Chapter Text
The sidewalk shimmers with a faint coating of rain under the flickering street lights as Yeonjun battles with the umbrella, a mist of rain dusting over his hair and slowly seeping into the roots. He can feel dampness settling into his skin through his dress shirt, and he hands the umbrella over to Beomgyu with a muffled curse. After so many years on this earth, some things still manage to confound him, and, idiotically, umbrellas tend to be one of them. Each a little different, all with some sort of secret button to press or metal piece to click into place to ward off the elements.
If he could still blush, Yeonjun knows that the tips of his ears would be flaming as Beomgyu giggles at his side, opening the umbrella with a flourish of his wrist, wrapping the arm not holding it around Yeonjun's waist and pulling him in close. "You don't always have to try and be so chivalrous, you know," he remarks. "You can pay for my fancy dinners and I'll handle all the umbrellas. They say balance is key in a good relationship."
In a rather characteristic moment of childishness, Yeonjun sticks his tongue out, but darts it back before Beomgyu can poke at it. In the two years they've been together, Yeonjun prides himself on learning as many of Beomgyu's tricks as possible. "You just like being better than me at something," he replies, with a fond smile so Beomgyu can't truly get upset about it.
Beomgyu laughs, his head tipping back slightly, exposing the column of his neck to the light reflecting off the mist. Yeonjun tries not to stare, a pang of hunger registering dully in his senses that he resolutely ignores. "I won't deny that," Beomgyu says. "You've had so much more time to learn things, at least let me be the umbrella expert."
Yeonjun smiles, but it feels forced. He doesn't like to think too much about the difference in age between them, preferring to look at their ages visually. Yeonjun doesn't feel time like a human would, trapped eternally at twenty-five, Beomgyu slowly clamoring his way to catch up, twenty-three for now, but not forever. He likes to tease that someday he'll look older than Yeonjun, and that people on the street will start to look at them like Beomgyu's the one dating far under his years, rather than Yeonjun. It's a stark reminder of his mortality that Yeonjun finds both tragic and comforting.
There's a sharp jab to Yeonjun's ribs that jolts him out of his stupor. "Hey," says Beomgyu gently. "You were thinking too hard. We're almost at the restaurant."
Yeonjun murmurs a quick apology, and he feels Beomgyu let out a soft sigh next to him. That all-too-familiar flash of guilt runs through him with a shiver, and he shimmies around until he's holding Beomgyu's hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze. Beomgyu smiles at him, but there's sadness in his eyes. Yeonjun finds himself wondering, not for the first time, how many of Yeonjun's rapid mood swings and how much of his melancholy thoughtfulness Beomgyu can take before it's too much for him. But Yeonjun is a selfish creature, and he won't let himself be the one to voice his doubts, so he lets Beomgyu pull them into the restaurant and pretends that everything is fine.
They've been here enough times to have a regular table, and all the staff know them by name. There's a bottle of wine awaiting them when they sit down, something that always makes Beomgyu a little giddy. Yeonjun has grown embarrassingly used to luxury, his supernatural allure making people fall over their feet to please him, but he always gets a kick out of watching Beomgyu experience the world joyfully.
The server takes their order, a bunch of dishes 'to share', to make it seem like Beomgyu won't be the only one eating. Yeonjun's sure the staff have their suspicions about him by now, but he tips handsomely enough that they won't ever voice their concerns. He watches Beomgyu eat with a pang of jealousy that he's never fully been able to shake while he sips on a glass of wine that sours the second it hits his throat and sloshes uncomfortably around in his stomach. The deep red in his glass is a mockery of what he truly needs to feel sated, and his body won't ever allow him to forget it.
As he usually does, Yeonjun prompts Beomgyu to take the lead in their conversation, lets him ramble on about his newest video game obsession and his virtual victory over Kai and Taehyun while he sits with a small smile, all the while sipping on wine that does nothing but make him thirstier. He doesn't often let himself go too long in between feeds, but he's grown more careless in the years since he met Beomgyu, trying too hard to pretend he’s still human, letting the infectious energy of his boyfriend fill him up like a drug until he crashes.
He follows the conversation well enough, asking questions in all the right places, laughing at all the right times, but he can tell that it comes off as too calculated. He's still not good at this, playing at humanity, and he knows that Beomgyu can tell. "Junie," he says, frustration laced into the syllables of the pet name that makes Yeonjun's ever-still heart skip a phantom beat. "You're not with me right now," Beomgyu adds. Yeonjun wishes that he sounded angry, but he just sounds sad.
"I'm sorry," is the only explanation he can offer, and he knows it isn't even close to good enough, but at least it replaces the sorrow in Beomgyu's eyes with exasperation.
"I don't need you to say sorry, Yeonjun. I've heard that from you enough. I don't think you even know what you're apologizing for anymore. I don't need you to be perfect, I don't need you to calculate the best possible response to every single one of my stories. I don't need you to be the world's greatest boyfriend, I just need you to talk to me. It's like there's this wall that you keep up at all times and I keep thinking that if I just give you enough time you'll at least let me in a little, but it's been two years and you're still as closed off as you were when we got together. It's exhausting having to pretend that it isn't killing me," Beomgyu says, a single tear slipping its way past his waterline and running down his face. Even his anger is beautiful.
"I'm sorry," Yeonjun says again, and he sees Beomgyu flinch. "I'm just not feeling like myself today, I haven't eaten in a while."
Beomgyu's eyes flash. "So you'll talk about vampire stuff with me sometimes, but only when it's to get out of having another conversation?" The word 'vampire' rings too loudly between them, and Yeonjun's eyes dart frantically from side-to-side to see if anyone is eavesdropping. While vampires aren't hunted to extinction anymore, there is still a stigma against them in today's world, and Yeonjun would rather not be politely escorted out of his favorite restaurant.
"If you needed to feed, you should have told me. A relationship doesn't mean that you take care of me and I'm not allowed to do anything for you. If you would just talk to me more, just let me in a little, I could be there for you. I've never even seen the fucking clinic where you suck a stranger's blood every couple of weeks. Don't you think that's messed up? You've kept me firmly locked out of one of the most important parts of your life and I am sick of it, Yeonjun. I can't keep pretending like it's okay anymore," Beomgyu continues.
"You don't need to see that, Gyu. I don't want you to see that. It's not pretty, or hot, or anything like that. It's gory, and sometimes violent, and, yes, it's a part of me, but it's a part of me that I loathe. Can't you understand why I wouldn't want you to see that?" Yeonjun hates the desperation that he can feel infecting his sentences. The mere idea of Beomgyu seeing him feed sends shivers down his spine. He can see the horror, the revulsion that it would cause, and he's determined not to let that happen, even if it makes Beomgyu think that he's being too withholding.
