Chapter Text
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Kim Taehyung dies on a Friday night. In retrospect he would have dressed less nicely, had he known and planned accordingly for the ensuing bloodbath. As it is he’s wearing this season’s Lanvin, a white silken shift straight off the rack, when Seojoon kisses up his neck before biting down.
Later he’ll be grateful it’s not a favorite shirt soaked in his own blood. In the moment, however, all Taehyung is concerned with is the sting of his skin before it breaks under his boyfriend’s teeth.
“This won’t hurt,” comes a murmur beside his ear, entrancing enough that Taehyung’s limbs go slack without resistance. And so it doesn’t, as the room begins to spin. He doesn’t feel any pain, just like he’d been told, and as red creeps across the front of his shirt his vision goes black.
Then light.
Taehyung buckles. He gasps, and his own voice sounds foreign to him, loud and echoing around what has to be a vast, open space. From the brief moment he’d blinked open his eyes before needing to slam them squinted shut again, he can tell he’s no longer in his apartment.
The light. It’s dizzying and miserable, feels like it’s boring into his skull and blinding him, even after Taehyung’s all but collapsed in on himself. Slumped on his knees, he realizes, on his knees with a migraine licking at his temples like fire.
“It’s awake,” he hears. He hears. And with that realization comes a horrid ringing in his ears, swelling with every second. Because he can hear everything.
Dozens of whispers, all around him, from every direction. They get louder the more he becomes aware of them, until there’s a crescendo of noise all but crashing down onto him. It hurts, and only when he tries to cover his ears from it does Taehyung realize that his wrists are bound.
Panic rises swiftly in Taehyung. He chokes on it, on everything confusing and all-too-much all-at-once until he’s swarmed by the noises and the hideous light. He can’t remember how he got here, and he can't see or hear properly, and his wrists are tied, and he swallows back fear in his throat until tears are bursting from his closed eyelids and dripping down his cheeks and the sensations overwhelm him to the point of hysteria and there’s nothing he can do but—
“Shut up!” Taehyung screams, and can barely believe it came from his own mouth. His jaw aches. The chatter subsides for one shocked second, before picking right back up, louder than before.
“See,” one derisive voice breaks out above the others. Louder, closer. No less harsh on his feverishly attuned hearing. Taehyung whimpers at it. “It can’t even control its hearing.”
“Well, no one’s taught him,” another voice answers back. This one is quieter, calmer, placating. Taehyung attunes himself to it in desperation. Closer, then: “Hey. Can you hear me? Focus on my voice, do you understand me?”
“Y-Yes,” Taehyung whispers, and finds that when he obeys, concentrating only on the one voice, all the other noise fades into the background.
“Everyone shut up. And dim the lights,” the friendly voice says, a little removed. Called, perhaps, back over a shoulder, and harsher when addressing whoever else is here other than Taehyung. “Don’t you remember how it was for you?”
“No,” a sullen voice replies. But it doesn’t matter, because the lights go out. And Taehyung can see again.
The migraine recedes almost immediately. Taehyung blinks his eyes clear for a minute, cautious to raise his head and look around. When he does, in the blessed, blissful darkness, he can see now he's in some sort of theater.
Later, he'll register it's odd that he can see more in the pitch black than with the lights on. It's a curious sort of vision, a greyed-out world in the absence of color, but all the outlines and details around him are clear. He starts to put the picture together—himself, kneeling on a stage, nearly a dozen people all around him. Peering at him, like some sort of curiosity.
The closest is a man crouched at eye level, his face open and welcoming. It's clear now that this is the person who'd spoken to him.
Intelligently, Taehyung manages, "What the fuck?"
Some of the people in the circle around him exchange guarded looks. Taehyung notices, because he notices everything right now, can't seem to stop being able to hear and see every detail around him.
Taehyung tugs at his hands, and discovers again that his wrists are bound. With chains, actual chains, that clink when he tugs at them. There’s a massive bloodstain spattered across the white front of his shirt, and when Taehyung sees it he shrieks.
"Hey," the man crouched in front of him says, hands extended. Soothing a wild beast. "Easy there. You're okay."
"He bit me," Taehyung stammers, memory flooding back. "He—he bit me. What happened? Where am I? Where is Seojoon?"
"It really doesn't know anything," Taehyung hears a pitying murmur behind him. The man crouched in front of him must be able to hear it too, because he glances up at whoever's over Taehyung's shoulder and glares daggers at them.
"Hey, ignore them. Keep looking at me," The man in front of Taehyung soothes. "My name is Hoseok. What's your name?"
Taehyung double takes back. In that moment his concentration had slipped, he'd felt—gone, again. Like he could hear and see too much, like he might get lost gazing at the circle around him with nothing concrete to focus on.
"I'm—Taehyung," he mumbles. Still blinking, at the odd way he can see every detail of every shadow. "Where am I? What happened?"
"What do you remember?" Hoseok asks, eyes intent. He avoids Taehyung’s questions smoothly.
"I don't—" Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, tries to think. Images filter back slowly into his mind. "Seojoon, my boyfriend. He came up to my apartment after our date. Everything was fine, then... then he bit me," Taehyung remembers, eyes flying open. He can't believe he'd ever forgotten it, and glances down wildly at his shirt. A hint of hysteria touches his voice. “Is this my blood?"
"It was," a new voice. A careful voice. Taehyung shuffles to turn as best he can on his knees, blinking up at the man walking toward him. He has his hands raised, just as soothing an approach as Hoseok had made, before kneeling. His hands stretch out to Taehyung slowly, slowly enough that Taehyung could pull back if he wanted. When he doesn't, the man takes the chains around Taehyung's wrist in hand, and snaps them open as if the metal were paper.
Hisses of disapproval all around them. "Seokjin," one woman warns in a snarl.
"What—" Taehyung gapes. He looks up at Seokjin again, this time with fear. But it fades as soon as they make eye contact. There's something new and almost tangible surrounding him like an aura, pouring out to hook Taehyung and prevent him from looking away.
"Listen to me," Seokjin says, voice alluring. Familiar. Ah, Taehyung realizes absently, Seojoon. The same tone that had whispered this won't hurt, and so many other gentle commands. In this moment, the epiphany barely registers. He's listening to Seokjin. "I will tell you everything, but I need you to stay calm. There are people here who want evidence you can't control yourself, but you will prove them wrong. You will stay calm, and hear everything I say clearly. Do you understand me?"
"I understand," falls from Taehyung's lips before he can think about it. Then Seokjin blinks, and the spell breaks. Still—he's calm. Looking up at Seokjin and covered in his own drying blood, Taehyung is calm.
"Cheating," a man sneers. This time, Taehyung doesn't bother to turn and look at the new speaker. "All the compulsion in the world doesn't change the fact he's sireless."
Seokjin ignores the jeer just the same. "Taehyung, right?" he begins. The small smile on his face is comforting. His words are not. "Listen to me. The man you knew was no ordinary chaebol. He was a vampire, and a member of this court. Yes, a vampire," Seokjin says, seeing Taehyung's eyes widen and drop back to his ruined shirt. "You remember that he bit you. He went too far. This is your trial."
"T-Trial?" Taehyung swallows. Distantly, he feels panic try and fail to rise in him, and makes the connection. That he's so calm, because Seokjin told him to be. That what he's hearing shouldn't make so much sense.
Except that it does. Taehyung finds that the longer he's awake, the clearer his mind becomes. It's like a fog is lifting, one that he hadn't even realized was there the last few months. As it dissipates, he starts to remember everything he'd been told to forget in that lovely tone: being bitten, being fed on. Being made to forget, over and over again.
Being told that it wouldn't hurt, tonight, when Seojoon bit him, and drank, and drank, longer than ever before, until all the world had faded around him.
Until he'd woken up here, trembling and curling away from the light.
"Yes, your trial," Seokjin says, watching him carefully.
"But I didn't know what he was," Taehyung's voice sounds small even to himself. "I haven't done anything."
"No, you haven't," a woman says. Taehyung looks over. Her eyes are empathetic, but hard. "It is not a crime we debate, but your existence itself."
"My existence?" Taehyung whispers, turning back to Seokjin pleadingly. Seokjin exhales.
"Your sire was not allowed to turn anyone, not without first seeking permission from our court," he says flatly. "That is our law, and so he paid the price."
Taehyung doesn't understand, until he follows Seokjin's gaze to a point behind him. Sees a pile of ash, and makes the connection, and might scream were he able to. Were a command not anchoring his limbs with the order to stay calm.
"Y-You said turned," Taehyung realizes, looking back to Seokjin with wide eyes. "What do you mean, turned."
Hoseok shifts uncomfortably at his side. Seokjin's smile fades.
"Earlier tonight," he says, almost clinically, "Your sire fed you his blood, and then killed you."
"No," Taehyung breathes. But even as Seokjin says it, he remembers. How familiar it had been to feel the teeth sinking into his neck, but for so much longer than any time before. "I'm not dead. I'm right here, I'm not..."
"Taehyung," Seokjin murmurs. His eyes are pitying.
"I'm not dead," Taehyung repeats in a whisper. A stubborn, child's protest, because he knows the truth when he hears it. "I can't be. Because if I am, I'm..."
The silence is deafening. Hoseok looks down.
"It should not have happened," Seokjin says. "In this city, you're supposed to have a choice." A pause. "I'm sorry."
"I'm—I'm a—? No, I can't be," Taehyung shakes his head fiercely. His eyes burn with the absence of tears that won't spill, compelled to stay repressed, to stay calm.
He remembers compulsion now, too. The more he hears, the more his memories come back to him, all the ones that had been taken. He remembers that this has been explained to him before, in a patronizing, teasing tone, just before teeth met his neck.
And then he’d been told to forget.
"I'm sorry," Seokjin says again. "But you are a vampire, Taehyung."
"And that is what we have come to discuss, so let us get on with it," a man calls boredly. With a curl of fear in his belly, Taehyung realizes that the people around him are all vampires. Are all his judges and jury. "We all know what's going to happen. Just get it over with."
"No, we don't know what's going to happen," Hoseok snaps back, bristling. "He deserves a chance."
"A chance for what?" another of the vampires scoffs. Taehyung hugs his arms around himself. Very few of the faces around him look friendly. Even the ones that aren't outright hostile look pitying, but firm. "His sire is dead. Name a single fledgling that has survived a year without their sire to teach them! A month! He'll go feral from hunger, risk exposing us, and need to be put down. It's kinder, and safer, to get it over with now."
"But I don't want to die," Taehyung whispers, voice cracking. Every vampire here is easily able to hear it. It goes ignored by everyone except Seokjin and Hoseok, the latter of whom puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You can't know that," Seokjin says smoothly. He stands, turning back to the wider court. Taehyung misses the comfort of his gaze already, and instinctually huddles closer to Hoseok. "Every new vampire who fails is alone. But with proper guidance, he can learn to control himself, and be a part of our city. He's already learned to control his senses, with just a few minutes of instruction," Seokjin argues. "Hoseok's right. He deserves a chance."
"Who would volunteer for that?" it comes from the woman who'd spoken earlier, who'd seemed sorry for him but still factually said we debate your existence itself. "Years of commitment, taking responsibility for a fledgling that isn't even yours?"
"I've done it," Seokjin reminds mildly. No one objects. "And I may know of an interested party."
She frowns. "And who is this interested party?"
"My own fledgling, Park Jimin," Seokjin says confidently. "I can have him here within the hour to claim Taehyung."
A few in the wider crowd whisper. Taehyung is too afraid to focus his new hearing on them, not when the man who'd called for his death scoffs loudly.
"You'd have one of the youngest among us take responsibility for this ticking time bomb?" he all but sneers. "Park is barely out of his first century, not to mention his own indiscretions as a fledgling—"
"He's skilled enough to have earned—and maintained—a hold over territory of his own, and in the last decades he has exhibited stunning control of himself," Seokjin shoots right back. "His own circumstances when he was first turned put him in the perfect position to empathize with Taehyung."
This time the murmur from the wider crowd seems speculative, half-positive. Sensing the change, Seokjin takes the opportunity to glance at Hoseok. "Take Taehyung out of this circus. I'll call Jimin."
"Good luck," Hoseok mutters. But he has a beaming smile when he turns, and offers a hand to Taehyung, who takes it and is pulled up with him. "Come on, up you go," Hoseok soothes in a playful singsong voice, "Just another night in court, hm? Let's get you off this miserable stage."
Stunned to silence and shying under the dozens of eyes on him, Taehyung follows.
"For a first introduction to our politics, that's actually not the worst I've seen," Hoseok chats behind the curtain. "Still, though, I'm sorry. They shouldn't have been so harsh on you—I mean, come on, the lights, what were they thinking?"
Taehyung barely hears him. He's holding his ruined shirt in his hands, staring down at the bloodstain that begins at the collar and blossoms down the front. There's so much of it, he can't look away, and he isn't quite sure if that's for disbelief of the way his night has turned out... or the way his throat prickles looking at it.
“That vampire said he’d call someone,” Taehyung realizes aloud slowly. “Where is my phone?”
An awkward silence as Hoseok clears his throat. “If you don’t have it on you, it was probably left behind at the scene.”
“But I need it to make calls,” Taehyung says. It’s strange, the way the most mundane of things are coming back to him slowly. Like waking from a dream, and starting to recall bits and pieces of it. “I have work on Monday.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Hoseok says empathetically.
“But I have to send money to my family,” Taehyung protests. His voice is flat. He can feel alarm trying to brew under the surface, but every time it starts to rise, Seokjin’s eyes when he’d said Calm down flash through his mind again. He physically can’t be anything other than calm, but remembers instinctively this is something important. “They’re going to worry about me when I don’t call them.”
“Tell you what, you get changed and Jimin will help you sort all this out, okay?” Hoseok suggests.
Taehyung blinks down at the bloody shirt in his hands. It’s odd, the way his mind keeps drifting. Like it latches onto one topic at a time, examines it in detail and dismisses everything else, until something new comes along. For example, he’d nearly forgotten the ruined shirt in his hands. Now remembering it, he's already forgetting the conversation he started.
"You still there?" Hoseok interrupts his wandering thoughts, bringing him back by rapping his knuckles sharply against the wood beside the drawn curtain. They're backstage in what Taehyung had been correct in first assuming was a theater; massive, and abandoned, but its dressing rooms intact. "Just in case you're thinking of it, I need you to understand that if you run, I will definitely catch you within three seconds, tops."
"Sorry, this is all just..." Taehyung shakes his head, a little dizzy, and forces himself to drop his ruined shirt and reach instead for one of the options on the rack that had been brought out for him. The first one is a white T-Shirt, the classic souvenir I ♥ SEOUL printed across it. Taehyung squints at it and pushes it aside on the rack.
