up, light up so much, it’s almost honey gold.

Doyoung has been so careful his whole life, walled up his emotions, letting only a stream trickle through, just enough for the bare minimum to pass through, enough to pass through his own walled existence. He’s felt isolated in his own self for as long as he can remember, what limited connections he makes are always fragile, breakable.

Doyoung has been lonely for a long time.

And then there’s Jaehyun, who’s lived a life as rich as the sunset skies, who is adored and admired by so many - and that fact ultimately remains pointless, because he’s been trapped in this house for so long, he’s become his own ghost. The isolation he faces is
physically tangible and becomes clear in the way even now, Jaehyun gazes at Doyoung with such care in his eyes.  Jaehyun who has lived a long time, has met a hundred and thousand more people than Doyoung ever did, and out of all of them, out of every single possibility, he’s here, standing in his rose garden, face illuminated by a moon that hangs low in the sky – he’s here.

“I love you,” Doyoung says again, “Jaehyun, I love you.” He slings his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, and whispers his devotion into the pulseless flesh. “I love you, please, please don’t forget that.”

It’s ironic, he’s aware, begging for his memory to stay, when it’s Doyoung’s own that would fade first. Perhaps that’s it. He’s not telling Jaehyun not to forget, he’s telling himself.

Jaehyun pulls him tighter, kissing the top of his head like it’s a crown. “And you ask me if I wouldn’t want to live an eternity with you? As if I could ever give this up? As if I could ever give you up? Doyoung, you’re my everything.”

Words aren’t enough. Words are silly, fragile things that crumble when spoken, and stutter when sworn, and Doyoung knows now that words aren’t enough. Doyoung lifts his head up, gazing imploringly at Jaehyun, desire replicated in their eyes. He makes a movement closer, but doesn’t connect their lips, waiting for Jaehyun to take the necessary next step.

He doesn’t – instead pulling Doyoung’s wrist up to his ear, kissing the skin. He lets his hold linger, eyes fixed on Doyoung. “I can hear your heartbeat racing,” Jaehyun comments. “Is that how much you want me?”

His heart skips a beat.

“Kiss me,” Doyoung demands.

“Absolutely,” Jaehyun replies, and closes the gap between them.

It feels like the force of stars colliding. Doyoung can't begin to fathom how he's survived this long without Jaehyun kissing him so deep, it’s like he wants to steal the breath from his lungs. Doyoung would let him. Doyoung would let him take everything. Jaehyun's teeth grazes over his bottom lip and the whine that pushes forth from Doyoung is pleading. Their kisses get longer, messier, their lips slick and the slide into each other is easier.

Jaehyun's arms ride up Doyoung's back, fingers dancing along the curves of his spine and that's something Doyoung has realized about kissing Jaehyun. He likes to pull Doyoung as close as possible to him, savour every breath and every sigh that emanates from him, not wanting to miss a single reaction.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung whispers, so softly that he doesn't even think it would be heard - but it's Jaehyun. He always hears. His supernatural senses give him alleviated hearing, but it's always been like this, Jaehyun always listens to everything Doyoung says, even those fragile half-syllables that stumble out of his lips before he's even ready.

“Yes, Doyoung?” Jaehyun asks, and he parts from the kiss and uses this interlude to stroke back the strands of hair that fall into his forehead. The action is so pleasing, so thoughtful that Doyoung's eyes flutter closed, preening like a bird.

“Doyoung?” Jaehyun sounds amused, but the brushing of his hand diminishes. Every pulsation of Jaehyun's gentle fingers on his scalp sends waves of muted ecstasy through his body.  

It sounds silly now, unnecessary, but Doyoung can’t stop himself from exhaling out the words. “I'm just glad you're back.”

“I never want to leave your side, but knowing that I could feel you inside made it bearable,” he says like a confession.

Jaehyun, this sculpture of a man with his unbeating heart, is becoming more pleasing to touch, as his flesh starts to warm up from where Doyoung pours himself into his mouth, kissing him with such fervor, as if any moment they could be wrenched apart. He’s becoming a source of heat, and the very idea that Doyoung himself is the reason for it sends a new wave of arousal through him. It’s his blood and it’s his blood alone that pleases this vampire. It’s desperation, more than anything else, and Doyoung’s hands move of their own accord, wrestling with the buttons of Jaehyun’s shirt, demanding to see more of him.

Jaehyun pauses, breathless, and gazes down at where Doyoung’s hands attempt to loosen the string tie at the top – and Doyoung pauses.

“Should I not?” Doyoung asks, reddening.

“You should,” Jaehyun laughs, “but it unhooks from the other side.” He takes Doyoung’s fingers ever so gently and lets them trace the path down his throat and then underneath his collar, letting loose the shirt, and it flutters open.

But Jaehyun doesn’t let his hand go, and instead directs it up to his mouth, kissing the pads of his fingers. His breath is hotter than the sun. Jaehyun bends his head and sucks down on two of his Doyoung’s fingers - and Doyoung burns.

His legs buckle underneath him and Jaehyun stops those languid licks to scoop Doyoung into his hold, laying him on the plush grass beneath. He reaches up for Jaehyun’s discarded shirt and shoves it under his head, and enjoys the comfort that this view offers him - Jaehyun, shirtless, illuminated by moonlight, straddling Doyoung’s thighs. He takes ownership of Doyoung’s hand again, kissing and mouthing at his fingers, warm and wet. His eyes are blissed out.

Doyoung uses his other hand to caress Jaehyun’s chest, mindlessly circling in shapes and unsaid words into the skin. He feels his own hunger rush over him, faster than he can control it. He stares at Jaehyun’s unmarred skin and wants to change that, wants to disobey every part of the oath he took as he graduated. He was bound by his honour to harm none but he looks at Jaehyun and just wants to possess every part of him, mark him as his own, let every mortal and immortal alive know that this one, this one is mine.

His teeth aren’t strong enough to bruise his flesh, the grips of his fingers as they curl in pleasure won’t cause white marks, his chest won’t grow red with a flush that spreads through him like a fever. But his chest is so pale, so blank, and it begs for a colour, it begs to be painted - to be a red as deep as his desire.  

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung whispers, and he looks up, letting the fingers drop out of his mouth, sticking on his lip. “Don’t you want to drink from me?”

Jaehyun licks his lips. “Doyoung, what are you…”

“He’s not here,” Doyoung reminds him, pulling him closer until he can reunite in a single kiss. “Have you fed since the last time?”

“No. No, of course not.” Jaehyun’s so close that Doyoung can see the intensity in his dull crimson eyes. “I have no desire to drink from anyone but you. You’re the only one I want to touch like that.”

The pressure between his legs builds, his cock struggling against the confines of his pants. Jaehyun can feel it, sitting on top of him, and his gaze travels downward, and he presses a hand against him there - Doyoung almost cries in relief, but it’s not enough, nowhere near enough.

“But then you must be hungry,” Doyoung says, attempting to control his breathing, even as his legs begin to shift of their own accord, rutting against Jaehyun’s hand. “And I’m right here.”

It should be evident how much Doyoung wants this. Does Jaehyun need him to explicitly state that he can’t bear another moment without feeling Jaehyun closer, without touching him, without having those fangs inside his blood?

The desire is written in Jaehyun’s eyes, the way they graze over Doyoung’s neck, fixing on his pulse point. But he shakes his head, and takes his other hand and caresses the curve of Doyoung’s jaw. “Doyoung, this means more to me than just blood. You’re delicious - but this is more than that.”

He kisses Doyoung so tenderly it hurts.

He shifts Doyoung’s pants down and the heat of actual physical contact has him writhing, and it feels so good he can’t begin to comprehend how Jaehyun can have such control over him, how he could make him feel so much - but Doyoung exhales and taps at Jaehyun’s chest.

“Jaehyun, wait.” His voice is hoarse. Jaehyun gazes down at him, confused and radiant.

“Yes?” he asks, as pretty as a rose.

“Not like this. Could we… could you…” Doyoung trails off. He can feel the flush that spreads over his face and he shuts his eyes, in an attempt to block out the reality of the situation.

“Is something wrong?” Jaehyun’s voice sounds concerned. “Do you want me to stop?” He removes his hand from where it’s wrapped around his arousal and that’s even worse, and Doyoung barely suppress his whine.

“Jaehyun, I want to be with you,” Doyoung manages to stutter out, and he opens his eyes and sees that Jaehyun is still as perplexed.

Jaehyun threads his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, curling and curling the strands. He doesn’t know when Jaehyun figured out how calming that was - but he’s always been too perceptive for his own good. “Doyoung?”

Doyoung’s eyes are scrunched closed.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung breathes out. “I want you inside me.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says. “Oh, Doyoung.”

The next thing he feels is Jaehyun’s mouth against his, viciously pulling into him, while his hands tear off his own shirt like it’s paper. Doyoung can’t stop himself from moaning into his lips. His body is hot against his, and a welcome relief against the cool evening air.