"You're not supposed to hide the ugly parts of yourself in a relationship. You're supposed to show them to me, so that I can love those parts of you when you can't. I've told you time and time again that I don't care about how you feed. Hell, I've told you over and over that I would love it if you fed from me instead of some stranger. Why the fuck is someone you've never even met before allowed to see that part of you when I, who you supposedly love, can't? I'm telling you that I want you to have my blood and you keep telling me no without saying why. Is there something wrong with me? Because I'll fix it, if you just tell me what it is." Beomgyu is crying in earnest now, tears slipping down his cheeks and glistening in the mood lighting of the restaurant. Yeonjun's heart, if it still worked right, would be breaking.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Beomgyu. You're too perfect, if anything. It would kill me all over again to hurt you. I won't feed from you because I love you. I love you too much to hurt you," Yeonjun wishes that he could make Beomgyu understand, that he could explain the horrors that he's seen in the years since he was turned. He's been responsible for too many deaths to count, a fledgling abandoned by his sire, drowning in bloodlust, completely unaware of the damage he caused. He refuses to let Beomgyu get close to that part of himself, a vault door remaining firmly shut on his past.
"I think we have different definitions of love," Beomgyu says softly, brokenly. "I know you hate when I say it, but I'm ready to be with you forever, Yeonjun. I want you to turn me, I want to fight through the pain of it and spend the rest of my existence with you. I want to know every part of you, even the ones that you think are ugly. Everything that I have ever discovered about you is beautiful because it is a part of you. But if you don't love me enough to want me forever, then you have to tell me. Because I can't keep living and wondering if you care about me like I care about you."
"I won't turn you, Beomgyu," says Yeonjun, and he sees hope flicker and die in his love's eyes. There's more he wants to say, to explain, to reveal. He wants to tell Beomgyu about the pain of his own turning, the feeling of dying and waking up abandoned, left to hunt and kill like an animal, yearning for a sire that refused to claim him. But it's better for Beomgyu to think that he doesn't care enough than to know that he cares too much. He would love nothing more than to have Beomgyu forever, but he knows that Beomgyu doesn't fully understand the weight that decision would hold. If he knew every part of Yeonjun, he would loathe him just as much as Yeonjun often loathes himself.
Beomgyu is staring at him, tears still rolling slowly down his face, waiting for him to say more, to offer some explanation, still naively thinking that Yeonjun will open himself up, even after being proved wrong time and time again. When it becomes clear that no explanation is coming, Beomgyu stands up and walks away, unspeaking, and Yeonjun is left cold and empty in his absence.
Yeonjun finishes his glass of wine in a single gulp, ignoring the way it slides uncomfortably down his throat, the way his body is screaming notrightnotrightnotright. He pays the bill in a hurry, ignoring the concerned eyes of the restaurant staff as he rushes out the door. The rain is much heavier now, slamming in sheets against the asphalt of the roads, and even with his heightened senses Yeonjun has a hard time seeing through it, peering down the street from under the restaurant's awning. He can just make out the shape of his car down the street, sitting right where he left it, but Beomgyu is nowhere to be found. Not that he could have driven away — Yeonjun is the driver between the two of them, typically chauffeuring Beomgyu around as needed, a task he delights in, an easy way to show devotion.
But Beomgyu is a stubborn creature, a quality that Yeonjun typically finds endearing, and he wouldn't put it past his boyfriend to have walked home in the rain(with the confounding umbrella that he had taken with him when he stormed out of the restaurant) just to prove a point. Yeonjun takes out his phone and presses call on Beomgyu's contact. It goes straight through to voicemail, and Yeonjun fights down panic. Beomgyu is just ignoring him, playing hard to get, stewing in his anger. It wouldn't be the first time, and if he's determined to put space between them, Yeonjun will give it to him.
Besides, his senses are beginning to swim with hunger, vision tinged with static and stomach wracked with pangs of need. With one more look down the street to make sure Beomgyu isn't sulking under an awning, Yeonjun begins to walk towards his car, head hunched down against the rain, getting thoroughly soaked regardless. While he doesn't necessarily need to remain warm any more, more corpse than human in some of his physical make-up, a heightened sense of touch makes every drop of rain feel like an icy dagger to his already unnaturally cold skin. When he reaches his car he collapses into the front seat, dripping water all over the faux leather.
He glances in the backseat, and he flinches when he sees one of Beomgyu's favorite hoodies piled unceremoniously on the seat. He reaches over the middle console to grab it, and swaps it out for his dress shirt. He tries to ignore the way the scent of Beomgyu's perfume makes a lump grow in his throat. He throws his shirt in the backseat with a wet plop, resigns himself to the feeling of his wet pants slowly seeping into his skin, and drives to the feeding clinic.
The outside of the clinic is nondescript, a white building that has an essence of a storage house, wedged in between a small grocery store and a hair salon, no signage to indicate its purpose, but it's one of the only safe places for vampires to have medically controlled feeding, as normal clinics or hospitals don't allow vampires to feed within their doors, if they allow vampires in at all. This clinic was started by a human/vampire couple, and remains a word-of-mouth secret amongst the local vampire community.
Yeonjun approaches and knocks on the door four times in rapid succession, waiting a moment until it swings open to reveal a man who appears to be around Yeonjun's age, give or take a few years, with kind-but-tired eyes and a smile that exudes welcome.
"Yeonjun, hi," he says, and ushers him inside. "It's good to see you."
"Seonghwa, it's good to see you, too." Yeonjun replies. Seonghwa is one-half of the couple running the clinic, along with his partner, Hongjoong, the formerly-human half, who Seonghwa had turned per his request a few years into their relationship. Seonghwa serves as a guardian figure for most of the vampires in the area, guiding them to resources and providing them with safe places to stay and feed in a world that isn't typically kind to them.
"How's business?" Yeonjun asks, and Seonghwa's smile flickers. There's not necessarily a 'business' to speak of, as the clinic runs on volunteers and donations from other vampires or vampire sympathizers. Seonghwa and Hongjoong have devoted their lives to running it, and Yeonjun can see the toll it's taking in the exhaustion that lingers in Seonghwa's gaze.
"I don't know if you've heard, but the law is starting to crack down on places like this where vampires can have secrecy. They're trying to implement regulations on where and when vampires can feed, and places like this go directly against that. A lot of our donors are scared they're going to get in trouble and are pulling out, and we can't do anything to stop them. We started this place in the hopes that we could offer a place of privacy and safety, and we can't give that up," Seonghwa says as he leads Yeonjun down a hallway of closed doors. Behind each is a feeding room, comfortably furnished and set up with medical equipment in case of emergency. There aren't many places like this, made for vampires to feel safe, and Yeonjun's heart squeezes at the desperation in Seonghwa's voice. "I hate to ask, but if you know anyone who might be able to help, it would be greatly appreciated," Seonghwa adds.
Yeonjun's stomach turns. Seonghwa is one of a few people who has any inkling into Yeonjun's past and the types of vampires he used to associate himself with. Yeonjun hasn't spoken to anyone in his former coven in a long time, and he had hoped to keep it that way permanently. "I'll see what I can do," he says softly. "You might want to talk to Wooyoung, see if he can do anything for you." The name of his former covenmate tastes like ash on his tongue.
