Chapter Text
The thing about being a people pleaser is that it comes without boundaries, comes without any sort of selectiveness or regard for your own wellbeing. Eunkwang knows this well. He knows it’s a thankless state of being and that it really is something he should try to hold back from. Still, there is an empty seat on each bus he steps onto and, yet, he chooses to stand, staring at it until the space is taken up by whoever wanders aboard. Each time, he smiles at them, no matter how young or old, how weak or healthy. He smiles as his lower back aches and his fingers cramp with the force he is using to hold onto the pole that is doing all the work of keeping him upright on the bumpy road.
The bus comes to a stop, a harsh one that nearly knocks him to the ground, and he gets off, thanking the driver as he does. The friend that he was supposed to be meeting, who is more of an acquaintance than any sort of true companion, is nowhere to be seen. In fact, there is no one here, which, once the bus pulls away from the curb, leaves Eunkwang alone in the shadow of the tall building across the street. The sun is setting and, though it is not quite dusk, it’s best not to linger in shadows.
He walks quickly towards the bar halfway down the block, hoping he’ll find his new drinking buddy there and, if not, then a taxi, because he just took the last bus to get here. There are a few people outside, some smoking and chatting, some waiting for rides, but they are all huddled under the streetlight right outside the bar. All are bold enough to be out this late, at a bar of all places, but none are bold enough to even brush shoulders with a shadow. Eunkwang would judge, but he is staying out even later, and not even of his own volition. He will be out past dusk to keep the company of a man he holds no affections for and he is sure he will tremble under the dim yellow light as he waits for his own ride too.
The warm air of the bar welcomes him, though the scent of beer and grease makes it a bitter one. He shuffles through the small crowd to find the man he came here for, who, after a few moments of hesitation, as if he’d momentarily forgotten who Eunkwang was at all, slings an arm around his shoulder and slides a half-empty glass his way. “Drink!” the man orders, enthusiastic, and, though Eunkwang has no interest in whatever pale liquid sits lukewarm at the bottom of the glass, he gulps it down.
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Sungjae’s foot lands hard on a browning leaf crumpled against the cold cement, but the satisfying crunch isn’t there. His footsteps don’t make a sound whether he leaps from rooves or stomps down old, creaky wooden stairs, silent, the very nature of a predator. He has half the mind to ask what is so good about being at the top of the food chain if you can’t even stagger down the sidewalk, taking awkwardly spaced steps, just to hear the crunch of leaves under your shoes at the start of autumn. If his company were Ilhoon instead of Changsub then maybe he’d ask and get an answer that’d hold some weight whether it was serious or not, but he can already imagine Changsub’s answer. ‘Die then’, Sungjae imagines he’d say, sarcastic and teasing. He’s annoyed just thinking about it.
He looks up again, holding himself back from walking in a way that resembles a drunk man in the unlikely case that just one leaf would give a half-hearted whisper of defeat, and finds Changsub looking back at him. “What?” Sungjae barks out, already defensive.
Changsub snorts out a breathy chuckle that sounds more like a scoff than an actual laugh and rolls his head dramatically until he’s looking forward again, away from Sungjae. He’s walking ahead, guiding the way as if it even matters at all where they go. Minhyuk had simply sent them out with the order of, ‘Go, and don’t kill anyone’. It’s a punishment masked behind an air of importance, of responsibility, for Changsub and a test for Sungjae. At this point, it may as well be a punishment for him too.
He feels as if he’s being taunted by the people in their cars driving past, the glow of light through the closed curtains of apartment building windows stacked among the businesses, even by the squirrels darting past said cars and climbing up the trees in front of said buildings. They’re all mortal, could drop dead at any moment for no good reason, and yet they live more freely than Sungjae, a creature impervious to any ailment, a creature doomed only by a stake to the heart and a fiery grave.
He has died and come back to life and, in his glory, has lived the past twenty-one years in a basement, only allowed to wander from the grounds when given permission by a creature of the same making, when accompanied by a creature of the same making; And humans will quake before him, heed him and the power within, and he will return home to tell Minhyuk that, once again, he took a nice little stroll without so much as thinking about ripping anyone’s head from their shoulders.
“What’s the date?” Changsub asks out of nowhere, hands in his pockets where Sungjae is sure his fully functioning phone is tucked away. The younger man opens his mouth then closes it again, not in the mood for petty arguments tonight, and simply pulls his own phone out instead.
