Chapter Text
Seungkwan was almost annoyed how easy it was to fall into friendship with Mingyu.
He put up with Seungkwan’s gentle griping with a patient smile and a roll of his eyes. He turned up to improv rehearsals with an extra iced coffee, sometimes even a snack. He leant Seungkwan his ugly jacket as they shivered outside a crusty club Soonyoung had insisted would be worth the wait.
He’d even walked Seungkwan home when they had realised it was not.
“God, I can’t believe that I used to hate you.” The shots that Seokmin had poured down Seungkwan’s throat were bubbling happily in his veins and the smell of Mingyu’s jacket was fizzing heavily in his head. “Can you believe I used to hate you? Look at you.”
Mingyu’s smile was small. “It happens more often than you’d think.” He looked down at Seungkwan, his hair catching in the light from the streetlights. “It’s rarer that people change their minds, though.”
Seungkwan nodded, swallowing a hiccup. “I’m glad I did.” His feet felt heavy, the world fuzzy. He giggled as he stumbled, Mingyu’s hands coming to land sturdily on his upper arm. Seungkwan burrowed into him, fluttering his eyelashes in his best imitation of endearing. “Aren’t you glad we’re friends?”
“Delighted.” Mingyu sounded tired, but Seungkwan could tell he was fighting to stop his lips from spreading into a grin. “How about we get you home now, hm?”
Seungkwan pondered this. “Can we get kebabs first?” He batted his eyelashes again, making Mingyu laugh. “Please?” Mingyu’s body was warm against his and he snuggled in further, the alcohol emboldening him.
A pout formed on Mingyu’s lips. “How come I always end up buying you take-out after nights out? What value does doner meat have for me? Or for you, for that matter?”
“It has emotional value,” Seungkwan argued, his voice edging on a whine. “Spiritual value. And because you are a true friend, a real pal, a proper champ, you will indulge me just once more.”
Their progress was slow down the street. Seungkwan’s arms had found their way around Mingyu’s waist under the guise of using him to remain upright. Mingyu’s own hand was resting between Seungkwan’s shoulder blades, the pressure grounding.
It would be so much easier to ignore the gentle warmth seeping through his bones at the feeling of Mingyu’s slow breathing ruffling his hair. It would be so much simpler to not ask himself why he wanted to press himself closer, closer still to Mingyu’s side. It would be so much kinder not to press up against the fragile friendship they’d built for themselves.
But those cheap shots from Seokmin were still very much present in Seungkwan’s veins and the world suddenly felt very large.
“Are we friends?” he asked in a small voice. Mingyu looked down at him, confusion in his eyes. The sliver of silver around his pupil, the thing that had first warned Seungkwan about who, about what he was, glinted in the moonlight. “I mean, is that all we are?” He sounded almost sulky.
Mingyu frowned down at him. “What do you mean? You didn’t even want to be that a few months ago.”
But Seungkwan was already back pedalling in his own mind, his stomach feeling unsettled. “Nothing.” He laughed, stumbling into Mingyu for added effect. “I’m so drunk.” His fingers wound into the back of Mingyu’s shirt, balancing him.
Mingyu let Seungkwan sag onto the bench outside the kebab shop, promising to remember his order and to not forget his diet Pepsi — “not diet Coke, it must be Pepsi or I will die, Mingyu,” — and headed into the soft golden light of the shop alone.
Seungkwan breathed in the fresh February air. The chill made him shiver, but he closed his eyes happily, trying to sober himself up a little before Mingyu returned. Shadows shuffled past, but they all ignored the mildly tipsy university student slumped on the bench.
Until, “Seungkwan?”
Seungkwan’s eyes snapped open. That voice was not one he had been expecting, wasn’t one he was overwhelmingly happy to hear. “Wonwoo? What are you doing here?”
The appearance of his older brother was problematic in a number of ways.
Firstly, Seungkwan had begged his way into being allowed to attend university under the premise that he would simply attend lectures, then return to his halls and study until it was a sensible hour to sleep. Maybe he would attend the odd daytime social event — a coffee with a friend, or a walk in the park perhaps — but nothing past dark. And here he was, alone, on a bench, with the clock pushing one in the morning.