"We were in contact with him just yesterday. He's got his hands tied with his own semi-illegal workings, but we're trying to see if he can pull strings to help us. He sends his love, by the way. Somehow he knew you'd be stopping by soon. He didn't say it out loud, but I think he misses you," Seonghwa replies, and his eyes are sad.
Yeonjun doesn't respond, his throat clogged, vision blurry. There's a bond between covenmates that never truly goes away. Sometimes, Yeonjun can feel it when the people he used to trust more than anything are close to him, and there's a part of him that wants to bridge the gap that he carved with his own two hands and run back into their circle of safety. But he always resists.
Seonghwa doesn't speak again as he opens the door to a feeding room, but he places a gentle hand on Yeonjun's shoulder and squeezes. It's moments like these where Yeonjun allows himself to admit that he misses the presence of other vampires in his life, those who see him as he truly is without judgment. But comfort is a danger, and Yeonjun is done with being dangerous. He walks into the room and says a quick hello to the volunteer sitting cross legged on a couch in the middle of the room.
She's a middle aged woman with hair slowly going gray at the temples and smile lines around her eyes, a volunteer that Yeonjun recognizes. The blood of younger people, those in their twenties or thirties, is typically considered the best for feeding, but Yeonjun has a feeling the clinic is making do with anyone who will volunteer, no matter how old. They go through the motions without fuss, disinfecting the skin of her wrist where Yeonjun will feed, Seonghwa hovering to make sure that he doesn't take too much blood. The volunteer gives Yeonjun a motherly smile that makes his chest ache right as he bites down.
The first gush of blood has him stifling a groan, head spinning as the taste of copper floods his mouth. He takes gulps a little too fast, a drop of blood sliding down his chin. He can feel warmth spreading through his body, his senses sharpening, the static of hunger that had filled his vision receding. He loses track of time like this, pulling his fangs out to lick over the wound, lapping up any last taste of blood before Seonghwa moves in, pulling his head back gently, wrapping the volunteer's wound in gauze and leading her over to the other side of the room, where a plush lounge chair and a deep sleep await her.
Yeonjun sits hunched over on the couch, trying to calm the creature within him that rears its head when he feeds. He feels satiated, but there's a part of him that screams out for more, feeding him with images of moving over to the woman and ripping her throat out with his teeth. He grips his knees tight with his fingers and lets out a muffled whine that has Seonghwa whirling around and rushing over to Yeonjun, distinctly motherly in the way his hands fret, shuffling him out the door.
"When's the last time you fed?" He asks, gently chiding, once they're alone in a different feeding room.
"Three weeks ago, I think," Yeonjun responds softly, head buried in his palms, trying to stop the world from spinning out behind his eyelids.
He hears Seonghwa sigh deeply. "You know you can't go that long, especially with your history. Those of us who were at one point feral have to feed more often, as I'm sure you've heard many times before. You risk a frenzy if you don't. You used to visit so regularly, what happened?"
Seonghwa is gentle in his lecturing, but Yeonjun feels shame crawl through him regardless. Ever since he started dating Beomgyu, his feeding schedule had grown more and more irregular. He'd let himself go, too busy playing at normalcy to listen to the whims of his feral heart, seeking to rip, to tear, to bleed, to kill. It's been a long time since he let that part of himself take any purchase of his mind, and he's terrified of it. But he wants to be normal for Beomgyu so very badly, to hide the blood-sucking monster that he is and get to love naturally again. "I don't like Beomgyu to know when I'm feeding," he says softly. "And since we've been living with each other it's been hard to get away."
"Yeonjun," Seonghwa says with sigh, pulling the younger vampire in to rest his head on the elder's shoulder. "If Beomgyu truly loves you, he won't be scared of this part of you. You shouldn't have to hide who you are to be loved. If he's making you feel like that, you have to talk to him about it."
"He's not," Yeonjun says back, voice thick. "He's doing the opposite, really. He wants me to talk to him about it, to tell him about my past and my vampirism but I'm terrified that if I do tell him, he won't see me the same way. We fought about it, before I came here, about me being withholding and refusing to entertain the idea of turning him. He stormed off, and won't answer my calls."
Seonghwa runs his thumb soothingly over Yeonjun's shoulder. "I think you should call him once you leave, tell him that you want to have an open conversation. Hongjoong and I are here to answer any questions you might have, always just a phone call away. You owe it to him to be honest, and you owe it to yourself, too. It hurts me to see you hurting," he says.
Yeonjun nods, and lets himself be soothed silently for a while, until he pulls himself slowly out of Seonghwa's grasp, wiping tears from his eyes and blood from the corners of his mouth with mild disgust. "Thank you," he says to Seonghwa, voice low and rough.
"Of course," says Seonghwa gently, and he gives Yeonjun a quick embrace as he leads him to the door and out into the rain once again.
Once he's back out into the storm, leaving the sterile comfort of the clinic and the soothing concern of Seonghwa's eyes behind, Yeonjun makes a mad dash to his car, rotating his conversation with the elder vampire through his brain. There is a part of him, deep down, that knows good advice when he hears it, but the fear of rejection from Beomgyu, the fear that the worst parts of himself will be revealed and hated, still clings tightly to him. Once he's back in the front seat of his car, he pulls out his phone, hoping for a text from Beomgyu, but he's met with no new notifications staring up at him mockingly.
Panic begins to sink icy claws into his skin, seeping through him like the rainwater seeps through his clothes. He calls Beomgyu, his panic growing with each robotic ring, until it goes through to voicemail. Yeonjun's breath(a habit more than a necessity) quickens, his alarm growing. One doesn't go through so much of life without developing an idea of when something is wrong, and Yeonjun can feel dread growing like a pit in his stomach. The warmth and comfort that feeding brings fades rapidly as he presses call on Kai's contact with shaking hands.
"Hello?" Kai answers almost immediately, and relief washes through Yeonjun.
"Kai, hi. It's Yeonjun," the vampire replies. "I was wondering if you'd heard from Beomgyu at all in the past hour?"
There's a weighted pause, and Yeonjun can practically hear Kai thinking over his response, unsure of why Yeonjun, who has always held Beomgyu's friends at arm's length for fear of growing too attached, is calling with desperation in his voice. "The last time I talked to him was yesterday," he eventually responds. "Why, is something wrong?"
Yeonjun sighs softly, trying to calm the frantic pace of his thoughts. "We had a fight at dinner and he stormed off, and now he's not picking up the phone. I was trying to give him space, but I'm getting worried, especially with all this rain, and I was hoping that maybe he had called you."
Kai hums in sympathy. "I'm sorry, but I haven't heard anything. And I'm sorry that you fought. I'm sure it'll all work out. If I hear from him I'll let you know, but I would suggest calling Taehyun, too, to make sure Beomie didn't go to his place."
