Work Text:
Immortality is capricious. Jooyeon wasn't given a choice or an out for the life given to him. Nearly seven hundred years after his death and subsequent rebirth, he's found himself feeling like a ghost of his former self.
Life's gone dull. Despite new technical advancements left and right, the fashions and music of humans are changing before his eyes- he's uninterested. He's bored as he watches Gunil set up a boxy, fat TV to replace their decades-old analog device, he's listless as Seungmin prattles on about new style trends while sticking magazines in his face, he ignores Hyeongjun when he turns on MTV to play the latest music in an attempt to reignite their old collective interest. It's just no use. Nothing interests him anymore.
He bats away offerings of blood bags, even though he can tell it's starting to freak them out. Jungsu especially nags him, always says he needs to eat, he needs to stay healthy. He was turned a few centuries after Jooyeon, and it makes a world of a difference. An extra three hundred years of life is exhausting. Jooyeon would be okay with withering away but he stays alive for their sake, not wanting them to mourn his loss.
(Jungsu reminds Jooyeon of him, sometimes. He wonders if he's ever going to stop looking for him in others.)
Gunil is more understanding. He's been alive longer than Jooyeon, than any of them, in fact. Has seen more life and death than the feeble human mind could comprehend. If he spoke about his life, perhaps humanity would line up to worship him, to hear his stories and wisdom.
Instead, Gunil works at a shitty pizza place alongside regular people. He spends a few days a week cleaning off dirty tables and feeding hungry families greasy food. He's been changing his name for the last few decades and legally kills himself plenty too in order to keep up appearances.
Jooyeon has attended Gunil's funeral at least twenty times.
"Why do you pretend like you're one of them, still?" Jooyeon once asked him a few years ago.
"Hm. I don't know, really. I suppose that the way humans live everyday to the fullest since their lives come to short ends inspires me. I like their energy- they suffer plenty, but they always pick themselves up to keep going.”
Jooyeon doesn't feel the same. Maybe he would have, seven centuries ago. But he can't deal with when humans perish. They leave him behind, the memories fade, and time continues to pass. Life moves forward while Jooyeon cannot, ageless and eternal.
(He misses him. It tears him apart most days.)
Gunil is right, humans go through as much suffering as they do, but not nearly to the length of suffering Jooyeon has had to endure. There's been a hole in his chest that has grown larger and larger for centuries. He grieves his death everyday, he hasn't moved on. The others don't understand because they were turned with the knowledge that they'd be leaving their friends and family behind. Jooyeon had been sick. He had died. Then suddenly he was undying.
He wishes he'd went alongside him.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
He feels like he's floating in a lake of tar. Sinking slowly, slowly, in pure darkness. Throat clogged, unable to breathe. And yet. It's calm.
He's yanked out of it. Convulsing, feeling a scratch at his throat. He can't help grabbing for it, can't stop himself from the scream that's wrenched out of his body. He feels himself go still again.
He awoke to Gun-il's blubbering. I- I'm sorry. I've, I've never, his face is smeared in blood, tears mixing with the viscous liquid. Ju-yeon thought he was going to be sick. I couldn't bear to lose you two, but I've failed. Please forgive me, Ju-yeon.
Ju-yeon felt like he was sitting on a puddle of sweat. He reached to wipe it off, only to notice the red that coated his fingers. His eyes were wide as he turned to Gun-il. Why are you sorry? he asks, horrified.
I couldn't save him, Gun-il sobs, You both stopped breathing at the same time, I couldn't. I didn't have enough time.
Ju-yeon's sprung off the mat he'd lay on, ignoring the copious amounts of blood he'd been sitting in. Stomping down the halls like there were hot coals on his feet, he threw open the door to Chi-suk's bedchambers.
He lay pale and unmoving. Similarly drenched in his own blood, bite marks marring his chest like Gun-il had frantically tried to turn him into an eternal being multiple times. He looks like he's been maimed. Ju-yeon falls to his knees.
His hand shakes as he strokes Chi-suk's cheek. It's cold, and Ju-yeon is equally cold- yet, he lives.
Gun-il is still crying when he enters the bedchambers. Still muttering delirious apologies, still drenched in Ju-yeon and Chi-suk's blood. Ju-yeon doesn't weep. He's frozen. Why?, he hears himself whimper. He can't stop repeating the word. He's been relegated to an eternity without his soulmate, his other half.
Why? He asks again, turning to Gun-il. He doesn't seem to have a proper response to that.
I will stay with you, he says in lieu of an answer, I will never let you feel alone.
The promise is hollow. How could he live on without his love? His ears ring, a dull shrill that cuts through his heartbreak. The blood on the floor is drying already, tacky underneath Ju-yeon's . It smells metallic, sweet, and rancid. He's gaunt, when did he get so thin? When did the fever decide to take his best friend away from him, little by little?
Now Chi-suk's chest is a ruin of punctures by Gun-il's teeth. His lips are ashen. His skin is dry, still peeling away as he lay in peace. His hair, once soft to the touch, lies limp and darkened with stains. Ju-yeon brushes it off his forehead. Leaves a trembling kiss on the icy skin. He turns to Gun-il, begs him, Kill me, shouts at him, I don't want to live without him.
He knows it's an impossible wish.
Gun-il holds him as he weeps. It's to no avail. He's already been turned. His body has rewired itself to live on, to forge ahead as Chi-suk rots away.
Ju-yeon makes a vow that he'll never forget Chi-suk. Not for as long as he lives.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
Jooyeon doesn't care much for modern technology, but the coven insists he keep a phone line in his room so they can make calls to him when he spends too much time lazing about. It rings in the middle of the night, Jungsu on the other end, "Gunil told me to tell you to get a haircut sometime this century. His words, not mine."
Jooyeon chuckled, but he knew he was right- it's grown shaggy and sloppy, with no shape or volume to it. He trudges through the streets to his local barber. He's had the same cut for about a decade- a shoulder-length middle part. He debated if he ought to grow a mustache as well to match the age group he's supposed to be a part of, but can't resist having it shaved.
It's a chilly autumn in Seoul. Each year feels colder than the last, and they're all suffering for it. Being cold-blooded is terrible, and Jooyeon is bundled up to his nose in scarves as though it were snowing.
