Chapter Text
I stared down at the food in front of me. It was a bagel. Why couldn’t bagels just be toast? Why make them round? And with a hole in the middle. It’s impossible to eat the absence of something — not that I would be eating it anyway.
Till next time, brothers, Felix thought, giving each of us a wink. He stood and walked away, emptied his tray into the garbage can and left the cafeteria. He had to get to his class early; every day he sliced a little more off one of the legs of each chair in his classroom, and then watched, giggling, as the other students wobbled slightly for an hour.
Dr. Bang’s kids.
I looked up when I heard Chan’s name. It was a reflex — one I hadn’t kicked, though I’d been alive like this for around a century. I could hear everyone’s thoughts, all the time, and it was exactly as grinding and awkward and useful as one would think.
Jessica Stanley was the one who thought it — across the room, sitting at her usual table. I looked up at her for a second before my eyes flitted to the boy next to her. The new one, the one everybody was thinking about.
Minho Lee.
Our eyes met, but I looked away — fast.
His face stayed with me as I pretended to consider the cracks in the walls. Dark eyes, pouty lips, golden-brown hair. Harrumph. He was beautiful. More beautiful than I liked anybody who didn’t have the vampire excuse to be. The jealousy that leaked into my mind was not surprising. The seven deadly sins were a to-do list for me.
I turned my attention to Minho’s thoughts. For newcomers (not that there were many — Forks was like dead water) thinking about us and our alienness was natural.
But I couldn’t hear anything. I heard Jessica next to him, Mike on his other side, the rest of the people at the table, the rest of the students in the cafeteria, the rest of the residents of Forks — but not him. Why not him? Why?!
It was a moment before I remembered I could hear their real-world conversation — distracted as I was. I didn’t often have to stoop to eavesdropping. I shook my head and focussed.
“They don’t look related,” Minho said. His voice was a quiet tenor.
“No,” Jessica replied. “They’re foster children, because the doctor and his… you know.” She widened her eyes, lips folded into her mouth. I didn’t know quite what to do with that.
Minho didn’t reply — he was staring at us again. Examining us. I looked up and met his eyes. My head tilted without my permission. I knew I must have seemed very curious to him, because I was.
Then he smiled, and it was like the corners of his mouth were attached to mine; I smiled back without thought.
He looked down, the tops of his ears pink. I heard him ask, “Who’s the one with black hair? Um, the one in the flannel?”
“That’s Jisung,” Jessica answered him. “He never speaks to anyone — except his brothers. Never dates, either, so too bad for the girls here, I guess.”
Jessica’s cluelessness made me smile.
I knew he was looking at me, but I didn’t meet his eyes. His very, very, very pretty eyes. I stared at my dumb bagel and wondered what he was thinking.
Seungmin kicked the leg of my chair.
Dude, stop making cow eyes, he thought.
I wanted to bluster, but I kept my mouth shut.
Is the new guy thinking about us? Changbin asked. He didn’t stir, didn’t lift his head or look at me, as he thought the question.
I shrugged my shoulders, just a little.
You don’t know? Can’t you hear him?
I moved my head to the left, to the right — slowly, inconspicuously.
Has that ever happened before?
Another subtle no.
Haseong’ll wanna hear about this. Do you think Felix will be able to see him?
I didn’t answer. I was swimming around in Minho’s head. If I focussed, if I blocked everyone else out, the unending talking-talking-talking in my head dulled. I usually couldn’t escape the noise unless I was alone — out in the forest, miles away from humans, where the wind and the ocean were all I could hear. Years, decades, a century of layered, grating tinnitus, and I’d never found peace.
Till now. I stared at the table and revelled in his silence.
Jisung, let’s go.
Lunch was over — I hadn’t noticed. A quick glance told me Minho was still staring at us. I didn’t let myself stare back.
The five of us got up and walked across the cafeteria, single-filed out into the rain — not really sure where we were going, only that we could speak freely now.
“Felix is gonna want to know about this, too,” Changbin said.
“Know about what?” Jeongin asked.
“Jisung can’t hear the new guy’s head.”
“Felix probably already knows,” Seungmin said. He pulled out an empty binder and held it over his head as an umbrella. I ducked under it with him. “As long as the new guy’s a human, Felix’ll be able to see him.”
“We should make sure,” said Changbin. “We need to be proactive. Minho Lee could be a Volturi spy, for all we know.”
We pushed through the door to Building 2. Felix was there, laying on the floor, grating off the leg of a chair with a nail file.
“Sorry, boys,” he said without turning to us. “I can see Minho. He’s gonna have breakfast for dinner, read Harry Potter and cry himself to sleep.”
Something about that — about Minho crying — made me uneasy. I leaned against the wall, against the anti-drug advert, and scanned the perimeter for teachers.
“Any idea why Jisung can’t hear him?” Jeongin asked Felix.
“None.”
“Do you think it could be a problem for us?”