Yeonjun wishes, not for the first time, that he could allow himself to get to know Beomgyu's friends without thinking of the inevitable fall out of an eventual breakup. Not that Yeonjun plans on leaving Beomgyu anytime soon, but he someday he will grow tired of Yeonjun, as his lovers always do. Kai has always been more kind than Yeonjun's distance deserved. "Thanks, Kai. I'll call Taehyun. Try not to worry too much, I'm sure Beomgyu's just upset with me and not picking up."
"I'll leave the worrying to you for now," says Kai, and Yeonjun can hear his small smile through the phone. It makes his heart ache for want of friendship. "It's good to hear from you, Yeonjun. You should come hang out with Beomie, Taehyun, and I soon. It's about time I really get to know you," he adds, sounding shy.
"Maybe I'll take you up on that," says Yeonjun softly, and he wishes he could be genuine about it, wishes that the deep fear that keeps him separate, that only allows Beomgyu through his walls, and even then only through some of them, would dissipate and allow him to truly live normally like he dreams of.
Kai says a quick goodbye, and silence rings too loudly in the car in his absence, dread once again looming over Yeonjun. His finger hesitates for a moment over the call button on Taehyun's contact. Beomgyu's other best friend has always been kind to Yeonjun, and Beomgyu treasures his friendship like the most precious jewel, but he's always looked at him with a shrewder eye than Kai has, a nervousness that Yeonjun is sure he deserves. He knows that Taehyun will sense danger the second he picks up the phone, but he takes a deep breath and presses call anyway.
"Hi, Yeonjun, is everything alright?" Taehyun answers, and Yeonjun chokes on a crazed laugh, desperate to at least attempt to play at normalcy.
"Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if you'd heard from Beomgyu within the past hour or so," Yeonjun responds.
"No, I haven't. Wasn't tonight date night for you two?" Taehyun responds, and Yeonjun knows instinctively that something has gone terribly wrong. His vision goes blurry and a wave of nausea goes through him, threatening to spill all the blood he's just drunk back up out of his throat.
"Fuck," he says softly, and he hears Taehyun inhale sharply. "Yeah, it was date night, but we had a fight and he stormed off and he's not answering his phone. I called Kai first and he said he might be with you."
"He's not, and I haven't heard from him at all. Have you checked the apartment yet?" Taehyun responds.
"No, I'm going to drive there now," Yeonjun responds, his hands shaking as he puts his phone in the cupholder and presses the ignition. The idea of his apartment with Beomgyu, so full of light and warmth in his lover's presence being cold and empty without him is what Yeonjun dreads most of all.
"Okay," says Taehyun, softly, then again, more firmly, "Okay. I'm going to stay on the phone with you, alright? Drive safely, take a deep breath, just focus on the road for now. Getting yourself killed in a car crash doesn't help anyone." He doesn't ask why Yeonjun hadn't gone home right after he and Beomgyu fought, although the question lingers heavily in the air, and Yeonjun is grateful for his silence. Another kindness he is undeserving of.
Taehyun keeps him company over the phone as Yeonjun drives home, rain pelting the car, windshield wipers moving frantically, matching the raging pace of Yeonjun's panic. Taehyun reminds him to breathe every few moments, and even though it technically doesn't benefit Yeonjun physically anymore, it does keep his mind steady.
He pulls into the parking lot of their apartment complex with tires screeching, fumbling his way up to their apartment by muscle memory. He opens the door with shaking hands, Taehyun still on the phone, and sees the apartment dark and empty. "He's not here," he says to Taehyun, and he can't bring himself to sound surprised.
"Okay," says Taehyun, still so calm, so gentle. "Can you think of anywhere else he might have gone?"
As he's opening his mouth to respond, unsure of what else to say, perhaps to let out the primal scream building in his lungs, a notification flashes across the screen. A phone number, and the name of the local hospital. "I'll call you back," he says to Taehyun, cutting him off abruptly, pressing the notification, sliding to his knees on the floor in the entryway, unable to support himself any longer.
"Is this Yeonjun Choi?" says a voice on the phone, polite but no-nonsense.
"Yes," Yeonjun responds, voice ringing hollow in his ears.
"We're contacting you because you were listed as the emergency contact for Beomgyu Choi in our records. Is this correct?" Yeonjun almost drops the phone.
"What happened to him?" Yeonjun gasps out, trembling.
Silence drags on for a moment, the hospital staff seeming unsure of just what to reveal. "He was found injured on the street by a good samaritan who called emergency services. He's in the emergency room now. We'd recommend making your way safely to the hospital as soon as possible," she says.
This is Yeonjun's worst fear come to pass. "It was a vampire attack, wasn't it."
The woman from the hospital pauses again. "I'm not supposed to officially say, but that's what the doctors believe. They've been getting more and more common recently. Why the government isn't cracking down more harshly on those creatures is beyond me, but-"
Yeonjun hangs up, cutting her off, burying his head in his knees, a violent sob ripping it's way out of his chest. He should have known he could never out run his past, that just when he fell into a sense of security, just when he was starting to dream about building a life with the man he loved, it would all come crashing down around him.
There is no doubt that the vampire who attacked Beomgyu did it on purpose, waited for the right moment to strike, to take down an old rival by killing the one person most dear to him. It's vampire cruelty at his finest. The woman on the phone had called them 'creatures', neglecting to grant them a shred of their former humanity, and Yeonjun is inclined to agree with her. As much as some might argue that vampires deserve to be seen as more than just their feeding habits and the violent process of their creation, how could you ever be seen as good when your whole existence depends on sucking the life out of others? As much as he had tried to play at being human for Beomgyu's sake, he had always known that a day like this would come where he would be cruelly reminded that he's nothing but an unnatural monster.
As much as his bones ache with the desire to stay curled up and sobbing on the floor, he knows that he has to be there for Beomgyu, so he peels himself off the ground and sways unsteadily on his feet. He texts Taehyun with shaking hands, apologizing for hanging up on him so abruptly, saying that Beomgyu had been found and that he'd keep him updated. He doesn't tell Taehyun that Beomgyu had been found attacked by a vampire, not wanting to worry him until he has more information.
He gets back in the car and drives as fast as he dares to the hospital, blood swirling in his stomach, a dull ache in his chest radiating from his still heart, as if it yearns to pound with anxiety. Once he enters the hospital he rushes up to the front desk, soaking wet from the rain still pouring down in sheets outside, his eyes frantic and darting back and forth. He knows he looks like a wild animal, but he can't bring himself to be presentable when the love of his life could be dying somewhere in this bright white hellscape and without him there.