There's a young couple walking in front of him, cheeks flushed as they swing their interlocked fingers between themselves. Jooyeon watches the way their shoulders brush. Simple warmth, fleeting but real. He wonders what they’ll be like in fifty years. Wonders if they will stay together until the end. Wonders if they’ll die in their sleep or fighting for breath in some sterile hospital. Wonders if anyone will hold their hand when everything ends. Wonders if he'll still be around past their lifetime, then shakes his head minutely at his foolish thought. He knows he will be.
He's shaken from his thoughts by the strumming of music. He's only ever out during nighttime in the city, so seeing people busking is routine for Jooyeon. Preemptively, he fishes his wallet out his pocket to pull out some change for the musician. What he doesn't expect is that when he looks up-
It's Chi-suk. He must be going mad, because Chi-suk is in front of him, playing a guitar.
Jooyeon stopped moving, jaw dropped and staring at the guitarist as he sang a song in jagged English. He blinks. It's not Chi-suk, that's impossible- he's been gone for hundreds of years. But this man, he looks so much like him and Jooyeon almost feels nauseous from the onslaught of emotion that suddenly coursed through his body. His eyes are sparkling in the night, nodding at Jooyeon with a bright smile as he awkwardly drops the 5000 won bill in his guitar case. Jooyeon can't look away.
The song ends, and the musician fiddles with his boombox a bit, pausing his back track. He laughs a bit at Jooyeon's awestruck expression. "Thanks for the tip. Got any song requests? I have a few other CDs laying around."
Jooyeon hasn't listened to the radio in over ten years. He doesn't know what someone who is supposed to be in his twenties listens to. "I, uh- no, I don't," he stumbled over his words, as though Chi-suk's lookalike would vanish if he stopped speaking, "But I want to stay and watch. You're amazing."
The boy blinks before smiling once again. It's hard to tell under the streetlights, but Jooyeon thinks he's blushing. His shoulders crawl up to his ears as he squirms under Jooyeon's compliment. Is he not used to people telling him how talented he is?
"Thank you," the other eventually whispers, before brightening again, "Hey, do you want a cassette? I've made a few copies of my latest songs. If you've got a walkman, you can listen to it on the go!"
Jooyeon doesn't know what a walkman is, honestly. But he can assume it's probably some kind of music playing thing. He nods and says, "I definitely want one," just to keep the smile on the stranger's face.
The stranger fishes through a box before pulling out a small plastic cartridge. Gaon, Musician it reads in scraggly sharpie. Before the End of Time.
"Do you have anything I can buy? My roommate has one of those new players- I'm not sure it can take this thing." Jooyeon asks earnestly. Maybe he should get Seungmin to buy him a device that plays cassettes, if only to listen to Gaon's music.
Gaon scratches behind his neck, "Ah, I'm working on it! Every tip will go towards an eventual CD release!"
Without hesitating, he pulls everything out of his wallet and tosses it into the open guitar. Maybe it's a little strange of him- creepy, even, but Jooyeon has little use for his riches this far into his life.
Gaon's eyes widen and his jaw drops comically far down. He looks like a cartoon character as he gasps.
I'm not being fair to him, Jooyeon thinks to himself. Chi-suk had no descendants or living family- it's not like Gaon could even be somehow related to him. Attributing them to be the same is disrespectful to both Chi-suk and Gaon. He can't help it, though. All he sees is Chi-suk when Gaon reaches to hold out Jooyeon's hands, elated beyond belief. "Thank you so much! You really flatter me- wow, is it really okay for you to give this much?"
Jooyeon can't help the smile that overtakes his face. "Of course it is! You deserve it."
Gaon flushes sweetly again, scratching behind his ear with an awkward chuckle, "Thanks. I'll need to know your name now, mister."
"It's Jooyeon. Lee Jooyeon."
The man puts his hand out for a fist bump. "Thanks, dude," Jooyeon returns the gesture, "I'll remember this forever." He steps back and starts singing again, this time a happy-go-lucky tune about victory and fame. It's cute, and the singer is even cuter.
The song ends, and Gaon yells out "That was for Lee Jooyeon, my biggest fan!" Into the empty city streets. It's a wonder he's not gotten a noise complaint, but Jooyeon is laughing too hard at his silly nature to care. His watch dings that it's getting late and he ought to start heading to the barber. Jooyeon trudges away and gets his hair cut, but not without thinking about Gaon the entire time.
For a while he'd been just pushing his grief down, a mockery of actually moving on with life. Seeing Chi-suk's face on Gaon made the bitter tang of hurt rise back to the surface. It tears something in his chest, but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't want to see the boy again.
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
Everything hurt. His chest aches, each cough tearing a bit of flesh out of Ju-yeon's chest. He prays for some semblance of relief, but he knows it's for naught. Chi-suk's handkerchief was soaked in blood, embroidered threads drenched. He's sure it's bothering the boy deep down, but he doesn't comment on it as he brings another pot of cold water for Ju-yeon's feet.
You'll catch it, Ju-yeon rasps, Just leave me be. I will be fine.
Chi-suk doesn't listen. He's a stubborn fool. Ju-yeon is too weak to properly fight back, his molten skin getting an ounce of relief from the icy water. He choked out more blood. Chi-suk rubs his back gently.
Let it out, love, he murmurs comfortingly. Ju-yeon does his best to turn his body away from Chi-suk's, to not drench him in the red-hot liquid.
I didn't want you to see me like this, he mumbles pitifully, trying to regain an ounce of pride. I'd prefer you see me once I am in full health.
Chi-suk frowns, but doesn't respond. The door opens on the other side of the estate, likely Gun-il. Chi-suk doesn't move from Ju-yeon's side to greet the man as he is supposed to.
Gun-il is frantic as he enters the room. How is he faring? he questions. One look at the sickly man on the futon answers that, but Chi-suk still relays the information to the Lord. Gun-il kneels at Ju-yeon's side. His lips are trembling.
Chi-suk and Gun-il sit in front of Ju-yeon's sick body, watching him struggle to breathe. How pathetic he must look, the strong-willed farmer's son whose smile rivaled the sun, reduced to a heap of blood and mucus. He hopes that when he dies, they don't remember this version of him.
They sit in silence. Gun-il bites his lip, I can save him, he murmurs.
Gun-il is inhuman. They've been aware of this fact for many years. Watched him get up after he took a homi to his skull in what should have been a deadly accident, tore the tool out his skin and continue living.
He is strong, yet simultaneously weak. He's been cursed to live for centuries but cannot remove himself of human bonds. Doesn't want to let go of Chi-suk or Ju-yeon, the two that made him feel like a person for the first time in half a century rather than a monster.