“Shall I take you upstairs, my Doctor?” Jaehyun says, and it’s clear he’s trying so hard to hold onto his own sense of poise but his own desire slips out from underneath. “Shall I take you to my bed?”

Doyoung looks at his Jaehyun, silhouetted by moonlight and the roses he grows himself and it’s just so picturesque - and shakes his head. “Right here.”

Jaehyun licks his lips like he’s about to devour, and shifts down to Doyoung’s neck - and his pulse quickens in anticipation. “This will hurt.” The ambiguity is intentional.

“But I don’t mind if it’s you,” Doyoung replies.

It’s been too long. It’s been too long since he’s felt ivory fangs penetrate through his skin, and he’s not used to the way his flesh tears apart and he almost screams, the primal part of his mind taking over, trying to escape - and then it hits, and then it’s euphoric. Doyoung is unashamed of the way he writhes and begs Jaehyun for more, and he wonders why Jaehyun refused when this is just so good for both of them.

He’s hot against him. Arousal pulses through him as the venom courses through his veins. It’s so much, and not enough.

It stops too soon, though - Jaehyun usually takes his time when he drinks, licking up and down for what feels like hours, bearing his fangs until they feel like part of his body, until Doyoung feels faint with pleasure. But now, he raises himself, and his mouth is a smear of blood and his toothy smile is as white as the moon.

And then he dips his fingers in the wound that he’s made and when Doyoung feels him against his entrance, slipping inside, he gasps.

It’s so slow, such a painfully sweet stretch that Doyoung can discern every single synapse to his limbic system. The hypothalamus cradles itself above the pituitary gland and logically, Doyoung can map out why this feels so good, why having Jaehyun’s fingers thrusting in and out of him makes him feel like his entire body is illuminated, and it’s because of that. And Doyoung can explain it, how his optic nerve is currently processing the way Jaehyun gazes at him, desire vivid, savouring each and every breath and sigh he elicits out of Doyoung. From the reticular formation in the stem of his brain, he can feel the way Jaehyun’s body heats up as his fingers bathe in the blood collecting at his neck. From his olfactory nerves, he smells the copper of blood mixed with that sweet satin scent of roses in full bloom. It’s all logical.

But explaining it doesn’t make it any less incandescent when Jaehyun enters him.

Most of what happens passes by in blurs in Doyoung’s vision, like indistinct colours at twilight. He’s aware of the blood that trickles down his neck, intermittently a tongue rolls over the wound instead, licking up the beaded drops. Jaehyun, speech normally restrained, is vocal, moaning and whimpering at each thrust. He’s like a canvas, and each rivulet of crimson liquid across his pale skin is just another brushstroke. Jaehyun is meticulous, Jaehyun is marvellous, the cadence at which he is breathing is like a symphony in Doyoung’s ears.

Jaehyun ducks down and presses their lips together, once, twice, three times and his face is like the dark side of the moon. Hiding something.

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung murmurs, bringing Jaehyun’s fingers to his mouth, kissing them.

“It’s nothing, I just…” Jaehyun pauses, searching for something in Doyoung’s expression. “I never imagined I’d ever get to experience this again. With anyone.” There’s a brightness behind his eyes, scarlet and shining. “Not with someone like you.”

“There’s absolutely nothing special about me in the slightest,” Doyoung murmurs and as if overcompensating for the own inadequacy as a person he possesses, he tightens his thighs, pulling Jaehyun closer. Jaehyun is his, even if he isn’t worthy of it.

“You’re so incredibly wrong about that,” Jaehyun says, and then kisses Doyoung again, tasting coppery and sweet. He can feel everything even more, the venom making him sensitive to everything, especially the meticulous way in which Jaehyun drags himself in and out. He moans, and Jaehyun enjoys that, a smile curling on his lips. He picks up the pace, relentless, thrusting deeper and then-

Doyoung can’t stop himself. “Fuck.”

Jaehyun ceases instantly, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Doyoung, what’s wrong-”

“Don’t stop,” Doyoung all but cries, “Oh god, don’t stop, please, right there.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen in realization and he hits that tangle of nerves again, pressing Doyoung deeper into the red and wet grass, and the residual cocktail of chemicals are soaring through his veins, and Jaehyun just looks so handsome, so radiant, even as his own blood paints his chest. That’s his blood on him, and that’s his blood inside of him, crawling its way through Jaehyun. He lives, he thrives because of him, Doyoung is inside him just as he is inside Doyoung, and the thought is so much, the rush hits him before he realizes it. His entire body bursts.

Collapsed on the ground, his breathing is uneven, but his view, his view is beautiful, because it’s Jaehyun. His heart pounds in his ears as the aftershocks soar through him, and he feels fingers run through his hair, and he whimpers at the tender touch.

It takes him a moment to realign himself, to ground himself back to reality. He fixes his gaze on the roses that trail behind Jaehyun, framing him like a portrait. Then, he looks at Jaehyun, gazing at him in absolute rapture. His stomach is splattered with the remnants of his come, and still, he smiles at him.

“Drink from me,” Doyoung says softly, his voice almost lost in the garden.

The hesitation betrays his want. “Are you sure?”

Doyoung bares the other side of his neck, enticingly angling himself, and Jaehyun is too far gone in his own desires to protest any further, he’s been so fixated on Doyoung’s own pleasure, he’s neglected himself this entire time. He’s slower now, taking his time, pressing soft kisses, mouthing at the skin before he sinks his fangs in - and he drinks languidly, like he’s sipping the finest wine.   

The fog of his own pleasure clears and Doyoung takes careful note of the way Jaehyun arches over him, pinned down, so thoroughly enjoying his blood and there, in his shoulder, that knife shines. How much it must hurt, to live like that, and how easy it would be to just…

Jaehyun’s close, Doyoung can tell from the way his nails dig into Doyoung’s sides, the way he ruts himself against his body, whimpering, and the way he drinks with utter abandon. Doyoung threads his hands into Jaehyun’s hair, tugging and twisting his fingers in his tawny hair.

Jaehyun shudders - and exhales.

His release is warm on his thighs. He gazes up at Doyoung, and leans over him to connect their lips, and Doyoung’s long since lost any reflex against the taste of his own blood - when it comes from Jaehyun’s mouth, it’s as sweet as honey.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung whispers between their kisses, as his hand drifts to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry but this will hurt.” There’s no ambiguity.

“What do you-”

Doyoung curls his hand around that cruellest of all knives and pulls it out of Jaehyun’s shoulder. It tears his skin as it passes through - and it must be so sharp, so strong that it cauterizes the flesh. An acrid odour stain the air. But Doyoung stares at Jaehyun instead, his expression frozen.

Doyoung brings his arms in front of him, and he holds the knife in his shaking hands, and Jaehyun’s gaze drops towards it. There are not enough words, perhaps.

“Jaehyun?” Doyoung says carefully. “Jaehyun, are you okay?”

He whispers something indistinct.

“Jaehyun?”

“It’s healing.”

“It’s healing?” Doyoung repeats.

Jaehyun moves off Doyoung and turns around, his breathing laboured. In the path of his shoulder, there’s a gaping laceration, grotesque and messy - and yet, even now, Doyoung can see the skin begin to reconnect, the burns beginning to heal.

“Doyoung, it’s healing.” He’s unable to say anything else. When he looks back, his eyes fill with tears. Jaehyun exhales, and the sound he makes is somewhere between a laugh and a cry. He holds Doyoung’s face in both his hands, teardrops spilling over his cheeks. “It’s healing, Doyoung, it’s healing.”

When he kisses him, it’s salty. He presses little kisses all over Doyoung’s face, on his cheeks, on his nose, on his jaw and rests his forehead against Doyoung’s, washing Doyoung with his affection and he’s never seemed more human than this moment.

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun whispers. “It’s healing.”

Doyoung is not giving this up. He’s not giving up the look in Jaehyun’s eyes, the way he holds his jaw as he kisses him, or the way his fingers rake through his hair as they lie against the grass together, Jaehyun’s head curling in the crook of Doyoung’s arm.

They warned him before, told him that a doctor can only bleed themselves for their patients so much until they themselves run dry, but Doyoung is more than prepared to run dry, if that’s what it takes.

Doyoung can’t save everyone, but he’s going to save Jaehyun.

 

♜

 

“You never actually told me,” Sicheng says, briefly looking up from his Polish dictionary, “where you went for that week.”

Doyoung freezes. He had been mid-sentence in a very in-depth reading of the newest Cheracol manufacturer and was mentally weighing up the contrast in side effects. He hadn’t actually expected a conversation, least of all from Sicheng. It can’t even be said that Sicheng seems particularly interested, gazing up as if the thought had just occurred to him, as if Doyoung hadn’t been coming to work for at least two weeks already.

“Hmm.” He decides for a moment. “I was in the city. Family problems.” He doesn’t mention that he was the family having the problem.

“Oh, alright,” Sicheng says and bows his head. He flips one page, and then looks up again. “Did you get hurt?”

“Hurt?” Doyoung repeats. “In the city? No.”

“Ah,” Sicheng says. “I was just wondering if perhaps you injured yourself. I just noticed you’re limping, is all.”