"This whole process is supposed to go smoother," Hoseok sounds genuinely sorry. "At least in this city. Some places, let me tell you, I wouldn't let any human I liked set foot near..."
Taehyung picks a black T-Shirt off the rack. The material feels cheap, but it's a few sizes too large, and the oversized option sounds comforting to him right now. He focuses on pulling it on, and not how weird it is to hear the word human as an adjective, and not the default.
As something he's no longer included in.
"Done," he murmurs, pulling back the curtain. He reaches for his discarded shirt on the floor, but Hoseok catches his hand.
"Don't worry about it. One of the guards will get it after the court adjourns," Hoseok says. At Taehyung's confused frown, he raises a meaningful eyebrow. "Trust me. They'll find it."
Taehyung swallows. He can smell the blood on the shirt, too, when he thinks about it. He tries not to, because it's just too weird, especially because it's his.
"Can I still bleed?" Taehyung murmurs, falling into step beside Hoseok once they leave the room.
"Yep," Hoseok says cheerfully. "You're just going to heal up very quickly. Quicker the more you feed."
Taehyung skips a step at that. Hoseok looks at him apologetically. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you never had time to get used to any of this."
"No, no, it's okay, just—" Taehyung swallows, and hates that he isn't sure if it's fear or that feeling in his throat driving him to ask, "When do I? Do that, I mean."
Hoseok smiles a little awkwardly. "Let's not talk about that right now, yeah? Jimin is going to be the one to teach you."
"Okay," Taehyung says, head spinning. "The, um. Vampire who's going to… claim me?"
"Yeah. See, without someone to help you, most new vampires lose control and end up getting caught. Either by hunters or other vampires putting them down. Which is why the court was unsure about you, but Jimin owes Seokjin a favor, and so, well, he'll be the one to welcome you to your new life," Hoseok says. Then winces. "Or afterlife, I guess. Death, maybe?" He peers at Taehyung. "Sorry, tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable."
"Just... need to take things a little slowly," Taehyung says back. "It's a lot."
"Mhm," Hoseok agrees. "I know Jin compelled you to stay calm back there, so uh, just let me know whenever that fades and I can prep accordingly."
Taehyung hugs his arms back around himself with the memory. It hadn't been uncomfortable, per se, actually the opposite. And he sees the need for it, looking back. If he’d panicked—and he probably would have—then it would have proven the point that he couldn’t control himself. But with the returning memories of how much had been erased from his mind in his last few months as a human, the idea is uncomfortable to Taehyung.
"Are you going to compel me, too?" he asks, voice small.
"Nope," Hoseok whistles. "Can't."
Taehyung blinks at him. "You can't?"
"Well, I wouldn't anyway, if that's what you're worried about," Hoseok says gently, sensing some of Taehyung's tension. "But also, yeah, only some of us can. Different bloodlines and all." Confusion must be visible on Taehyung's face, because Hoseok gives another apologetic smile. "See, it's a lot for a newborn like you. That's why Jimin will teach you everything you need to know."
"Okay," Taehyung says slowly. "Do you know him?"
Hoseok laughs. "Yeah. He's kind of the baby in our coven—well, I guess that's you, now."
"Really?" Taehyung perks up. "How old is he?"
Hoseok scrunches up his nose in thought. "120? 130? Something around there."
"Oh." Taehyung stops dead in his tracks. "Um. Okay."
Hoseok stops too, placing a hand on Taehyung's shoulder. "You good?"
"Just—lots to process," Taehyung mutters. "The baby, huh?"
"And doesn't he hate to hear it," Hoseok sighs. "Listen, really, Taehyung," Hoseok catches his hands, suddenly serious. "You're in good hands. Jimin can be a little... well, grumpy, sometimes, I won't lie."
"Grumpy?" Taehyung shrills. "What does that mean for a vampire?"
"Look, he's a big softie under it all, I swear, don't let him intimidate you," Hoseok says firmly, and then more seriously, "And he definitely might intimidate you. But he'll take care of you. He'll teach you everything you need to know."
Taehyung takes a deep breath, and nods. They resume walking, but not for long, as they reach a larger sitting room with a dozen or so chairs scattered. Hoseok takes a seat, beckoning Taehyung down too, his ease contagious.
Still, though: "What did you mean by grumpy?"
Hoseok chuckles. "Don't worry, Taehyung. Most vampires are, especially this lot."
"You aren't!”
“Ah, that’s because I’m not like this lot,” Hoseok winks. “I’m the token mongrel they keep around, so they can pretend it’s not just the nobility running the city, even though it totally is.”
Taehyung practically pouts. "Can't I go with you instead?" Hoseok's eyebrows go up, and Taehyung remembers, too late, what one of the vampires in the courtroom had said.
Who would volunteer for that? For a fledgling that isn't even yours?
"Sorry,” Taehyung mumbles. “I wasn’t thinking. Back there, it sounded like it's a... burden."
"No, no, you're fine. It's not that, I promise," Hoseok assures him instantly. He seems to sense Taehyung's anxiety well, and know instantly when it needs assuaging. "You wouldn't be a burden, Taehyung. But our bloodlines are too different. Hmm, how to explain… You'll learn more of this with Jimin, but—you inherit the, let's call them, abilities, and some traits, of the vampire that turned you. I won't be able to help you control them, because I’m too different. But Jimin will."
"Bloodlines," Taehyung's head swims, his brow furrowing. He can tell he's making a miserably sad expression, but can't seem to make it stop.
"It's complicated, really, it is," Hoseok sighs. "For one, you'll be able to use compulsion, like your sire, and like Seokjin and Jimin. I can't, so how could I teach you? That's why Jimin will."
"You said that," Taehyung whispers, "But what if he doesn't want me?"
"No, no, Taehyung," Hoseok mock wails, tugging Taehyung's hand into his lap. "Would it help if I said one of the traits of your bloodline is being extremely likeable?"
"You're lying," Taehyung accuses, but feels himself smile regardless.
"You would know if I were," Hoseok teases, but then grows more serious, "Really, Taehyung, you would know. That's something you'll learn, too. No one will ever be able to lie to you again."
Taehyung bites his lip, searching his face. "Now I really can't tell if you're lying."
"Let Jimin help you, and you'll know I'm not," Hoseok says gently. Then he tilts his head, like he's listening. "Ah, speak of the devil. Jiminie's here."
Anxiety swoops through Taehyung again. "Where?"
"He's claiming responsibility for you in front of the court," Hoseok says, then shakes himself and refocuses on Taehyung. "Or attempting to, amongst the scolding. Don't bother listening in, they’re pretending to be concerned about his eligibility to take you in,” Hoseok rolls his eyes on the word. “He’s a bit of a recluse, so they love to interrogate him on the rare occasions they manage to drag him out here.”
Taehyung quirks a smile despite his apprehension. "I don't think I'd come back here willingly, either."
Hoseok laughs. "Believe me, I wish I didn't have to. But, hey, we got to meet, didn't we?" Hoseok pats Taehyung's hand. "I'm glad you have a second chance, Taehyung."
"Thank you," Taehyung manages, though it doesn't feel quite right. "I... guess I'm glad I'm not dead, either. Well, I am, but. You know."
Hoseok softens. "That's not what I meant," he says, and leans closer, eyes intent. "Listen, Taehyung. I know you've had a horrible start to this, but being a vampire can be wonderful, and amazing. It can," he insists. Taehyung's doubt must show on his face. "You're going to learn all of the amazing things you're able to do, that you don't know yet. You'll get to learn so much more about the world than you would have been able to as a human. And you'll get through this. You will."
It's firm, and so sweet. Taehyung smiles back.
And sniffles.
"Oh, no," Hoseok blanches. "Nooo, I didn't want you to cry."
"I don't know why I am," Taehyung says, tearing up. "It's just happening."
"Your emotions are dialed up to eleven," Hoseok says empathetically, with a hand reaching to pat comfortingly on Taehyung's shoulder. "It's going to be like that for, um, a while. Because you're a newborn, and, well... I'll let Jimin cover the rest."
"Will I see you again?" Taehyung asks tearfully.
"Of course," Hoseok says kindly, in his sweet, singsong tease. Taehyung nods. "Tell you what, you let Jimin get you fed and stabilized and I'll come by for a visit when I can, hm?"
"Thank you," Taehyung whispers, fidgeting his hands in the cuff of the borrowed shirt. He'd been right; the extra sizes up make the fit like a large hug, one he sorely needs. "For everything. I was really afraid. Now I'm... I'm still scared, but it doesn't feel like the end, anymore."
Hoseok softens. "Of course," he says, and shakes his head, "Half the court are practically bags of dust, they don't remember what it's like to do anything but sit around and argue. Let alone what it's like for a newborn like you."
"I'll have to thank Seokjin, too," Taehyung realizes. "Will you tell him for me?"
"Oh, you'll see him again," Hoseok chuckles. "You probably didn't catch it up there, but he's Jimin's sire. You just give him a call if Jimin tries to bully you, and he'll come by with a stake."
"So staking isn't a myth, got it," Taehyung takes a deep breath. This time, when Hoseok turns his head to listen, Taehyung focuses, and he can hear, too; a car pulling into the alley on the other side of the wall. Footsteps. Two hushed voices. He can’t make out much—something that sounds like I hate it here, a muffled response. His own name, whispered. Taehyung is startled out of eavesdropping when Hoseok’s hand claps on his shoulder.
"Aaand, there’s your ride," Hoseok says, much more cheerfully than Taehyung feels, and tugs him up with a hand.
As it turns out, the back room Hoseok had taken him to has a swinging door right out into the alley behind the theater. The two of them step out, into the moonlight, just across from two figures.
Taehyung barely notices them, because the second he walks out, he's too busy noticing everything.
Inside the dimly lit, decrepit backstage of the theater, there hadn't been much to see. He'd been able to see, sure, in that weird greyed-out night vision, which had been cool enough, but there wasn't really anything interesting to stare too long at.
Taehyung finds that completely changed outside. Where he can now see so well, and so clear, that his new vision stops him right in his tracks.
Frozen, his eyes dart everywhere, drinking every aspect in; the moon a striking, cold fire in a dark sky. Its light bathing everything of the alley and around it a luminous, vivid blue, the night now nearly as blindingly bright as day. Even the streetlamp down a ways is as radiant as a small sun, and Taehyung, dazed, finds himself entranced with every detail around him. Like he's seeing, really seeing, all colors and shapes of the world for the first time. He's hypnotized by the shadow on every pebble of gravel, by the cracks in every brick of the wall.
Nothing, though, compares to him. When Taehyung's wandering eyes find his face, he gasps aloud, unable to tear his gaze away.
Distantly, he registers Hoseok tugging on his hand, Seokjin to the side. Neither matter, not when the moonlight curves as delicately as it does along the cut of this man's jaw. Not when the breeze stirs, and Taehyung can see each and every individual hair on his head drifting with it. His eyes burn black, piercing with a narrowing expression right back at Taehyung.
Taehyung sees everything, and feels a tear gather at the corner of his eye for the art of it. "Beautiful," he breathes, as entranced and then some as any compulsion.
Then the man scowls, and turns away, and the illusion shatters. Taehyung gasps like he's just clawed his way up from underwater, his hand trembling in Hoseok's.
"A Toreador," the man scoffs. The word is unfamiliar to him, but Taehyung gets the distinct feeling it's him being referred to so disdainfully. "You want me to raise a Toreador?"
"C'mon, Taehyung, let's get you in the car," Hoseok says. His high, cheerful tone is strained, something Taehyung only notices because he's been hearing the genuine song of it for the last hour.
Taehyung follows, numbly, when led. Past Seokjin and the man who must be Jimin, who doesn't even look at him. The car, at least, is parked a ways down the alley, a sleek black model that practically boasts its price tag. Hoseok opens the passenger door for Taehyung, who slides in, and immediately slumps into the seat and hugs his knees to his chest.
"Hey," Hoseok says, squatting beside the car at Taehyung's eye level. "Hey, don't listen to them. Focus on me."
Taehyung nods. He hadn't even thought about trying to overhear Seokjin and Jimin, who are speaking to each other where they’d left them. Rather, Seokjin is speaking; Jimin looks scolded. Sullen. Taehyung doesn't want to hear whatever is being said about him.
"What did he call me?" Taehyung asks quietly.
"It's... your clan. Your bloodline," Hoseok hesitates. "Seojoon was a Toreador. So you're a Toreador."
Taehyung swallows. "What's wrong with being... that?"
"Nothing," Hoseok assures him, quickly. "Nothing's wrong, Taehyung. Just—remember when I said we all inherit abilities, and traits, of our bloodline when turned?" Taehyung nods his head. "With that comes stereotypes. Difficulties. Seokjin probably didn't tell Jimin, so you... surprised him."
"I don't know what happened," Taehyung swallows. "I just—Suddenly I could see so much, it was all so much, and I couldn't look away."
Hoseok smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "That's one of the weaknesses of the Toreador bloodline, Taehyung," he says gently. "There's a... fixation with beautiful things. Paintings, landscapes. ...People."
Taehyung swallows, and nods. Tears sting at the corner of his eyes. "So what you're saying is I'm not just emotional. I'm also the vampiric equivalent of a magpie with shiny objects."
Hoseok lets out a breathy laugh. "Kind of," he admits. "Listen, every bloodline has their weaknesses. But they all have their strengths, too. You'll learn to control the weaknesses, and enjoy the strengths, I promise." They both glance up with the sound of footsteps approaching. Hoseok finishes quickly, "Jimin isn't of your bloodline, but his is similar enough that he can help you. He's… wary with new people, but he'll take care of you. I trust him."
Taehyung nods, and tries to believe it. "I trust you," he says. "Please visit me?"
"As soon as I can," Hoseok promises, and stands just as Seokjin and Jimin reach the car. Seokjin steps to the passenger side and gives Taehyung a smile.
"Thank you," Taehyung brushes away his hesitations to thank Seokjin gratefully, glad he gets the chance to say it in person. "If you hadn't stuck up for me..."
"Welcome to our city," Seokjin says warmly, rather than let him relive the anxiety of the courtroom. Taehyung almost gets lost in the smile, the way he had fallen into that bizarre entrancement with the moonlight just moments ago, and forces himself to focus. "Call me if Jiminie gives you any trouble, and I'll behead him myself, okay?"
Afraid to laugh at that with Jimin standing beside the car, Taehyung gives him a tense smile and nods. He accepts the offered handshake goodbye. Maybe his worries are overblown, and soon he'll be able to laugh at it too, like they're all friends.