Secondly, alcohol was something that was strictly prohibited in his circles. His father had warned him about the dangers of disorientation, about how the enemy strikes hardest when your defences are down, about how evil can sense weakness.
Thirdly, Mingyu emerged from the kebab shop, hands overflowing with plastic containers and — Seungkwan cursed inwardly even as his chest warmed despite the situation — a diet Pepsi. His smile froze on his face as he spotted Wonwoo hovering near the bench, a question caught on his lips.
He didn’t have a chance to get it out, though, before there was kebab flying through the air, a small piece of lettuce landing wetly on Seungkwan’s fringe, his precious Pepsi rolling noisily underneath the bench.
Wonwoo had pulled Mingyu into the narrow alleyway, out of the way of prying eyes, pressing him firmly against the wall, needle — his a dangerously glinting metal — against his throat. “What the fuck?” Although his fiery gaze was fixed on Mingyu, his words were clearly aimed at Seungkwan.
Mingyu’s hands were up, backs pressed against the brick wall, alarm shielded in his eyes. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” he began, before being cut off by Wonwoo’s needle inching deeper into his neck. “Seungkwan?” he croaked.
“Wonwoo, please, just calm down.” Seungkwan was wobbling, unsteady on his legs all of a sudden, in the entrance of the alleyway. His stomach was doing nervous somersaults, afraid of what Wonwoo might do. “Look, I’m safe. He’s safe. I can explain.”
Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a bloodsucker, Kwan.” He pronounced it like a death sentence. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I think we could all do with calming down a little.” Mingyu’s voice was stretched, his posture still open and deliberately non-threatening. “I can go back and get more kebabs, maybe a little ice cream. I’m sure everything will feel better with some e-numbers inside of us.”
Wonwoo ignored him, his gaze flickering to Seungkwan. “Go inside, Seungkwan. I’ll deal with this and then I’ll take you home.” His tone was final, his words an order.
But Seungkwan had had enough of taking orders.
“No, Wonwoo, I’m not going to do that.” He crossed his arms, pretending he wasn’t still swaying on his feet a little as he marched further into the alleyway. “You’re going to put your needle away and we are going to talk about this. Like adults. Which I am now, by the way.”
“What you are, Seungkwan, is drunk and alone with a vampire. Stop being childish and let me clean up your mess. As always.”
Seungkwan stomped his foot — aware that this wouldn’t help refute Wonwoo’s accusation of childishness, but struggling to think of anything else to do. “Can you stop acting like Dad for just two minutes and listen to me?” Using their father was a low blow, but he was running out of options.
Hurt flared in Wonwoo’s eyes, quickly stamped down by anger. His knuckles flashed white around the cold metal of his needle. “I knew letting you come here was a bad idea,” he growled.
“No,” Seungkwan countered, “you just didn’t want me to stop thinking the sun shone out your asshole.”
“Nice.” The chuckle came from the dark of the alleyway, carrying out of the shadows almost silkily. “Mature.”
Wonwoo’s head whipped round as the man slithered out of the darkness, a smirk on his lips. “Junhui?”
Jun’s smile widened as Mingyu’s eyes bugged out. “You know Jun?” he asked Wonwoo, clearly amazed.
“Wait, how do you know Wen Junhui?” Wonwoo finally backed off from Mingyu a little, his shock lowering his guard. He rounded on Seungkwan. “What the fuck have you been up to here?”
Seungkwan raised his hands a little. “I mean,” he started, utterly nonplussed. “We’ve met, but I don’t know why he’s here. I just thought he was some guy.”
“Some guy?” Jun and Wonwoo cried in unison. “Some guy?” Wonwoo repeated. “This kid got the best grades The Academy had ever seen then disappeared off the face of the earth six months later. Everyone assumed he’d been taken down fighting bloodsuckers in the Outback in Australia, they were devastated. There was a state funeral and everything.”
Jun shrugged. “I was kind of universally adored.” He pulled his cigs out from the back pocket of his frankly frighteningly tight jeans, lighting one up and offering another to Wonwoo who, to Seungkwan’s horror, accepted. “It gets a bit tiring after a while.”
