Chapter Text
“You hungry?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie, it’s unbecoming.” Himchan chuckles, leaning back on his seat and lazily tilts his head over the headrest. He brushes a languid finger against the corner of Yongguk’s lips “I can see your fangs.”
“Don’t do that.” Yongguk admonishes. “And one should never drink and drive.”
Caught by surprise, Himchan’s laughter rolls out of him, ruining what he intended to be an alluring pose that accentuates the valley of muscles caging his trachea. There’s a smile tugging Yongguk’s cheeks upwards, familiar and straightforward, somewhere between a natural embarrassment and a hard-earned happiness.
It looks extra absurd with the fangs poking out.
Himchan sighs and takes out his pen knife, hastily swiping a small cut on his little finger before Yongguk catches on to what he’s doing.
Yongguk’s head snaps towards him as the first drop of blood beads, then it snaps back towards the road. There’s a small trickle running down the side of his palm by the time Yongguk manages to put the hazard lights on.
“Hurry up and bite me.” Himchan’s patience snaps after three whole minutes of Yongguk lapping and sucking pathetically on his finger.
“You didn’t eat much today, you might pass out.” Yongguk mutters against his palm, and then adds “I’m good with just this.” as if he’s not lapping pitifully at the tiniest traces of blood that wells up from Himchan’s too shallow cut.
Himchan removes his hand from Yongguk’s grasp, doing a terrible job at keeping a straight face as Yongguk does a terrible job at pretending he’s not reaching for Himchan’s hand desperately. His fangs are still out. Himchan ups the pointedness of his stare, and can’t help the twitch of his lips as Yongguk, caving, runs his thumb down the side of Himchan’s throat.
“I hope I pass out. Your driving is giving me heart attacks.” Says Himchan as he adjusts his collar. If he gets blood stains on just one more shirt, someone with fangs will be doing his laundry for the rest of eternity.
“I drive fine.” Yongguk grumbles, probably for the principal of the thing, and kisses his jaw. Himchan exhales slowly and makes himself comfortable as Yongguk nuzzles against the hollows of his collarbones and kisses up his neck, warms him against the night’s chilling fingers and sinks into him with the utmost care.
“I’m getting a little lightheaded” Himchan admits reluctantly after a while, unwilling to give up the pleasant feeling of Yongguk sucking warmly against his neck. Yongguk hums in response, scraping his blunt bottom teeth against Himchan one last time and places two kisses over the two puncture wounds before moving away. Himchan can feel the wounds beginning to leak as Yongguk fumbles in the glove box for bandaids. Himchan is desperately attempting the impossible task of keeping the trickle from reaching his shirt while not actually touching the blood when something sleek and covered in fur jumps through their open back seat window. A happy bark and a flurry of movement later, Jongup, human shaped again and smelling of excursion, leans over to the front seats and licks up the excess blood neatly.
“You’re going to lose your six pack if you keep snacking before bed.” Himchan says in mock disapproval. Jongup laughs as Yongguk places bandaids over the fang marks. They’ll be healed by the time the sun comes up.
“Where are the others?”
“Still running. Let’s wait here. I think Daehyun hyung is getting tired.” Jongup replies.
Himchan startles awake when Daehyun jumps in. The dashboard blinks as Yongguk starts up the car – 3:27 AM. He stifles a groan and turns sluggishly, and makes a tutting noise at the dirt that Daehyun’s fur is spreading onto the seat covers. Daehyun just yawns at him playfully, curls up around the two little bats that’s clinging onto him and closes his eyes with his head over his paws and Jongup’s fingers rubbing his ears.
“You three are cleaning this car.” Himchan mutters before sinking back into sleep’s loving embrace.
They switch when dawn breaks hazy and hesitant. Yongguk insists that he’s going to be fine, its overcast, and Himchan insists that Yongguk can feel free to turn into dust when he’s not behind the wheel, thank you very much. The land is haggard. Cruel and proud and reaching strong jagged fingers towards the haze of overbearing clouds. Yongguk soon dozes off, and when Himchan parks at a rest stop some hours later, Daehyun calls out something about getting more snacks from the back seats. Himchan glances back and is greeted by the sight of Daehyun sleepily rearranging the three little bats in his lap to be out of the sun’s weak caresses. Yongguk was right, it is overcast.