Like he hasn't just lost his entire life. He has yet to see how the new one unfolds.
Seokjin and Hoseok are gone in a blink. Quite literally, as Taehyung blinks, and feels a quick rustle of air, and they're gone. He can't dwell on it long, not when the door to the driver's side clicks open and Jimin slides inside.
Jimin closes his door, and Taehyung takes it as prompting to close his own. Beyond that, he doesn't look over, keeping his eyes fixed down. He's afraid to look at Jimin again, after what had happened the first time.
A fixation with beautiful things, Hoseok had called it. Carefully, like he wasn't sure how to word it. It's putting a lot into perspective, actually; the way Seojoon had adored museum dates, had dressed Taehyung in designer clothes and jewelry and called him his work of art. What had once seemed so romantic now haunts Taehyung with the new context of compulsion, wondering if he'd been the gem for a collector.
And now he carries the same bloodline, whatever the word means. Outside the car in the alley he'd frozen, been enraptured. By the moonlight, of all things, with no way to put into language how much and how beautifully he can see with his new vision. That freeze might have been embarrassing enough, had Taehyung not then lost himself further looking at Jimin.
Beautiful, he'd thought, and suspects he might have even said it aloud.
Now, keeping his gaze averted, Taehyung isn't sure whether it's out of embarrassment or fear of the same thing happening.
There's a moment's silence, tense as it is awkward, when neither of them move. Where Taehyung keeps himself paralyzed, and looking down, and has no way of knowing if Jimin looks disgusted or sorry or is even looking at him at all.
It must not matter, because Jimin starts the car without saying a word to him. Pulls out of the alley, and onto the street, without speaking either. Long enough that Taehyung almost un-tenses, at least enough to settle back in the seat for a few minutes.
Then suddenly, far enough away from the theater, Jimin swerves. He pulls the car over so fast that Taehyung grabs for the edge of the seat. By reflex alone he forgets his earlier worry, and looks over at Jimin with wide eyes.
Jimin is beautiful. Anyone could see it. This time, though, Taehyung doesn't lose himself, can make eye contact easily. Any relief he might feel from it is gone with the quick stop of the car, and the intensity of Jimin's glare.
"Okay, listen, fledgling,” Are the first words Jimin says to him. "First rule, do not ever get blood on my car seats, furniture, or carpet. I will kill you myself."
Taehyung gapes at him. Jimin doesn't stop there.
"Second rule, you do not ever expose us to humans. You hide your powers, you stay away from the community blood drive, or you risk exposing us all. That is punishable by death and I will turn you in myself. Third, while you live with me, you do what I say, when I say. Do you understand?"
"What?" Taehyung manages, stunned. Jimin's eyes narrow.
"I don't care who you were as a human. In our world, there's almost never second chances. You've already been granted one. Understand how rare that is," Jimin's lip curls. "One mistake can cost you your life. I won't soften you for that reality like others might. You fuck up, someone will take advantage of it, and you will end up dead. Again. So if you want to live, you do as I say. Understand?"
Jimin's intensity has Taehyung shrinking into his seat. “I—I understand,” Taehyung manages.
For a second, he wonders if it’s not enough. Regrets getting in this car more than anything, contemplates throwing open the door and running back and begging Hoseok and Seokjin to take him instead.
But then, something in Jimin’s face softens to see Taehyung's reaction.
"But you already got that lesson tonight," he murmurs. “Didn’t you?”
Taehyung thinks what he could be referring to, and remembers the court. Remembers the fear of it, mostly. He'd woken so abruptly, in pain and afraid, only to be overwhelmed by bright lights and loud noise. Only Hoseok and Seokjin of the vampires gathered had shown him any empathy at all.
Slowly, eyes never leaving Jimin’s, Taehyung nods.
Jimin purses his mouth in concentration. He straightens back, away from the aggressive posture he'd leaned into.
"Jin told me everything happened," Jimin says. Quietly, almost a reassurance to himself. "And you don't want to have to see the court again. You’ll behave."
Taehyung swallows, and nods again.
And feels something build in him. Something that Taehyung hasn't felt in a while—true anger, swirling thick in him rather than fear. It rises at the injustice of it all, on the tail end of a really fucking bad day. Until Taehyung's hands are shaking where they grip the edge of the seats.
Jimin notices it, his eyes flicking down to Taehyung’s white knuckled grip. It’s the final straw for the rage to burst out of Taehyung.
"I did get the lesson. So I don't need you to yell at me, too," Taehyung hears himself say. With every passing second that he indulges the anger, it grows in him, flame licking at his ribcage. He can't believe he'd almost been crying minutes ago. Suddenly, he's murderous. "I don't care if you're older than the country itself, have some fucking sympathy, I died today!"
The end of the outburst curves up into a snarl, one Taehyung can barely recognize as coming from his own mouth. It’s jarring enough to break the fever of the fury. He snaps his jaw shut, eyes widening.
The anger, at least, has dissolved the disdain in Jimin's face. He blinks at Taehyung, and for a second, almost looks impressed. Then his expression melts back into impassivity in a blink.
"Fair enough," Jimin says.
"Yeah, it is—wait, what?" Taehyung blinks at him. The rest of the anger, despite how quickly it’d risen, clears like clouds on a sunny day.
"I said, fair enough," Jimin responds coolly. Taehyung sits, stunned into silence, until he feels the damnable tears prickling at his eyelashes again.
"Fuck," he sniffles. "I feel so much, what's wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong with you. As you said, you died today," Jimin murmurs, and hearing it elicits another few tears out of Taehyung's eyes. Jimin sighs. "Taehyung."
Later, Taehyung will realize it's the first time Jimin says his name. Right now, an emotion is raging dominant in him again, this time humiliation.
"No, don't look at me," Taehyung hugs his knees to his chest and buries his face in them. "I don’t want to cry like this, I hate this."
Another sigh. Jimin at least doesn't seem to push for eye contact this time. Taehyung sniffles again. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the vampire is wearing an expensive looking watch, multiple fine rings. Details that he'd learned to look for while dating Seojoon.
That brings a fresh wave of horribly confused tears. He'd liked Seojoon, he had. But with his transition, Taehyung's remembered all the feedings he was compelled to forget, and gaining a new understanding of how he might have been viewed. As an art piece. As a plaything. As a human.
Despite that, it had still been awful to see the pile of ashes that used to be his boyfriend.
"You've had a long night," Jimin murmurs. His voice is beautiful, too, Taehyung thinks, and catches himself beginning to drift into that earlier haze of being frozen by something pretty. He forcefully snaps himself out of it. "I live an hour's drive outside of the city. Is there anything you'll need before tomorrow night?"
Taehyung hugs his knees tighter. “Can I call my family?”
Jimin hesitates, and it terrifies Taehyung.
“Please,” he whispers. “They’re going to worry about me.”
“Do you live with them?” Jimin asks. Taehyung shakes his head. “Call them often?” Taehyung nods. Jimin’s lips purse in thought. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” he decides, and Taehyung sinks disappointedly in his seat. “You’re in no state of mind to call them now.”
That, at least, is probably true. Taehyung gives in. "Can I at least go back to my apartment for some stuff?"
"Maybe another time," Jimin says after another moment’s deliberation. It's only that hesitation that makes Taehyung wonder what state the shambles of his human life is currently in. Jimin has a point, though, about his state of mind right now, so he gives up on it, filing the question away for tomorrow. "Certainly not tonight. The sun will be up soon."
"Right, the sun," Taehyung says matter-of-factly. Then giggles, and continues to giggle. "The sun. I have to avoid the sun, right?"
"Unless you want to burn alive," Jimin says patiently. "Which would be quite the waste, considering I've already driven the hour here to retrieve you."
Burning in the sun? Taehyung laughs at the absurdity of the concept. And can't stop laughing, and hiccups, "That's not even funny. That's awful. Why am I laughing?"
"All of your emotions are heightened right now," Jimin says curtly. He glances over his shoulder, and guides his car back out onto the street. As easy as any late-night commute, instead of the shitshow Taehyung's life—death?—has become the last few hours. "You'll find them easier to control after you’ve fed.”
"Right, fed," Taehyung says, his voice straining. "Guess there's no stopping at McDonald's anymore, right?"
The ghost of a smile plays on Jimin's lips. It’s the first positive emotion Taehyung has seen on his face, and it sparks a secret thrill of pride. Until Jimin ruins it with, "Probably not. The drive-through windows aren’t the best angle to bite through."
"Oh, my god," Taehyung gasps in understanding before he can help himself. "Oh, my god? Okay, too soon. I'm declaring the bite jokes too soon, that is too weird for me to think about right now."
Almost imperceptibly, Jimin chuckles. But his voice is surprisingly soft. "If you're not ready, you don't have to feed tonight."
Taehyung bites his lip. "Really?"
Jimin shrugs. "Well, you should. You'd feel better. But you could go another day, at least," a side glance, like Jimin's evaluating the color in his cheeks. "Yes, you still have some human blood left in you. Tomorrow night will be fine."
"Okay," Taehyung sighs. He hadn't realized what a burden the concept of feeding was weighing on his mind until it leaves him. Relieved, he leans back and relaxes in the seat.
He doesn't intend to fall asleep. With the last vestiges of adrenaline fading, though, the events of the last night of Taehyung's life finally catch up to him. His eyes close on their own accord.
It feels like only minutes later that there's a bump enough to wake him. Taehyung's eyes fly open, on high alert, and he glances around. Relaxes, when he realizes the bump was just going up into a driveway.
A driveway that curves up into a beautiful, spacious courtyard. The house it holds is richly bricked, traditionally styled and clearly large. The gardens behind the building stretch back out of sight, showing even the plot of land itself is spacious. The difference is in the lack of windows, and the few there are have curtains drawn.
"At least I can still sleep," Taehyung announces, more in wonder to himself than Jimin.
"Yes, you can," Jimin replies anyway. "You're going to need it, too. Best to get on our schedule now, and heal up with the rest as well."
"Schedule?"
Jimin taps at the car's dashboard, where the time reads in glowing letters. 4 A.M. "This is nearing the end of our day. You're nocturnal now."
"I wish that were the strangest adjustment I have to make," Taehyung mutters.
Jimin almost seems to smile, for a second. It's gone by the time Taehyung glances over at him to confirm it.
"I'm sorry about your sire," Jimin says. It's formal, in the way Taehyung is beginning to learn he is.
Taehyung looks down. "Right," he bites his lip. "Um, thank you."
He cringes at it, but doesn't really know how else to reply to something like that. It must suffice. Jimin doesn't pursue the topic. Instead,
"I know I can come off... harsh," Jimin says. Taehyung sees his hands twist, fiddling one of the many rings around his fingers. It's a nervous habit, the most human motion Taehyung has seen from him yet. "You were right, before. I didn't need to scare you. I'm sure the court did enough of that."
Taehyung isn't sure what to say. "It's... okay."
"It's not," Jimin says. To his credit, the insistence of the apology is graceful, not stiff with reluctance. "You reminded me what it was like to be young. I won't forget again."
Taehyung considers it for a moment. Slowly, he nods.
Jimin isn't finished, though. His gaze settles on Taehyung, intent this time, with none of the displeasure of that first warning.
"Taehyung," he says, and this time, it does register to Taehyung that Jimin's said his name. His eyes are dark, deep enough that Taehyung feels himself slipping again, and has to shake himself to focus. "I promise that I take my responsibility to you very seriously. To the best of my ability, I will help you through this. And I will keep you safe. But I do need you to listen to me."
Taehyung doesn't know how to respond. It appears he doesn't have to. Jimin opens his own door, so Taehyung reaches instinctively for the car door handle on his side too. But he's barely touched it, before Jimin has moved around the car in a blur to the passenger side, and opens the door for Taehyung.
Taehyung steps out, a little overwhelmed by—everything, really. As the night begins to quiet down, and the last vestiges of adrenaline fade, the events of the night start to take their toll weighing on him. It's only further compounded by Jimin's speed.
"Tell me I get to move that fast, too," Taehyung jokes half-heartedly as he clambers out of the car. He can't tell if it lands well. Jimin's response is serious.
"I'll teach you. Another time, not tonight." Jimin says, closing the door behind Taehyung. "You have all the time in the world now, after all."
The concept has Taehyung almost stumbling a step as he follows Jimin up the path to the front door.
Inside is more homey than Taehyung expected, for the home of a vampire. It's well taken care of, and the thick wood paneling is impeccably polished, but scattered pieces here and there are out of date. Like they’ve been collected, over decades of life. In particular the massive leather sofa in this front room catches Taehyung’s eye as something that clearly didn’t come with the original property, though is definitely still a few decades outdated.
Still, there’s not the thick layer of dust covering everything that Taehyung had feared. No dead bodies, either, or crystal skull goblets full of blood, or bats flying around, or any of the things Taehyung had played with in his overactive imagination.
"I've had one of the guest rooms prepared for you while you stay with me," Jimin says, leading Taehyung down the hall to it. Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief to see a bed and not a coffin. "There are humans who work on the grounds, but they have all been asked away for now. You won’t be around any humans until I know you can control yourself.”
"It’s bedtime, then?" Taehyung guesses. It doesn't escape his attention that the window is tightly shuttered, and nearly entirely covered by a thick blackout curtain. "Well, at least this hasn't been the weirdest day of my life."
Jimin's brow furrows. "It hasn't?"
Taehyung gives him a pressed lip smile. "Oh, um, no. I'm being sarcastic. This is definitely the weirdest day of my life. Of my death?" he shakes his head. "If I think about it too much, I'll probably start feeling too much and cry again."
Jimin nods, like it’s perfectly normal. It probably is. Nearly everyone now has warned him about his fluctuating emotions.
"When the sun sets again, I’ll help you feed. You'll feel better afterward," Jimin promises, surprisingly assuring, as flat and difficult to read as he's been the whole drive. The only other emotions Taehyung has seen so far from him is barely a smile, and emotionless intensity, and the contempt of those first few orders. "We can make arrangements for everything else then.”
"Sounds like a plan," Taehyung mumbles. He sits on the edge of the bed, and feels the exhaustion of the day—night?—sweep over him again tenfold. "When should I get up?"
Jimin looks mildly amused. "You'll wake with the setting sun," he says, "And the hunger."
It's not the reassurance Taehyung wants to hear. He blanches, reminded anew of what he's going to have to learn. What he's going to have to do.
"What if I can't do it?" he whispers. He doesn’t need to specify. The fear must show on his face, because Jimin sighs, and steps closer.
Taehyung looks up at him, wondering what comfort he might offer. Jimin waits to catch his eye, then tilts his head.