“You’re a Hunter?” Mingyu’s voice was small, betrayed. “And you never told me?”
Jun cocked an eyebrow. “And scare you off? Of course I didn’t. Besides, I was in a position to help you out when most people would have kicked you to the curb with your weird requests. Which, you’re welcome, by the way.”
The alleyway was buzzing with tension, the silence hanging thick like smoke. Seungkwan’s head hurt. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Wonwoo and Jun exchanged a look, Wonwoo gesturing tiredly for Jun to go first.
“I’m what someone more old fashioned might call a deserter. Sure, I used to be a Hunter — in fact I trained with the lovely Wonwoo here — but it just wasn’t the life for me. It wears on a person, never being able to put down roots, never being able to hold on.”
“So I packed up my things, headed to Australia, and faked my death. Proper classy, nothing too garish. Just kept my head down for a year until everyone assumed I’d been torn apart by ravening beasts then came here.”
Seungkwan frowned. “Why here?” Jun tilted his head, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I mean, it’s hardly anything special.”
Jun looked up, where a sliver of sky fought its way through the clouds. “I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir here, but when you’ve moved around your whole life, anything close to normality can feel pretty special. I’ve got a house, I’ve got friends, and I’ve got a job where I can keep an eye out for any signs of trouble.” He brought his gaze down, fixing onto Mingyu. “Which is where you come in.”
Mingyu looked a little faint. “Me?”
“You.” Jun continued, “I’d finally settled down, found a place with no signs of vamp activity. Then suddenly this guy,” he jerked his fist in Mingyu’s direction, “appears on my doorstep at work with a ‘weird request’. Of course, I figure out right away what he is and what he’s trying to do and, of course, I considered just finishing him off right then and there.” Mingyu paled a little, the corners of his mouth tilting down. Jun noticed and smirked at him. “But there was something about him, his eagerness, that told me not to.”
“So I started hooking him up with the goods. A few packs of ‘the good stuff’ once a month. And this boy could pay. I don’t know where you got your money from, Mingyu, but you really need to work out a better business plan.”
He snorted, shaking his head and Wonwoo cut in, “But how come you didn’t get caught? Stealing that much blood?”
Jun looked offended. “You said yourself, my dear Wonwoo, I was top of my class. I am well trained in the arts of subterfuge and sneakiness. My skills are well honed and my reflexes are amazing. Plus one of my friends is, like, really good at faking my boss’ signature.” Wonwoo seemed a little impressed, despite the stick up his arse clearly telling him he shouldn’t be. “Then, a few months ago, your little Seungkwan blazed in on the back of Mingyu’s motorbike, all angry and repressed like you are now, and I’ve had the pleasure of watching him blossom,” he emphasised the word, relishing in the way it made both Wonwoo and Seungkwan cringe, “in his friendship with Mingyu.
“Okay,” Seungkwan wanted to move as swiftly as possible from whatever it was that was making Jun smirk like that, “but why are you here now? Have you been following us? Stalking us?”
Jun stubbed his cigarette out on the wall behind him. “I’ve always had a nose for trouble,” he said simply, glancing meaningfully at Wonwoo, who avoided his gaze.
Seungkwan rounded on his brother. “Okay, and what about you? Are you following me?”
Wonwoo looked shifty. He eyed his shoes, his cigarette loose in his fingers, the ash cloudy at the tip. “I might have checked in on you once or twice.” He smiled apologetically. “Just if I was passing by.”
“And this time you decided that, in checking in on me, you had the right to assault my friend?” Seungkwan’s anger bubbled to the surface again. “You couldn’t just assume that I might know what I’m doing?”
Wonwoo dropped his cigarette on the floor, kicking it out as he rubbed the back of his head. “I just panicked, Seungkwan. It’s been so long since I properly saw you and you’ve always been impressionable,” Seungkwan grit his teeth, “and then I see you hanging out with this bloodsucker…” He looked up at Seungkwan, imploring him to understand.
“Stop calling him that,” Seungkwan snapped, tired. “His name is Mingyu.”