Chi-suk turns to Gun-il with wide eyes. How? He asks.
I can turn him, both of you... into something like me. We'll never have to part with one another. He says it so calmly, so carefully- like he'd been mulling the idea over for a while. Maybe he had been.
Chi-suk's eyes begin to fill with tears, No, his fingers clench the blanket over Ju-yeon's lap. He's only got a slight fever. We can't make rash decisions.
Ju-yeon hasn't been able to lift himself up without assistance for a week. Has hardly breathed a drop of air without choking on it.
It's more than that, Chi-suk, Gun-il rests his cold hand over Ju-yeon's clammy ones. He will not make it much longer. If I... save him, he will live. You both will live, until a better future arrives. And I'll stay by your side.
Ju-yeon cracks a smile at Chi-suk, a little delirious. You have always said that tomorrow will be kinder than today, he says as he interlocks their fingers. He wants to kiss Chi-suk, one last time, but his lips are dried and filthy. He doesn't deserve his sweetness when his body is like this.
But eternity is a long time, Chi-suk whispers, too quiet for Gun-il to hear.
Ju-yeon lets out another painful cough, his hand dislodging from his lover's as he tried to catch the mucous in his handkerchief. Once he calms, he lays back down, letting Chi-suk pat him clean with a warm cloth. Says, not if I'm with you, chuckling at his own words as though he hadn't just suffered another fit.
Gun-il tells them to think it over. Ju-yeon has already decided. If he were to die and leave Chi-suk behind, he couldn't bear it. He wanted to be together until the end of time.
It's an easy choice for him. As the two exited the room to get Ju-yeon a new handkerchief, he hears Chi-suk begin coughing.
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
Jooyeon could technically go outside during the day. Their skin burned easier in the sun than the average human, but the modern invention of sunscreen made it nearly impossible for them to be as affected as he had been in previous centuries. He still used it as an excuse to stay indoors all the time, though.
His room was comfortable. He knew what he liked and how he liked it- he stacked his goodies that he's collected over the centuries into piles that he waded through. Surrounded by warm memories, surrounded by trinkets and shiny things he enjoyed looking at.
It was perhaps too comfortable, given that Jooyeon has spent two days since he met Gaon sleeping. When he slept, he was able to dream about Chi-suk and pretend he was still here, the lines of his face less blurry, fingers around the neck of a guitar rather than an elegant geomungo.
His willingness to spend his eternal life in bed started to annoy the coven, however, which led to him being awoken by Seungmin, one of their more recently-turned members of their bloodline. He could hear the man trudging over the collections on the ground before stopping at Jooyeon's bedside, throwing his blankets off his body. Jooyeon groaned dramatically, but the man was not impressed.
"Hyeongjunnie said that you said you'd go to an open mic night with him today. Now he's sad because you're sleeping all day again."
Jooyeon blinked at the man blearily. "...So?"
Seungmin's hands were on his hips, his signature pose when he was going to bug Jooyeon until he got the other to do his bidding. "So get up and get dressed. He was excited to spend time with you and Gunil."
In that case, Jooyeon knew he'd have to get up. If Hyeongjun wants something, he gets it. The perks of being treated like a spoiled, well-loved housecat by his lover.
There really wasn't anything he could do but go to the open mic night, which led him to now; sitting in a tiny bar watching half-decent musicians sing their little tunes, flanked by his two friends.
Gunil nudged Jooyeon's shoulder, two beers deep, "You should go up there. I haven't seen you sing in years."
"For good reason. I've sung enough in this life."
Hyeongjun's lips twisted, "The arts are one of the few things humanity has preserved since the beginning of time."
"I'm sure they have, but that has nothing to do with me" Jooyeon shrugged, "And it doesn't mean I still want to sing. It's just boring to me now."
Jooyeon watched Hyeongjun frown again before pretending to put his attention on the young girl doing a half-baked rendition of a Kim Wan Sun song in the corner of his eye. There was no need to re-hash this argument for the fifteenth time in a row.
"Fancy seeing you here, stranger," a voice said to him in clipped English. Everyone at the table turned, eyes meeting Gaon as he waved happily at the group.
Gunil reacted faster than Jooyeon, who stared at him open-mouthed like an idiotic fish. "Ah, do you know Jooyeonie?" It's a wonder that he could act so normal, in the face of someone who resembled their old friend so much, so beautifully. Gaon wore a bit of makeup, unlike the night he'd been busking. He was dressed for the occasion, Jooyeon assumes he entered the open mic night.
Suddenly, the mediocre showings didn't seem so boring.
Jooyeon was brought back to Earth by Gaon clapping a hand on his back, laughing. "This is my biggest supporter right here! Thanks for the other day."
Hyeongjun raised an eyebrow, "Other day?"
"He basically funded my whole career!” Gaon pauses, mouth dropping wide with a gasp, “Wait, should I be telling your friends that? I don't mean to be rude!"
Gunil chuckled heartily. He waved Gaon's fuss away, saying, "Don't worry about that. We’re like family. I'm Gunil, by the way. This is Hyeongjun, and you know Jooyeon."
"I'm Jiseok! My stage name is Gaon, though."
That made Gunil and Jooyeon suck in twin breaths, exchanging a look with wide eyes.
What are the chances that their names are even similar? Was God playing tricks on Jooyeon now for eating the creatures made in his image?
Gaon- no, Jiseok- scratched behind his head a little. A nervous habit, cute. "Did I say something wrong?"
Jooyeon finally learned how to use his mouth to talk, responding earnestly, "Oh no, no. You just remind us of someone we used to know."
"Really? Was he cool?"
Gunil smiled a bit sentimentally. "The coolest."
Jiseok gives Gunil a high five for the semi-compliment and Jooyeon a half-hug before saluting the trio, "I'm on in two sets, so I'll bid you adieu. It was nice meeting you two!"
The second he was out of earshot, Gunil was turning to Jooyeon. He knew what he was going to say, so he stopped him preemptively. "I know. I met him when he was busking, and I... he's nice."
"He looks just like Chi-suk. Strange coincidence, hm?"
Jooyeon shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Is it really? It's been long, after all."
Hyeongjun looked between the two. He'd only ever heard Chi-suk's name in short discussions, all of which ended with don't talk about him around Jooyeon. The dam had already been broken though, so he spoke up, "Maybe he was reborn?"
Gunil's face fell into a flat line. "You know for a fact that's not real."