“The thirteenth,” Sungjae informs, squinting at the sudden, bright light of his screen. Changsub hums in response, unusually pensive. A voice in the back of the younger man’s mind tells him to just let Changsub be weird, that he is probably waiting for Sungjae to ask why it matters just so he can spit out some nonsense to get on his nerves. The elder is in a mood tonight, more broody and annoying since his appointment to feed was canceled for this.
“Why?” Sungjae asks anyway, if only to fill the silence and, perhaps, to humor the cranky old man a bit. He then adds, “Got a hot date I don’t know about?” so as not to give in too much.
“Wow, you’re such a kid,” Changsub huffs, shaking his head. Sungjae isn’t sure if the comment was in reference to how outdated the phrase is or just the question itself, but he stops walking just to scoff, only half-jokingly. The elder takes two more steps then stops as well, but he doesn’t ask Sungjae why they’ve stopped nor does he turn to face him.
They stand there in relative silence for a few moments, cars rushing past them and distant hearts beating loud in the quiet night, before Sungjae opens his mouth to defend himself with a quip about how Changsub has no room to be calling other people childish and to remind the elder that he’s forty-five now, but it dies on his tongue. Therein lies the problem, he realizes, Sungjae turned forty-five this year, which means this year, next month, it’ll have been twenty years since their maker passed.
The night feels colder now, somehow, the ring on his finger sitting uncomfortably frigid against his skin.
He forces another scoff and an incoherent mumble under his breath about how Changsub is an idiot because it’s easier than confronting what’s really on their minds. He continues walking, feeling uncomfortable, and Changsub follows suit soon after.
Sungjae wonders if this year is going to be different.
“Do you smell that?” Changsub breathes, snapping Sungjae back to reality. The wind blows and there is, indeed, a vague scent of blood in the air, sweet and appetizing. He smirks to himself, suspecting this to be some sort of ruse set up by Ilhoon that Sungjae has already aced by not sprinting after it like a ravenous newborn. They must think him a fool, young and thirsty and unable to control himself, but the bloodlust in him is simmering low, far from urgent.
He lifts his head, prideful and amused, but his stomach sinks instead when he realizes that Changsub is gone. As soon as the scent of blood had arrived, Changsub had gone, and now Sungjae must go too, fearing that this is not the game he thought it was.
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Muttered curses are carried off with the wind as Eunkwang speed-walks in the direction of his apartment. His hands are bloody, not by much, but he’d be naive to think that he’s safe because it was only a few drops of blood that rose to the surface. It was enough to have the bar turn him away, as their policy dictates, apparently; No injured, bloodied person is allowed to take shelter there after dark as it is a risk for all the other patrons, as if they’re not risking their lives being out this late anyway, as if turning Eunkwang away isn’t feeding him directly to the wolves.
He had only stepped out of the bar for less than ten minutes to get his overly tipsy friend into a cab home, but, in the process, the larger man leaned too heavily on him, causing Eunkwang to lose his balance and scrape his hands against the rough pavement. It stung and still does, seeing as he wasn’t even allowed in to at least rinse his hands, but he was allowed one kindness, a crumpled napkin from the bouncer that turned him away. He is holding it to his right hand, the one with a minuscule shard of glass stuck in it, and is doing his best to keep a steady grip as he practically jogs down the street.
He’s halfway home when an uneasy feeling creeps its way into his gut, making him regret not getting into the cab with the man despite living in the opposite direction, or at least waiting a bit longer outside the bar in hopes that another would come to save him. He should have bought a phone charger for his desk at work so he wouldn’t leave every day with it being dead, or perhaps he should have charged it when he stopped home to drop his car off. He should have done a lot of things that aren’t this. He supposes he will have time for regret later though, when he is safe within the walls of his own home where no uninvited corpses can touch him.
His jog turns into a flown blown sprint, the feeling of dread only growing heavier, threatening to weigh him down until he can move no longer and can only lie in wait for his doom, like a rabbit caught in a trap. It’s all anxiety, he knows, the tight feeling in his chest and the lack of any real threat gives it away, and he forces himself to a stop after running for what could have only been a minute, but felt much longer. He tucks himself away in a small alley between two apartment buildings, out of sight, so that he can catch his breath and be sure that his shaky legs will actually be able to carry him home.
“You’re taking it too far. What do you want me to say? That you won? Congratulations,” a voice shatters the silence like a brick through a window, sudden and violent. He lets out a quiet gasp then slaps his left hand over his mouth, fearing that whoever it is will be able to hear his breath through his lips, his sharp exhale. They’re not nearly close enough to, they sound fairly distant, but Eunkwang is paranoid anyway. If he can make out what they’re saying, even if their voice is raised, there is a chance they’ll hear him.