He tells the nurse at the front desk who eyes him with obvious suspicion that he's here to see Choi Beomgyu as his emergency contact, and when she takes his driver's license from him to verify his identity he sees her eyes go wide at the sight of the red circle that sits at the top, marking him as a legally registered vampire. When she speaks to tell him she'll take him to Beomgyu, he recognizes her voice as the one who had called him. The one who had referred to all vampires as 'creatures', with a tone that really meant 'monsters.' She must be wondering what he had done to get his perfectly human boyfriend into peril, and the worst part is that she's right. This wouldn't have happened if Beomgyu hadn't been dating Yeonjun, if he hadn't put his heart into the hands of a monster that was only ever going to crush it in his fist.
The nurse leads Yeonjun down the hallways, past endless walls of white and closed gray doors. It feels like he's stepped into a circle of hell, one that he has no idea how to escape from. He curls his hand into a fist and digs his nails into his palm, pinpricks of pain on ice-cold skin that help to keep him somewhat grounded. He almost walks straight into the nurse's back when she stops short in front of one of many identical doors. "This is his room," she says. "There's another nurse in there watching over him. I understand the doctor tried everything he could." Yeonjun is full of a sickening mix of post-feeding adrenaline and mind-numbing panic. He had hoped that maybe he had imagined the urgency in the nurse's voice over the phone, that he would show up to the hospital to discover that Beomgyu was alright, that he had been found in time, that he would recover. But the nurse's statement leaves no room for confusion - this is something Beomgyu won't recover from. Yeonjun pushes open the door.
The first thing that hits him as he walks in the room is the scent. It smells painfully sterile, harsh chemicals and bleach hitting his hyper-sensitive nose, a sneeze building in the back of his throat. Under it all is the constant scent of human blood, which now does nothing more than turn Yeonjun's stomach, since he had fed mere hours ago. Yeonjun drags his eyes away from the white tile floors and over to the bed, where a lifeless Beomgyu lays under over-starched white sheets, hooked up to tubes and monitors that make Yeonjun feel a little dizzy. There's a constant electrical hum pierced every so often by beeps, and Yeonjun thinks this is the sound of dread. When he sees the lack of color in Beomgyu's face, his lips parted with every stuttering breath he takes - too few, too slow - Yeonjun lets out a small, helpless sob. He knows death like an old friend, one who has stepped in his shadow since he was turned and even before, and death is everywhere in this room.
"You must be Yeonjun," comes a soft voice from next to the bed. Yeonjun rips his eyes away from Beomgyu and turns to see the source of it - another nurse, this one with kinder eyes and a softer countenance than the one from the front desk. He nods in response, not trusting his voice to not give out on him if he tries to speak.
"I'm glad you're here," the nurse continues. "As you may have already guessed, Choi Beomgyu fell victim to a vicious vampire attack this evening, and was found by a good samaritan who brought him here. You were listed in our records as his emergency contact. The doctors tried everything they could to stabilize him, but I'm afraid it was too late. The vampire draining process is vicious and rarely ends in anything but death. I'm sorry I can't be the bearer of better news."
Yeonjun moves forward, limbs trembling with the threat of giving out at any second. He reaches over and takes Beomgyu's hand, which is far too cold in his own. He remembers the way Beomgyu used to tease him about his own cold hands, the way he would cup them between his own - so warm, so human - and proclaim himself to be Yeonjun's personal heater. He chokes back another sob as it claws its way up his throat. "Is there anything I can do," he says to the nurse, eyes trained on Beomgyu's face. He is still so beautiful, even as he clings to life so perilously.
The nurse lets out a soft sigh. "Is there any family you should call, anyone who might want to be here?" She asks gently.
Yeonjun shakes his head. "No," he says. "Beomgyu and his parents they... no." Beomgyu's parents had cut contact with him when he came out to them at thirteen, disowning him as their son. He had always talked about it in the detached way that spoke to someone who wanted to pretend they were over something that still wounded them deeply. He had lived with his aunt until he turned eighteen, the only member of his family who still spoke to him, but she had died before Yeonjun and Beomgyu met. "It's just me," Yeonjun adds, and it makes him feel so terrible that his knees almost buckle under him. Yes, Beomgyu has Kai and Taehyun, his two college friends, but the one person who he had tried to put his trust in, had gave his heart to, was Yeonjun. And look where it got him.
"Are you sure there isn't something more that can be done?" He asks, voice cracking. "I know people, I can get him help that he might not be able to get here."
The nurse eyes him warily, seeming to fully take him in for the first time. Her eyes dart around quickly, scanning to see if anyone else might be listening, before she speaks low and quickly. "I should by no means tell you this. We're not supposed to advocate for vampiric transformation under any circumstances. But if you're that desperate, and you think he would agree to be turned so violently, then it's the only chance you have left."
Yeonjun's heart skips a phantom beat in his chest. What cruel justice fate has cursed him with, to have denied to turn Beomgyu only hours before, only to be faced with the choice between that or death now. He feels completely helpless, knowing how painful the transformation would be, since Beomgyu had been almost killed by a vampire that wasn't Yeonjun - his prospective sire. It would be hellish, and Yeonjun isn't sure he has it in him to inflict that pain upon the man he loves. But what other choice does he have? Could he really sit here and watch Beomgyu die knowing he could save him?
Beomgyu's eyes shutter open, and Yeonjun gasps. "Do it," he says through cracked lips, voice hoarse and trembling. "Don't let me die. Turn me, like I've wanted you to." Tears slide down Yeonjun's cheeks as Beomgyu's eyes close again, and his breathing grows even more shallow. "I want eternity with you," Beomgyu adds in a whisper, eyes still closed. "I don't care how much it hurts."
The nurse gives Yeonjun a light squeeze on his shoulder that makes him shiver. He isn't used to such kindnesses from anyone other than Beomgyu. "I'll give you two some privacy. I'll be back shortly, to help you unhook him from the machines if that's what you decide. I can't stop you either way. I'm sorry it came to this," she says, and then she slips out the door.
Yeonjun slides unsteadily down into the chair next to the bed, never letting go of Beomgyu's limp hand, already too close to that of a corpse for his liking. When he looks over at his boyfriend, he sees that he's gone back to the state of fitful sleep he was in before, eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids, breathing harsh and shallow. "I don't know what to do, my love," he says, voice thick with unshed tears. "You say you want forever with me, but forever is a very long time, one that your mind can't even begin to understand." He laughs brokenly. "If you were awake you would tell me that I'm being pretentious. I wish you were in the state to insult me. I don't like seeing you so empty of life, and I don't think I could live with myself if I sat here and let you die against your wishes. But I don't know if I'll live with myself once you hate me for turning you."
The worst part about it is that Yeonjun knows exactly where to go, who to call, how to execute the turning. As much as he tried to detangle himself from his past coven, he knows that they would still help him if he asked. Some bonds are impossible to break, forged in blood and pain and allyship in the darkest of times. Yeonjun pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and navigates to his contacts with trembling fingers. He opens a contact that reads Soobin(DO NOT CALL) and presses the call button.
It rings only once before a voice on the other side of the line speaks a suspicious, "hello?" Yeonjun almost breaks down then, the sound of his former covenmate's voice one he didn't realize he had missed so deeply.