"Do we?" Hyeongjun egged on, "We only know what it's like to be dead for a few minutes. Not centuries."
This conversation was turning out to be a lot. Jooyeon took a long gulp of his previously untouched beer, blinking back the awful flavor. Why would Hyeongjun say such a thing? Now that the seed has been planted in his mind, he can’t stop imagining it- the concept of a small amount, even a sliver of his long-gone lover being alive in Jiseok. A particularly delusional part of his mind wanted to imagine it being true.
Their leader was grimacing. “Jun, drop it. You’ll upset Jooyeon,” Jooyeon wonders what his expression must be like, if Gunil is saying that, “Chi-suk is Chi-suk, and Jiseok is himself, hm? Sometimes people just look alike.”
“And have the same name?” Hyeongjun pressed, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Maybe they're doppelgangers,” Jooyeon awkwardly added.
Gunil snapped his fingers, chuckling, “Exactly that. Did I ever tell you when I met a farmer in Vietnam that looked strikingly like you, Jun? He had short hair, but his face-“ Jooyeon appreciated the distraction from the initial conversation that Gunil’s signature rambling stories carried. Hyeongjun listened earnestly, completely forgetting the bomb of an implication he just made.
His ears perk up as he hears the tipsy announcer call Gaon onto the stage. The boy tumbles out, smiling widely at the crowd and bowing before setting up his equipment. He’s methodical in his movements, quickly preparing himself and shooting whoever is playing the music a thumbs-up to start going.
Gaon starts playing. He’s playing something Jooyeon’s never heard, harsh chords and sharp edges to the song blaring through the speakers. The crowd seems equally lost by the vibe he sets, bouncing his body forward in back as he tears through guitar chords Jooyeon's never heard before.
“Ah,” Gunil smiles, turning to his friends, “Rock n’ roll, huh? It sounds a lot different these days.”
‘A lot different’ doesn't begin to cover it. Gaon's electric on the stage, nothing like the old dance music Hyeongjun used to play in dirty speakeasies. The music shakes the room slightly- Jooyeon swears he can see his drink wobbling from the bartop from the sheer energy of Gaon's playing.
It isn’t Chi-suk. Chi-suk had played like the world was something precious, something to be held gently between careful fingers. Every song an ode to the Earth and heavens, every performance full of love for the audience. Jiseok plays defiantly, the ache of a youth who refuses to lay down and let the world step all over him seeping through the chords. The bass of his back track booms through the tiny bar, the guitar screeching as Jiseok's fingers run along them hastily, like he'd lose something if he stopped for just a moment.
For the first time in decades, Jooyeon feels something stirring under all that ancient grief, something that isn’t just pain and longing. His fingers twitch against his thigh, muscle memory awakening despite himself. He remembers the way his throat used to burn after singing too long. Remembers wanting to be heard.
He sees Hyeongjun smile in the corner of his eye. The other vampire was perceptive- he knew how Jooyeon was feeling, like he was alive after years of living like the animated corpse he was. What Hyeongjun doesn't notice is that it's not the music itself that makes him feel that way, but Jiseok and his explosive performance.
Jiseok starts to sing. His voice is just as melodic and deep as it had been when Jooyeon saw him busking, but there's an edge to it that hadn't been there before. For a moment, Jooyeon understands the old tales of fishermen being led to their death by sirens- he feels a magnetic pull by Jiseok's voice, his expression as he sings. It's intense.
The song ends, mercifully, leaving Jooyeon raw and wanting. He's not even sure what it is he's yearning for at this point, but his heart pounds and his fingers shake. Hyeongjun smirks, “Not bad, huh?”
Jooyeon composed himself enough to roll his eyes, “You're not getting to tell me ‘I told you so’ because I enjoyed one performance.”
Hyeongjun tsks, “Is that what they're calling it now? You were doing a little more than enjoying it. I thought you'd jump on stage at some point.”
“It was a good showing!” Jooyeon groaned, face reddening. Was it that obvious? He looked at Gunil for moral support- the man was ancient yet still oblivious as hell- but he was chuckling too. Shit. If he could tell, it must be written all over Jooyeon's face.
Before he can be humiliated further by his evil, horrible friends, Jiseok approaches. There's a bit of sweat beading on his forehead and his heart is beating wildly enough that all three of the vampires can hear it through his shirt. It's a bit intoxicating, though Gunil nor Hyeongjun look nearly as affected by it as Jooyeon feels.
Hey,” he says, grinning. “You. Rich and mysterious benefactor. You’re coming with me. Because they're fucking annoying, Gunil wolf whistles while Hyeongjun shoots Jooyeon a smirk, laughing to himself.
Jiseok all but drags Jooyeon out a back entrance he'd never noticed, slamming the door shut behind him and revealing a dirty alleyway. The boy kicks a loose can to the side, biting his lip.
Jooyeon is about to ask why the hell Jiseok needed to bring him out here, but he beats him to the punch by bluntly asking, "Are you a friend of Dorothy? You've been staring at me a lot- I know you said I look like your friend but was it just a friend or a friend?" Jiseok waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Jooyeon understood what he was implying, yet he stupidly just replies, "Who's Dorothy?"
"I'm asking if you're a homosexual, Jooyeon," Jiseok said bluntly.
His immediate instinct is to deny the accusation- nevermind that he could easily overpower any human (especially Jiseok, who is tiny) in the instance that they decide to try to attack him for his way of life. He'd just not been asked so brazenly about it in a long time.
Jiseok's intention seemed different, though. Much less aggressive. His eyes glinted with excitement as Jooyeon mulled over how to respond. Eventually, he nodded slightly.
"Oh good, I thought I'd read it all wrong," he stepped forward into Jooyeon's personal space, clasping his hands around his neck. "Joseph and Mary, you're cold."
"Ah, sorry," Jooyeon spluttered dumbly, his brain hardly comprehending Jiseok's lightning-fast advances towards him.
Jiseok only smiled, softer than his previous cheeky grins. "It's okay. Is uh, this okay?" He lets go of Jooyeon's neck to vaguely gesture between them.
Jooyeon nod, eyes crossing a bit from their closeness. Within moments, Jiseok's lips were on his. He's kissed many, many people in his lifetime, but Jiseok is new. He's sweet as candy, takes and takes from Jooyeon with little noises in the back of his throat asking for permission- and who would Jooyeon be to say no?