Eunkwang does not hear a clear response, only the muffled suggestion of a voice, and he is forced to wonder if there is anyone else there at all. He attempts to rationalize it, telling himself that someone must have stepped out of their apartment building to go somewhere or to smoke and is now having an argument with their phone on speaker, or a million other iterations of similar excuses, but something at the back of his mind is screaming danger .
“The test!” is spoken, or shouted, rather, by the first voice, a pause, and then it continues, more quietly, yet not enough so that Eunkwang can’t make out what’s being said. “I am not doing anything to some random human. Call me what you want, but I’m not an idiot.”
To some random human. Human. But that’s- No, surely if the man was a vampire then he’d be able to tell that Eunkwang was there through some sort of power or something, wouldn’t be speaking so loudly or so crudely in public. There’s no way.
The voices are muffled from there, or maybe it’s the sound of his blood rushing in his ears that makes them hard to hear, but, either way, it does nothing to comfort him. He wonders if he should make a run for it, wonders just how often the rabbit outruns the wolf. He deems it foolish and decides to wait, pretending he has any choice in the matter, and slides down the gritty, brick wall to a squatting position, trying to make himself as small as possible.
He’s not entirely sure what he’s waiting for. Silence would be ideal, but he’s not sure he has it in him to leave the alley before the sun peeks over the horizon again, not unless the strangers announce their leave to him- and he’s not entirely sure he wants that either. For what may be the first time in his life, his overbearing, desperate need to be liked was absent and he instead wished to be overlooked, invisible. Eunkwang wonders if he should hold his breath.
Then though, some of that feeling, the sheer terror, begins to dissipate, the thunderous crashing of cymbals simmering down into a soft drumroll. It builds despite the silence, despite the illusion of potential safety, and doesn’t give Eunkwang a chance to catch his breath. His heart races with it and, for the finale, a simple, “Good evening.”
At the mouth of the alley, there are teeth, so glaringly obvious that Eunkwang wondered how those lips had the audacity to spit out so simple a greeting. It is clear, both in the greeting and the way his hands rest in his pockets, that the creature does not expect a fight from Eunkwang, and Eunkwang is not going to give him one. He isn’t sure he has the brainpower to get his legs to move, even as goosebumps rise on his skin and he swallows hard to keep from gagging on his own fear.
In a strange way, it felt casual, so much so that he could almost convince himself that the man standing before him was merely that, a man. Eunkwang’s instincts won’t allow it though, they are unmistakable despite never experiencing a feeling like this before and, if the circumstances were different, perhaps he’d feel relieved to know that he has never been in the proximity of a vampire before. Except now he is, with a vampire that looks so much like any other college student, complete with a soft-looking, worn hoodie and messily styled, dyed hair. Despite what he was taught about vampires appearing human, Eunkwang had always expected to face a monster, but this is just a boy, fluffy-haired and robbed of innocence. He is so human, yet the chills he sends up Eunkwang’s spine are so visceral.
“You’re not drunk, are you?” the creature asks, crass, but his tone is not impolite. Eunkwang is so caught off guard that he could almost laugh. The vampire sighs at the lack of response and glances over his own shoulder before asking, “Do you live nearby? Can you call someone to pick you up?”
Eunkwang really does laugh then, just one small squeak, and he doesn’t think he has ever felt more insane in his life. He must have passed out from the fear and now he’s dreaming, or maybe he’s already dead and this is what the afterlife is, just the illusion of a better ending. He knows what his gut is telling him, screaming at him, pleading with him to run, but the thing standing before him is so nonchalant that he can’t help wondering if maybe he was drugged or something. He puffs out another laugh, incredulous, and lets his head hang between his shoulders, shaking it lightly.
“I’m sorry,” Eunkwang blurts out, feeling his embarrassment take over the fear, at least partly. His mind is reeling, unsure of what to think. It very well could be that this is just a student on his way home from the library or something and that Eunkwang has unknowingly stumbled into the role of Generic Drunk, Old Businessman. But then- No, he’s not sure that makes sense either because where would he have come from then, when Eunkwang was running and this stranger just seemed to appear behind him. Does it even matter when he’s being given an out?
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, shaking his head again and letting out a lifeless breath of laughter. He uses the wall as leverage to get himself to his feet, legs still feeling weak, and tries to ignore the feeling of his suit jacket snagging on the rough brick. “I’ll get myself home. I’m really fine,” he assures, but the way he winces when he accidentally brushes against his right hand must not make for a very convincing argument.
“I’ll walk with you for a block or two,” the stranger states, not phrased as a question or a reluctant offer, just a statement. He’s going to be walking with Eunkwang.