Doyoung attempts to hide his blush by obscuring his face, lifting up the product information. “I’m fine,” he says.

This was, of course, not entirely true. Watching Jaehyun leave had been worse than when Doyoung had left himself. It wasn’t even dawn when Jaehyun had run his hands through Doyoung’s hair, waking him up, telling him how he needed to leave. They kept kissing, insistent and feverish, because Doyoung knew that the moment it stopped, the moment their lips parted, they won’t reconnect. Jaehyun has said he’d come back, he said he’d return, and that he’d be fine - but it’s so hard to believe that, not when Doyoung has no idea what to do.

“If you say so, Doctor,” Sicheng says, shrugging. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Probably not, I’m booked back to back with appointments,” Doyoung recalls. “I’ll be in the area for house visits if you need me for anything.”

“I doubt it,” Sicheng says. “It’s been rather quiet here. You didn’t miss that much.” He pauses. “The piano player’s gone though. I think he went back to the city.”

“I’ve heard something like that, yes,” Doyoung says through gritted teeth. He tries to be unaffected. 

“But I’m sure you knew. You’re friends, or something aren’t you?”

“Neighbours.” The lie falls easy from his lips.

The bell rings and Sicheng reluctantly puts down his dictionary and plasters on an unconvincing smile. Doyoung has to wonder how Sicheng ended up with this job when he seems to loathe any and all human contact. “How can I help?”

“I’m looking for something to help with my headache. Think it might be the country air.” It’s a voice Doyoung has become familiar with to his own detriment, and he stares down at his desk, frozen.  

“How frequent are these headaches? Daily?” Sicheng asks.

“I’d say about four to five times a week. They last for a few hours.”

“Do you find that it’s aggravated by light?”

They continue their conversation, question and answers batting back and forth, and Doyoung inhales deeply - and stands up. “Lucas, what are you doing here?”

His coat is tightly closed, obscuring the belt of knives that Doyoung knows dangles around his waist. Lucas’s eyes widen. “Doyoung?” It’s genuine confusion on his face.  

“What are you doing here?” he repeats.

“I have a headache. This is the pharmacy, isn’t it?” Lucas challenges. He walks to the front of the counter, resting his arm on it, as if daring Doyoung to tell him to leave.

Sicheng pauses from where he’s taking tablets off the shelf and raises his eyebrow. “Doctor? Is something wrong?”

Doyoung gazes back at Sicheng. “No, nothing. He’s a… friend of mine.”

Lucas grins at this. “Something like that.”

Doyoung considers his options carefully. He had spent the entire morning sitting in his bedroom in the Cerasus Manor, contemplating the knife now in his possession. He was hesitant to throw it away, aware of the value it possesses both on a material and a sentimental level. And it remained there now, in his bedside drawer - and here was Lucas, walking in with its twin at his side.

“Lucas, could I have a moment?” Doyoung asks, ignoring Sicheng’s pointed interest.

Lucas blinks. “Do we really have anything left to discuss?”

“I think we do.” He leaves no room for argument.

“Let’s talk a walk then, Doctor,” Lucas says. “But I still need the headache tablets.”

Doyoung grabs the box from Sicheng and doesn’t look back.

 

“These rooks are so loud,” Lucas says, staring up at the trees. It’s pair of them, a couple, and they currently seem to be squabbling at each other, increasing in volume at every response. They fly from branch to branch at periodic intervals, but never stop talking.

“They are,” Doyoung nods. Higher than the rooks, is a most menacing hawk. Not Fortune, not at all, this bird is bigger, talons even thicker. The hawk doesn’t do much, merely stares down, observing Lucas and the rooks. 

The rooks seem to be uncomfortable with the hawk, fluttering away, and Lucas frowns. “Valour,” he orders, clicking his fingers. He points forward, and the bird blinks his yellow-eyed gaze, before obeying, flying to several trees away.

“He’s well-behaved,” Doyoung comments.

“I’ve trained him well.” There’s no pride, only fact. “I’ve had him for a long time. Jungwoo calls them siblings, but they’re not really. I caught him a world away from Fortune, and Fortune was easy. But Valour was difficult, he wouldn’t fall into my trap for so long, and when he did, he used to rip my hands to shreds.”

Lucas looks at him now with fondness. “But that’s changed with time, after all. Now we’re on the same page. He’s a good hunting partner.”

The rooks are so much smaller, just specks of black in comparison to this creature of indisputable nobility.    

“Jungwoo told me about a legend,” Lucas says, after gazing at them a while. “That rooks can’t stand the smell of vampires, of feeding vampires - that they die because of it.”

“It’s true,” Doyoung says. The male rook flies further away and his mate follows quickly after, black feathers fanning out like storm clouds. “They die. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Jungwoo tells me that he’s spoken to the birds, told them to stay away. Not all of them listen.” Lucas quickens his pace in an attempt to catch up with the male but when he senses him coming, he soars up in the skies, out of sight.

“Distance seems the only way in which they co-exist.”

“I don’t think co-existence is always an option,” Lucas replies. He spots the female in a tree overhead and tries to move closer - but she too, flies away. There’s something so uncanny about the way he moves, the way he talks. He’s dangerous, undoubtedly so, and yet, underneath it all, there’s something so childish about watching him play with the rooks.

Doyoung has constructed a picture in his mind from what Lucas has said. Since he was young, he’s always been on the run, always hunting the vampires that threatened Jungwoo. He must have never had a childhood at all, never experienced an infantile joy like chasing after silly birds that squawk in irritation. 

“Have you ever seen rooks before?” he asks and Lucas shakes his head.

Lucas kneels to the ground, scratching through the grass until he finds an abandoned feather, running his fingers over the soft spindly fibres. “No. I’ve only ever been in the city. Well, there was Japan. But there were no rooks there either. There’s so many of them, I can’t believe it.” He pauses and looks up at the sky. “I saw it the other day. The rooks at sunset. There’s thousands of them, and they all go to the trees? It’s incredible. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“I do think it’s beautiful,” Doyoung says, heart burning.

“It’s a nice place to live, I think,” Lucas says, almost wistfully. 

That thread of patience snaps.

“Why are you still here?” Doyoung asks, unable to contain himself any longer. Lucas abruptly looks back at Doyoung, almost upset that their pleasant walk has been disrupted with the reality between them.

“Doyoung, you know why I’m here,” Lucas says, rising to his feet. He shoves the feather in his pocket.

“Lucas, do you want me to beg? Do you want me to go down on my knees and ask you with tears in my eyes to spare him? Because I will if that’s what you want,” Doyoung says. His throat closes up.

“Doyoung, I’m sorry that you’ve been involved in this. It was never meant to be like this,” Lucas says, and Doyoung hates that he sounds sincere. “But this has been written before you even met him. It was always going to end this way. When this is over, we all get to move on. You included.”

Lucas’s eyes are such a warm shade of brown - it masks his cruelty too well. “You’re young, Doyoung. You’ve got the chance to meet anybody else.”

“And if I don’t want anyone else?” The truth falls simply.

Lucas gestures, and they keep walking. They’re looping around the town square, taking the time to twist and turn between the trees, seeing the town like they were the birds themselves.

“You could have me if you let Jaehyun go,” Doyoung says quietly.

“I don’t kill humans,” Lucas states, blunt. “Certainly, it would hurt Jaehyun enough that I’d be satisfied, but I don’t want to hurt you Doyoung. You’re not a bad person.”

“Neither is Jaehyun. Neither is Jungwoo.”

The mention of Jungwoo causes something in Lucas’s demeanour to stiffen.

“It’s hard loving Jungwoo,” Lucas says. “Jungwoo himself is someone that I am devoted to till the end, but sometimes…”  Lucas’s voice falters. “No one knows better than myself just how many people are dead because of him.”

Doyoung hesitates. “How can you hunt vampires when Jungwoo…”

“When Jungwoo is a killer?” Lucas completes, almost laughing to himself. “Well, Doyoung, I’ve always been a hypocrite.”

It’s unfairly simple for Lucas to just live with his own faults. “You say that so proudly.”

“I’m aware of what I am,” Lucas shrugs. “I claim to only kill feral vampires, and God knows that Jaehyun’s maker was the tamest vampire around. Eyes so gold they called her Solar. And when I came for her, I ripped her apart. She wasn’t a threat, but this was thirteen years ago, and I was very, very angry. I had to find someone. Someone had to pay.”

Doyoung’s stomach twists.

“Doyoung, it’s not easy. For both of us. It’s not easy knowing that everyday we grow older, closer to our deaths and they don’t.”

“That’s our reality.”

 Lucas regards Doyoung with empathy, a hand running through copper coloured hair. “You know exactly what it feels like. To be in love with someone and know that inevitably and inescapably you will die and you will have to leave them behind.”

His throat closes up.

“Jaehyun is a distraction for me. Just like I'm a distraction for you. It’s something to focus on that isn’t our own mortality, that isn’t the future where we lie in coffins and they’re alone.”