Suddenly, his hunger is fierce, taking over his body with a voraciousness he hardly remembered ever having. He tastes dry beer on Jiseok's breath, smells him- his blood, flowing beneath the pulse that rabbits under Jooyeon's fingers. His teeth ache. He pulls back hastily without realizing.
“Woah- um, was it bad? Sorry, I haven't done this in a while,” Jiseok stares from below with pretty, round eyes. Jooyeon wants to taste him.
He blinks hard to catch himself. “No, sorry, uh- I just didn't want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” Jiseok giggles a bit, shoulders losing their tense position, “You're like a hundred pounds soaking wet, Jooyeon. I think I'll be okay.”
He sucks his lip between his teeth, “You're smaller than me- besides, I mean it's because, um,” Jooyeon looks around, as though monster hunters from centuries past would be hiding in the bins. He whispers, “I'm a vampire.”
It's quiet for a moment, before Jiseok lets out an uproarious laugh, completely inappropriate for the dark alleyway they're currently standing in. Jooyeon lets go of him as Jiseok wipes an imaginary tear, still giggling, “Yeah, and I'm a werewolf. You looked so serious, man!”
The last time Jooyeon told someone he was a vampire, he was chased out of town with pitchforks. Granted, that was in the 16th century, and he knew times have changed. He wasn't fully prepared for Jiseok to find it hilarious.
“I am serious. I was born sometime after 1340.”
“Jooyeon, I love DnD as much as the next guy, but maybe we should keep the roleplay outside of hooking up? Unless you're into that…?”
Jooyeon's face flushed, embarrassed as though he'd been caught fibbing despite telling the truth. “I'm not playing around. Why would I even insist this much if I was lying?”
Jiseok looked Jooyeon up and down, “I mean…you're a lanky nerd, it checks out that you'd be weird.” Jooyeon decided to not point out the obvious fact that Jiseok was also a lanky nerd, if not lankier, “So, you're a vampire. Are you going to bite me then? That's kinda hot- I see the appeal.”
Most people over the centuries were running and screaming by this point of the conversation. Jiseok not only looked amused, but…turned on? Still? He pressed forward, leaning into Jooyeon's space again and placing the man's hands on his small waist again.
“The big bad vampire doesn't want to bite?”
Jooyeon is a lot of things. He's ancient, he's a monster, and he's hungry. All the ignored blood bags over the year were coming to bite him in the ass as Jiseok genuinely taunted him, joking or not, smirking up at Jooyeon.
He's immortal, not a saint. He probably couldn't resist Jiseok if he tried. But he bites his lip, pauses before whispering, “Are you…sure?”
Jiseok's eyes crinkle in the corners when he's amused. “Yeah, I am.”
The boy doesn't scream, doesn't push Jooyeon off when he realizes with a shuddering inhale, that he isn’t pretending, and Jiseok's been pierced. The first thing Jooyeon realizes is that Jiseok's blood is sweet, almost candy-like. Jiseok stiffens in surprise more than pain, a startled sound catching in his throat. Jooyeon’s hands come up instantly, bracing his shoulders, gentle even as instinct takes over.
He doesn't actually want to drink from Jiseok, just prove his point, so he lets go of the boy after taking less than a pint, lapping over the wound. The boy instinctively touched his pulse, eyes wide when he realized his fingers came back dry. Jooyeon's saliva effectively healed the wound immediately.
“Okay. My bad for assuming you were fucking around,” Jiseok says after a beat, watching Jooyeon lick his lips clean of his fluids. His head hits the concrete with a distinct thunk, body gone loose after having his blood sucked. His eyes are closed, but Jooyeon can see them flutter beneath his eyelids. “You're either insane or telling the truth. Considering you just tore out my larynx and yet I'm not dead, I'll believe the latter.”
“Don't be dramatic, I hardly nibbled you. Would you believe me more if I showed you photos from the Korean war? Hyeongjun and I were in the same ranks, he's got pictures somewhere.”
Jiseok's eyes fly open, “Christ, are all of your friends old as shit, then? Was I playing for a gaggle of Nosferatu's today?”
Jooyeon laughs out loud, “No, just the three of us. You're taking this well, most people would have tried to kill me for being an abomination to humankind by now.”
The other just shrugged, a picture of strange nonchalance. “I've gotten my ass beat for being an abomination too, I'm not about to dish it out,” Jooyeon frowned at the thought of someone trying to attack someone as kind and sweet as Jiseok, but he didn't seem to look too bothered. “Now that we've established that you're old enough to be my great, great, great-grandpa… you wanna get out of here?”
Jooyeon grins wildly, despite himself.
“Your place or mine?”
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
Jiseok and Jooyeon end up getting along like two peas in a pod, peanut butter and jelly- or like a human and vampire, apparently.
Since he already knew everyone in the coven was inhuman as well, it meant they all wanted quality-Jiseok time, too. After all, they rarely got to talk to someone new about their experiences, having to keep within themselves. It reached a point where Jiseok was spending more days a week at the coven's home on the edge of Seoul over his own dinky apartment, having “slumber parties” (his words) with a group of immortal vampires.
Tonight was one of those nights, where the sun rose late in the morning, the drapes still open as honeyed morning light shone over the group, Jooyeon sitting between Jiseok's skinny legs as he braided his long locks. Hyeongjun and Jungsu sat across, with Hyeongjun fiddling with the strings of a new acoustic guitar. Jiseok and Hyeongjun were chattering about God-only-knows, Jooyeon's mind fading from consciousness until he heard his name being mentioned by Hyeongjun.
“You've really never heard Jooyeon sing? When I met him, he was performing at a speakeasy down in Incheon. One of the best voices I've heard my whole life.”
Jooyeon blinks until his eyes are focused, looking at Hyeongjun with a tinge of annoyance. Why does it bother the other vampire that he's simply lost interest in singing? “I've had a lot of time to practice,” he responds nonchalantly, not wanting to start another argument about his disinterest in his century-old hobby.
Jiseok's fingers slip from Jooyeon's hair as he bounces in his seat, “Oh, oh! Let me hear, please?” Immediately weaponizing his big eyes to shoot deadly beams of cuteness as he begs Jooyeon to just sing.
"Don' wanna," he mumbles half-heartedly, still droopy from having his hair played with.
Suddenly, Jiseok's face is inches from Jooyeon's and he's pouting. "Why not? I won't make fun of you, promise! You know I wouldn't."
Oh, what the hell. Being stubborn won't get him anywhere. But he won't go down without making a little bit of trouble. “Fine, I'll sing,” he concedes, “But Jiseok has to play accompaniment.”