"Relax," Jimin says, voice like bells and layered with command. Instantly Taehyung feels himself do so, physically and mentally, puppeteered by an unseen force. "No more anxiety tonight. Go to sleep."
Before he realizes it, Taehyung finds himself nodding and crawling under the covers of the bed. "No fair," he manages, as his eyelids drop of their own accord.
"Goodnight, Taehyung," Jimin says, straightening. Taehyung could swear the vampire almost smiles, but before he can really process it, he's out.
Taehyung blinks awake slowly. He's not in his own bed, that much he can tell, as he stretches his limbs out with a yawn. He must have fallen asleep in Seojoon's suite.
Except, as he wakes, he realizes that's not quite right. For one, this bed is much smaller than the luxury king size one in Seojoon's suite. And he's alone, no body beside him on the mattress.
And it's dark. Taehyung has the stiff, blurry feeling that he's been asleep for a while, but the room is pitch black. He squints around at it, finding the setting completely unfamiliar.
"Seojoon?" he mumbles. At first, Taehyung had felt fine. Now, with each passing second and the more he wakes up, the sicker he feels. With every blink his head seems to pound more violently, and there's a roughness to his throat, an ache in his jaw. "I think I'm sick."
Funny, since he can't remember drinking last night. In fact, he can't remember much at all.
Until, quite suddenly, he does.
He remembers. Remembers teeth in his neck, and kneeling on the stage beside a pile of ash. And Taehyung sits up straight in bed, and screams.
The door all but bursts open. Taehyung flinches from it, curling in on himself, until he hears a voice call, "Taehyung," with just a hint of urgency.
"Don't touch me," Taehyung hears himself snarl, a voice that can't be his own ripped from his chest. And he moves, launching out of bed faster than he ever thought it'd be possible for his limbs to move. Supernaturally fast, but uncoordinated, because Taehyung slams into the opposite wall and slumps there in the corner, into a defensive crouch. Shrieks, "What happened? Where am I?"
"Taehyung," the voice says again. Placating. Jimin, the whisper of rationale left in Taehyung's mind whispers. Taehyung blinks confusedly. "Taehyung, look at me."
Again, that voice like the peal of bells. Taehyung can't resist the compulsion, and meets Jimin's gaze, his vision swimming.
"You're in my house, under my care," Jimin reminds him. "Calm down, and think, and remember. You need to feed."
Taehyung's instincts struggle against it, but despite that, he feels the panic and aggression fading.
"Feed?" Taehyung whispers, and all the pieces click back into place. All the events of yesterday, and everything he'd forgotten, slam back into his mind.
He's in Jimin's house, under Jimin's care. He needs to feed.
He's a vampire.
"I... remember," Taehyung whispers. Shakily, he pushes himself up and to his feet. "What time is it?"
"Late. A few hours past sunset," Jimin says. "You slept a while."
It doesn't sound accusatory, rather flat like most of Jimin's deliveries, but Taehyung still pouts. "I was tired."
Jimin's expression doesn't change, but somehow Taehyung senses an air of amusement from him. "Come on," he says, "Breakfast."
The first thing that comes to mind is a nice, wholesome breakfast spread. Then he remembers.
Taehyung swallows thickly. In apprehension, but as soon as he does, he feels just how dry his throat is. His discomfort doesn't go unnoticed by Jimin, who exits the room and leaves the door wide open behind him. Taehyung takes a breath to ground himself before following Jimin out.
"So how does this work?" Taehyung asks when they reach the sitting room, forcefully projecting a casual tone.
Now rested, he can appreciate the details of the house around him a lot more. It’s well designed, and gorgeous, and clearly been well-loved. Taehyung makes a note to himself to ask Jimin at some point if the house is simply furnished traditionally, or as old as its owner.
Again, too, he notes the lack of windows. The few that exist have dark, heavy curtains drawn across them.
Overall it’s beautiful. Seojoon’s suite had been beautiful, too, had screamed wealth, but it was in the middle of the city, and both its architecture and furnishings modern and sharp. Jimin’s property, on the other hand, is a more subtle display of care, rather than gaudy riches.
"Unfortunately, you don't have time to be eased into this, so I won't soften the blow," Jimin begins. His voice isn't as commanding as it had been in the car, when he'd threatened Taehyung against blood on his furniture. Instead, he's quietly stern. "You know what you are now. And you know what you need to eat."
Taehyung gulps. It prickles in his throat. "I'm a vampire," he manages aloud, and sucks in a breath. "I need blood."
"Correct," Jimin says. "There's no way around it. You need to embrace your new nature now and drink blood, or starve and die."
Taehyung bites his lip, and closes his eyes to nod. Jimin's words are hard, but he knows they're true.
He's almost grateful, thinking back to the morning, that Jimin had compelled him to go to sleep. Otherwise, Taehyung isn't sure how long he may have spent, tossing and turning and dwelling on this.
He refuses to dwell more on it now. The choice to become a vampire may not have been his, but in a way, Taehyung had made his decision in the courtroom when he'd realized, and pleaded, that he didn't want to die. He meant it. The queasiness he feels now is more over the idea itself than any hesitation.
"So how are we doing this?" Taehyung says bravely. "Do I, um... pick someone? I don't suppose we can call delivery?"
Jimin's amused snort is soft enough to be missed, were it not for Taehyung's newly enhanced hearing. He sits up straighter, trying to hold back what feels like a grin. It feels good, comfortable, when he can get Jimin to show slips of emotion. More human.
"I've decided to start you cold," Jimin explains. Taehyung's brow furrows in confusion. "I imagine by now you're feeling the slightest bit thirsty."
Taehyung feels the dryness in his throat again when he swallows. "Yeah. I think so."
"That's the very beginning of hunger. The longer you go without feeding, the weaker you become. The flush in your cheeks will pale, your head and throat will hurt. You will be irritable. Don't let days pass by like this," Jimin says sternly. "That's irresponsible. You'll know when you need to feed, just as you knew when you needed to eat as a human."
"How often will I need to... feed?" Taehyung asks, the word still foreign on his tongue.
Jimin shrugs. "Everyone is different," he says. "For a newborn like you, probably every other day. As you get older, and stronger, once a week or so. Even older, even longer. But don't concern yourself too much with that, yet. Just know that when you're hungry, you feed. If you starve yourself, you're not just hurting yourself."
Taehyung looks up in confusion. The question must be plain on his face.
"Control," Jimin says simply. "What every new vampire needs to learn, and why the court wanted you put down. The better fed you are, the easier you will find it to control your instincts. If you've skipped meals, however..." he trails off with a shrug, letting Taehyung imagine it. "At a certain point, you won't be able to keep up a hunger strike anymore. Your instincts will take over, and you'll find someone, anyone, to feed on. And you probably won't stop."
"Won't stop," Taehyung repeats numbly. "As in..."
"As in you kill them," Jimin says firmly, though his eyes soften. "I told you, I won't hide this from you: You're a predator now. You need to understand that, so you can learn to control yourself. Believe me, it’s much preferable to learning the hard way."
"The hard way," Taehyung says quietly. “I don't want to kill anyone.”
"That's why I'm here to help you," Jimin replies. "Taehyung, there are places where there are no laws, and humans are turned indiscriminately. Out of boredom, on a whim. Most of them don't have anyone to help them, and so most of them do not survive their first year. That is what the court worries will become of you."
Taehyung curls his arms around himself. "I don't want to kill anyone, but I don't want to die, either."
"They're alone," Jimin says, softening. "You're not. We're going to start slowly. Cold. Blood bags, so you're well fed, before I take you back out among humans."
"Blood bags?" Taehyung wrinkles his nose despite himself. "Like... from a hospital?"
"Exactly so," Jimin says. Again, that mild, almost undetectable amusement. "Not as appetizing as drinking warm from the vein, but it's convenient. You will feed, and then later on we'll test how well you can start and stop yourself from drinking, and then. Well, let's get there, first."
"Better than the hard way, right?" Taehyung whispers the comment more than asks.
"Your sire may be dead, but I promised to take responsibility for you, Taehyung," Jimin nods. It's almost touching, until he adds the afterthought, "Which means I am also responsible for your actions. And the court would love to see you and I fail, so let's take this in stride, hm?"
It's the strangest pact Taehyung has ever entered. It gets even weirder when Jimin retreats to the room beyond them, and Taehyung hears the open and close of a fridge door. When Jimin returns, there's a plastic pouch in his hand, full and thick with red liquid.
To his conscious mind, it's disgusting. But something deeper in Taehyung narrows all his senses down onto the bag in Jimin's hand. His jaw slackens, and—he'd be embarrassed to feel himself salivating, if he could focus on anything other than the pouch of blood just meters from him.
"Taehyung," Jimin says. His voice is distant, like it’s coming from far aways, but his tone is stern enough that Taehyung wants to focus on it. "Control yourself. I won't give this to you until you do."
That threat is what clears Taehyung's mind. He blinks fiercely, shaking away the single-minded focus, and swallows harshly. This time, when his throat scratches, it's painful, but not all-consuming. He takes a shuddering breath, and tells himself—okay, you've waited until after dinner for dessert before, just pretend it's the same.
"Perfectly under control over here," Taehyung manages, after a few more calming breaths in and out that itch his throat. "It's actually kind of gross to think about, which balances out, so no problem."
"A human won't seem gross, though," Jimin says. Taehyung has to shove the resulting imagination of how tempting warm skin might be out of his mind, for fear he won't stay calm.
This is, by far, the most foreign sensation he's felt in the last day or so. The rapid roller coaster of emotions had been strange enough, and the overstimulation of newly enhanced senses had been hellish, but never has Taehyung felt anything as base as the desire to snatch this pouch from Jimin's hands and rip it open with his teeth and—he takes another long few breaths, keeps his trembling hands folded politely in his lap.
"Very good," Jimin murmurs. The praise sends a thrill through Taehyung. "Come here."
Taehyung is up and standing in front of Jimin before he knows it. He's done that, again, moved with speed he never knew he could possess. Earlier, it had been throwing himself out of bed in alarm; now, it's desire like he's never felt. Hunger like he's never felt.
Jimin isn't at all perturbed by Taehyung's sudden speed. His expression is as carefully guarded as always. Taehyung knows, because it's taking everything in him to keep his eyes torn away from the blood bag and on Jimin's face instead.
"No straw?" Taehyung tries to joke, though his voice is too strained to fool even himself. "Like a juice box?"
Jimin's brow furrows just slightly. "Like a what?"
"Like a—nevermind," Taehyung mutters, distracted. He realizes his hands are twisting anxiously in his shirt. Unconsciously, he hears himself whisper, "Please?"
Jimin holds his gaze another few seconds. Then without looking, he twists open the top of the bag, and holds it forward. Taehyung breathes faster, eyes darting back and forth between the bag and his face.
"Drink," Jimin says. It’s blessed permission. What happens next feels like a blur. Taehyung's arm moves faster than his vision can track when he reaches out and all but snatches the bag from Jimin's hand and up to his mouth and bites down on the plastic top and squeezes.
Blood bursts out of the bag with the force of his grip, and blossoms along his tongue. Taehyung drinks greedily, eyes slipping closed and hand tightening on the bag to force out every last drop. It's like nothing he's ever experienced. Every bit of the hunger he'd barely felt was there rises like fire and is assuaged in seconds. There's not even a taste, really, that calls to him; he's just parched, and sucking up the water of an oasis at the end of a desert. Until there's nothing left, no matter how hard he wrings the plastic bag, and opens his eyes with a shudder.
"That was—I—" Taehyung chokes out, blinking dazedly. As he comes back to himself, he feels the plastic squeezed empty in his hand, and air cooling on the new wetness of his chin. Becomes aware again of Jimin, who's produced a cloth from his pocket and begun dabbing it under Taehyung's chin like he expected and prepared for Taehyung to be sloppy. Taehyung licks across his teeth, feels the viscous texture of the blood lingering there, and wonders what he must look like.
"Messy," Jimin sighs as though he’s heard and answered the thought, though it's at least not ill-natured. He wipes the cloth across Taehyung's chin. "You really are a newborn."
"What, did you think I was catfishing?" Taehyung mumbles, to see Jimin make another of his perplexed expressions. He's been with Jimin less than a day, and can already tell that confusing the older vampire is going to be a favorite hobby.
"That you were... what?"
"Nevermind," Taehyung says. "That was—okay, fuck, that was gross, honestly. I can't think about the logistics of it. But it felt so—" he shudders to remember. "Like I was dying of thirst and didn't even know it."
"You did very well," Jimin tells him. Taehyung is also fast learning that praise from Jimin is quiet, and intense, and ignites a strange, pleasant feeling in his chest. Like his heart is still trying to race. "Messy, but you'll learn."
That's how Taehyung properly registers that Jimin cleaned his face for him, dabbing at his chin with a cloth like a concerned mother, to clean up blood. Blood that he'd just drank. He looks away in the absurd, kind-of-gross embarrassment of it.
Over Jimin's shoulder, to the glass of a windowpane. The curtains are drawn back now that it’s night, and Taehyung can almost make his reflection out in the glass. In fact it grows clearer, the longer he looks at it, and what he sees opens a pit up in his stomach. Whatever Jimin is saying now fades completely to the background, the longer he stares at his reflection in morbid curiosity.
Monster.
Taehyung watches his lips part in shock at the voice in his head. His reflection warps before his eyes. His lips drip blood, just as stained as the red smear all across his lower face. With his slackened jaw he can make out hideously sharpened teeth, and his own eyes gone dark. It’s something out of a nightmare. It can’t possibly be him.
“No,” Taehyung whimpers. He sees Jimin tense, and hears that he’s stopped speaking to question him, but barely registers it. “No, no, no—”
He closes his eyes, and in a flash, remembers why his reflection is so familiar. When he opens his eyes again, he sees Seojoon’s face in his. Smiling, and covered in blood. In Taehyung’s blood. Phantom pain pierces the side of his neck in a dozen places.
“Don’t touch me,” Taehyung shrieks, and comes to himself to see Jimin, eyes wide and hand stopped midair between them. “I’m—I look like—I’m a monster—”
“Taehyung, what’s wrong?” Jimin demands. Taehyung barely hears it, fixated again on his horrid reflection. His expression is one of pure terror, and he wonders how often he’s made this face and forgotten. Been made to forget.
Nausea swells in him like a tide.
“Jimin, bathroom,” Taehyung gasps. Jimin takes barely a second to understand, his eyes flying open wide with realization.