“I mean, we’ll have to check with bossman, but I don’t think so. Not unless Minho gets suspicious about us. Did he seem suspicious, Jisungie?”
“‘Suspicious’ is a bit much,” I said. “He looked kind of curious.”
“Well, you were staring at him with your mouth hanging open,” said Seungmin.
“I’m, like, seventy-five percent sure my mouth was closed.”
“It must have been nice,” Felix said to me. “To get a break from the voices, huh?”
I nodded at the floor. “Yeah. It was.”
“And Minho is cute,” said Hyunjin, smiling at me.
“I guess so,” I muttered. “I didn’t really notice.”
“Someone unplug the smoke alarm — Jisung’s pants are literally on fire.”
I fake-laughed, and it echoed in the empty classroom. They all saw through it — every single one of them. They were grinning as I stomped out of the building like a crotchety toddler. I didn’t bother to say goodbye; we would no doubt spend the whole evening together, discussing the aberration that was Minho Lee.
* * *
My classmates were already in their seats when I arrived in Biology. They always left one table empty in the very back of the room. They didn't do it consciously, more instinctively. They knew sitting next to me would be — at best — an uncomfortable experience.
I sat down and stacked my books on the desk.
Minho's here, Yvonne Johnston thought. Several others did the same, peeking over their shoulders, measuring him, repeating rumours they'd heard over the course of the day.
I wasn't paying attention. There was only one open seat left in the class, and I really, really, really wanted this creature beside me. Imagine if I could start a conversation with him, untangle some of his mystery. I moved my books over, making space for him.
My body reacted before I did. I flinched away from him as my lungs filled with the smell of his blood. Sweet, rich, perfect, pulling me in — better than anything I'd ever smelled. It buzzed in my fingers, penetrated my veins, and for a second, I was a puppet to the thirst.
I wanted to... God, I wanted to...
I crushed my hands into fists, dug my nails into my palms, and stopped breathing entirely. Be a statue, be a statue, ignore the temptation, ignore it. My eyes flitted to his automatically, but I broke away before a second had passed.
He caught it anyway. He tripped over Greg Henry's backpack, landed on his hands and knees, and I...
I reached out to catch him. To help him. I pulled away quickly, squeezed my eyes shut, gripped my forearms hard. He was in more danger than he could conceive. I didn't know how close I was to breaking. I opened my eyes and stared ahead as he sat down next to me.
The hour felt like years. It felt like my lifetime doubled and tripled. His presence made me weak — made me crazy and thirsty, closer to animal than human. I kept still through all of it. I shook my hair in front of my face and let my hands fall on the table, squeezing till they trembled.
The bell rang. I packed my things, charged out of the room, and once out of the building, I broke into a bent-kneed sprint. I clambered into my car, breathed the cool air through the open window.
I wanted to kill Minho Lee. All I could taste was venom. I was so ready to kill him, just waiting for my control to slip a little too far...
But, with whatever decency I still had, I would try to protect him... from me.
Poor Minho. Minho, whom I hadn't even met, had nearly died today.
I would avoid him. He was in Biology, so I'd have to switch classes. School had ended; the front office wouldn't be open for much longer. I leapt out of the car, stomped up to the small, squat building and burst through the door.
Ms. Cope looked up at me with wide eyes.
This kid comes outta nowhere, she thought.
"What can I help you with?" she asked aloud.
"My schedule," I said. "I wanna move from my Biology class to another science. Physics, maybe?"
Her lips pursed. "Physics is pretty full right now."
"I wouldn't be any trouble."
"There aren't enough seats left, dear."
"Fine, then I'll drop the class." I wasn't hiding my desperation very well.
"Drop Biology?" Her mouth fell open. "You won't have enough credits to graduate."
"I'll catch up next year." One of us had to fail anyway, so we could stay in Forks an extra year. I wasn't above flunking, especially if it meant I wouldn't have to sit next to Minho again.
"Maybe you should talk to your parents about that first."
I pouted and leaned a little farther over the desk.
"Please, Ms. Cope? Biology can't be the only option..."
Shit, this little bastard is cute. "Well, I suppose I could speak to Mr. Banner, see if—"
A gust of wind blew into the room. My hands clenched tight again, and I stood up straighter, holding my breath. The familiar fire burned down my throat, and I could feel my fangs grow in my mouth, push against each other. I couldn't stop myself from glancing back.
Minho Lee was backed against the wall, squinting at me with confusion and anger. I felt like apologizing for whatever I had done, whatever I had let show. I refocussed.
"—could squeeze one more student in—"
"You know, never mind." My voice was shaking. "I guess it's not, um, necessary. Thanks for your help." I spun around and marched around Minho without looking at him.
I threw myself out the doors and sucked in a gasp of air, holding my knees for support. The fire in my throat was barely snuffed out by the fresh, dewy air. I held my neck as I bolted to my car.