Jiseok all but squeals, running to grab the guitar sitting on Hyeongjun's lap. Jooyeon shoots the man a glare for setting up a trap he knew Jooyeon wouldn't be able to escape (weaponizing Jiseok's cuteness against him, seriously?!). Hyeongjun, of course, did not care and just shrugged at Jooyeon's attempt at an attitude.
The human came to sit back down on the couch, guitar already around his neck, tuning it as he walked. Seriously, there was no need for this much excitement, Jooyeon was just going to sing one song and get it over with.
"Okay, okay," Jiseok laughs a bit awkwardly, "What should I play?"
Jooyeon, once again, is stuck due to their age gap. Luckily, he does actually listen to Jiseok's cassettes and knows the words to a few of the boy's original songs. He mulls it over in his head for a minute before answering, "Good Enough."
"My song? Oh, you cutie, you," Jiseok pinches Jooyeon's cheek affectionately, "My biggest fan." From the other side of the room, Jungsu cooes at the both of them, fondness in his eyes. Jooyeon can't help the smile that graces his face, looking at Jiseok. He smiles back, nodding slightly to tell Jooyeon that he's ready. He clears his throat, leaning back slightly so he can see the guitar as Jiseok adjusts his grip.
The room grows still with anticipation, Jungsu stops shuffling about and Hyeongjun sits upright. Jooyeon closes his eyes, and Jiseok starts to strum.
It's easy to get lost when he sings. He's grown distaste for the feeling, for the way his mind floats away from his body, for the way a little piece of himself is chipped away everytime he does sing. It's like muscle memory, the way his brain moves to the side and lets Jooyeon sing straight from his soul.
Only this time, it's less painful of a feeling. There's warmth to his side, Jiseok's gaze burning into him while he plays. That lingering feeling of devotion in his eyes as he watches Jooyeon. The room nearly melts away, and it's like Jooyeon is singing just for Jiseok, and Jiseok is playing just for Jooyeon.
But all things must come to an end, and the song finishes. Jungsu claps politely, and Jooyeon doesn't have to open his eyes to know Hyeongjun is smiling. It's quiet for a bit, before Jiseok breathes out a "Woah."
"Woah, indeed," Jungsu agrees.
Jooyeon shrugs slightly, "So, yeah. Was it everything Hyeongjun hyped it up to be?"
"And then some!" Jiseok leans into Jooyeon's space, "That was like, magical. I've never felt that way when playing before."
Jooyeon feels himself burning up at the implication of being special. They're so busy looking at eachother and Jooyeon hardly notices Jungsu and Hyeongjun shuffling out the room to give them privacy. The moment a door shuts, Jiseok leans in to kiss Jooyeon soundly on the lips.
It's still quite novel, kissing Jiseok. The way eating your favorite candy after going on a diet feels. His lips are soft and decadent, and he's always enthusiastic.
Jiseok disconnects from Jooyeon's lips, nudging his nose against his own. "I liked that. We should do it more often."
Jooyeon chases after Jiseok's lips for another smooch, pushing him down- though this one is still more playful. No lust, only affection. "I don't enjoy singing much."
Jiseok leans back on the arm of the couch, "No? It wasn't fun just now?"
He thought for a bit. It was fun, singing with Jiseok. Not melancholic nor depressing. Jiseok simply had that way about him- something that made everything they did together simply fun.
The boy's eyes were glimmering with hope as he giggled fondly at Jooyeon. "Can we do that on a stage someday?"
Jooyeon bit his lip. He only used his voice in times of financial stress to earn some cash or lure a few poor sods out to feed on. In this modern age, he's got little use for his voice and he feels as though there's a hard line in his mind stopping him from immediately saying yes to Jiseok, even if it's just to appease him.
"I dunno. I don't have any excitement performing, these days."
Jiseok seemed to drop it momentarily, humming slightly before petting Jooyeon's hair once again. He seemed to have quite the affinity for his long locks, and he's glad he hadn't cut it short the day they'd met. He's so distracted by the comfortable feeling of having his hair played with that he's hardly thrown off by Jiseok blurting out, "I've always wanted to be a travelling musician."
Jooyeon lifts his head slightly, letting out a hm? in response. Jiseok continues, "I dunno, the idea of being able to bring a little joy to people's lives all over the country, the world, even for a single night. I like it. I've just been too scared to try."
"Scared, why?"
The boy huffs in mock-annoyance, "Because I don't want to get murdered on a highway in pursuit of music, Jooyeon. Plus, now I know there's vampires roaming the streets, too. Shit like that will put a damper on your 'I want to travel the world a~all alone' parade."
Jooyeon tries to imagine it, and he likes the idea. Jiseok singing for small bars, little cafés, people of all ethnicities and backgrounds listening to him sing while they spend time with their family- an accompaniment for their memories. He imagines Jiseok smiling as an elderly couple tells him he reminds them of their son, imagines a little kid shyly throwing a few dollars into his open guitar case.
Strangely, finds himself imagining that he's next to him during these encounters, documenting his short interactions, sleeping next to one another in the back of a pickup truck.
It's surprisingly romantic, considering him and Jiseok have continued more of a casual-not-quite-lovers relationship; but he's imagined a much older Jiseok, telling a young couple that watches him sing that the pretty boy that's with him is his lover, no, he's actually much older, just looks young, but isn't he just a one-of-a-kind singer?
Jooyeon's brought back from his imaginary world by Jiseok waving his hand in front of his face. He clears his throat, "I mean, I get it. Would you do it if you weren't alone?"
Jiseok shrugged, "Probably. It's a pipe dream anyway- I can't handle being broke and homeless. I just don’t want to wake up one day and feel like I didn’t try. You know?”
Jooyeon goes very still.
He thinks of dusty roads and a haegeum’s fading song, of a life that could have been wider if he’d been braver, less afraid of losing what little he had before inevitably losing everything anyways. Regret is a familiar companion for Jooyeon, and he doesn't want Jiseok to suffer the same way.
The room settles into a comfortable silence again. Somewhere down the hall, Hyeongjun laughs at something Jungsu says, their voices muffled and distant. Jiseok resumes gently combing through Jooyeon’s hair with his fingers, slower now, more thoughtful.
After a while, Jiseok speaks again, quieter. “Thanks. For listening. Most people just tell me to be realistic.”
"What's a little harm in eccentricity? You're already strange as is."