Eunkwang can only nod in response and drag his feet to the end of the alley, where the man has stepped back to give him room on the pavement so that they can walk beside each other. Eunkwang wants to sprint again, but the pace the stranger sets is almost leisurely, not hurried or panicked. If the man isn’t one of those, then he has a death wish, because no one who is out this late is quite so calm if they are aiming to live.
“Watch your step,” the stranger warns after a minute or so of walking with no words spoken between them. Eunkwang, whose eyes have been glued to the ground this entire time because it’s much easier than looking at the tall stranger, both for his neck and his sanity, could barely make out the sidewalk through the darkness; Though he steps slowly anyway and finds himself grateful for it, because then his toe meets concrete and he only narrowly avoids ending up on the ground for the second time that night. He wonders how the stranger was able to see it, with how dark the night is and how dim the street lights are, then promptly shuts that train of thought down for his own sake.
“Thank you,” Eunkwang breathes, then clears his throat to say, “This is nice of you, by the way, walking me home.” It isn’t a lie, it is nice of the man to walk him home, Eunkwang only wishes it actually brought any comfort to him. Ordinarily, even the presence of a stranger nearby is enough to quell his fears a small amount when forced to be out at night, but there is something so utterly wrong about this man.
As if to prove Eunkwang’s point, the man laughs, a quiet, breathy sound. “I guess so. I gave you a real scare back there though, didn’t I?” he asks, a residual chuckle in his voice.
Eunkwang forces a laugh as well, though it’s hollow, and says, “I’m a coward by nature. It’s not your fault. “ He only realizes, after he says it, that there was no apology made, and attempts to smooth it over with, “I’m just sorry I kept you out this long.”
“It’s no trouble for me,” the man responds with a hum, then adds, “You might consider getting a ride next time though.”
Eunkwang swallows hard before saying, “Yeah, I’ll try.”
It falls quiet for a short while, just a few beats, but Eunkwang doesn’t see the value in being left alone to his thoughts right now, not when he is on the verge of being consumed by anxiety. “Ah, I never introduced myself. I’m Eunkwang, by the way,” he speaks quickly to fill the space as he forces himself to look up to the stranger to greet him properly. The shorter man’s eyes widen when he finds that the stranger is already focused on him, eyes sharp, cutting through the dark of night. A shiver runs down his spine just as the man averts his eyes, nudging a knuckle to his nose just to appear casual. The corners of Eunkwang’s lips quirk up in a smile at the sense of awkwardness that sets in, relieved to see an action so human from the man. He decides to blame the shiver on the cool breeze.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eunkwang,” he says, then pauses, wetting his lips before stating, “I’m Sungjae.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Eunkwang returns, voice soft when he adds, “Sungjae.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here. Do you have much further to walk?” Sungjae asks, eyes wandering back to Eunkwang’s just as Eunkwang looks away again.
He looks ahead and belatedly realizes that there’s less than a block to walk. He’d been moving on autopilot this entire time, so dazed and unfocused that he may have actually missed his own building if Sungjae hadn’t spoken up. Eunkwang shakes his head, his heart already starting to beat a little faster at the idea of being left alone, not that Sungjae is a total delight to be around either. Beggars can’t be choosers, or something like that.
“Then, as a parting gift, a warning,” comes Sungjae’s voice, suddenly coming from behind Eunkwang instead of beside him. Eunkwang’s feet come to a stop on the pavement and he spins swiftly, looking back to the taller man who, apparently, had stopped more than a few steps back as there are a good two feet between them.
Sungjae’s hands are in the pocket of his hoodie, casual, as his eyes sweep over Eunkwang. There is something about his gaze that makes Eunkwang feel exposed, like his eyes alone are enough to strip a man to the bone. The taller man’s chest rises and falls, a heavy breath, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips again before he says, “I hope you’ll be careful the rest of the way home and that you hurry along because, truth be told, you reek of blood and alcohol, and, when your heart pounds, it’s so intense it’s almost as if I can feel it in my own chest.”
Eunkwang’s lips part, but no air passes through them, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, and his heart sinks into his stomach. He stands there, gaping, because it’s all he can do. It’s not to say he’s entirely shocked, no, he had a clue, several clues, as to what Sungjae is, but he acted as if he was blind to them. Is he insane for convincing himself that a being so clearly inhuman was mortal, or is he insane for knowing he wasn’t and going with him anyway, he doesn’t know.
“Like that,” Sungjae speaks, just loudly enough for Eunkwang to hear, as he pulls a hand out of the pocket of his hoodie and places it over his heart, “Your heart pounds like thunder, as if you’re shocked, but you knew it, I knew it. You knew and walked with me anyway.”