Lucas gazes at Doyoung. “He took away his soul, Doyoung. He took away my eternity with him. I can’t forgive that. Who will be left for Jungwoo when I’m gone in a few years? Who will keep him safe?”

Lucas almost laughs to himself. “You’ll outlive me, you know? The venom that flows through me, that I need to survive is killing me.”

“You drink blood,” Doyoung states.

“Jungwoo’s, usually. I don’t- I can’t kill anyone. I told you, I don’t hurt humans. It wouldn’t matter where, though, I produce venom and it burns through my body like acid. You don’t hear of halflings often, and that’s because most of them leave messy and young corpses.” Lucas looks up at the rooks. “My entire life will end up as just a fraction of his entire existence.”

“I know how that feels,” Doyoung says softly.

“I know you do,” Lucas gazes at him. “It’s why, despite everything, despite that we are on opposite sides of this, I don’t hate you, Doyoung, because I see us as equals with the same burden. One day we'll die and we'll leave the ones we cherish most behind and that - that's our cross to bear.”

Doyoung doesn’t see Lucas as an equal. It might be easy from Lucas’s perspective to just see Doyoung as what he is, a fellow mortal in love with someone who would outlive time itself if left uninterrupted. But no, Lucas has always been one move ahead of him since the beginning. There was nothing equal about their positions.

“Jungwoo wouldn’t want you to kill Jaehyun.”

“He wouldn’t,” Lucas agrees without any argument. “He doesn’t. He tries to stop me everyday. But I’m very, very stubborn.” Lucas sighs as he surveys Doyoung. “You’re human. You break easily. You should leave. You shouldn’t be involved in this.”

“I am,” Doyoung states and it’s hard not to grow frustrated at how his own humanity keeps holding him back, anchoring him down.

“Are you not afraid of Jaehyun? He could drain you without even realizing it. He’s polite, yes, but you know he’s killed before? You’re a doctor, you surely can’t condone that.”

“I guess I’m a hypocrite too, then,” Doyoung challenges. Lucas pauses, eyes narrowing.

“Jaehyun picked a boy so pretty and young and teeming with life, and I’m just curious as to when he plans on eating the heart he’s already stolen.”

Doyoung pauses to remind himself of his goal here. Of why he’s talking to him to begin with.

“Johnny called you, didn’t he?” Doyoung says.

“Sent me a letter. Stamped with the town seal. I was here within a day,” Lucas shrugs. “But you know this, Doyoung, why are you asking me?”

And Doyoung suspected much. Johnny is a liar. And about more than just a letter. And perhaps the pieces begin to align. 

Doyoung inhales. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of your presence in my town.”

An eyeroll is the only visible reaction from Lucas. “I would leave as soon as I can.”

“You want to know where Jaehyun is?”

“You don’t know where he is, don’t be ridiculous,” Lucas scoffs. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Doyoung. You’re better than this.”

He pulls down the collar of his shirt, exposing the defined bite marks on his neck, a red and purple floral arrangement of bruises. His heart races. “I saw him just yesterday. I know where he is, Lucas.”

Lucas’s eyes widen but there’s suspicion in there, and rightfully so. “And why would you tell me this? What do you have to gain?”

“Because I want this to end. This has gone on too long. You want to know where Jaehyun is? I’ll tell you.”

 

♜

 

Doyoung knows that his mind is imperfect. He’s not without his vanity, and he’s aware that objectively, he’s intelligent. He graduated at the top of his cohort, to say anything less of his own intellect would be undermining himself. He applies his learning equally well. He strives to be a good doctor, he’s memorized every bone and muscle of the human body - and yet, that knowledge seems so insignificant, pales in comparison to the memories he’s lost.

He struggles to recall details. What colour of rose was Jaehyun’s favourite? How many rings adorned Yuta’s fingers when they met at Christmas? How tall was Jungwoo? Already he’s starting to forget these decorations to the moments he treasures most, and the very prospect is terrifying.

Doyoung doesn’t want to lose these memories, doesn’t want to lose what he knows of Jaehyun, what he knows of this life - but it’s not a choice. His heart betrays his humanity in every beat.

His mind is endless blank pages, awaiting the ink of the time that passes but it’s not colourfast, it’s never been and soon the pages are going to smudge and stain, until they’re indecipherable. And what then? What about the day he wakes up and realizes he can’t quite recall that shade of honey gold Jaehyun’s eyes were the day they met? 

Doyoung can’t fathom losing that. He’s never been creative, never been an artist. He can’t paint or write symphonies - even the lives he saves are temporary in nature, precious hours snatched away from Death’s hands. Nothing he does will ever be immortalized. When he dies, he takes everything he was and ever will be with him.

And he would leave Jaehyun behind.

Leave his Jaehyun alone, with his soft smile, with his caring heart and tender kisses, who talks to roses like they’re his friends. Just like he used to be.

Doyoung is not willing to lose that.

“Fortune,” Doyoung says quietly. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

She’s still terrifying. Her yellow eyes bore into Doyoung’s, and even though he approaches her, she makes no attempt at flying away, not even viewing him as a threat. Her talons are firmly gripped on the tree branch - but she seems to acknowledge her name.

“Fortune, if you’re here, that means Jungwoo is too,” Doyoung surmises. “Where is he?”

Out of the treetops, another hawk flies down, and it dwarfs Fortune with the span of its wings, uncurling like a cape. Perhaps it isn’t logical to assume that a bird is capable of glaring at him, but Doyoung feels discomfort prickling at his skin.

“You must be Valour,” Doyoung says carefully.

The bird cocks its head to the side and Doyoung may have dismissed it as just a natural gesture, but he’s come to understand these birds are more intelligent than they appear, personally doted upon by Jungwoo.    

“He must be near. I need to see him,” Doyoung says - but neither of the birds fly away to their master. They merely regard him with muted interest.

He makes a mental note of where they are, and continues walking till he reaches the riverbank. The water is calm at this hour, the rays of the sun having faded from view, rooks already roosted. There’s lanterns lit, and it bathes the water in an orange glow. He’s heard of this place, Sua had mentioned it before. It’s a small lake, hardly anything worth mentioning, what it is called has all but faded from memory, merely considered to be named after the town. It’s frequented by lovers, wishing to escape the confines of the community - but there are no tender hearts here tonight. Doyoung’s accompaniment is the air alone.

He gazes around, and from here, from this point, he can see Rookswood so clearly, the dead ash trees that protect it like a fence, the hills that Cerasus Manor claims - and it’s so strange to see it from here, to view it as an outsider. He wonders if Jaehyun ever looked at the town like this, wondered what secrets lay beneath those rook feathers.

The blade is cold in Doyoung’s grip. It’s uncanny that even after years, the silver still seems to shine. Perhaps not as sharp as it once was - but still as cruel. He looks around for a moment, if there’s a witness to his deeds and holds out his hand, cutting into the same vein he’s incised twice previously, watching the blood trickle to the ground like raindrops.

He slips the knife in the pocket of his jacket, attempting to ignore the way in which his arm stings, blood warm and wet as it drops. He turns around, pressing into his wound, sticky against his hand as he walks closer to the edge of the lake. He needs to find Jungwoo, everything that he had so painstakingly arranged hangs on the fact that he’d find him, and if his birds were here, surely he would be too-

It’s a sound like licking.

Doyoung turns around and it’s Jungwoo, knelt down, face to the floor as his tongue sweeps across the wooden planks, sucking up every drop of blood that crawls through the crevices.

Doyoung stares.

Jungwoo is like an animal, savage, hungry, fangs screeching as they scrape against the wood. The tips of his hair drip crimson as he leans down. His nails dig into the sides, sawdust collecting around, smears of his own blood that start to stain. 

He’s like a monster.

“Jungwoo.” His voice is as shaky as the leaves. He is ignored, and Jungwoo crouches further, licking again and again. The blood has long since disappeared. “Jungwoo.”

And Jungwoo looks up, and his eyes are scarlet, as expected, but more than that, they are iridescent, shining in the lamplight. Childish innocence has been wiped off his face and all that remains is the fixed gaze of a predator, watching Doyoung with renewed interest, pupils dilated.

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung repeats, calmly and assuredly. “I’m glad to see you. I was waiting for you.”

“You-”

“Are you okay?”

And the bloodlust lifts and Jungwoo blinks. He gains awareness of his surroundings, looking down at the mess of his fingertips, raw and red. He rises to his feet, shaking. Dust clings to his clothes.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and he sounds softer than usual. “Doyoung, I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”

“That’s what it’s like?” Doyoung asks, not bothering to answer, not bothering to tell him the truth that yes. Jungwoo scared him. Jungwoo stared at him, and all Doyoung thought was of fifteen people dead in a barn, and Jungwoo was still hungry. “Bloodlust?”

“Yes,” Jungwoo says. Red smears across his face like a portrait of a dying star. “Kind of. It’s worse sometimes. Sometimes I don’t overcome it.” He pauses. “But this time I did. So it’s fine.”