He returns with weird western snacks and sandwiches dripping with fat. Then he nudges Yongguk until he slinks off, yawning, into the back seats, growing fur as he goes. Daehyun stretches his tanned arms and shakes out his wild hair before he plops down in the seat Yongguk vacated and reaches for Himchan’s paper shopping bags. Himchan checks to make sure that Yongguk is snoring peacefully in the blankets and curled protectively over the other three, still in bat forms, before starting up the car again.
“You know, I’ve always wondered why Yongguk hyung turns into this small mixbreed dog but Jongup turns into this large husky thing.”
“It’s probably the universes’ version of those online personality tests. Also, seatbelts on.”
“Aw come on hyung, you know a car crash can’t kill me.” Daehyun grumbles, but clicks his seatbelt in place obediently.
“That’s not the point.”
They are travelling eighty kilometres an hour down the A198 when Daehyun crumples up the first sandwich wrapper. He swallows his mouthful and leans in close, inspecting Himchan's bandaids.
“Did Yongguk hyung feed from you last night?”
“Yeah. Oh, and can you get the bandaids off me? Thanks.”
Daehyun peels the bandaids off carefully, but when he speaks again, it’s clear that his mind is elsewhere. “I wonder if I … “ he ends with his unfinished sentence with a sigh, and when Himchan glances over, Daehyun is blowing at his bangs distractedly and rubbing a hand down his neck.
Himchan bites his lower lip, he doesn’t want to pry but- “I thought Youngjae feeds from you sometimes.”
“Oh yeah, he does, so does Junhong, but they say my blood tastes weird.” Daehyun smiles at Himchan slyly, his teeth flashing, and hooks another sandwich towards him. “After all, I’m just a kumiho, and animal blood doesn’t taste as good as human blood, apparently.”
“That is so anti-Darwinist of you.” Himchan sniffs, and is rewarded with a low, full laugh.
Daehyun spends the rest of the drive alternating between taking pictures, singing at the top of his voice, and napping. Himchan checks into an inn just after noon, buys lunch for himself and Daehyun, and spends the next few hours cursing at the GPS. It’s near dusk when they find Tantallon Castle.
“No appreciation of romance.” Himchan scoffs, when it turns out that only Youngjae is keen on exploring the crumbling castle with him. Daehyun and Junhong had already ran off, nipping at each other’s heels, and Yongguk followed after them, calling out warily for them to stay out of sight of tourists. Jongup gives him an apologetic smile before turning into a bat and flying off the cliff.
“I read up on this place,” Youngjae tells him excitedly, “there’s supposed to be ghosts here!”
“Oh.” Himchan says, suddenly eyeing the ruins in front of him with deep suspicion. “I changed my mind. Maybe, I’ll join Jongup in jumping off that cliff there.”
“Hyung” Youngjae laughs, pulling at his hand, and runs into the castle.
Himchans wants to watch the last of the sunset from the roofless top floors, Youngjae wants to explore the keeps, so against Himchan’s better judgements, they split up. The view from the top is magnificent, when Himchan sits down with his legs dangling down from a window that no longer holds any glass, but it doesn’t stop him from seriously regretting his life choices when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs behind him.
“Jae?” He calls, unreasonably spooked. Letting Daehyun choose movies for movie night has given him a healthy fear of ghosts, especially western ones. A figure appears, climbing up the stairs, and it’s too thin to be Youngjae.
Himchan swallows his scream when he recognizes Yongguk’s silhouette.
The sun is no longer peeking over the horizon, but the seam between sea and clouds is still splattered with crimson. The barest touches of red cling to Yongguk’s lashes as he approaches Himchan, and sits down beside him.