His wrist is grabbed. Jimin pulls him, at a speed that blinds Taehyung to the blur of the house around him. In a single blink, they’re standing in the doorway of a large, spacious bathroom. Taehyung barely notices its beauty. He’s too busy staggering to the sink, and makes it halfway before dropping to his knees and vomiting. Horribly, red spraying from his lips, because there’s only one thing that had been in his stomach. Just thinking about it triggers another wave of gagging.
Until Taehyung’s crawled to slump against the wall, his entire body trembling and cheeks streaked with tears. He hiccups, miserable, and a fresh flood of crying comes to see Jimin, standing in the doorway with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. It’s the least composed Taehyung has seen him. He almost looks afraid.
“I’m s-sorry,” Taehyung all but wails, hysteria overtaking him. If he’d thought his emotions were heightened before, it’s nothing compared to the terror that now pulses through every limb. “I saw—he was—”
“Taehyung, what happened?” Jimin asks, a hint of urgency breaking into always-calm timbre of his voice.
“I saw—I saw myself,” Taehyung cries, and coughs, and tastes blood on his lips again. His head swims, head dropping back to his chest. “I saw myself, and I looked like h-him, I’m a monster like him, I can’t be, I can’t, I can’t!”
“Taehyung,” Jimin steps carefully into the bathroom, hands held placatingly out before him. “Taehyung, look at me.”
“Don’t!” Taehyung shrieks, cheeks burning hot with fresh tears. “Don’t compel me again! Don’t, please!”
Jimin stops in his tracks for a long moment. “I promise I won’t compel you,” he says finally. “Please look at me.”
Taehyung hiccups, raising his eyes. Jimin looks stunned.
“What’s wrong with me?” Taehyung begs. His hands drag down his neck, digging nails in where there should be dozens of bitemarks, in his returning memory.
Jimin’s eyes track the movement carefully. Something like understanding clicks in his eyes.
“You’re still associating being fed on as a human,” Jimin realizes in a murmur, almost to himself. “It’s not your body rejecting the blood. It’s your mind.”
“But it felt good, while I drank it,” Taehyung sniffles. “But thinking about it, I—god, no, I can’t, I know what you said, I know I have to but—I’m scared, I can’t drink it again, I can’t, all I saw was—”
“You don’t have to try the bag again,” Jimin soothes, inching closer, hands still raised like a peace offering in front of him.
Taehyung sniffles. “But if I don’t f-feed, I’ll get hungry, like you said. I’ll lose control, and then I—then I really will be a monster—”
“May I come closer to you?” Jimin asks, cutting across the new wave of hysterics threatening to bubble up in Taehyung.
“I ruined another shirt,” Taehyung whimpers. “I’ll ruin your clothes, too.”
“There’s a marvelous new invention this century, darling, it’s called the washing machine,” Jimin sighs. “May I come closer?” Taehyung considers it and nods, slowly. “Thank you.”
When Jimin reaches Taehyung, he kneels beside him. His hand hovers, hesitatingly, above Taehyung’s shoulder before dropping back to his side.
“Am I going to die?” Taehyung sniffs.
“No. You’re going to be fine,” Jimin tells him. Taehyung starts to shake in fear of compulsion, but then realizes—that reflex of fear, rather than staying still, tells him Jimin isn’t compelling him. He’s encouraging him. “I promised you I would take care of you.”
“B-But, if I can’t eat,” Taehyung protests. Jimin shakes his head.
“You’ll be able to feed. I promise. There isn’t a single vampire who can’t. You’re just a fussy eater,” Jimin says. It’s strange to see his attempt at being comforting, when he’s been so brusque so far. “A little high maintenance, but I think I know what can help.”
High maintenance.
A ticking time bomb.
Who would volunteer for that?
Taehyung sniffles again. “I have to stop crying,” he says thickly, his voice quivering. “I am so sick of all these emotions.”
Jimin blinks, then, surprisingly, he laughs. “Come on. Get cleaned up, and I’ll make a call.”
Jimin helps Taehyung up to shaky feet. If he’s bothered by the blood on Taehyung’s hands, he doesn’t show it, and waves him out the doorway no matter how Taehyung tries to insist on cleaning up. Jimin takes him to another bathroom, this one with a showerhead, and leaves Taehyung with a borrowed pair of clothes and time to scrub the blood off himself. It swirls sickening copper down the drain, and for a few minutes Taehyung fears he’ll be sick again, but the nausea appears to be gone. It really does seem to be a mental barrier.
At first, the running water empties his mind, but once he’s turned it off and begun to dress, he can’t help but hear the ringing of a phone with his newly enhanced hearing.
Unfortunately, the ring of the phone was louder than the conversation. Taehyung focuses, but isn’t able to catch much. Only Jimin’s side of the conversation, and even that intermittently— “Bag didn’t work—still hasn’t fed yet—send Jungkook.”
The hysterics have faded, but Taehyung still feels the ache of the eyes on him in the courtroom.
A burden.
Who would volunteer for that, taking responsibility for a fledgling that isn’t even yours?
Taehyung only feels guiltier passing by the first bathroom and seeing Jimin has scrubbed it clean for him. By the time he reaches the sitting room again, the little confidence he'd gained this evening is all but gone. He avoids Jimin’s eyes and sits, huddled into himself.
“How are you feeling?” Jimin asks, taking a seat across from him. Taehyung shrugs.
“Not sick anymore,” Taehyung answers quietly. “Who’s Jungkook?”
Jimin’s brow raises. “You’re learning to focus your hearing, I see.” Taehyung can’t bring himself to respond to it. “Jungkook is a friend. The one who can help.”
“Is he—” Taehyung swallows, thinking back to the warnings of the court. Hasn’t he already failed, as predicted, in the most basic part of being a vampire? “Going to... put me down?"
“What?” Jimin looks confused. “No. Is that why you look like I kicked you?”
“No,” Taehyung counters stubbornly, but his heart stays sinking. “I just feel... so bad. You didn’t want me, and now I can’t even feed properly. The court was right about me. I’m going to fail.”
Jimin doesn’t say anything, for a long moment.
“You need to feed,” is what he finally states, flatly. “You’ve been angry, and hysteric, and now depressed. Your emotional state is a train wreck.”
“Yeah, well,” Taehyung starts to counter, and realizes he can’t. He sighs. “Yeah. But how am I supposed to, without what happened… before?”
Jimin hums thoughtfully. “I believe you have traumatic associations with being fed on,” he says. At least it’s delivered kind of delicately. “You were reminded of them seeing your reflection. It makes sense.”
“Seojoon never hurt me, though,” Taehyung says quietly. “It didn’t hurt.”
“But I doubt he asked or explained, and he made you forget,” Jimin says gently. “You trusted him, and that was a betrayal of your trust. You’re remembering it now that the compulsion is lifting, and you don’t want to become like him.”
“No, I don’t,” Taehyung whispers. He blinks hard, trying to force back the irritating prickling of tears at his eyes that have become far too frequent over the last two nights through sheer willpower alone. If everyone has lied, he thinks, and his emotions don’t sort out when he feeds, he isn’t sure what he’s going to do.
“I think I know what will help,” Jimin says, at least kind enough not to point out the beginning tears. “You need to create a new, positive association with feeding.”
“How?” Taehyung frowns. “I don’t… think I can try the blood bag again.”
“I know,” Jimin says. “Jungkook is human.”
It takes a second to register. Then Taehyung is standing, shot to his feet and shaking his head, fierce with panic.
“No,” he says, fear rising in his throat. “No way. You said—”
“We tried it cold, you need the real thing,” Jimin says soothingly. “When you realize you can feed without hurting someone, you should be fine.”
“But that’s just it, I could hurt someone!” Taehyung blanches. “Please, I’ll try the blood bag again. I can’t hurt anyone—”
Jimin is on his feet and moved before Taehyung in the blink of an eye, placing his hands on Taehyung’s shoulders. “Then don’t,” he says firmly. “What you experienced makes you stronger than you realize. You won’t hurt him.”
“But I might,” Taehyung pleads, even though he sees the logic in it, and hates it.
Knows there’s not really any other option, when he can already start to feel what Jimin had described to him. The blood from the blood bag hadn’t had time to enter his system, and he can feel the symptoms now: A headache, and stinging jaw. His emotions off the rails. And deep down, the hunger, all-consuming if he’d let himself feel it.
“I’ll make sure you don’t hurt him,” Jimin promises. “But I won’t have to, because you won’t. You can do this. You have to.”
Taehyung bites his lip. “Can you—compel me not to hurt him?”
Jimin frowns. Taehyung wonders if he’s remembering earlier, when he’d shouted for Jimin not to compel him. He hadn’t known where it’d come from, it had just burst out of his chest. To be fair, it’s been a long few nights, and he’s been told—forced—to be calm and relax more than once now.
But Jimin shakes his head. “No. That’s not how you’ll learn.”
Taehyung deflates. He knows Jimin's right. He drops back onto the couch defeatedly.
"When will he be here?" Taehyung asks nervously. He isn't sure what he wants the answer to be; on the one hand, he's terrified, but the apprehension is killing him. He's hungry, too, can feel the irritability and beginning migraine pound behind his eyes.
"Not long, ten minutes?" Jimin guesses. Taehyung starts. Jimin catches the surprise, "He was already in the area. Just in case Plan A failed."
"Which of course it did, epically," Taehyung mutters, curling an arm around his stomach. He tries not to let the agitation get to him any more than it already has. Nor his emotions, which are so clearly not on his side anymore.
He tells himself of course it'd be normal for Jimin to have a backup plan, and that it wasn't an expectation for him to fail. Jimin has probably done this before, with other new vampires.
The wait is tense. For Taehyung, at least, who fidgets. Jimin, uncannily supernatural in all the ways that Taehyung is still so human, sits still enough to give the illusion of stone. Not even his chest rises and falls, as he leans back into his seat, no indication of what he might be thinking.
Until, outside, there's the sound of a car rolling up the driveway. Stopping, and turning off, and Taehyung jumps at the sound of the car door slamming and footsteps approaching the door.
All things he shouldn't be able to hear so well. It reminds him again of what he is now, what he has to do. His fidgeting turns from nervous jitters to pure dread.
"What if I can't—" Taehyung starts to whisper again, cutting off with a jerk in his seat at the loud knock at the front door. Jimin ignores his doubt to stand and pace to the door with no further ado, and pull it open.
Taehyung moves on instinct, in that unnaturally fast way he's yet to learn to control. Not towards the door, though, as he'd feared. The opposite direction, actually, to press his back to the wall on the other side of the room as far away from the door as he can be.
His first impression of Jungkook is that he doesn't look afraid. Certainly his eyes are wide to take Taehyung in, where he must look a sight, back pressed flat to the wall. But it's not fear on his face, just surprise.
"Thank you for coming," Taehyung hears Jimin murmur. He barely registers it. His attention is drawn completely to taking in every detail of the human—no, of Jungkook, he reminds himself, discomfited by the descriptor in his head. At how quickly he's stopped thinking of himself as human.
Jungkook has a sweet face, in sharp contrast to his style. His black hair is dip-dyed a choppy dark green at its ends, and a half dozen piercings dangle in his ears. He's about Taehyung's own height, Taehyung can tell, but he gains an illusion of a few inches in stature and bulk from his padded all-black clothes and chunky black stomper boots.
"Of course," The human, Jungkook, says back to Jimin. Murmured as an aside, his eyes never actually leaving Taehyung's. Taehyung breathes, and forces himself to maintain the eye contact, as vulnerable as it is.
If he doesn't, he's afraid his gaze will drop to Jungkook's neck. The thought of the pulse jumping there has that horrid hunger clawing back up Taehyung's stomach. His breath ragged, when every inhale reminds him of the scrape of his throat.
"Hey," Jungkook says, softly, and it takes Taehyung a second to realize that he’s staring. That Jungkook is addressing him. He blinks at the human dazedly. "Taehyung, right? I'm Jungkook."
"N-Nice to meet you," Taehyung mumbles the response out of habit. Sucks in a breath, and digs his teeth into his bottom lip.
He's afraid. Afraid of himself, of the way that this feels. How utterly out of control he is. Like he's dangling on the precipice of something, every muscle strained to keep himself balanced, and doesn't know what the edge offers should he fall. There's new power in his limbs he hasn't yet learned to harvest but can feel, and a fractured, crystalline quality to his thoughts and perception. A time bomb, indeed.
No, Taehyung tells himself, shoving the fear away firmly. He shudders, and balls his hands into fists at his side, and forces himself to peel off of the wall and take a step closer. Baby steps, quite literally. Jimin had promised he wouldn't let Taehyung hurt anyone, and Taehyung promises himself he won't either.
"Do you wanna come sit with me for a bit?" Jungkook offers. If he's any bit concerned, or disgusted by Taehyung, it doesn't show at all on his face. He reaches out to pat the top of the sofa closest to him.
Taehyung glances to Jimin apprehensively. Jimin nods, stepping back, and so Taehyung takes the steps forward to cross the room and steel himself into sitting. Jungkook beams at him—his smile is nice, Taehyung decides—and kicks off his boots to hop over the top of the sofa and plop down on the opposite end of it from Taehyung.
Jungkook’s clearly comfortable here. He pulls his legs up, to tuck them cross legged under himself, and turns to face Taehyung. The position is much more relaxed than Taehyung, who's sitting rigidly straight, feeling a lot like the statue Jimin had looked like to him earlier. His nails dig into his thighs for an illusion of control.
"I heard what happened to you," Jungkook says softly. "Not just the, um, blood bag. The trial. I'm sorry."
"Oh," Taehyung swallows. The action is like digging a knife into his throat. "Thank you. I guess."
Jungkook's smile is empathetic. "It makes sense you'd have some trouble," he says, "Jimin called us earlier, just in case. He thinks talking to me might help, if you see that I understand."
"How would you understand? You're human," Taehyung interjects, feeling his eyebrows knit in a scowl. Once it's out, and he hears his tone, he retracts it immediately, eyes widening and jaw snapping shut. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I would never say something like that."
"It's fine," Jungkook waves an easy hand. "Your emotions are running high right now, while you transition."
"That's what I've been told," Taehyung mutters, looking away. "I've never been such a mess in my life."
"You're right, though. I don't understand what you're going through right now. But I have seen it before," Jungkook explains. "What I can do is show that I know what you need, and can help you, without any of the bad stuff in between."
Can help him. Taehyung's breath hitches at the reminder of what that entails.
"Why?" he whispers. Understanding seems to dawn on him. Jungkook sees it in his eyes. "Wait, are you—"
"Compelled? Nope," Jungkook pops the sound. Considers, "Well, I mean, I guess I'd say that even if I were. But no, I'm not."