He smiles, that broad and shining smile of his - and it would be beautiful if not for his stained teeth. Doyoung exhales. Reminds himself it’s just Jungwoo. He’s the same as he’s always been. He won’t hurt Doyoung.

“What are you doing here, what happened, did you hurt yourself…” Jungwoo’s eyes travel from the ground to Doyoung’s arm, the laceration as neat as a surgeon. And hurt flashes across his face. “Doyoung, did you do that deliberately?”

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung says, and he means it. “But I needed to see you and I had no idea how else I’d find you. I saw your hawk nearby but I couldn’t find you.”

“I’m not supposed to be found,” Jungwoo says, and takes a step back, ready to run. “I know how dangerous Rookswood is. Lucas told me to stay hidden and I’m supposed to, I need to go back - but you just smelled so good, I couldn’t stop myself, your blood tastes like roses...”

Jungwoo’s face is filled with fear and betrayal. 

“Jungwoo, it’s okay, no one will come here. I just needed to talk to you,” Doyoung soothes.

But he looks unconvinced, gazing from side to side. “I need to go. It’s very dangerous here. I’ve seen what the Mayor looks like, and I don’t trust him at all.”

“But you trust me?”

Jungwoo looks up, his eyes wide. Considering. “I trust you,” he says after a pause. “I do trust you.”

Doyoung nods. “Jungwoo, I’ve been trying to think of how to save Jaehyun.”

And then Jungwoo crumples. “Doyoung, please, don’t involve me in this, I can’t take much more, I can’t handle Lucas trampling through the town, and I can’t handle you looking at me like that. If I could do something I would, but I can’t-”

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung interrupts. “You can. Jungwoo you can.” His eyes are wide. “Jungwoo, I’ve been thinking so much about this, and I’m just not going to let him die, Jungwoo-”

“If I could do something, I would! But I’ve never been good at anything, I’m weak and I know this.” Jungwoo’s eyes glisten with tears. “Jaehyun has written me so many letters and he says it’s fine, he says he doesn’t blame me, he says he’s lived a fulfilling life and he doesn’t mind if he dies. Maybe that was the truth… but now he’s met you, and I know everything has changed.”

Doyoung steps closer. The planks creak beneath him. “Lucas is going to die. Someday he’s going to die. And that’s why he’s so obsessed with Jaehyun. It’s to distract him from the reality that he’s going to leave you alone.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungwoo looks like he might cry. “I know, I know, I ruined everything, and I’m going to be alone, and I know they’ll find me, and vampires hold grudges, it could be a hundred years from now and they’ll still see me as the prize of the hunt and they’ll butcher me-”

Doyoung steps forward. His heartbeat races. He tries to memorize everything around him, the ripples in the water, the breeze in the air, the scent of copper on the ground. “Jungwoo, I won’t let anyone hurt you. As long as I live, I hope you realize I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

There’s a softness in Jungwoo’s gaze. “Doyoung…”

“Regardless of what happens next, Jungwoo, I want you to know I won’t let that happen. You’re not the prize of the hunt anymore. You’re Jungwoo, and you like big hats and you like birds, and you won’t be hurt anymore.”

There’s a prolonged pause.

“I trust you,” Jungwoo says, and that feels more binding than any blood oath. “I trust you, Doyoung.”

And then he says it: “But you’re human, you’re going to die too, everyone around me is going to die.”

Doyoung has a choice.

“Jungwoo, turn me.”

The world freezes, and Doyoung understands what it means to be timeless. To have everything around stop, and freeze, while he alone continues forward.

“Doyoung, I can’t turn you, I can’t even drink from you without killing you,” Jungwoo says, blunt. “How could I do something like turn you?”

“Your venom isn’t normal,” Doyoung says, and he runs through everything he’s discovered since he crossed the borders into this world. “It’s something I’ve been theorizing for a while, and it made sense when I spoke to Lucas. You kill because your venom is more potent. It’s why you feed more.”

Jungwoo swallows. “Even if that’s true, Doyoung, I don’t see how that could change anything.”

“It would be a minute. A minute, would be enough. You wouldn’t need to drain - you’d just need to bite.” Doyoung inhales. His heart beats faster, as if it knows it might stop. “Lucas wants a distraction. He wants you to be safe. I can give him both. If you turn me.”

His life is fragile in Jungwoo’s hands.

“Doyoung, I can’t do that, I can’t last for a minute, you don’t understand how weak I am. I keep trying to tell you but I’ve always been this way, I’ve always been so weak-” Tears splash down his face and Doyoung rushes forward, clutching his hands in his own.

“Jungwoo, I don’t think you’re weak at all,” Doyoung says. There’s never been anything weak about Jungwoo, not when Doyoung admires him and his resolve. “You survived your own hunt, you spent years taking care of yourself, and even now, you’re here, when so many others have died. I think you’ve always been so much stronger than you’ve ever realized.”

“You think I’m strong?” Jungwoo’s voice cracks, and Doyoung realizes this must be the first time he ever heard this.

“I know you are.”

Jungwoo looks down at where their hands connect, and raises Doyoung’s palm, and moves his fingers down, till they enclose over his wrist. “Doyoung, you can’t go back from this. You’ll give up your mortality. You’ll give up your soul. A life of blood awaits you. You’ll never be the same.”

“I know.”

“You’ll never be the same,” Jungwoo repeats. “And. And it will hurt. It will hurt a lot.”

And Doyoung replies: “Losing Jaehyun would hurt more.”

Jungwoo opens his mouth - and Doyoung has never seen his fangs so closely before, how sharp they are, unforgivably sharp. “And you want this? You know the risks? You know that if you die, Jaehyun will never forgive me and I won’t either?”

“Then do this as a favour to me,” Doyoung says quietly. “Because if I die, Lucas has very little need to hunt Jaehyun. He would be broken over my death.”

Broken, but he’d be free - and that’s enough for Doyoung.

“You’re very clever,” Jungwoo says, softly. “But if you were a little more, you’d know better than to trust me.”

Doyoung looks up at Jungwoo. He’s found a comfort in crimson eyes. Once, he feared them and all they represented - and now he begs for the colour in his own. He trusts Jungwoo, he does. And he trusts in Jaehyun. He nods, silently.

“This will hurt,” Jungwoo says, bringing Doyoung’s wrist up to his lips. There’s a vacant smile there - and then it’s gone.

The skin tears apart like ribbons underneath his fangs. They cut into the veins, carelessly, and his scream is locked between his teeth. The second the venom hits is the beginning of the end. He can feel the path it travels, clawing its way up and up his blood vessels till he can feel it choke him.

To say it burns, isn’t enough. It incinerates him. It’s nothing like the venom of Jaehyun, painful but euphoric. This venom heightens every synapse in his brain to the moment where it overwhelms itself, feels like they’re about to burst, each nerve ripping apart in agony.

His eyes slam shut and he feels his own knees buckle to the floor, barely able to support himself on Jungwoo’s frame. He does not stop drinking, cradling his arm, his tongue licking up and down the blood that gushes from the pinprick holes.

This has to be enough. This has to be enough, surely it has to be enough, everything inside of him burns, and burns, and burns. He can’t differentiate between his senses, everything molding into one.

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung murmurs. His voice is hoarse, like he’s been screaming. Maybe he has.

Doyoung has built his life out of helping people. It’s the one thing he can do in his own existence. His own relationships suffer under his many shortcomings, and he’s never been a perfect son nor a perfect brother. He realized this very early in his life, and if he couldn’t exist in the correct way, he would do his best for those around him, with the potential to lead fulfilling lives.

He’s given up most of his youth for this, and truthfully, most of the life that follows too. He’s dedicated himself and his future for this. He knows he’ll never have a family of his own, knows that before everything else his duty comes. And yet he minds none of this, none of this is a burden to him.

But then there’s Jaehyun. A singular individual with starving honey gold eyes and a kind smile that hides razor sharp fangs - and for the first time, Doyoung wants to be selfish. He wants his eternity with Jaehyun, he wants to be with him, and he doesn’t care about what he’s sacrificing for it.

And if this, this fire that burns through him now, is the price of selfishness, that’s fine by him.

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung whispers, trying again. He’s trapped in a cage of his own paralysis, limp and vulnerable at Jungwoo’s mercy - but it seems like Jungwoo is already gone, and all that remains is the hunter’s envy, the binge-eater of a hundred tales. “Please, you need to stop.”

Dizziness passes over him like a haze. It’s almost a relief from the pain, and unconsciousness lines the edges of his mind. He feels so light, like there’s nothing left inside of him.

There was always this possibility. He knew that. Jungwoo may end up killing him - but on a numerated list of sacrifice, that was fine. That was something Doyoung could do. And perhaps if this was where he dies, maybe it isn’t so bad. It’s for the good of someone he loves more than anything else, and he’s giving his life to someone who deserved so much better than the cards they were dealt.

He may have died a million ways a million times so far in his life. But doesn’t it feel special if it’s now, in Rookswood, a dark town with dark clouds, but with beauty rippling forth like the motions in the lake now. And it’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?

Doyoung opens his eyes. The sky is piano black.

