Chapter Text
The hustle and bustle of the familiar market place had Woojin dipping in and out of stalls and people alike, finding his way to a quieter spot near the table he was looking for. Assortments of foods and merchandise were all laid out neatly on tables that lined the town square as they had been for the past month, the summer always bringing life back to the old English town with its annual pop up market for the season.
Approaching a stall towards the end of the strip of arrangements, Woojin caught sight of the butcher's stand with its well-kept canopy keeping the heat of the sun from frying their goods. The woman behind the large array of meats, a local farmers wife Woojin had come to learn, noticed the man and offered him a bright smile to greet.
“Ah, Mr Kim, back for more are we?” She chuckled to herself making the corners of her eyes wrinkle.
“Best in the county is it not?” The black haired man grinned himself as she pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and unhooked one of the whole chickens hanging by its feet from the rack. Just the sight would probably make any animal activist cry, it was rather graphic, the only way you could distinguish it from live poultry would be the lack of feathers.
The woman wrapped the meat and bagged it up, struggling slightly with tying it off with her shaky hands. “Here, let me tie it,” Woojin tried to offer but she refused, managing to tighten the knot.
“You young gentlemen nowadays, how very kind,” her slightly quivering arm extended to hand him the bag, him returning a five-pound note in exchange. “I may look old, but I’m still capable!”
Woojin chuckled at her words, “Nonsense, you’re probably younger than me.” He shot a playful smile as she batted her hand as if to wave him off.
“Stop it, you'll make me blush!”
Waving as he left, Woojin left the stand with the butcher's bag hanging over one arm, other groceries and junk in the other. He took a shortcut between tables, leading him straight out to the main street and away from the crowd. No time wasted, he set off on his walk home.
“I’m back!” He yelled through the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. A clatter of items hitting the floor brought his attention to the closed door of a bedroom as it swung open and hit the wall with some force.
Woojin placed the bags on the table as he watched three incredibly excited males arrive at the table in the blink of an eye, literally. He rolled his eyes at their eagerness and carried the bags to the kitchen area to unpack them.
“Ok, Changbin I’m pretty sure I told you to clean this damn kitchen before I left..” Woojin grimaced at the sight of dirty dishes littering the place, shooting a scowl at the other when he protested.
“Chan was supposed to help me! It's not just my fault!” He almost whined as he slouched into a dining chair, the mentioned slapping his shoulder for throwing him in as well. “What took you so long anyway? We’re fucking starving.”
“I texted you to ask where you were!” The brunette beside him piped up as he and Chan took their seats.
Woojin pulled the phone out of his pocket, waving it around, “Jeongin do you really think I know how to use this thing? When I was your age the most up to date technology I had was an oil lamp.” He threw the phone to the younger, him catching it with lightning reflexes.
The three at the table sat in confusion before Jeongin spoke up again, “Woojin… I’m ninety-fucking-six… It's not like the Nokia was invented in my generation!” He almost laughed at the older's remark, looking back to the other two who were cracking up.
“Closer than the rest of us!” Woojin argued as he washed the meat he’d just bought.
“Hey, you try keeping up with all the advancements over the past… Uh…”
“...four hundred and ninety-four.”
“-four hundred and ninety-four years!” Chan exclaimed, the two others at the table chuckling at him forgetting his own age.
Placing their meal on a large dish, Woojin made his way over to the table, careful not to drop the large bird in the process. “Well, it's not my fault you blood-suckers don't die.” He teased as he placed the bird- whole, raw, slightly bleeding bird on the table in front of them all.
He grimaced as they began to dig in, turning his back and pacing back to the kitchen as to not see, smell or hear the teeth ripping through the raw flesh of the poor poultry.
You’d think living the past thirty years (give or take) with three of mythology’s most feared creatures would desensitize one from their eating habits. But no, you put blood in front of the three, carnage. It's not a pleasant sight to anyone, no matter how much you think you don't mind the sight of blood, seeing it drip off the fangs of a hungry vampire is more than a different experience.
Shaking the thought, Woojin unpacked the rest of the food he’d bought, leaving some bits and pieces out in order to make his own meal. He shoved everything else in a cupboard or the fridge quickly so he could start with his food preparation.
Ingredients lined the counter as he reached up to an overhead cabinet, retrieving a book from the top shelf. He placed it down beside the food items and placed his hands together.