"Then how?" Taehyung asks, thoroughly confused by Jungkook. How could he be so calm about being on a vampire's speed dial to be an appetizer? "How do you even know about this?"
"I already have a sire," Jungkook says simply, then reconsiders. "Or, I'm going to. Turn, that is. After I graduate."
"Oh," Taehyung says, stunned. "And you... want to?"
Jungkook shrugs. "I mean, why not?" He raises his brow. "Become immortal. Do you know how many humans would kill for that opportunity? Do kill for that opportunity?"
Taehyung hesitates. Frankly, he hasn't had much time to dwell on this yet, with everything still so new and moving so fast. And even then, he hasn’t really wanted to think about it. About this, vampirism, being desirable. It makes sense, but the decision feels cheapened looking at it from the other side. Like maybe he might have wanted it, but he wasn’t given the choice.
"Let's not get too much into it tonight," Jungkook says gently, sensing Taehyung's derailed train of thought and rising uneasiness. "Basically, art student by night, human on vampire probation also by night. I’m living the nocturnal schedule, you know, to prove I can adjust. Seoul’s laws are really strict.”
"Wait, is Jimin the one who’s going to turn you?" Taehyung blurts out, the idea occurring suddenly to him. He isn't sure how to feel about it.
"What? No, Jimin has never sired anyone," Jungkook says. Then winces. "Ah, sorry, 'Min. Not my gossip to share."
Taehyung glances around, only realizing then that—Jimin is gone. Likely retreated to another room, but probably still well within earshot. Taehyung might panic, if he weren't already doing better than he'd feared talking to Jungkook. And Jimin had promised he wouldn't let Taehyung hurt him. He finds himself wanting to trust Jimin.
“Besides, I don’t think I’d want his bloodline anyway,” Jungkook shrugs without further explanation. Taehyung can only hope that at some point, someone sits him down and explains the world he’s stumbled into a little more clearly to him. “Anyway, my sire is a friend of Jimin's," Jungkook continues. "He said it made sense, when Jimin called. You're getting your memories of being fed on back as you transition, ones where you didn't have a choice. That’s your only association with it.”
“Makes sense,” Taehyung echoes. “It’s not a pleasant association.”
Jungkook smiles empathetically. “So... once you feed successfully, after, you know, talking to me and understanding that I'm okay with it, that it can be good... the experience should be easier."
"Vampire psychology, huh," Taehyung mumbles distractedly. Being reminded of the reason Jungkook is here reminds him, too, of the hunger. At least it's not overwhelming, because he'd been able to ignore and even forget about it when listening to Jungkook.
"Namjoon does have a degree in Psychology," Jungkook says thoughtfully. "And, like, ten other disciplines. I can’t imagine reliving uni that many times, though. Me, I'm just looking forward to the super strength."
Taehyung can't find it in himself to pretend to laugh at it. His exhale is shaky. "I'm scared," he admits. Barely audible, so that he isn't sure if Jungkook's heard it, until the human's friendly smile fades. "Scared to hurt you. Scared to have to keep doing it. I don't want to hurt anyone. But I don't want to be sick again, either. And I don't want to die."
"None of those things will happen," Jungkook says determinedly. Taehyung looks at him, and finds a spark in his eyes. "Listen, you can handle this. Jimin wouldn't have called me, wouldn’t have left the room, if he didn't think so."
"I don't think he likes me," Taehyung mumbles. Jungkook looks confused. "Or at least, barely tolerates me. Everyone has hinted that I'm going to be a burden."
"What, the court? Don’t listen to them! Most of them are so old and mean, they still think electricity is a stunning new invention. They said I couldn’t be a good candidate because I’ve dyed my hair!" Jungkook insists. He's cuter, somehow, when fuming. "They just wanted the political statement, of making an example out of you, that there'd be no mercy for anyone breaking laws," he sighs at Taehyung's confused expression. "Look, don't worry about politics right now. You're going to feed, and be fine, and get strong. You'll feel better, Taehyung. Good, like you're supposed to."
"It would be nice to stop crying every half hour," Taehyung jokes halfheartedly.
Jungkook laughs. "Don't even worry, I'm the biggest crybaby. I bet I'm gonna be twice as bad as you when I turn."
"And I... do want it. To… feed." Taehyung curls in on himself saying it. It feels dirty to admit. But it's the truth, and it's what's normal, isn't it?
Jungkook doesn't faze one bit. "I know," he says simply. "You need it. And you'll handle it fine, and you'll feel so much better. And then we can talk more, if you want, without having to sit through the pain you're feeling now. It hurts, doesn’t it? So come on.”
The words, the invitation, are nearly as hypnotic as any compulsion might be. Taehyung feels the clarity of mind he'd started to regain slipping again. His gaze dropping to Jungkook's neck, where he'd so consciously had to keep his eyes from wandering to. Jungkook's heartbeat, a steady, encouraging thud in his ears, now that he listens for it. It's not racing, not afraid.
"That's it," Jungkook says, quietly. Taehyung hears it from underwater. He realizes, distantly, that at some point he's drawn his legs up onto the sofa and doesn't remember when. To sit up on his knees, without consciously doing so, poised to crawl to Jungkook. "You won't hurt me, Taehyung."
Hearing the possibility of hurt again spikes anxiety in the back of Taehyung's mind, but it's far enough away—and bundled within the reassurance that Taehyung won't—that the hunger wins. The ache of it, as he's gotten progressively sicker with each moment that passed without feeding.
Feeding. He can think of the word without flinching now, and before he realizes he's crawled right to Jungkook. The human is still sitting cross legged on the couch, facing Taehyung, and pulls back one sleeve of his jacket with a hum. Taehyung's eyes fix immediately on the revealed skin, on the pulse he can see jumping underneath the skin, and feels like a snake charmed.
"It's okay," Jungkook says from far off, lifting his arm. "I'm letting you. I’m asking you to."
Taehyung all but whimpers. He leans close, breath shuddering, throat on fire like never before. Until he hovers not an inch from Jungkook's wrist, from the mouth-watering pulse that thunders in his ears.
It should be gross, the last buried part of his humanity thinks. It should be disgusting, that his mouth waters at the idea of biting into skin hard enough to break flesh and drink in the blood that streams free. The pain in his gums, in his throat, begs to differ. Demands nothing else.
So he gives in.
Instinct takes him. Taehyung's mind whites out to the logistics of it; all he knows is that he wants this, needs this, and that his new body knows exactly what to do. So he gives in, and closes his eyes, and feels the easy break of skin under his teeth like coming home.
Blood bursts on his tongue, so much different than before. It's hot, and pulses with every beat of Jungkook's heart, and douses the fire in Taehyung's mouth and mind. It tastes sweet to him, too, not the dull iron that the blood bag had been, and Taehyung can't even be present enough to tell himself that that, too, should be disgusting.
He doesn't just lose himself; he's the one to let go, and feel better than he ever has in his life. A flush of warmth races into his chest and along his limbs in seconds, as the tremors of his muscles cease. His mind sharpens, as the roaring wave of too-many emotions stills. He feels himself grow, stronger, sharper, and calmer. He'd been so sick, and hadn't even realized until all of it washes away, and leaves only himself behind.
"Okay, Taehyung," the human says, voice coming from above him. Kind, and firm. It's fuzzy in Taehyung's ears. "That's enough."
Enough? No way. He can still feel the rush of blood in the human's body under his lips, can still hear the delicious pounding of his heart. Can still taste the blood run warm and plenty on his tongue. There’s more to drink.
But then the human—no, Jungkook, pats a gentle hand on Taehyung's shoulder. And Taehyung remembers, and swallows, and takes every bit of control to swipe his tongue across Jungkook's wrist once more and pull back and up.
And see his work. Rather, the lack of it. Jungkook's wrist is a mess, the bite ugly and deep, and red smeared wet all across his skin. Leaving trails down Jungkook's forearm, where it must have dripped past Taehyung's lips, when Taehyung hadn't been thinking at all about anything but the taste.
"Oh, my god, I'm sorry," Taehyung blanches, apologizing immediately. His own face is probably just as much of a nightmare, but even the second he thinks it, Taehyung is determined not to check anywhere he might see a reflection.
"It’s okay," Jungkook reassures. He's already fished a tissue packet from his pocket and pressed it to the wound with pressure. He looks up to catch Taehyung's eye and gives him a smile to affirm it. "You're like, what, two days old? I wore old clothes on purpose."
"Thank you," Taehyung says gratefully. He hopes it comes through in his voice; he’s never been so thankful in his life. Jungkook nods kindly.
Taehyung settles back onto his thighs, knees sinking into the soft plush of the sofa. For the first time in days, he feels... like himself. Even better. In the same way he'd never appreciated health until he got sick, he hadn't realized how bad he was starting to feel until it's cleared up, just that quickly. Infinitely better, even, than the minute or two he'd had the blood bag down. It wasn’t even comparable to drinking from the vein. Even just the warmth of Jungkook's human body has seemingly transferred to his own. He can almost even feel a flush in his cheeks.
"You're feeling okay, then?" Jungkook asks.
Taehyung nods. "Better than I ever have, actually," it sounds strange to say it, but Jungkook doesn't seem fazed. Taehyung wonders how long he's been privy to this life. "I don't know what I would have done without that."
"Made a bigger mess," Jimin murmurs from behind him. Taehyung starts. He hadn't heard Jimin re-enter the room, and only remembers now how the vampire has been able to hear everything. Jimin holds out a container of wipes, which is almost comically domestic considering what they're about to be used for. "Wipe your face before you drip on my furniture, please."
Taehyung takes the box meekly. Jungkook takes one as well, to wipe the excess that dripped down his arm, too, before pulling a larger square bandage out of his coat pocket to stick practicedly onto his wrist. Taehyung wonders how frequently he carries them around.
"I would've cut the skin for you, but Jimin said you needed to learn to bite," Jungkook tells him, when he catches Taehyung's eyes on the bandage and guesses he's worried for the wrong reason. "Don't feel bad."
"Did it hurt?" Taehyung frets, the more his senses—and manners with it—come back.
Jungkook blinks at him, then catches Jimin's eyes over his shoulder and laughs. "It's nothing, Taehyung, really. And see, you stopped, right when I said. I told you you wouldn't hurt me."
Taehyung tries to nod to it, but hesitates. "What if I had?"
"Then I would have stopped you," Jimin says. "It's good that I didn't need to, though. And yes, Jungkook, you have permission to raid the fridge."
Jungkook's mouth closes on the inquiry. Clearly he's visited before, because he pops up and races off into the next room over without needing direction.
"What now?" Taehyung asks Jimin, finally looking at him.
Jimin is just as impassive as before, but it doesn't bother Taehyung as much, now. A little bit, still, the parts of his anxiety that are his own personality, but he's finding a lot of the emotional volatility of the last day or so has blessedly faded.
"You will learn how to live," Jimin says. "We'll begin with some history, and rules of our society. Everything will make more sense. Then, I will begin teaching you some of the... gifts that come along with being a vampire."
"Ick, history," Jungkook says, stepping back into the sitting room. Unlike Jimin's silent approach, Taehyung had heard his footsteps. He's cracked open a protein shake, and clutching three granola bars under his arm. "You're just like Namjoon, making him wait to get to the fun stuff."
Taehyung's brow goes up to hear Jimin, who's more than a little intimidating, being spoken to so casually. Jungkook must know him well before tonight.
"He hasn't had the time that you have to become accustomed to our society," Jimin reminds. And then, with a little bit of a pout in his voice, that emotion Taehyung is beginning to realize must be earned, Jimin defends: "And learning history is 'fun stuff.'"
"You're such a Ventrue," Jungkook sighs. "Good luck, Taehyung."
"We should be cleaning up now," Jimin says. Taehyung is sorry that Jungkook listens to him, heading to the front door and giving Taehyung a last friendly pat on the shoulder as he passes by.
"Will I see you again?" Taehyung can't help but ask, even if the desperation with which he'd asked Hoseok has faded with the hunger. Meeting Jungkook wasn't just lifesaving for the blood; he was refreshingly human in a new, and unfamiliar, and hostile world.
"God, you’re cute. Taehyung, we're practically gonna be brothers," Jungkook tells him excitedly. "Our sires being friends, and us born from the same decade, and all."
"Same decade," Taehyung repeats disbelievingly. He's hasn't even been alive for three yet, and can't imagine becoming used to talking about time so casually. Maybe he does have a lot to become accustomed to. Starting with Jimin, who seems absent and had been described to Taehyung as grumpy, having friends. What do vampires even do for fun with friends?
"Yep, so call me if you need any help with anything," Jungkook says to the both of them. "I'm sure Joon wouldn't mind explaining some of the Toreador side of things to you, too. Ugh, the amount of lessons I had to get through..."
"Please tell me the first lesson is what all these terms mean," Taehyung says to Jimin, as humorous as he can mask the desperation with.
"If you'd like that," Jimin replies seriously. "However, as you slept, Seokjin gave me permission to take you to your old apartment."
Taehyung shoots up. "Please," he all but begs. The familiarity of it amongst everything is sorely needed; besides, as kind as the loan had been, Jimin's clothes are just a fit too tight and size too small from what Taehyung prefers.
"I'll head out, then. Feel free to call me any time you want to talk," Jungkook says, walking out. Then calls over his shoulder with a wink, "Or just want a bite. You’ve got three semesters left."
On that note, he leaves. Taehyung can hear him whistle all the way past the porch and out to his car, and tries not to think about how appealing the offer had sounded.
"Just so you're aware," is the first thing Jimin says to him after starting the car, "This is against my better judgment."
Taehyung frowns at him, the entire drive down the driveway. If Jimin notices it—he probably does, Taehyung can't imagine that he doesn't—he doesn't give any indication.
"If I'm going to be on an extended sleepover at your house for vampire bootcamp, I'd like at least a few personal effects."
"I would have bought anything you needed," Jimin says. "Seokjin, however, has a bit of a bleeding heart—forgive the expression—and thought it would be good closure for you."
"Closure?" Taehyung frowns. "Just how long am I staying with you?"
Jimin dodges the question admirably. "You can't keep your apartment," he says, as simply as that. "No one knows you've disappeared yet, and we've kept it covered well, since it's only been a day or two. But your boss will notice when you don't show up for work tomorrow, and your landlord will certainly notice when your rent isn't paid, and your bed covered in blood will quite literally paint a picture for the police investigation."
"Wait, what?" Taehyung all but spins to him, the best he can manage in the seat of the car, so inhumanly fast the seatbelt locks on him. Does he even need one anymore? He tugs angrily at it, while still trying to keep up responding, "What do you mean, disappearance?"