“Jungwoo,” he says, dreamily, almost like a goodbye, “It’s so bright, and the moon. The moon looks gold as honey.”

And then it stops. Not entirely, of course, no the venom continues its path through his blood, poisoning him from the inside, igniting every cell in his body - but his wrist no longer bleeds, is no longer fed upon, and he feels a warm presence over him.

Jungwoo is as warm as the sun. “Doyoung? Doyoung, are you okay? Doyoung, please, stop bleeding?” A hand across his neck, clumsily searching for a pulse. “Doyoung?”

Doyoung can hear him, but can summon no muscle in his body to move. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, thrumming and humming like a drum, but he prefers piano.

He doesn’t know if this is death or not. Perhaps it’s both. He can count each individual breath, and it’s what he does, the only distraction from the agony which flames through him. He realizes that it’s a moonless night.

He wonders where his Jaehyun is. He wonders if he’s looking at the same piano black sky.

 

♝

 

“A human doctor?” Yuta says, inflection higher and higher.

“Yes,” Jaehyun says. He can’t deny what is plainly the truth.

“When I came here to tell you about the unfortunate reality of Ten’s imprisonment, I didn’t expect your reply was to inform me how much you adore your neighbour,” Yuta says, trying very hard not to frown.

The room is so much nicer when it’s filled with the presence of his friend. It seems less empty. Jaehyun likes that. Yuta and all his jewellery look beautiful perched upon his sofa. 

“You can’t be serious, Jaehyun, you’re not like this. You’re not the kind of person who gets caught up in passing infatuations.”

“You’re right,” Jaehyun says, keeping his eyes fixed on the piano keys. There’s a noticeable pause as Yuta so elegantly plucks out the spaces between Jaehyun’s words, as he always does.

“It’s not a passing infatuation, is it?”

It’s the pity that hurts. The way Yuta looks at him and knows that this will not end well.

“Look at me, Jaehyun,” Yuta clicks his fingers, and Jaehyun tries to stop acting like the coward he is. Yuta plays with the golden rings, and the furrow of his brows suggest he is deep in thought.

“He’s going to find out,” Yuta says after a moment. “If he’s as smart as you say he is, he’ll find out. Then what? Will you tell him? Will you tell him everything?”

“He won’t find out,” Jaehyun says decisively, and this much he has confidence in. “He won’t love me, Yuta. I’m not worthy of that. You should see him. He’s so, so intelligent and accomplished, and I’ve seen the way he cares about people. Such selflessness is nothing I’ve encountered before.” His voice takes on a dreamlike quality. “And Yuta, he’s beautiful.”

Even now, he thinks of his raven-haired doctor with his gentle hands. He wonders, as he often does, how it would feel to hold them, interlink his fingers with his own, caress him like he deserves. And then he shakes his head of his own illusions, and looks back up at Yuta, whose stare is kind but concerned.

“Jaehyun, I say this with nothing but love in my heart, but are you not just starved? It’s been so long. Are you not concerned you’re mistaking your own bloodlust for affection, projecting it on this person?”

That’s the thing about Yuta. Even when he’s so blunt it hurts, he means well, his intentions are soaked in love.

“I want to drink his blood,” Jaehyun admits, voice shaking. “I’ll be honest about that. He smells delicious and I know he’d taste even moreso. I would never indulge myself like that, obviously, but I am very much aware of the part of me that desires him in that capacity.”

Yuta nods. “Then, is it not possible that you just want to drain him? He’s virgin blood, too. Enticing. Fresh. The very thought is intoxicating. It’s nothing to be ashamed of Jaehyun. It’s our nature, after all. You’re still as much a vampire as me, regardless of your current situation.”

He hasn’t felt that way in a long, long time, but it’s nice of Yuta to even suggest it, as false as it may be.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Yuta, I could never drink his blood, ever, and that would be fine with me. It’s not about blood, I know that. I crave more than that. I want his company, I want to hear about his life and his past and his day, I just-”

“Jaehyun.” It’s the pity. Yuta sits with his knees pressed to his chest, and his sigh is muffled.

“Yuta, you asked.”

“I didn’t know-” Yuta breaks off. “You have to understand this from my perspective. I didn’t expect in the time you’re imprisoned here you’d fall in love.”

The silence is deafening.

Recognition flashes across Yuta’s face.

“You’re not correcting me,” he states.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaehyun says, rushing to mask his own honesty. “I can assure you that whatever affection he has for me, if any, is of little consequence and will quickly pass.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Yuta challenges. “And if he reciprocates, and if he loves you too? What then? To what end is this?”

Jaehyun’s face is like storm clouds. “He won’t. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. It’ll never get that far. He deserves someone better. Someone not completely and utterly doomed.” 

Yuta rises off the couch and lets his hand rub over Jaehyun’s shoulder, and to just have a tender touch for the first time in so long soothes the worries that plague his mind. He avoids the left shoulder. Yuta is tactful like that.

“Jaehyun, you know I’m sorry for what’s happened, and I’d do something if I could, but I can’t. You can’t escape fate. We’re all just stuck in the positions we’re in.”

Jaehyun knows this. Jaehyun has learnt and accepted this in thirteen long years - but if there isn’t a sweet-voiced neighbour who makes him wish that he could, by some extraordinary means, change the game. 

 

♜

 

“My Doctor? Are you okay?”

His voice is melodious, as always. His hands are cold on his cheeks but that’s just relieving. He caresses his face like he always does: with absolute reverence. Even if he’s given up his soul, he doesn’t think he minds, not if he gets touched like this.

“Doyoung?”

And even as he burns, even as he knows it’ll hurt more, he opens his eyes, because he just loves to look at Jaehyun, he always has. The edges of his vision are blurred by venom and he can barely make out the shapes and the colours are obscured, but it’s him, it was always him.

“There you are,” Jaehyun says, and his voice is as soft as the first snow. “Oh, my love, you’re too good to me.”

Doyoung’s fingers struggle, unable to move the way they’re supposed to. They’re numb against him. It’s frustrating - and then he feels a hand grip over his own, interlocking their fingers.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun whispers.

Doyoung's voice is cut up and fractured like it's been placed on a wheel and set to drive across the gravel road. He's bleeding, he knows he's bleeding, he can feel the overwhelming warmth of gushing blood spill over his wrist and down his arm - but he can't see it.

“Are you?” he says, the words garbled - but understandable.

“Yes. Yes, Doyoung, I’m fine. I’ve been fine ever since I met you.” He disconnects their hands, and feels himself be lifted into his hold.

“Jaehyun, I’m…” It’s Jungwoo. Nervous.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Jaehyun says. He’s saying something else now, something about the sky, something about the sun, but a thought passes through Doyoung’s dizzied mind and he tries to speak.

“How did you know where I was?”

Not even venom can distort the image of Jaehyun gazing down at him like he’s the deity of a religion of his own formation. “I told you, Doyoung. I feel you in my blood. I know wherever you are.”       

Doyoung’s eyes flutter closed, unable to fight the way the fire burning inside takes him under, and he lets the world disappear into white noise - with the exception of the sound he treasures most.

“Let’s go home.”

♜

Piano is what he hears first. He doesn’t know music, doesn’t know chords or keys, but he knows Jaehyun, he knows the patterns he favours when he plays. And this is him. This is a composition of his own creation.

It’s slow, but with many notes. Doyoung is grateful for the sound. It’s a distraction. He lets himself float along with each and every inflection. He remembers the song Jaehyun played for him first, that beautiful one, the one about the star-crossed lovers calling out for each other, separated by heaven and Earth.

Doyoung doesn’t know if he’s died or not, and he’s aware how silly that sounds. But to him, having spent untold hours trapped with his eyes shut in his own burning body, it’s impossible to tell, his most recent memories are too painful to sift through, all tinged by venom. He’s studied cases of patients who hallucinate the voices of their loved ones, who claim in those seconds before their eternal rest, they saw a light. If Doyoung ever saw one, he’d think it would be golden.

When Doyoung opens his eyes, he doesn’t see any light. Rather, he’s in darkness. He doesn’t know where he is. His skin is so heavy, his eyes hurt, and his throat, his throat feels like he swallowed glass - but the fire’s stopped.

And Doyoung exhales.

He sits up, and gazes around - and his eyes lock with Lucas, sitting so comfortably, he must have been there for so long.

“You’re awake,” Lucas says. His voice is soft.

“Am I dead?” Doyoung says, before he can stop himself.

“Depends on your definition,” Lucas snorts, and steps off the chair, and moves closer to Doyoung, studying him carefully as if he’s a patient to be examined. “You’re not dead yet. Close, though. You can feel it, can’t you?”

He can. It’s his heartbeat that’s the tell. It’s slow, a steady thump. Just a——.

“There’s a window of time,” Lucas says, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, “in the transformation. Where you’re not a vampire but you’re not human either. Where you’re conscious enough to know what’s happening. Conscious enough to stop it.”