"Soobin," he says, desperation painting the syllables. "I need your help."
There's a long sigh from Soobin's end. "Of course you do," he says, but he doesn't sound angry, merely exhausted. Yeonjun recalls what Seonghwa had said about the pressure being placed on the local vampiric society, and he feels a pinch of guilt for how stressed Soobin must be, managing a large local coven and trying to do it as legally as possible.
"My boyfriend's been attacked, drained nearly to the point of death. He's asked to be turned rather than die. I'm going to take him to Wooyoung, but I don't have any extra blood for him. And I suspect that this wasn't a random attack. One of our rivals must have found him." Yeonjun says, voice low and rushed, words slurring together. This isn't the first time he's begged Soobin for help over their many years of knowing each other, bonded by something deeper than true brotherhood, the closest thing either of them had to family, until Yeonjun ran away.
"Shit," says Soobin. "I wish I could say I was surprised, but attacks like this have been getting more and more frequent these days. Everyone's on edge, skittish with the crack down from the government, unsure of whether they're safe anymore. I'm not sure who attacked your boyfriend, but I have my guesses. And I suppose you want me to find out and deal with it?" He sounds resigned more than angry, and Yeonjun almost wishes he would get mad. He would certainly deserve it.
"If you can. I know I owe you explanations, and apologies, and so much more than I can give you, but I promise I'll give you anything you need if you can help me save him," Yeonjun pleads.
"I don't need anything, Yeonjun. Never from you. God knows I should ask for so much, but I could never bring myself to, could I." He pauses, and Yeonjun shakes with fear and guilt. There's a near-magnetic force buzzing to life under his skin, one that he has fought to suppress, the bonds of his coven coming back to life after forced dormancy. "I'll call Wooyoung and tell him to expect you. I have extra blood I can bring, and I'll try and get the two of you to safety. There are still a few uncompromised safe houses that I could let you use," Soobin continues.
Yeonjun lets out a shaky breath of relief. "Thank you," he says, because he can't find the words to truly express his gratitude, and his shame. He had abandoned his coven, his family, because they represented a part of himself that he hated, but they had never truly deserved the wrath that he deflected from himself onto them, Soobin least of all. He had cared for Yeonjun in a time where he had no one else, and Yeonjun had repaid him with misplaced anger.
"This boy really means a lot to you, doesn't he?" Soobin asks. "I've never seen you sound so upset. Never did I think I'd see the day where the heartless Choi Yeonjun found a mortal lover that he truly cared about."
"He means the world to me," says Yeonjun, admitting to Beomgyu's near-lifeless form what he could never usually say to his face. "Against all odds, he means everything."
"Then I'll see what I can do," says Soobin, and the line goes quiet.
Yeonjun slowly lowers the phone from his ear and gives Beomgyu's hand a light squeeze. "I wish I could ask you again if you're sure of this, my love," he says. "But I don't think you understand how much you will hate me when it's all over. I think if I were truly brave, I would let you go gently rather than make you fight for life. But I have never been brave, and I so badly want to see you live."
And although his eyes remain closed and his breath grows no steadier, machines still beeping around them, Yeonjun swears he feels Beomgyu give his hand a squeeze in return. It's all the answer he'll get, but he takes it as reassurance all the same, mentally steeling himself to turn the love of his life into a vampire, something he swore he'd never do.
The nurse comes back into the room moments later, and Yeonjun has a feeling she was lurking and listening to his phone call. He can't bring himself to care about the security risks the notion implies. "Have you decided what you're going to do?" she asks.
Yeonjun nods and stands, hating how his body can still move so smoothly, the blood he'd drunk hours before putting him at peak physical condition even as his heart breaks and his mind is screaming. "I have to get him out of here," he says. The nurse's hands fidget frantically where she holds them clasped in front of her body, but she nods once and moves forward to begin unhooking Beomgyu from the machines. He's eerily still as she moves his limbs around, and Yeonjun can barely stand to watch it.
"Do you have somewhere safe to go for the transformation?" she asks, and Yeonjun's admiration of her grows for even having the guts to ask the question. Most people treat vampiric turning as taboo to speak of aloud.
"I do," he says, and gives no other information, unwilling to compromise Soobin and Wooyoung more than he potentially already has.
The nurse nods. "Good. You don't have much time between when I fully unhook him from everything and when the transformation has to take place. I'll take you out the back entrance, but that's as far as I can go."
Yeonjun nods, and moves forward to help the nurse roll the cot out of the room and into the hallway. It's luckily empty for the moment, and they go all the way down to the end until they reach a door marked 'emergency exit.' "Don't worry, there's no alarm," says the nurse. She hesitates for a second, chewing on her words, before she reaches out and gives Yeonjun a quick side-armed hug. "I hope it all works out for you two. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
Yeonjun pats her awkwardly on the shoulder, unsure of what to do of himself and constantly aware of the life bleeding out of Beomgyu every second they stand loitering. "You've done plenty," he assures the nurse, and sees for the first time just how young she looks, even by the standards of an immortal. "Thank you..."
"Yujin," she finishes, with a small smile.
"Thank you, Yujin," he says, and then he takes Beomgyu out of the cot and into his arms and walks out into the night.
He's sure he would paint quite the picture for anyone who might be around to see - carrying his lifeless boyfriend in his arms like an action hero. But he doesn't feel noble, he just feels desperate. He rushes back to his car, and carefully buckles Beomgyu into the passenger seat, where he slumps against the window. When he checks his phone, there's a message from Soobin waiting for him, telling him that he's out getting blood and that Wooyoung is expecting Yeonjun and Beomgyu, and that Soobin will meet them at the turning facility. Yeonjun starts the car.
The drive to the facility is a blur, and Yeonjun is surprised he can remember the address that Seonghwa had given him so long ago, in case he ever had need of it, or in case he wanted to reconcile with Wooyoung. Both things have come unexpectedly true tonight. The facility parking lot is mostly abandoned when Yeonjun arrives, and he wastes no time rushing in, Beomgyu back in his arms, dead weight.
The moment he walks in, he's greeted by a face he hasn't seen in a very long time. "Wooyoung," he breathes.
"Yeonjun," his former covenmate replies, but his tone is guarded, and reasonably so. Wooyoung has been trying to reconcile with Yeonjun for years, leaving him messages through Seonghwa, leaving the door open should Yeonjun ever want to walk back through it. He should feel guilty that he's only returned because he needs Wooyoung's help, but instead he only feels relief that there is help to be found.
"I have to turn him," he says, and Wooyoung nods.
"Soobin told me," he says. "Follow me."
Yeonjun is grateful for his ability to not ask questions until the moment of terror has (hopefully) passed. There is much to catch up on and much to say, but it has to wait. Nothing can be done while Beomgyu dies, while Yeonjun's love lies prone in his arms.