"Seojoon was not known for his subtlety. It won't be too long before hunters are circling," Jimin says grimly. "Trust me, you don't want to run into them."
"Hunters? Like... vampire hunters?" Taehyung asks. Jimin nods. "Wild."
"We have a bit of a drive ahead of us," Jimin shrugs. "If you have any questions, now is a good time."
"As compared to our last drive, where you yelled at me so loudly that I had to fall asleep to cope," Taehyung mutters.
"You hadn't fed yet. Now you have."
"Spotless defense," Taehyung comments. Jimin doesn't reply. "Well, then, how can hunters kill us? Aren't we like... impossibly fast, and strong?"
The reference goes right over Jimin's head.
"Yes, but they're used to that. Trained for that. They have specially designed weapons to kill us, and they work together to take us down," Jimin says. "Trust me when I say even the strongest of us don't want to end up on their radar."
"Have you?" Taehyung asks. "Had to fight any, I mean?"
"Once or twice," Jimin says slowly. "Unfortunately, they gossip. Being outed to one can spread across an entire network in a day or two, if you don't kill the original hunter right then, and then everyone they ever knew knows about you. It's even easier for them now with modern technology."
"What, like... hunter websites? Vampire hunter Facebook pages?" Taehyung tries to imagine it. "I can't imagine most people wouldn't just think it's all a hoax."
"You're correct. That's why they're buried, hard to find. Recommendations of techniques to kill us, warnings of especially infested cities. On the dark web, names and pictures of confirmed vampires to be hunted down," Jimin shakes his head. "But the majority of their communications are just to each other. We have teams who work to find websites and remove them, but there's not much we can do about quick calls and texts off burner phones. Those are usually the deadliest, because they're things they need to keep hidden from us. Like predicting our movements in cities, or sharing new strategies to kill us."
"Sounds intense."
Jimin nods. "You don't have to worry too much here, as long as you're not blatantly obvious. Seoul is low on the list precisely because our rules are so strict here—how often people can feed in the different districts, and needing permission to turn humans." He shakes his head. "I would recommend staying in or close to the city. Hopefully, you won't have to learn just how bad it is in some other major cities around the world for at least a few years."
"Why, what is it like?" Taehyung asks, intrigued.
"A bloodbath," Jimin replies simply. "Wars over territory, over favorite feeding grounds. Hunters on every corner. Humans hit over the head and turned into vampires just to serve as cannon fodder in disputes. From what I understand, it took decades to wrestle this area under such firm control, at the end of the Joseon era."
"God," Taehyung says, stricken again by the concept of speaking so casually about time. He isn't sure how long it'll take to get used to it, or if he ever will.
Jimin guesses the reason for his awe. "That's not even very long ago, you know. There are places in the world that have remained under one ruling body, whether it be an individual or group, for centuries." He shrugs, "Of course, when one has nothing but time, scheming and plays for power become a hobby. In our societies, stability is the exception, not the norm. Many areas known as dangerous to humans can be traced back to the allure of blood."
Taehyung blinks. Thinks how Jimin's age definitely shows in the way he speaks, sometimes.
"So I'm lucky for being turned in Seoul, then."
"Very," Jimin says solemnly. "Though I understand how callous that might sound to you at the moment."
Taehyung considers it for a time, watching out the window. They're out of the more secluded, forested area Jimin's house rests in, to the beginnings of neighborhoods. Quiet, with not too many other cars on the road at this hour. Taehyung wonders, as Jimin turns onto the highway, if he'll ever get used to living solely by night.
"Why did Seojoon turn me?" is Taehyung's next question, after he's watched the countryside go by for a while. Maybe a question that he isn't ready to hear the answer to, but the quiet of the night and hum of the highway draw more from him. "Without asking for permission, I mean."
"It was foolish. He knew the consequences." Jimin says, then thinks. "If I had to guess, though... hm, this won't make as much sense to you until I teach you about the different bloodlines, but... Toreador are known for an, ah, obsession with aesthetics. With art."
"I got that," Taehyung says. A little hollowly; he can still remember the embarrassment of freezing, overcome with the moonlight and Jimin's face, being driven nearly to tears.
"Every bloodline has its strengths, and its weaknesses. And those manifest differently across individuals," Jimin explains. "First, you should know that many Toreador selected to become vampires were artists in life, like Jungkook."
Taehyung perks up. "He's going to be a Toreador? Like I am?"
"Yes, he will. Perhaps you might enjoy some history after all, if his sire, Namjoon, would like to share. He's older than I am, and has traveled and studied extensively," Jimin says. "It used to be common for Toreador courts and sects across history to almost exclusively turn humans who caught their eye. Great artists, philosophers, architects of their time, who could continue to contribute their work in immortality."
Taehyung isn't sure what to say. "That's... wow. I guess it makes sense, but to purposely select people..."
"Actually, I think you'll find the selection of humans deemed 'worthy' a common theme across bloodlines," Jimin says with a smile. "For example, Ventrue like myself were historically only Embraced—that's what we tend to call the change in our texts—from ranks of nobility. Royalty. Leaders. People with power."
It sinks in, and Taehyung looks at Jimin, startled. "Then you were—?"
Jimin looks amused. "Ah, I barely remember being human. We can talk about myself another time."
"Okay," Taehyung agrees, head spinning. It's not a connection he would have made on his own, but hearing that Jimin was likely a prince or heir or something in his time fits now that he thinks about it. The way Jimin carries himself, the way he speaks. His gorgeous, old property, only renovated in the ways it needs to stay standing.
"Understanding this, I have seen the Toreador flair for aesthetics manifest greatly across different individuals," Jimin says. "Many pursue the arts as they did in life, striving for decades to hone their craft. Others hoard it, shelling out millions for whatever catches their eye, and stealing what isn't for sale."
"That's... fun, I guess," Taehyung mumbles.
"As I said, it varies," Jimin continues, "I know of a Toreador who's had blood sent to his house the last two decades, so he never has to tear his eyes away from his sculptures. I know of another whose muse is sex, and so she runs a nightclub in Itaewon." Jimin pauses, then. "Some are bloodier."
Uneasiness swims in Taehyung. "Tell me."
"I know of a woman who finds her art in the kill," Jimin says slowly. "In the hunt, in being the predator. In elaborate cat-and-mouse games, in setting up scenes the way others set up galleries," Jimin's thumb strokes across the steering wheel, lit cool in the moonlight. "In finding 'the most beautiful ways to die,' she told me once, during an hours long description of all the different ways blood can spray, alive or dead. Offered a demonstration, actually. Of course, she's not allowed in Seoul anymore. Too high profile. Too… messy."
Taehyung shivers. He can't let himself imagine it, but—the images come unbidden anyway, and he hates that, deep down, they stir hunger.
"Isn't it true that we can find art in anything?" Jimin asks, in the absence of Taehyung's response. "That different people find beauty in different things."
Taehyung scoffs weakly. "I worked at an art gallery," he says, and tries to ignore the pang of using the past tense. "I know how the same piece can move, or confuse, different groups of people."
Jimin nods. "That's exactly it," he says. "Seojoon... saw art in people."
Taehyung swallows.
"He was known for it. A lot of Toreador are, actually. It isn't difficult for them. You're all very likeable, it's in the bloodline." Jimin tilts his head. "Humans feel safe around you, they don't feel the same instinctual fear they do with the rest of us. 'The pretty bloodsuckers,' I've heard the Nosferatu laugh, though I suppose most anyone is prettier than they are."
The joke falls flat. Taehyung has no idea what a Nosferatu is or looks like, and his stomach is sinking with every word that comes out of Jimin's mouth. Jimin clears his throat.
"Anyway, Toreador are a bloodline, really the only one, known to interact with humans so frequently and intimately. Like dating. Long-term, I mean, longer than the average club hookup for a quick feeding. You're all still so human, just... with that interesting fixation upon aesthetics.”
“I froze, yesterday night,” Taehyung recalls. “The moonlight, for the first time with my new eyes. I couldn’t look away.”
“It’s a common weakness of the bloodline. Classic, actually,” Jimin says. “There’s a popular story about a Toreador who became so captivated with the beauty of a sunrise that they stood immobilized, even as the sun hit the horizon and burned them alive.”
Taehyung pictures it, and shudders.
“Just a story, though,” Jimin says, then considers. “Probably. The point is, each of our bloodlines have a weakness. For Toreador, that fixation with art, hedonism out of control…”
"Jimin," Taehyung says, his voice small. "Tell me."
"You asked why Seojoon turned you," Jimin says quietly. Taehyung's breath stills in his chest. "I believe you were his art."
Taehyung had already begun to suspect it, from the first few times he'd been told about his bloodline, but it hurts worse to hear. Hurts to remember everything he'd thought were honest affections, from the charming patron who'd visited the gallery and swept Taehyung off his feet. The charming and wealthy patron, who'd spared no expense filling Taehyung's wardrobe with designer silks and diamonds. Only ever, he realizes now, indoors or after dark.
"You are obviously very beautiful, Taehyung," Jimin says. Taehyung starts at it, jarred out of his thoughts by the compliment stated as a fact from this so-often serious vampire. "It's not a surprise you caught his eye."
"And you say humans fall naturally for them—for us," Taehyung says bitterly. "I know I did."
Jimin doesn't reply. For a few long suspended seconds, before continuing, "I don't think he intended to turn you. Otherwise, he would've sought permission. He knew the penalty was death."
"Then it was an accident?"
"No," Jimin shakes his head. "He had to feed you his blood. He knew what would happen."
"Then why?" Taehyung whispers, biting on his lip harshly enough he's surprised the skin doesn't break. "If I was just—another art project, why make it permanent?"
"I can't know for sure," Jimin says softly. “But as I said, you are beautiful. He may have thought, suddenly, how lovely immortality would become you. In that moment, it would have seemed brilliant, obvious; the next twirl of the paintbrush was to turn you, with no time to wait for permission, when the artistic vision might fade."
"So he killed me," Taehyung whispers. "Right? At my trial, Seokjin said that I died to become a vampire. But I didn’t just die, I was murdered. That's what has to happen, isn't it? I don't remember any of it, but he killed me."
"Taehyung," Jimin says. Almost a warning.
"Don't lie to me," Taehyung almost pleads. "I need to hear it. I can handle it."
Jimin sighs. For a long moment, Taehyung isn't sure he'll speak again, and resigns himself to it. Then, a quiet, "Yes," Jimin confirms. "That's how it happens."
Taehyung nods. He's not sure how, but he's calm. It settles slowly on him, like ash to earth. Making sense, or maybe he's just beyond processing at this point, after everything that's happened. Maybe it will all come crashing down on him later.
"How?" Taehyung asks, blinking furiously. He expects them, but no tears come. "How did he kill me?"
"You don't need to know that," Jimin says.
"I want to."
"Do you?" Jimin glances at him, for the first time. Again Taehyung finds himself reflecting, though not as spellbound as the first time, how beautiful Jimin is. His face shadowed in the car, only sometimes lit in a flash as they pass under street lamps along the side of the highway. "You don't need to know tonight. You can hear it a year from now, or ten years, or never. But if you ask again, I will tell you. So be sure it's what you're ready to hear."
Taehyung considers it. He truly does. But right now feels right. He's already heard so much, and gets the feeling that... while Jimin has been polite with him so far, he's still quite a ways from opening up, and a conversation this charged may be rare. Now is the time to hear it, to rip off the band-aid.
"I want to know," Taehyung decides. "How did I die?"
So imperceptibly that Taehyung almost misses it, Jimin's grip on the wheel tightens.
"I was not part of the team that arrested him, nor was I present at Seojoon's trial," Jimin begins slowly. "But Seokjin called for me when the judicial team retrieved your body, before you woke up."
"Hoseok said he's your sire," Taehyung recalls.
"He told me that one of the vampires of our city had turned a human, without seeking permission from either the court or the fledgling. That if someone trusted didn't step in to claim you, you'd be executed, just for the circumstances of your Embrace," Jimin says. "In his fury at the senseless waste of the act, he told me that the vampire fed you his blood... and then he drained yours."
"Oh," Taehyung says. It hits, then, harder than expected, because this, he can somewhat remember. Remembers being fed on multiple times, after the compulsion faded, though he still can’t quite recall the final time.
A small mercy, perhaps, that he hadn't had time to panic, or feel any fear. He'd simply relaxed, as he'd been compelled to so many times before. Laid down, in that pretty white silk blouse now stained red he’d had to throw away in the theater. Cradled, like a work of art.
Then the bite itself. Taehyung is sick to think of it: the bite, and growing dizzy, and weaker, and weaker, and weaker, until—he fell asleep.
And never woke up again, at least not alive.
"Are you okay?" Jimin asks. "Mm, silly question, I suppose."
"No, it's fine, I... appreciate it," Taehyung says slowly. “I guess it explains the, um, difficulty drinking blood.”
Jimin nods. “I expected issues with feeding. Not quite as violently as you were sick, but… issues. It’s one of the reasons I went for the blood bag, first, rather than feeding live. The other reason being, of course, the possibility you would try to kill the first human you saw. Sorry.”
“Right. Teething,” Taehyung says like it’s casual. “I appreciate the honesty.”
He hesitates. Jimin hears it. “But?”
“It's just a lot,” Taehyung manages. “Like, Friday night, I was just happy to get off work, and go on a date with my boyfriend, you know? My biggest worry was paying rent, and then... I died." Taehyung wonders if it'll ever get easier to say, and actually hears a bit of a giggle in his voice. A macabre little piece of coping. "And now it's like, wow, that was the extent of my problems? Of my life? Well, look at my life now. I had to drink blood today."
"You're a little hysterical," Jimin notes. "That's to be expected."
"I'm fine. Or I will be. Really. It's just kind of funny," Taehyung shakes his head. "I don't know if you're, um, human enough to get it, no offense. But it’s like... if I'd known I was going to die, I would have done so much more."
"I do remember that," Jimin says quietly. Taehyung swallows.
"I mean, at the very least, I would've told my landlord to fuck off when he came to collect that morning. And who knows what I would've done to my boss!" Taehyung tries to chuckle, and shakes his head. "Hey, at least I never have to pay rent again. That's the benefit I'm gonna focus on out of all of this."
Jimin frowns. "Who says I'm not charging you rent?"
Taehyung glances over at Jimin with wide eyes. Then Jimin cracks a small smile, and Taehyung laughs, "Maybe you are human enough to get it."
"I'm flattered," Jimin says dryly. "Your wariness of my age is a breath of fresh air. To be frank, the court seems under the impression I still require a crib to sleep."