He turns away, facing the window. “I know from Jungwoo. It was the first time he spoke to me since I found him there. He told me something. Told me that if I wanted to, if I had to, I could kill him then. He wouldn’t be a vampire, he’d have his soul - and I’m a hunter. I know how to dispatch vampires. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Doyoung says simply.

“Of course not. How could I? It’s him.” Lucas sounds hollow. “I’m telling you this if you have any second thoughts. I doubt you do, though.”

“I don’t.” Doyoung doesn’t hesitate.

“Funnily enough, neither did Jungwoo,” Lucas sighs. “Doyoung, I don’t know what to do. I had a very, very simple existence and you just made everything complicated.”

It hurts to speak with the way his throat aches. “Where’s Jaehyun?”

“He’s downstairs playing piano. I mean who else would?” Lucas says. “He’s fine, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Whatever fool’s errand you sent me on, I never found him, and by the time I arrived back, Jungwoo told me a very interesting story. And I needed to speak to you alone, before I do anything else. Jaehyun agreed to my terms. There was no alternative.”

He looks suitably angry at being lied to. Doyoung doesn’t really feel remorseful, having sent Lucas in the complete opposite direction.

“What are you going to do to me?” Doyoung sounds scared. He doesn’t think he is. He doesn’t have much to lose anymore.

“I don’t know,” Lucas says, and he looks so much less like the hunter of legend, and more and more human, like those patients who can’t carry themselves through the door because the weight of the world rests on unsteady shoulders. “Doyoung, what am I supposed to do? Jungwoo is your maker, I can’t hurt you and I don’t want to and I know you won’t want to live without Jaehyun, but-”

Lucas gazes up at Doyoung. “I swore an oath,” he says.

Doyoung stands up. His legs are unsteady, but he walks to where Lucas is, and he holds his hand out, palm facing up. Lucas’s stare is cutting. “The epidermis of the hand is the fastest healing of the entire body. It’s incredible in that aspect. It leaves very little scarring. Or none.” He runs his finger down the lines of Lucas’s hand. “Even the one you cut just two weeks ago, is already gone. I don’t see any scars. I’ve never seen any scars.”

Lucas looks down at his own hand as if it’s new.

“And you know vampires heal, they heal flawlessly and perfectly,” Doyoung says and he reaches for that cold knife that he knows is in his jacket. It already starts to burn him, faintly, like touching a stove that’s warming up.

“That’s my knife,” Lucas murmurs, eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Jaehyun has no traces of this oath. Neither do you. His blood has been gone thirteen years ago, and so has yours. Your body has rebuilt itself from tissue to bone, cycled through an entirely new self. You are not the same person, and neither is he.” Doyoung winces, as he feels the skin of his palm start to blister. “Take your knife back, and write this debt off like it never happened.”

“It isn’t that simple, Doyoung,” Lucas says, but snatches his knife back. “It’s about Jungwoo-”

“And know that when you’re gone, I’ll be here. And I’ll look after Jungwoo, no matter what. You know I care about him, and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.” Doyoung’s heartbeat struggles. It’s slower now. It’s just a—— every few moments. The pauses are discernable.

Lucas’s eyes fill with tears.

“If you want a blood oath so badly, make one with me, then. I’m prepared to swear on my life that I’ll be there for Jungwoo when you can’t.”

“No,” Lucas says, and abruptly throws the dagger on the floor. It sounds against the wardrobe as it hits, silver glinting. “No, no more blood.”

He surges forward and grabs Doyoung by his bloodstained shirt, eyes wild. “I want you to promise me with every last remaining vestige of humanity you have left in you. Make me a promise.”

“I can do that,” Doyoung inhales.

“Do you promise?” Lucas insists, teardrops wet against his cheek. “Do you promise you’ll take care of him when I can’t? Do you promise you won’t let them hurt him?”

“I promise.” His words feel more binding than blood.

Lucas sustains his stare with him, even as tears continue to pour down his face. “I trust you, Doyoung. I trust you. Don’t- Don’t let anyone hurt him. Doyoung, I’m trusting you.”

Doyoung sees the tension begin to relieve itself from Lucas’s body, the weight off his shoulders begin to lift, and you can’t save everyone, but he might have just saved Lucas too. That’s just what a doctor is supposed to do. Every patient deserves the chance at recovery.

Doyoung pauses. “Lucas? I have a name. Of the person who set the first bounty on Jungwoo’s head all those years ago. Do you want it?”

 

♜

 

“Mayor Seo, I’ve heard some very interesting things about you.”

Johnny’s fork clatters onto the plate, and he stares up, eyes as dark as the rooks. “I didn’t say you could come inside.”

“I don’t need an invitation,” Lucas says smoothly. Kun barely had time to open the door before Lucas had stormed inside, leather coat billowing behind him. Doyoung had trailed afterwards, head down, all but ignoring everything around him.

“What is the meaning of this? You can’t just barge into my house.” Johnny’s voice is high.

“How much did you pay me to take care of Jaehyun?” Lucas demands. “I don’t think it was enough. I think you’re holding back. It certainly wasn’t enough if I compare it to the bounty you set on Jungwoo’s head.”

Johnny grows pale. He pushes his plate away. The web of Rookswood threatens to eat himself. “Now, Lucas, I don’t know-”

“Don’t lie to me, please. I really don’t like lying.” Lucas’s teeth are bared. And there are fangs.

“Everyone knew Jungwoo was a threat-” Johnny attempts.

“But that bounty was what caught everyone’s attention, wasn’t it?” Lucas says, and his eyes have taken on a luminescent quality. “Most people had no idea who Jungwoo was, but suddenly now they had a name, they had a description, they knew everything.”

“That’s hard to say, really, I mean there were numerous factors in play at the time,” Johnny begins. “When you consider the political climate at the time, it’s hardly-”

Lucas jumps onto the dining table, the weight of his boots thundering down on the wood, staining the pristine tablecloth. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I was there.” His height at this level is terrifying and Johnny is fastened in his chair, looking as if he might disintegrate into atoms on the spot.

“I was there, I was always there.” Lucas walks slowly, ignoring the porcelain plates that crack underneath him. “Jungwoo was so young. He couldn’t do anything about his hunger. He was defenseless and scared, and what he needed was help. And you brought money into it.”

“I just wanted what was best for everyone-”

“Then you would have offered to help him, not pay the highest bidder to mount his head on your fucking mantelpiece.”

The air is thick, and Doyoung steps closer to the table, intervening. Doyoung notices Lucas’s hand reaching for the deerhorn knives that line his belt, and calls out: “Lucas, don’t.”

Lucas doesn’t listen to him - but Johnny does, shifting his glare to Doyoung. “Doyoung, what happened to you? Why are you with him? Why are you covered in blood, what’s wrong with your eyes-”

“That’s not of a consequence to you, Mayor Seo,” Lucas snarls. “If I were you, I would much rather focus on yourself right now. You’ve put the love of my life in mortal danger, you are the reason any of this began, you are what tore down my eternity.”

He approaches the edge of the table and kneels down, effortlessly tugging out one of his knives and presses it to Johnny’s throat in a single swift movement. Johnny gulps, nails clenching the chair so hard that wood flakes off. “Are you intending to kill me in my own home?”

“Believe me, I want to,” Lucas growls. “The temptation is immense.”

“The rumours of your bloodthirsty nature have proven to be true,” Johnny says. It could be considered brave, if not for the way he shakes under the blade.

“I wouldn’t say such impolite words right now,” Lucas says through gritted teeth. “I suggest you leave, Mayor Seo. Or there will be consequences.”

“I don’t kill humans.” Lucas pulls the knife down, back into his belt. “But there are creatures that do, and they are right here.”  

Johnny turns to Doyoung, eyes blown with fear, desperation vivid. “Doyoung, you can’t let this happen. Doyoung, you won’t let him give me over to the vampires, would you?”

And Doyoung, with his scarlet eyes, and heart that struggles to beat, says: “I wouldn’t know. There’s no vampires in Rookswood, are there?”

 

♜

 

“Doctor?”

Kun’s voice is muted, could easily be lost if there was not anything other than cold silence in the room ever since both Lucas and Johnny left. When Doyoung doesn’t respond, he tries again. “Doctor?”

Doyoung runs a hand through his hair and turns around, exhaling. His lungs don’t feel like they need the air. “Hello Kun.”

“Doctor,” Kun repeats, and walks closer. Kun, who’s so terrified of vampires, who believes in tales of virgin blood in dark alleys, takes a step forward. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Kun.” Doyoung wonders what he can say to ease Kun’s mind. He runs through a million possibilities in his mind, rapidly trying to think of something, anything but there’s just vacant sentiment. There’s nothing that can be said. This is who he is now. “Kun, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what he apologizes for. Possibly everything.

“Doctor, your eyes…”

Doyoung’s fingers twitch. “It’s okay. I know.”

“You look so hurt,” Kun continues. “Do you need me to get your bandages?”

Even now, he dotes on Doyoung. “No, no, Kun, it’s fine. This is who I am now. This is… this is me. I understand if you would prefer if I leave.”