I pulled out of the parking lot and raced home. I knew the route so well that I didn’t have to think about which turns to make and which potholes to avoid. The thirst, the bloodlust, crept into my mind until the taste of human blood — any blood at all — consumed every thought. I hadn’t had anything but animal blood for years, but vampires never forget, and no matter how hard I tried, the memory of it never left me. Especially now.
I hit the brakes in front of the house and ghosted inside, to my room. I shook the school books out of my bag, replacing them with clothes, a notebook, pens. I gauged whether I could fit my keyboard in my backpack.
Jisung?
It was Haseong. I didn’t expect him to be home — usually he was out, skulking around looking for people to help. He must have heard me ransacking the place and come back.
“I’m here.” I swung my backpack over my shoulder and headed for the door.
What happened? What are you doing? He was waiting in the hallway, and kept in step with me when I didn’t stop walking.
“There’s a new guy at the high school — his…” I couldn’t say the words without bringing back the smell. “I don’t understand what happened. I almost killed him.”
Are you leaving?
“I have to. I don’t know how much longer I can be here without going totally mental.”
There’s gotta be something we can do.
“No. I almost outed all of us. I need to go away, at least for a few weeks.”
Someone was flying through the forest — Chan. He was through the door in a fraction of a second.
Jisung, you belong here, he thought evenly, hands out, like I might make a run for it.
“Guys, I can’t — I won’t — you don’t understand. I wanna kill him. It’s not up to me, I have to go.”
I walked past them. They glanced at one another and then followed.
I heard the other five approaching — fast.
A body crashed against me, arms like chains holding me off the ground. My feet dangled.
Please don’t leave, Hyunjin whimpered.
“Hyunjin, off.”
He dropped me, shrunk back and collapsed into Changbin’s arms.
“Chan, he doesn’t have to leave.” Seungmin knew arguing with Chan would have more impact than arguing with me. “I can take care of the new guy, it’ll be simple.”
“Seungmin, you’re not killing him,” I said.
“I’m not talking about murder. I’ll stick him in a sack and leave him in another country. He doesn’t get hurt, Jisung doesn’t have to go — it’s a win-win.”
“You’re insane.”
“Felix, will it work?” Chan asked.
“Chan, no!” I yelled. “This is my fault. He didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m leaving, because if I don’t, I’m gonna kill him, and I — I don’t know whether I could handle it if another death was on my head, okay?”
“He’s right,” Felix said.
“What are you seeing?” Haseong asked.
“There’s a lot of ways this could go. Eighty percent end with Minho dead.” Felix had seen it all — every possible future. I sifted through each of them as his attention flitted from one to another. So many ended with Minho dead, me holding him, fangs deep in his neck. The image made me want to gag, but the thought of his blood dripping down my chin made me crave it a dozen times more.
“What about the other twenty?”
“Sixteen percent end with him dead plus four to eleven casualties, three percent with successful avoidance, and the last one ends with him becoming a vampire himself.”
“Jesus Christ.” I raked my hands through my hair and left them there. “I didn’t mean to do this. I swear I didn’t.”
It’s not your fault, Jisungie, Jeongin thought.
“Bro, take the three percent,” Felix said. “You’re gonna do something stupid if you stay. I’ve seen it.”
“Can’t we just lock him in the basement or something?” Changbin asked.
“This isn’t only about us,” I said. “Minho… is a part of it, too.”
They didn’t have anything to say to that. Hyunjin sniffled and Seungmin kicked the gravel. Felix was dead serious, resolute — that didn’t happen often. Sometimes the things he saw were brutal enough to shake his demeanour.
Haseong stepped up and hugged me; I got up on my tiptoes to hug back. Chan piled on, and Jeongin, and Hyunjin, and the rest. The eight of us stood there, unmoving, trying not to cry. We had been together so long — through two world wars and a depression and a moon landing. It felt like if any one of us strayed from the pack, cut our connection, the whole web would come undone.
Eventually they peeled away, and I let go of Haseong. The lump in my throat almost made me forget the thirst. Almost. Not really.
“I’ll be back,” I said. “Felix, when will I come back?”
“Two weeks, three months, eight months, a year and a half, seventeen months. I would be more specific, but you haven’t even made it out of Forks yet.”
“Two weeks? Really? Do I kill him in that timeline?”
His lips pressed into a line. “Anything under a year and a half and you kill him.”
My shoulders slumped. “Yeah. All right. I should go.”
“Take care of yourself, Jisung,” Chan said.
“Come back when it’s safe,” Haseong added.
“Don’t eat the yellow snow,” said Felix.
I smiled a little, meeting each of their eyes. I took a step back, and another, and finally turned. I darted into the forest and made my way west. Once I reached the water, I looked back at the riotous green trees, the low-hanging fog. I couldn’t believe I wouldn’t feel this air — wouldn’t play my piano or see my family — for over a year. The thought at once felt impossible and all too real.
I stepped into the water, held my backpack over my head, and swam for Alaska.