Woojin held his index and middle fingers together on both hands, gently striking them together in a cross formation. The action was similar to striking flint to start a fire, creating a small golden mist to swirl his palms and flow over his fingertips slowly. As he flicked his fingers in the air over the leather bound book, the pages began turning at a moderate pace, falling to a page somewhere in the middle.
The gold mist settled from the book, retracing his hands as he then hovered them carefully over the ingredients in front of him. Reciting the early Latin printed in the book and a snap of the fingers, the ingredients were now a fully prepared meal with no effort at all. Too lazy to put it away manually, Woojin waved the book shut and sent it floating back to the top shelf as he strolled back to the dining table with his nicely presented and “cooked” to perfection food in hand.
As expected, the three at the table had polished off their meal and were lounging in their seats, small smudges of red across the face. Woojin sat at the table across from Chan, grimacing as the blond licked his fingers of any chicken remains.
“You are all cleaning the filth off your faces before you even think about going near that sofa.” He warned as the three began to scatter. Both the eldest and youngest grumbled as they made their way to the bathroom, while Changbin ignored the warning since he was actually clean. Settling for face down on the sofa, Changbin fumbled with the TV remote he found between the cushions and flicked on the screen.
News channel, ITV News at 10 to be exact, a reporter stood beside a battered building with police and government vehicles teaming the area. It was as if a world-ending plot was being busted, however, all that the flickering screen displayed was rough officers piling out with an assortment of people in thick handcuffs, devices locked on their ankles. They appeared as harmless men, women, children who would never hurt a fly, but that's not how they were painted in the slightest.
“Yet another gathering of mutants has been discovered this evening by officers in the Lechlade area this evening. An estimate of 26 have been taken to the nearest detention centre with a few suspects escaping authorities.”
Chan and Jeongin had emerged from the bathroom, staring as they watched half beaten people stuffed into what could only be described as military vehicles. The cameras zoomed in on a red-headed boy being dragged out of the building with tear stained cheeks, not resisting the large man dragging him. Woojin felt his stomach churn as he watched from the dining table and saw the location tag in the corner.
“That’s close..”
The other three didn’t remove their gazes from the screen as the woman's voice drabbled more.
“A call goes out from the government that if anyone suspects any mutant activity in their area, they are not to approach and call the emergency number immediately. For more information go to-”
Flicking the channel, Changbin scoffed at her words, “...Mutants huh? They still use that one? Nothing's changed…” he chuckled dryly to which Chan sighed.
“Hasn’t changed? That's pretty tame considering what they called us in the 1500s…” He smiled slightly, though a sour one as he hopped the back of the couch and sat at Changbin’s feet.
“Glad I'm a 1800s baby.”
“Only just, old man.” Jeongin piped up with a giggle.
“Hey, ‘05 is not ‘only just’-”
“I hate to spoil the fun but,” Woojin sighed, carrying his plate to the kitchen. “That was right around the corner. I hate to be the pessimistic one here but-”
“What can we do? There’s nowhere else to go.” Chan stated, hands clasped together as he thought. “The whole world wants us locked up, so I don’t think we can do a whole lot.”
They fell silent at the thought. It was true, not a single country had any acceptance for anyone who wasn’t strictly “human” to their standard, as well as all used a variation of that word. Mutants. The way people used it, it felt like a derogatory term, always uttered with some disgust behind it. The supernatural powers gifted within the world were given no respect to any regard and deemed dangerous to those who were “normal” so they were locked away. It was the law. Granted, some law was stricter than other, countries still opting for execution while most settled with simple imprisonment and waited for them to rot.
“Nothing’s ever gonna change..” Changbin breathed as he heaved himself up to stroll to the fridge. “By the way, did you get any more bags from that blood drive yesterday?” He glanced over to Woojin who just nodded towards the fridge. The fridge door swung open and he let out a small squeak of delight at the sight of three red bags hanging on the inside.
For obvious reasons, human blood was off the table for the majority of their immortal lives which meant the occasional raw animal had to do. However, Woojin managed to get himself a job as a nurse, taking blood for donations. So as of recent years, he supplied his friends with the odd treat.
Changbin took a pouch and skipped back towards his room, wobbling the liquid inside as he went. As if his sour mood vaporised with a blink of an eye, he grinned excitedly to himself at just the faint smell through the plastic.
“And this time, for the love of God, use the damn straw!”