Wooyoung leads him down a hallway that looks similar to Seonghwa's feeding facility, but Yeonjun notes that the doors are made of thick metal, and all are equipped with heavy-duty locks. This is a place that reeks of potential danger, and a shiver runs down Yeonjun's spine. Wooyoung stops in front of one of these doors and puts a passcode into the keypad. The door swings open to reveal a relatively barren room.
There's a bed that's nothing more than a mattress and some thin sheets (why bother wasting anything else when it would only be covered in blood), a bath filled with what Yeonjun assumes to be grave dirt, a cooler that likely holds a small blood supply, and a small table that holds what seem to be a few medical supplies. The lighting is dim, likely to avoid overwhelming the newly turned fledgling's senses. It's clearly a place for vampires designed by vampires, and Yeonjun can see that thought has gone into every element of it, despite how bare and thoughtless it might seem.
"You've done well here," he says to Wooyoung as he lowers Beomgyu onto the mattress. "It's a good thing, that we have a place like this."
"Thank you," says Wooyoung. "It's been mine and Sannie's life work, keeping it running."
San is another vampire, one who joined up with Yeonjun's coven right as he was beginning to pull away. He could sense a bond forming between him and Wooyoung even as he was plotting his own escape, however, and he thinks Seonghwa had once mentioned that Wooyoung had found his life partner. "I'm sorry I haven't been around," he says softly.
"I know," says Wooyoung, his eyes sad. "We didn't blame you, when you left. You dealt with more than any of us, except perhaps Soobin, and I think we all knew that someday it would catch up to you."
"You're kinder than I deserve," Yeonjun replies.
"I know that, too," Wooyoung says, and he moves to rest a hand on Yeonjun's shoulder for a moment. "But we can't stand around talking about the past when there are far more pressing matters to attend to. I'm guessing that you'll be siring the fledgling?"
Yeonjun nods. The idea makes him queasy, the notion of a sire filled with a plethora of negative connotations that he's unsure he'll ever be able to fully shake. But there is no other option. He would not let anyone else care for or be bonded to Beomgyu in such an intimate way. He can only hope to be better than his own sire was.
"You understand that this won't be an easy process, right?" Wooyoung asks, his hand still on Yeonjun's shoulder.
"I know, but there's no other way. And he wanted this, long before he was attacked. He wanted me to be honest with him about why I wouldn't allow it. I can't help but think that if I had listened, if I had opened up, this wouldn't have happened," Yeonjun responds.
"You were trying to keep him safe," Wooyoung says. They're both standing over the bed now, watching Beomgyu fight to live.
"It didn't work," Yeonjun whispers. "But I can't think about that now. We don't have time to wait for Soobin, do we?"
"I don't think so," Wooyoung replies.
"Alright," says Yeonjun. "How do we do this, then?"
"I'm going to take some of your blood, first. So that it's ready once you've drained him. I'll need to pour it down his throat right at the last second," Wooyoung says, and he reaches over to the table and grabs a few tubes and bags that seem to be some sort of blood-collection device, like they would use at a hospital. He doesn't speak as he finds a vein in Yeonjun's arm and then taps into it. Yeonjun watches with dull fasciation as dark blood moves sluggishly through the tubes into the bag. He doesn't even feel the pain of the needle.
Wooyoung takes what he needs and then wraps some gauze around Yeonjun's arm. "That should be enough," he says. "Now, the only thing left for you to do is feed. And whatever you do, don't stop until I pull you away, no matter what happens."
Yeonjun can't say more than a soft whisper of, “I love you,” as he lowers himself over Beomgyu's body and prepares to bite down over his neck. He had just fed earlier in the night, but the truth about vampires is that they're always hungry. Yeonjun bites down, and Beomgyu screams. It's an awful sound, raw and full of death, and his body thrashes under the supernatural strength of Yeonjun's hands, trying in vain to escape, prey trapped beneath an unnatural predator. Yeonjun almost pulls back before he remembers Wooyoung's warning.
While a normal vampire bite doesn't feel like much more than drawing blood medically would, and can sometimes even be pleasurable depending on the vampire's ability to use their venom, a bite of death is a far darker sort of magic. It's excruciatingly painful for the victim, and Yeonjun tries to lose himself in the drinking, in the gulps of thick copper that slide down his throat, rather than listen to the chilling sound of his love succumbing to death. He can feel Beomgyu's pulse slowing, and eventually the screams fade to whimpers and his thrashing stills to tremors as Yeonjun keeps drinking and drinking.
The worst part of it all is that it's the sweetest blood Yeonjun has ever tasted. At their core, vampires are made to kill, and when they indulge in the urge, they're rewarded with blood that feels more satiating than a mere feed could ever dream of being. There is a part of Yeonjun that remains somewhat mortal, screaming at him to stop, to pull away, bombarding him over and over with the knowledge that he's killing the one person who truly loves him. This part of him is quickly overwhelmed by his more monstrous side, the part of him that wants to kill and drain and feed and indulge in every sort of dark luxury that vampires should be owed. He's drowning in the delicious ichor of death, and he doesn't think he'll be able to surface above the waves.
He has no idea how much time passes before he feels a tug on his shoulder. He resists, and the pull grows stronger until he's thrown roughly to the floor, head spinning, blood dripping down his chin. Through double vision, he sees Wooyoung pour the bag of Yeonjun's blood down Beomgyu's throat, then run and bury him up to his neck in the tub of grave dirt. He slowly comes back to himself, and feels nauseated with the knowledge of what he's just done. There's a buzz under his skin that he knows to be the fragile bond between fledgling and sire, and he watches with dull fascination as Beomgyu explodes up out of the dirt. His limbs all seem hyper-extended, covered in brown-gray dirt, his fingers clawlike, grime collecting under his nails. His eyes gleam red and their pupils are over-blown, rapidly contracting and expanding, trying to adjust to his new senses. He snarls, and fangs explode from his gums, leaving more blood to trail down his chin in their wake. He reaches forward, spitting and growling and bleeding, and then pitches forward into Wooyoung’s arms.
"Junie, come here," says Wooyoung, and Yeonjun notices that he's not just holding Beomgyu, but rather straining with the effort it's taking to hold him back. "You should be the one to give him his first feed. Bags of blood are in the cooler."
Yeonjun moves in a daze over the cooler and takes out a bag of partially-congealed blood. Live blood would be better for a first feed, but it's very likely that no humans want to subject themselves to the whims of a fledgling vampire with no self control. Yeonjun takes Beomgyu into his own arms and moves them back to the bed, Beomgyu immediately stopping his fighting to curl himself into Yeonjun. A fledgling craves contact with their sire at all times, and Yeonjun's heart squeezes at the way Beomgyu whimpers as he buries his face in Yeonjun's shoulder, trying to gnaw at the skin there, desperately seeking to feed.