Kun is quiet. He lets his gaze run up and down, staring at Doyoung intensely, expression unfathomable. “I know who you are, Doctor,” Kun says. “That doesn’t change.”

And even though his hands are shaking, he leans over and pinches Doyoung’s cheek. “You’ve gotten so skinny. If you keep this up, I’ll never get you married.”

 

♜

 

He stands at Jaehyun’s door, and he’s never been superstitious, but the golden rook seems to shine, even in a moonless night - and that seems like a good omen. His hand rests on his wrist. Silence. Silence——. Silence. Silence——.

Perhaps twenty beats a minute. Perhaps less. His throat burns. He wonders if this is how it will always feel.

He’s been standing at Jaehyun’s door for so long, unable to enter. He tries, but there’s an impassable barrier that stops him. It’s almost amusing. He could knock, of course, but-

Doyoung is scared. Doyoung is scared that Jaehyun will look at him and recoil in disgust, would stare at that marked wrist of his and tell him to leave and never come back. That perhaps, Jaehyun had only loved him for his blood, that there’d be nothing left the second his heart stops. And if that’s so, his poor heart has only minutes left as the venom continues its path of poison.

The door opens.

“You can come in, Doyoung. You can always come in. This house has always been as much as yours as it is mine,” Jaehyun says. His eyes sparkle, and Doyoung exhales.

Jaehyun fusses over him at first, wiping the blood, sweat and dirt off his brow with a cloth, his touch gentle. He peels off those layers of clothing that cling to his skin, replaces it with a shirt of his own. He treats him like he’s hurt, and maybe he is. He feels like he’s hurting.

Every nerve in his body prickles, and his mouth goes dry. He can hear it so clearly. Silence. Silence. Silence——. Silence. Silence. Silence——.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung whispers, unable to take anymore. “I’m scared.”

In the span of a breath, Jaehyun rushes towards him, kneeling in front of him as if in prayer, taking his hands in his. “There’s not much left, is there? I could hear your heartbeat.”

Doyoung shakes his head. “Jaehyun, I’m so scared.” Fangs are heavy in his mouth. It’s atavistic, this fear inside of him, the knowledge that he’s watching himself die is a burden difficult to bear. 

“I’m here,” Jaehyun says, and he keeps repeating it, until it drowns out the noise in Doyoung’s head. “Doyoung, my beautiful, beautiful Doctor, you’ve saved me. I won’t leave you.”

Their foreheads press together, and Doyoung inhales the air that passes from Jaehyun’s breath, from lungs that don’t need to breathe. Their fingers are entwined, and he stares down at them.

Silence——.

“Will you miss it?” Doyoung says. His voice is as hollow as the wind——. “Will you miss…”

“Did you hear me play earlier?” Jaehyun asks.

“It was the first thing I heard when I woke.”

Jaehyun’s so close that Doyoung can’t make out the smile - but he knows it exists. “It’s you. That song, it’s the beat of your heart as it started to fade. I could hear it so clearly. Doyoung, I don’t need anything else. All I’ve ever needed was you.”

Silence——.

The end comes sooner rather than later. There’s no celebration, there’s no burst of confetti, there’s no candles and there’s no fireworks. It’s just a period of extended silence, a final——, that final heartbeat that resounds out.

And then there’s nothing.

Nothing, but Jaehyun, gazing at him. Death has never seemed quite so beautiful.

 

♜

 

The rooks spin and circle the air, sunset bathing the city in an ethereal orange glow, like the hearth of a fireplace. It’s nicer in summer. Each individual rook strikes out to him. He can determine the precise manner in which their wings curve and dip, the way they settle in their nests.  

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Jaehyun exhales. The sun is already down and the fading rays catch in his tawny hair. He sparkles. Doyoung could never properly appreciate those subtle nuances to his face, the angle at which his jaw juts out, the slant of his brows.

He looks forward to an eternity of discovering them.

“What do you feel?” Jaehyun asks, carefully. 

“Everything,” Doyoung answers, and almost laughs at himself, because it’s just true. “I feel everything, Jaehyun, it’s indescribable.”

Doyoung stares at Jaehyun, crimson eyes interlocking with crimson. He brings his fingers to his lips and holds them there, and when he speaks, he speaks against them. “I can feel your unsteady breath as air passes down from your trachea into your bronchial tubes. I can hear the flow of blood that passes through every artery and every vein in your body.” Doyoung pauses. “Oh Jaehyun, you’re so alive.”

Jaehyun looks at him like a rose in full bloom.

“Jaehyun, is this what it’s like?” Doyoung murmurs. Up to this point he’s lived life trapped behind a veil, where he could only make out the obscured figures of what awaited him outside but now he’s there, he’s free, and oh the breeze, the feel of clean air on his skin, the sight of the world around him. “Everything is more.”

Indulgence has taken a liking to Doyoung. He’s spent hours and hours tangled up in Jaehyun, drinking in his sighs and his moans, and it was only at his pertinent encouragement they left the Rose Manor to begin with. After all, this was his spot - and they had time, they had so much time.

“I thought you’d change, you know. I think I did when I…” Jaehyun breaks off, unsure of himself.

“Have I not changed?” Doyoung asks, carefully wrapping his hand around Jaehyun’s. It fits. “And here I thought the eye colour was evident.”

“Don’t tease,” Jaehyun replies and his laugh is like bells. “I thought you’d be quieter, I thought you’d be reserved but no, you’re just as you were, you’re just… happier.”

“Of course I’m happier, Jaehyun, I get to have forever with you.”

His honesty is as raw as the sunset.

“You won’t stop touching me,” Jaehyun says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You feel incredible.” The words are simple but undeniable. Doyoung cannot describe it in any other manner. Jaehyun’s skin is electric, each individual hair follicle is a sensation on Doyoung’s skin that ignites his own. It’s a wonder they ever left the house when even touching him sends sparks running through his skin.

“You have to stop flattering me like this, my dear Doctor, I’ll develop an ego,” Jaehyun says, even as he steals a kiss. With no need for air between them, their kisses have become long and languid, entire hours passing by with just the swipes of their tongues and the heat between them. Doyoung tilts Jaehyun’s head back, demanding deeper and Jaehyun lets out the sweetest sound, even as they part.

“You’re so strong, now,” Jaehyun murmurs against his lips. “You could take me. You could have me on my back and begging for it.”

“Perhaps that’s exactly my plans for the evening,” Doyoung’s eyes twinkle as he slides his hand down, cupping the curve of Jaehyun’s ass.

“Raising my expectations already?”

“Only because I know I’ll meet them,” Doyoung responds, pressing a kiss against the side of his throat. “We should go home quickly then, shouldn’t we?”

Jaehyun’s smile is all that matters to him. He takes his hand, and leads him forth, and they’re gone in a breath, in a moment, and all that remains is the aroma of rose petals in the air.

 

♜

 

As far as towns go, Rookswood is an anomaly. Nestled in the outskirts of the countryside, there’s a singular train line that connects it to the city - besides that, it’s something of an outcast among similar towns. Very few travellers ever visit and it appears the citizens of Rookswood favour it like that. Notoriously close knit, the community favours the bonds it already has and only the most persistent of outsiders can ever consider Rookswood to become their home. Most noticeable, of course, are the birds the town is named after, the rooks, and of that the town has thousands. They spill across the sky like ink across a page, and it’s a most magnificent sight to behold.

Rooks, like many other blackbirds, are subject to a number of superstitions. Originating from the town itself, there does appear to be a strange phenomena where the birds will simply drop dead from the sky. Many experts have attempted to discover the cause for this, but it is as of present, unknown. This mass death has occurred throughout history, and even is reported today. The reason for their demise are not clear to us one day. The citizens of Rookswood do have an explanation for this, an absolutely fanciful superstition, that it is supposedly due to the presence of vampires in the area. It’s an explanation but certainly untrue. After all, there are no vampires in Rookswood. 

Notes:

a thread of castling visuals
castling spotify playlist
and that's it!

i have many people to thank but i'll try and keep it brief. to chel, thank you for being the world's most understanding and perfect beta and for your constant patience and comments. to steph, as always for being there for every word i've ever written. to yas, for talking me through so many plotpoints and for sharing her creativity with me. to kali, my darling who's supported me all this time, i could never have asked for a more caring and wonderful person in my life to laugh and cry with.
and lastly, to hyb, who has taught me so much, who's constantly encouraged me, who's helped me with the thorniest of sentences and has the sharpest mind, who's presence was essential to this story, thank you for everything.

and thank you, to my loyal and understanding readers, and my particular gratitude to anyone who ever left a kudos or a comment or sent me a CC, thank you so much, it's been a pleasure sharing my story with you. we part ways with our dearest vampires here, but please do leave a comment or a kudos with your thoughts, i love hearing from you all. 🌹💕

i hope you enjoyed rookswood as much as i enjoyed writing it!

as always, happy vampire-loving.

Notes:

comments and kudos are super appreciated, i'd love to hear your feedback! <3

you can find me on:
- twitter
- curiouscat
- tumblr
- under your local drawbridge