Mingyu waved a little at Wonwoo. “Nice to meet you, Wonwoo. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He stuck his hand out in an attempt of a handshake and Seungkwan had to press his lips together to stop himself laughing, even given the situation.
Taken aback, Wonwoo shook Mingyu’s hand limply, not looking at him. “You still have a lot of explaining to do,” he shot at Seungkwan. “Even ignoring him,” he jerked his head towards Mingyu, “this is not at all what Dad agreed to.”
“Oh, loosen up, babe,” Jun sighed, flinging an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders. “Your dad always did put too much pressure on you. Seungkwan’s much more responsible than most kids his age. As far as I’m aware he’s never once tried hard drugs and he’s not listening to country music or getting matching stick-and-poke tattoos with someone he met at a festival two days ago, so he’s winning really.” He winked at Seungkwan, dragging Wonwoo towards the street. “Now, why don’t you open your wallet and treat us all. This place isn’t great, but at least it doesn’t have rats like the other place in town so let’s get something each, huh?” He dragged Wonwoo inside, leaving Seungkwan and Mingyu in the silent cold.
“So, uh, that’s my brother.” Seungkwan couldn’t look at Mingyu directly. He thought briefly about his chicken farm plan again. It seemed slightly more appealing now.
“Yeah,” said Mingyu weakly, rubbing at his throat. “He seems…like he has baggage.”
Seungkwan barked out a laugh. “That’s an understatement. But he means well. I think.”
Mingyu nodded. “Thanks,” he whispered. “For sticking up for me.”
“I don’t feel like I really did anything,” Seungkwan murmured. “It was mainly Jun.”
“It was more than you would have done four months ago,” Mingyu pointed out, pushing off the wall. “And it doesn’t matter. Look,” he waggled his arms and kicked his legs, a smile sliding back onto his face, “I’m fine, fully intact.
Oddly, Seungkwan felt himself blinking back tears. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“Are you that disappointed I didn’t get brutally murdered? After I bought you your sodding diet Pepsi?” Mingyu joked, but Seungkwan’s eyes kept burning.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “It’s all my fault. If it’s not me threatening to kill you, it’s my older brother. You could have got really hurt.”
Mingyu stepped closer, his voice soft. “Hey,” he tilted Seungkwan’s face upwards to look at his, “at least it wasn’t your dad. I don’t think that would have ended that well.”
He was smiling, but Seungkwan just frowned. “That’s my point. I just keep putting you in danger.” His head sagged down again. “I’m no good for you.”
Mingyu huffed softly, coming close enough that Seungkwan could smell what remained of his cologne from earlier in the evening. “Hey,” he said again, quieter this time, “don’t say that.” He sighed. “You know what Jun was saying earlier about how, after a long life of weird, even the most normal can seem special?” Seungkwan nodded, rubbing his nose. “You’re my normal.” He lifted Seungkwan’s face again. “You’re special to me.”
Seungkwan’s breath shuddered as his gaze finally met Mingyu’s, his chest feeling large. His gaze flickered down to Mingyu’s lips, his pulse rabbiting at the base of his neck. He could see by the way Mingyu swallows that he could hear it. “You’re my special, too,” he whispered, hope warming his bones.
Mingyu leant in gently, time slowing torturously.
“Cute, but do you really want your first kiss to be in an alleyway that smells of cat piss?” They jerked apart, Seungkwan thwacking his elbow on the rough brick of the wall. “Also Wonwoo’s paying for our food and if he comes out and sees you macking on his little brother he will kill you, there’s nothing I can do at that point.” Jun smirked, tossing Mingyu a can. “But I’ll make sure to get him out of your way as soon as I can.” He winked, disappearing off to sit on the bench.
Mingyu cleared his throat and handed the can to Seungkwan. “We should, um, go get our food.” He smiled awkwardly, brushing a finger briefly against Seungkwan’s cheek. “He’s right, though. I can think of better places for this.” He followed Jun out of the alleyway, a blush lingering on the tips of his ears.
Seungkwan sighed, leaning back against the wall to stop his head from spinning. The can was cold in his hands and he looked down at it. Diet Coke.
Of course.