Eunkwang’s body moves on its own, responding to Sungjae with a robotic sort of nod, and he finally closes his mouth, swallowing hard. Sungjae smiles, small and close-mouthed, but Eunkwang swears he sees the glint of a pearly white fang there.
“Can this be our secret then, Eunkwang? I think my friend wanted to eat you back there, honestly, but I’d never let him. If you don’t file a report then we can call it even, yeah? A truce, per se,” Sungjae suggests, taking on a tone that suggests he’s unbothered, that this is boring, usual, for him. His body is telling a story contrary to his tone though, every line of his body is rigid, and, though Eunkwang has no experience reading the body language of a body so foreign to his own, he can tell Sungjae doesn’t want to be here either.
Eunkwang nods. Sungjae smiles wider, wolf-like.
“Get home safe then,” the vampire tells him and, as promised, he leaves. He moves too quickly for Eunkwang’s eyes to track him, his appearance much like the flicker of a candle in an otherwise unlit room, until he’s no longer able to be seen, black smoke moving swiftly through the shadows. Only the impression of him is left.
Eunkwang turns on his heel, dizzy, and he sprints the fastest he ever has in his life.
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Sungjae watches from a distance, lurking too far away for human eyes to see, just to make sure Eunkwang doesn’t do something stupid like pull his phone out. He doesn’t, not that Sungjae really expected him to, not with all the chances he had to call, or run, or beg for his life, do something other than stand there and take it. Eunkwang scurries home and Sungjae follows, out of sight, but certainly not out of mind. And yet, Eunkwang doesn’t look over his shoulder, not once, not even before he reaches what is presumably his apartment building and thrusts the door open with an unnecessary amount of strength.
Eunkwang is a peculiar one, in Sungjae’s opinion. He’ll admit, his experience with humans is significantly lacking, restricted to those who are already comfortable around Sungjae’s kind or those who are completely ignorant to what he is, but, still, Eunkwang is unlike any he’s ever seen. The human has good instincts, that much is evident from the way he was running so frantically before any true threat was revealed, yet he went against them. For what, Sungjae wishes he knew. Eunkwang knew what he was and pretended he didn’t, knew from the moment the word ‘human’ left Sungjae’s lips; It was obvious from the way his heart skipped a beat.
If Changsub wasn’t so bothered then maybe he would have noticed as well, but perhaps it’s better this way. If this goes well, if Eunkwang keeps their secret (and Sungjae suspects he will), then he can reveal it to Minhyuk himself and prove himself as someone responsible, reliable. He is ready to move on.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up,” is the greeting Sungjae gets from Changsub when he finally locates him sitting on the curb outside a funeral home a few blocks from their residence. He’s practically curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around his legs that are tucked into his chest, but the manner in which he speaks is shameless. If Changsub knew what Sungjae had just done for him, he probably wouldn’t be so quick to run his mouth, but alas. Sungjae cares too much, fears both for Changsub’s stability and both of their futures to break the news to him right now. “What took you so long?” he asks in a quieter tone when Sungjae glares at him.
Sungjae doesn’t speak at first, just clears his throat and moves to sit next to the elder on the curb. “I told you I was going to walk back,” Sungjae states, voice level, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out.”
Changsub sighs, loud and dramatic, and asks, “So, are you going to tattle on me?” He doesn’t clarify whether he means about ‘taking the test a step too far’ or about him almost draining a human, Eunkwang. Sungjae suspects it’s about both.
“No,” he assures, “You were supposed to feed tonight. As much as I want to, I can’t fault you for it.”
The elder huffs out a laugh in response and runs a hand through his dark, curly hair, messing it up even more than it already was. “Thanks,” he breathes as he pushes himself up off the curb. He starts in the direction of their home, walking at a human pace, and calls back to Sungjae with, “Better not keep them waiting or else you’re not going to be allowed out for a month.
The younger vampire stands again and stalks behind Changsub, staring intently at his messy curls, like if he just stares hard enough, he’ll be able to read his mind. He knows Changsub was scheduled to feed tonight and that this test run got in the way of things. He also knows that Changsub’s road to so-called sobriety has not been the smoothest as Changsub is both old, unashamed of his age despite the way laws have changed, and lazy. It’s more so the laziness than anything else, but it’s not as if the elder is completely irresponsible. Even on the worst of nights, the more recent ones, at least, he is okay if something comes in the way of his feedings as long as he can whine and lick his wounds a bit.
The more Sungjae thinks about it, the more sure he is that something is changing, and he only hopes that he won’t be left behind.