Jiseok hums quietly, looking as though he's drifting out of consciousness. "I am strange. Also-" he blinks slowly, opening his eyes. Jooyeon might be able to see his own reflection in them if he wished.
"Next time, I want to try harmonizing with you."
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
It's damned hot as Ju-yeon trudges through town, a basket of the latest harvest of turnips and soy on his shoulders. He could feel the sweat beading down his forehead, his straw hat doing little to protect him from the sun's rays.
A song played in the distance- a travelling showman sits alone alongside the market. The haegeum in his lap is likely the most expensive item in the bazaar, yet nobody gives him a second glance.
Nobody, except Ju-yeon. He grabs a turnip from his basket and offers it to the young man, who takes it so graciously that it borders on strange. Thank you sir, I'll remember this forever, he smiles.
His name is Chi-suk. He has forgotten his family name after years of disuse, having been taken in by a musician as a young child. The musician has passed on, but Chi-suk still lives, playing for the streets in exchange for food or shelter.
Him and Ju-yeon become close. Closer than what's normal. They sleep in the same futon, they share meals at the table. Gun-il, the lord Jooyeon works under, does not mind. Those who live in the town whisper about how the esteemed farmer's son that Lord Gun-il took a liking to has taken on a low-class whore, regarding him as though he was always meant to be common.
Neither of them cared. Who cares that they were seen as low-class, who cares that people think Chi-suk is some sort of concubine when they live with such joy?
Ju-yeon didn't care, that's for sure. Chi-suk did not feel the same.
He clung to Ju-yeon's shoulders at night, tears pearling in the corners of his eyes. I've had disdain for staying in one place for this reason, he'd whimper sadly, I prefer travelling- people cannot judge what they don't know.
Ju-yeon, Chi-suk would ask, every week without fail, Can we travel together? Can we share our music with the world?
He always refused. He loved the town he grew up in, didn't want to leave his father's resting place, didn't want to leave his close friend. Chi-suk was his truest love, but Ju-yeon's heart belonged at home.
They didn't travel with one another. Another regret for Ju-yeon to ponder during his eventual immortal lifetime, another what-if to consider when the nights were too quiet.
All Chi-suk wanted was to make music with Jooyeon, and he hadn't even given him that.
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
Jooyeon woke up with a start, gasping slightly. Beside him, Jiseok stirred, moaning out a “Mnnh, g'mornin’?” before snuggling back into his shoulder, eyes fluttering open slowly.
“Sorry for waking you,” he apologized lightly, “Bad dream.”
Jiseok patted around the bed, likely trying to locate a single piece of clothing to warm himself up next to the living icebox that was Jooyeon. He yawned with his whole face, like a cat, before speaking again, “You're okay. I was already up. What'd you dream about?”
“Oh, you know,” Jooyeon waves vaguely, “The past”
Finally locating a pair of pants, Jiseok wiggled into them next to him, shaking the entire bed as he did so. Maybe it was time to invest in a Queen size, if he'd be sharing his twin bed with Jiseok this often. He never had a use for a giant, sprawling mattress before, but these days Jiseok spends up to three nights a week at the coven's home. He'd ask Gunil to look into it later.
“What even constitutes the past for someone who's apparently been alive for centuries? Does yesterday even matter when you've been around that long?” Jiseok asked honestly.
“That's a really intense line of questioning for five in the morning, Ji.”
Jiseok rolled back into Jooyeon's arms, “I'm just curious. I don't know anyone else in your group enough to ask.” He scrunched his face, as though he realized how bad that sounded, “Well, I know them, but not like…know them enough to bone and ask life questions at five AM, I guess.”
“You ‘boned’ me after like, two conversations and a nearly-feral bite. I think you can ask them about immortality,” Jooyeon chuckled slightly, “Anyway, the recent past does matter, if you must know. I probably remember a lot more from the last five years than like, the 20s or 40s. I don't particularly remember multiple centuries back unless I really think about it- sorta like if you'd asked me about certain eras, I'd have an answer, but it's not like I'm always thinking about it? And I'd probably get things mixed up. Does that make sense?”
“You just described what it's like to recall a memory, so yes, it makes sense.”
Jooyeon flicked Jiseok's forehead, “Ugh, so annoying. I'm the same as a human, just old. Besides, I try to keep memories in the past, when I can.”
“Yet you dreamt about them?”
Jooyeon rolled his eyes, “You try living seven hundred years of life without having a scary dream or two about it. We don't really need to sleep that often, but I do it so you're not lonely. The rest usually avoid sleeping because of nightmares.”
Strangely, Jiseok giggled at his statement. When Jooyeon's brows furrowed in confusion, he dropped a kiss on his forehead, “Sorry, sorry. It's just cute that you sleep next to me just to do it. Tell me about your dream.”
“It's not interesting. I just dreamt about him again- Chi-suk. The one that looked like you.”
Jiseok's face went flat, but he gestured for Jooyeon to continue.
“It was just a memory from a long time ago, before he passed. He had caught a flu from me, and we were both poor so there wasn't much we could do financially to save ourselves. Gunil was the lord of the property we lived on, and he offered us a way to stay alive”
The bed creaked under their weight, Jiseok curling further into Jooyeon's hold. “It…didn't work. Completely. We died on opposite sides of the manor around the same time. So Gunil was able to get to me, but it was too late by the time he got to Chi-suk.”
Eyes soft, Jiseok brushed a bit of hair out of Jooyeon's face. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Jiseok was wiping a tear from his cheek.
“I'm sorry, Joo,” he said honestly, earnestly, “It sucks when you outlive a loved one. I can only imagine it's worse when you're lugging that grief for so long.”
Jooyeon shrugged, though he knew Jiseok was right. “I had Gunil to keep me company. Then Gunil met Jungsu a few centuries later and they fell in love, then I met Hyeongjun and Seungmin maybe seventy or eighty years ago, and now we're all together. I'm not so lonely anymore.”
“You’re not a replacement,” Jooyeon said immediately. “I need you to know that. I don’t touch you thinking it’s him. I don’t kiss you pretending you’re someone else. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't approach you because you looked like a clone of Chi-suk, but I figured out pretty quickly that you're nothing like him.”
Jiseok searched his face, eyes sharp despite the sleep still clinging to him. “How so?”
“He was less talkative, for one thing,” Jiseok pinched Jooyeon's side for the insult, “But you've also lived much different lives. He was shaped by years of starving, begging on the street for any morsels before Gunil took him in. That type of person is a lot rougher and you're…doughy.”