"Don't worry, you've definitely got the whole intimidating Dracula role down to me," Taehyung shakes his head. "Was Seojoon younger? I never noticed anything about him that didn't feel modern."
"Older, actually," Jimin says. "As I said, Toreador are all quite likable. To other vampires as well, but especially to humans. In contrast, we Ventrue are known for our frigidity, so no offense taken."
"Bloodline drama again, huh? Maybe someday I’ll understand," Taehyung sighs. Unfortunately, remembering Seojoon again has his smile fading. "What do you think was his plan? After, I mean."
"Seojoon? Honestly, I don't know if he had one," Jimin says. "He was definitely old enough to be smarter, and I doubt he had a death wish. It was likely a spontaneous decision. I have no way of knowing, but I doubt he planned to keep you alive past the hour, for fear of the consequences of discovery."
"But the court already knew?" Taehyung questions. "Or suspected it would happen, right? At least, that's how it sounded at the trial."
"From what I gather, he had already been under suspicion for some time," Jimin says. "From coming close, with humans he'd played with before."
"Played with," Taehyung swallows. "Right."
"I'm sorry,” Jimin says. Despite his usual poker face, it sounds sincere. “I shouldn't have said it like that."
"No, you should have. For better or worse, this is my life now," Taehyung takes a breath. "I don't want you to hide things from me. You said it yourself yesterday that you wouldn't soften your words—so don't. I don't want to be lied to, not like he did to me."
It's assertive, and maybe toeing a line they haven't yet established, but Taehyung refuses to regret it. The second his head had cleared after feeding on Jungkook, he'd decided there was no use in mourning what had happened, or staying shell shocked and moping. This is his new life, as simple as that, and he's going to do the best to learn and survive it.
"Then I won't lie to you," Jimin says. Of course, Taehyung has no way of knowing if he's telling the truth, or if he's lying. He's just barely met Jimin, after all. Something in him, though, tells him there's truth in the response.
He remembers Hoseok telling him, quick enough it had been overlapped with everything after, that he'll be able to tell when people are lying to him. Taehyung wants to believe Jimin is telling the truth.
"Tell me one more thing," Taehyung says. "If Seojoon hadn't turned me, would the court have done anything? Even if he killed me? You said there were other humans, before, too."
This time, Jimin is silent so long that Taehyung does give up on receiving a reply. After all, Jimin had only promised not to lie to him—he'd never specified he'd always answer.
But Jimin's smile, curving slow across his face, is the least human he's ever looked. Taehyung feels a swoop of something in his stomach to see it, a little fear and a lot something else. It's an aura exposing cold. Exposing a predator.
"We are no longer human, Taehyung," Jimin says, teeth flashing sharp and white in the moonlight. "Oh, we like our laws, and enforce them to keep ourselves safe. But we are as cruel as we are long lived. Consider that your first lesson."
The chill creeps slowly down Taehyung's spine with each word. After all, implied in every aspect of Taehyung's mock trial was that the court knew what was happening. Only stepped in, once a law was broken. The message is clear: had Seojoon continued to compel him, eventually killed him, it would have just been business as usual.
"We're close, now, I think," Jimin says. Taehyung jumps. He hadn't even noticed when they'd pulled off the highway, as intent as he'd been on the conversation. "Please, let me know where to turn."
Pulling up to Taehyung's apartment is strange and sad. It's unbelievable how quickly such a familiar setting can turn so quickly upside down, because all Taehyung can think trudging up the steps is how the last time he walked this path, he was still alive. How he'll never follow this routine again.
"I complained every day about this staircase," Taehyung muses idly. "Now I'm not sure I even have any breath to lose anymore."
"Breathing is nice," Jimin replies. "I enjoy it."
Taehyung isn't sure whether Jimin’s answer is a yes or no to needing air, and chooses simply to let it slide. They're already at the door, anyway. Taehyung takes a deep breath before tapping in the passcode, and the door swinging open.
Immediately, the smell of blood hits Taehyung like a wall.
"Oh," he says. His voice is small, faint. "I didn't realize."
"Are you sure you're ready?" Jimin asks seriously, hand reaching past Taehyung to the door. Either to push it wide open or pull it closed, Taehyung has know way of knowing.
Taehyung calms himself, and ignores Jimin, and pushes in.
Honestly, when he gets past the almost overwhelming scent of blood, most of the home is just that—home. Untouched, the same as Taehyung had hurriedly left it for that morning.
It's small, but the space is his. The most familiar space he's been to in days, and that familiarity brings comfort like few things so far have.
That comfort, though, fades a little, remembering that this is also where he was killed.
The last time Taehyung was here, he was human. Life mundane, and mortal. Now, with each and every thing he looks at, Taehyung is reminded that the last time he was here, he died.
"Be conservative," Jimin murmurs. Taehyung had almost forgotten the vampire was right behind him, as absorbed as he was with all the pieces of his life around him. "Essentials only. Anything more can look suspicious."
It rings hollow. Taehyung looks around his apartment for the last time. Small, but his. Well-kept, with art on the walls and spoiling food in the fridge and his touch on every item.
Picking up a family photo album from the main room is automatic.
Walking into the bedroom is a harder story. The smell of blood—his blood—is old, and dry, but still glaringly obvious to his new physiology, and terrifying for more than one reason. Taehyung takes a moment to steady himself at the door, deep breaths, before he can manage to push it open and walk inside.
This is where he lived. This is where he died.
Most everything is as he left it. Not so untouched, because there's small discrepancies here and there, things knocked over and placed back hastily. Tells the story, maybe, of the arrest.
And on the bed, sheets tossed, the white bedding stained red. Concentrated so obviously around the head of it, a pillow and the space around it dried and dyed crimson where a pool of blood had formed, and spread, and spread. Right under where his neck would have lain.
Taehyung only realizes he's staring, and trembling, until Jimin places a hand on his shoulder.
"I should get some clothes," Taehyung mumbles, turning to the closet.
"Remember—"
"Essentials only, I got it," Taehyung tries to say good naturedly. The closet just brings another swell of uneasiness in him, because—nearly every other article of clothing is a gift, an elaborate name brand wardrobe that he hadn't even realized was pushing his own favorites to the back.
Not that the gifts hadn't been beautiful, and beloved. Seojoon had an excellent grasp of Taehyung's style, and half were bought after trying them on out shopping anyway. It's just all unpleasant, now, and no matter how gorgeous or expensive, Taehyung feels sick at the idea of wearing any of them again.
"We can buy you new clothing," Jimin says quietly. "Have it ordered. It will look less suspicious, anyway, if almost nothing is missing."
"Right," Taehyung exhales. He pushes aside the hangers determinedly, reaching for his clothes. Some of his old favorites, maybe not designer on his gallery salary but—nice. A couple pretty dress shirts, ones he'd liked for both work and leisure. Exchanging the sneakers he'd been given at the theater for his favorite pair of slides. A hat or two.
He hesitates on where to place them while picking, since he's doing everything he can not to look at the bed. And is pleasantly surprised, and touched, when Jimin opens his arms and lets Taehyung place folded items into them.
"Thank you," Taehyung whispers. "That's all."
Before they walk out, Taehyung takes a look at his room for his last time. It tugs at him, to leave behind so many trinkets and plants and books.
"You have a lot of art," Jimin murmurs. Taehyung smiles weakly.
"I love it," he says. "There's actually... if I could take one thing?"
Taehyung glances. Jimin follows his gaze. It's a framed piece, one of his favorite artists and signed to him in the lower corner. Jimin can almost certainly see it with his vision.
"I'm sorry," Jimin says. "Anything personal, anything missing off the walls, will be suspicion that you are still alive."
"Right," Taehyung swallows. "Okay."
He lingers just one more moment, committing the sight to memory—bloodstains and all—before backing out of the room. Back in the main room, he does a final sweep, nearly ready to go, and is delighted to find what he's looking for—his phone, nearly buried in the sofa, visibly by the charging cord sticking out and connecting to the wall.
"My phone!" Taehyung cheers. He moves over to it, finds himself half-stumbling over the furniture because he's again used that supernatural speed without meaning to. Picking it up reveals over fifty missed messages. "Oh, no, I always reply to the family group chat, they must be worried."
Taehyung unplugs the phone, and starts to gather up the cord with a happy hum. "I can call them in the car," he says, shoving both in his pocket.
At least, until Jimin says, "No, you can't."
Taehyung stills, and turns back to Jimin slowly. "What?" he asks with a weak chuckle. "I mean, I guess I can wait til we're back at your house."
But: "No, Taehyung," Jimin says again. His eyes are empathetic, but hard. "They can't know you're alive."
"What—What are you saying?" Taehyung scoffs. "They're my family, Jimin."
"And that is precisely why they must not know," Jimin says. He sighs, bending to place the armful of Taehyung's clothes on the coffee table, and straightens back up with his arms now folded across his chest.
"No," Taehyung says. He shakes his head, thoughts buzzing. "No, that's not—what, you just want me to—? What will they think? My bed is covered in blood!"
"Taehyung, I know this is hard to hear—"
"Hard to hear?" Taehyung says disbelievingly. "No, Jimin, everything has been hard to hear. My entire life has been turned upside down in a day. I died. And now you're telling me I can't even keep the one thing I have left?"
"What can you possibly do? Make excuses for your meals? How many holidays can you skip? Or will you show up, and spend every second trying not to rip out their throats? You want to risk putting them in danger, from hunters and yourself?"
"I—" Taehyung blinks hard. The tears are coming, and this time, he can't blame them on new, heightened vampire emotions. He whispers, "But I send them money, and they saved up so long to support me through school, and they love me."
"You asked me not to lie to you," Jimin sighs. "Taehyung, this is me not lying to you. It's dangerous, for every party involved. Letting go of your old life has to happen."
"I can do that with everything else!" Taehyung says, curling his arms around himself comfortingly. His nails dig into his upper arms. "I'm leaving behind almost everything in my apartment. I'm going to lose the dream job at my favorite gallery, that I worked for for years. But I can't lose my family, Jimin, not them too!"
"You don't think we all went through the same? That I didn't go through the same?" Jimin snaps. "Maybe it was longer ago, but I had friends, family. Most of us did."
"Well, it's wrong," Taehyung's vision blurs with tears.
"You don't think humans who want to turn—like Jungkook—all have to leave people behind, to prove they can handle this life?" Jimin says. Taehyung hesitates at it, and Jimin seizes the opportunity. "Do you remember what I said, in the car? Your first lesson: we can be as cruel as we are long lived, Taehyung."
"But you don't understand!" Taehyung chokes back. "I can't let them think I died, not like this, in such a horrible way. I didn't choose this!"
"I understand better than you know," Jimin says harshly. "Because there are those who know about our existence. Who know how to sniff us out, and how to kill us. They investigate disappearances, murders, just like yours. For what other reason do you think we would keep ourselves secret? They know our signs, and that knowledge could put your family in danger."
"But then—if they know I'm alive, doesn't that help with covering it up?" Taehyung says desperately. "Instead of thinking I just—died, like this, in an apartment covered in blood? Even worse, with no body?"
Jimin sets his jaw. "You will still die to them eventually," he says, and jarred, Taehyung takes a step back. "If not today, when? A year from now? A decade? Two? You don't think they'll start asking questions when it’s been fifty years, and you haven't aged a day?"
"I can—I can figure it out then," Taehyung whispers. "But not now. Please, it'll be so hard on them. I don't think they'll recover."
Jimin sighs. "I know you think they won't, but they will," he says, some of the hostility fading. "Death is as much a part of life as living is. Wouldn't it be easier for you, when everything has already changed? To sever the tie now?"
"Not for me," Taehyung swallows. "It'll be harder for me. Please, Jimin. Please. Let me keep this. I won't ask for anything else."
Jimin narrows his eyes. "And if you hurt them, then what? You're considered a child to us, Taehyung, for a reason. Impulsive. Slave to your hunger. Dangerous."
"I controlled myself with Jungkook—"
"So you fed once. You think that means you're ready to go galavanting back out into society? To hug the people you love and bury your face close to their neck?" Taehyung's lips just part at the suggestion, but Jimin catches it. "I'm not letting you unsupervised around humans for months, at least."
"Those are strangers," Taehyung tries to argue. He knows it's weak. "I would never hurt my family."
"You might," Jimin says. "In fact, you probably will. Can't you imagine how many horror stories I've heard in my time? Of fledglings who returned home, believing the same?"
"Then—I don't have to see them!" Taehyung begs. "I can just—I can tell them I've gotten a chance to study abroad, or something. They don't have to see me, but they don't have to mourn me, either."
"They will still have to, someday."
"I know," Taehyung whispers. "But it won't be today. And I swear to you, that will help me better than anything else right now." Jimin purses his lips. Taehyung senses the opening, and pushes, "If I have to lose them on top of everything else, I really don't know what I'll do, Jimin. What I'll become. They're all I worked for."
Jimin purses his lips. He turns away. Taehyung waits, tensed, grip white-knuckled on the phone and barely breathing at all.
"No one else," he says. Taehyung looks up, barely daring to hope. "Friends, coworkers. You have to let them all go. They have to think you've uprooted your life and become a memory to them. Can you do that, Taehyung? Leave everything else behind?"
Taehyung thinks, tears hot, of the friends he's made, in school and at work. His love of socializing, and connections, and all the ones he's formed, both when younger at home and over the years since he moved to Seoul.
"For my family," he says, nods. "Yes, I can."
Jimin sighs. Long, and making the most human expression of frustration Taehyung has seen so far, when he drops his head to massage at his temple.
"Fine," Jimin says. Taehyung lights up, and can't help a gasp through his tearful grin. "Know how rare this is. Know that this is against my better judgment, and that if anything happens, it's on you."
Taehyung hears it, but barely, just glowing in relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he gushes, and finds himself, before he's fully conscious of it, running to and throwing his arms around Jimin in a tight hug. "Thank you!"
He realizes what he's done when Jimin is stiff under him, arms still at his sides. Taehyung lets go and backs off quickly, embarrassed.
"Sorry, I'm just... I'm really happy," Taehyung breathes. "Thank you so much."
"Yes, well," Jimin looks unaccustomed to the open affection. Maybe even, for the first time, a little flustered. "Are you ready to go?"
"I am," Taehyung says. He's not as sad as he was before, looking around at his apartment and gathering his clothes up off the table. He hadn't been lying; he really, truly thinks he does need this, and wouldn't be able to handle his family thinking he'd died, especially not so violently. All the apprehension remaining is soothed, knowing he at least can keep this. "I don't need anything else."
Taehyung descends down the steps to the car, clothes and album and phone in hand, and prepares to really, finally start his new life.