"Gyu, look here," he says softly, turning Beomgyu's face to look at the bag of blood. He tears it open with his own fangs, and then holds it up to Beomgyu, who immediately guzzles it down, blood running over his face and onto his palms where he clenches at the bag. He's messy and uncoordinated, as all fledglings are, but once he's gotten as much blood out of the bag as he can, he collapses back into Yeonjun's arms and goes utterly still.
"It's done," Wooyoung breathes. "He'll be alright now."
Yeonjun runs one hand over Beomgyu's hair, damp with sweat and somehow streaked with blood. "He won't be... like me, will he?" he asks Wooyoung.
"Feral? No, not at all. He's gotten plenty of your blood, and you'll take care of him properly, I know you will," Wooyoung replies, and his eyes are gentle when Yeonjun glances up to meet his gaze.
"I never planned for this to happen. I told myself I would never sire," Yeonjun says, and tears are thick in his throat.
"But it happened, and you will deal with it, I know you will. You are kinder and more equipped to handle this than you think you are, Yeonjun, I know it." Wooyoung's fingers twitch like he's aching to reach out to Yeonjun, to bridge more gaps than the physical one that lies between them, but it's risky for those who aren't a fledgling's sire to reach into their space. And Yeonjun isn't sure he'd let him get close if he tried. There's a deep sort of territorial ache building in his gut, something stronger than simple possessiveness, deeper than just emotional - the bond between fledgling and sire slowly falling into place. He's been on the other end of this bond before, the fledgling aching to be cherished, though where Beomgyu is cradled gently he was only ever left to starve of blood and affection. He makes a vow to himself then and there, sitting on sheets stained deep red in the dim light, his lover cradled in his arms, to be for Beomgyu what he never had. There is no deeper betrayal than that of a sundered sire bond, and Yeonjun will not betray Beomgyu more than he already has.
Yeonjun meets Wooyoung's gaze and nods once. No more words are exchanged, but covenmates never need something so trivial as language to understand what each other are feeling. And though he has tried to run from it, Yeonjun and Wooyoung are still covenmates.
Yeonjun isn't sure how long they stay there, Beomgyu cradled passed out in his arms, Wooyoung puttering around the room and cleaning up dirt and blood as best he can. He eyes the blood-splattered sheets on the bed and then sighs softly, unwilling to disturb the macabre but somehow strangely domestic scene of Yeonjun and Beomgyu. As domestic as vampirism can get, really, always somehow touched by death and blood.
After what could have been minutes or hours, Wooyoung gets a text from Soobin saying that he's arrived with the blood supply that Yeonjun and Beomgyu will need while they're at the coven hideout. As much as he tries to steel his emotions and wipe his face clean of reactions, a million emotions run through Yeonjun at once the moment Soobin walks in the door. He looks much the same, un-aged in the traditional sense - free of new wrinkles or gray hair, but Yeonjun can tell that time is taking its toll on him in other ways, can feel his exhaustion bleed through their bond, their emotions coming easy to one another even now.
"Thank you for coming," Yeonjun says, his voice hoarse.
"All you had to do was ask," Soobin replies, and Yeonjun looks away. It had been his greatest regret to run from Soobin, who was, for the longest time, the only person who cared about him, who was looking after him. They were brothers in the deepest of cosmic senses, intertwined by fate even when they did not always want to be. He knows, now, that it is impossible to ever escape a bond like that.
"I'm sorry it took me so long," Yeonjun says.
"I knew you'd come back eventually," Soobin says, and somehow it doesn't sound admonishing. Soobin has always been too good to Yeonjun, and it has never been properly repaid. Sometimes, when he's drowning under the weight of time, the weight of all his sins, Yeonjun thinks that Soobin should have left him alone and sireless, should have walked away from trouble while he had the chance. Sometimes he thinks he takes too much comfort in guilt instead of actually atoning for his mistakes.
Sensing the looming tension between Soobin and Yeonjun, Wooyoung comes between them to break it like he always did. It's funny how patterns repeat themselves no matter how much time has passed, especially for immortals. "Did you bring the blood, Bin?" Wooyoung asks.
Soobin nods, and slowly rips his eyes away from Yeonjun, as if he thinks he'll run the moment he's out of sight. "I did. It's in my car, in a cooler. I didn't think bringing so much blood in with a new fledgling was wise." He looks, for the first time, at Beomgyu. His eyes soften. Throughout their time alive, most vampires never have the pleasure of forgetting the pain of their turnings, and some of the coldest hearts of the living dead can be stirred to some distant cousin of empathy at the sight of a newborn vampire. Soobin, having one of the warmest hearts Yeonjun knows, is likely dreaming up some sort of unimaginable kindness while he stares at the crumpled form of Beomgyu in Yeonjun's arms.
"That's smart," Wooyoung says. "I wish I had more blood from my own stores to give you, but we're running low as it is. I'm taking whatever Seonghwa can give me, but it's running lower and lower."
"Don't worry about it," Soobin says. "I had enough for this." He pauses for a moment, eyes still on Beomgyu. "I've also located an uncompromised safe house for Yeonjun and the fledgling to stay. It'll be a little dusty, but it's safe."
"The cottage," Yeonjun says, knowing Soobin's thoughts almost as well as he knows his own.
"Yes," Soobin confirms, and a soft smile passes over his features for a moment. A dimple comes and goes.
The cottage lies deep in the tangled wilderness a few hours outside the city, and was discovered by Yeonjun and Soobin long years ago when they were carving a vicious path through the world alone. It had been barren and run down, and they had taken great pains to restore it to something beautiful, a sanctuary of warmth and comfort, luxuries that were often hard to come by for creatures like themselves. It seems somehow fitting, that he should nurture Beomgyu back to some semblance of life in the one place he ever felt safe. Good choice," he says softly, and Soobin's smile briefly returns.
"We should leave soon. I don't like the idea of leaving blood unattended for long, and I'm sure you're anxious to get to safety," Soobin says.
Yeonjun nods. "Do you think he'll be alright now? Is there anything else I need to do?" he asks Wooyoung.
"All you can do now is wait. But we've done everything right for him, Junie," Wooyoung responds.
Yeonjun lets out a deep, shuddering breath and slowly eases Beomgyu out of his arms and back down onto the mattress. He's all dead weight, and Yeonjun shoves down a wave of panic. He gets up, crosses the room in a few strides, and pulls Wooyoung into his arms. For a moment, Wooyoung stands there stiff as a board and Yeonjun begins to worry that he's made a grave mistake. But then his covenmate moves his arms up to crush Yeonjun to him, burying his face in the crook of the elder vampire's neck. A shudder goes through them both, and a bond long neglected clicks back into place.
When they pull back moments later, Yeonjun looks Wooyoung in the eyes and says, "Thank you," one last time. Wooyoung nods, eyes watery, and blows him a kiss goodbye. Though he cannot believe he deserves it, Yeonjun is forgiven. He lifts Beomgyu back up into his arms and follows Soobin out into the night. He can't bring himself to look back.