Jiseok was silent for a long moment. Then he shifted, sitting up cross-legged on the bed, the sheet slipping down his waist. He rubbed his face with both hands, groaning softly.
“Man,” he muttered. “I knew sleeping with a vampire was gonna come with baggage, but this is some premium, ancient-ass emotional trauma. I don't think a therapist can even help you.”
Despite himself, Jooyeon huffed a laugh.
Jiseok peeked at him through his fingers. “Okay. So here’s where I’m at.” He dropped his hands. “I’m not him. I don’t wanna be him. And if you ever look at me and only see Chi-suk, you have to tell me. Because I'm not doing the whole ‘I'm your dead, ancient spouse reborn’ thing. Even if it was the case, and I am him somehow, I'm still me.”
Jooyeon’s chest tightened. “You are you, Jiseok.”
“Good,” Jiseok nodded firmly. Then his voice softened. “But I also don’t mind that I remind you of someone you loved. Maybe that's stupid of me, but it's true.”
“That is stupid of you,” he commented bluntly.
“I know,” Jiseok grinned, then leaned forward again, pressing his forehead to Jooyeon’s. “And for the record? I’m not trying to live forever. I’m not asking you to save me from aging and my inevitable doom.”
Jooyeon’s breath caught.
“I just wanna be here,” Jiseok continued. “With you, making music. I've probably got sixty or seventy years left in me, so we can just make it count. Then when I'm gone, you'll be able to remember those sixty or seventy years forever. It's like I'll never really die, mn?”
The vampire let out a shaky sigh. Leave it to Jiseok to see the beauty in his wretched curse of a life. To see grief as a scar that marrs him yet represents their love for one another, to see his grief as a way to truly live forever, despite not being here.
When Jiseok finally yawned again and flopped back down, dragging Jooyeon with him, he mumbled, half-asleep, “And you can dream about whoever you want, by the way. Just wake up next to me, okay?”
Jooyeon held him tighter, something fragile in his chest easing for the first time in centuries.
“I will,” he promised.
Jooyeon had loved many things in his long life. He had lost all of them.
Was he ready to lose Jiseok, too?
It's quiet in the room again. Jooyeon is half convinced that Jiseok had already faded back into la-la-land, dreaming about puppies and ducklings or whatever sugary sweet and cute thing his mind conjures up when he's not awake. Maybe because he thinks he's asleep, he feels the confidence to say what he's thinking. Maybe because he thinks he's asleep, he finally makes a decision for himself, for them.
“I want to make music with you, Jiseok.”
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
Jooyeon's lived many lives. Most of them miserable. A lot more are joyous. It's a cold, lonely thing to watch others pass on without you, to have to only live with them in memory.
Chi-suk won't come back. Somehow, despite his memory being seven hundred years old, Jooyeon is sure he wouldn't be happy knowing he's wallowed in grieving over him this long, surviving off what-if fantasies. After all, he always said tomorrow will be kinder than today.
Chi-suk won't come back, but recently it doesn't feel like he's being tortured by this knowledge. He's learned to love the memory he does have of him, rather than try and imagine a future that simply will not exist.
Jiseok makes him happy. He makes Jiseok happy. It's become Jiseok and Jooyeon, Jooyeon and Jiseok. The troublemakers, the loudmouths, the lovers. It's them, together. Not replacing or resurrecting, it's something new and joyous.
Jiseok's lugging this giant suitcase behind him, trying and failing to load it on the top of the Hyundai they bought. Gunil laughs at him before tossing it up with one hand, making the boy pout.
"That's cheating! You've got vampire superpowers!"
Behind them, Seungmin is carrying an almost comical amount of iron supplements- complete overkill, if you asked Jooyeon. He had no intention to treat Jiseok like a personal blood bank on their travels. Nevertheless, he lets the man slip the jar in the back of the truck without complaints.
Jungsu's looking at Jooyeon with a strange, melancholic expression as they pack up the truck, and he hugs him with that warm, lovely way he always has. "You'll always carry a bit to call from a payphone, right?"
Jooyeon rolls his eyes, "Yes, mom."
"You'll let us know if you leave Korea, right? Jiseok, please make sure you let us know. Jooyeon will die before he even thinks to check in. Such a brat," Gunil rambles, "And you've got spare strings for your guitars? Should I run to the store-"
Hyeongjun does them all a favor and interrupts Gunil's harried, worry-induced rampage by simply saying, "You're good on money, right? Take Jooyeon's credit card, he's got enough credit to last him a while."
Jiseok salutes him, wiggling happily. "Aye-aye! We'll stop by every few years, remember? That's plenty of time to build up a big book of memories!"
Soon enough, the car is loaded up with all of Jiseok's belongings and a few of Jooyeon's (with the promise that Seungmin would keep the rest of his things in good condition until their time together ended). Jooyeon buckled up and started driving, trying not to feel a little emotional as he left his coven behind. No matter how old he got, it still would be the first time he'd leave his friends alone.
Jiseok must have noticed his change in demeanor, because he rested his hand atop Jooyeon's on the center console. "I'm excited, Joo. Here's to the next sixty or so years, eh?"
"Please don't count down to your death, weirdo," he pinches Jiseok's cheek, but can't help his honest response, "I'm excited, too. Oh, let me get this on film!"
He pats blindly for the palmcorder under his seat, fumbling to turn it on. Jiseok throws up a peace sign as Jooyeon pretends to be a TV announcer, "...And reporting live, we have Day one of our road trip around Korea and the World. Today's, uh, July 5th, 1988. What do you have to say, Ji?"
Jiseok's ears flush, a little embarassed being recorded, "Aish, I already told you I'm excited. And," he pauses thoughtfully, "If this tape is found in a ditch because we crashed from this old man's piss-poor driving, know I went out happier than ever."
"But that won't happen, because I'm a good driver."
They both laughed, looking at eachother for a moment before Jooyeon focused back on the empty road ahead. Jiseok smiled, "It won't. I've had so much fun since I met you, Jooyeon. I can't wait to make more music with you."
As the coven's estate disappears in the rearview mirror, Jooyeon doesn’t feel the familiar snap of grief. Just a bit of joy, excitement, and some nerves at the road ahead.
For the first time in centuries, leaving doesn’t feel like regret. Knowing Jiseok will die eventually doesn't fill him with fear.
After all, Jiseok will be immortal within Jooyeon's memories.
▪︎End▪︎