“May I kiss you?” Yongguk asks, as the rouge drains slowly from the sky, as if heaven’s blush is losing its blood. Himchan runs a hand through his own hair and brushes his fingers against his neck, and something like trepidation flashes across Yongguk’s features. The night before is still fresh in both their minds. Yongguk had not let his hunger persist until he can’t draw his fangs back in for a very long time. There has been something hesitant and doubtful about Yongguk recently, but the eyes he turns towards Himchan in this abandoned castle are wide and earnest.
“Only if you’re going to mean it.” Himchan answers.
Deep purple layers over the sea when Yongguk stands, a darker figure cutting through the shadows of the Scottish ruins.
“You know, a lot of the lore started here.” Yongguk’s voice reverberates around the crumbling stone, deep and blanketing. “Monsters with no shadow, seeking to draw life from living’s blood.”
Himchan looks out to the right to what can only be generously called moorlands, or more truthfully described as grass clinging to jagged rock. He stands, shifts closer to Yongguk and sighs. “In a land like this, nothing is hard to believe.”
“Belief isn’t hard anywhere, when truth prevails.” Yongguk replies, like the cryptic bastard he is. He puts his hands on Himchan’s shoulders and pushes him slightly away, and they stand, an arm’s length apart. “Belief isn’t hard when the monsters really exist.”
The pressure Yongguk places on his shoulder is light, but it doesn’t yield the slightest inch when Himchan tries to move towards him. Yongguk is so, so strong, so wonderfully and deceptively strong and unbending. And like most strong and unbending things, he’s brittle, easily shattered, impossible to mold. Himchan counts each line on Yongguk’s face, and imagines each as a piece of plywood, supplying the fire that burns in Yongguk’s head.
“Why are you here, Himchan?” Yongguk looks like each word is causing him unbearable pain, and Himchan can feel the underlying request stabbing right through him. Ironic, how Yongguk’s words leaves him more drained of life than anything else.
“I’m here because I care.” The muscles on Himchan’s face feels tight and wrong, but behind the hurt, rage is starting to burn, using his own desperation and Yongguk’s misplaced guilt as fuel and suddenly his words couldn’t be stopped by a thousand horses. “I made a promise, to you, and to the kids. And more importantly, I made a promise to myself.”
Himchan brushes Yongguk’s hands off him and walks towards the cracked, broken stairs. “I’m going for a walk in the grounds.” He tells Yongguk “Come find me after you ended this pity party and we can talk this through.”
White mist coil around Himchan’s feet, but he’s use to this, and barely flinches as Junhong materialises behind him and playfully envelops him in an overenthusiastic embrace.
“What did you and Yongguk hyung fight about?” He asks, and the proceeds to shove his face against Himchan’s neck.
“We weren’t fighting. And stop th-“ Himchan’s annoyed huff is cut short as Junhong bites him on the shoulder good-naturedly with blunt teeth, and digs his fingers into the ticklish undersides of his arms.
A few more moments of struggling and giggling ends in both of them in a tangle on the ground. “-and we – we weren’t fighting.”
“Hyung, I could feel his mental distress three miles off. In bat form.”
Himchan huffs, then pushes at Junhong to stop his insistent snuffling at his neck. It’s mostly instinctive, Himchan knows, but that begs the question if their instinctive desire is to feed, what does that make an insignificant human like Himchan –
He has to cut that thought short. Because it leads to dark places he doesn’t want to tread, but also because a new thought is rolling over everything else, like sunlight, brilliant and harsh.
How easily the world divides into ‘them’ and ‘us’.
“Hyung?” Junhong is peering at him, worry dripping from his voice “Hyung, you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah – I” Himchan starts dumbly, still basking in his revelation, then he notices the second coil of mist, darker in colour than Junhong’s, curling oily moments before fountaining up to reveal Yongguk.
“Um…” Yongguk says, looking down at the heap that is Junhong and Himchan.
He must have said something to Junhong telepathically, or perhaps Junhong to Yongguk, Himchan thinks, because Junhong is soon on his feet and chuckling a ‘good luck hyung’ before poofing into a bat and flying away.
Yongguk offers Himchan a hand. Himchan takes it.
Even under the moonlight, Himchan can see Yongguk’s throat working. They walk, side by side, and he doesn’t offer his thoughts. He knows, deep in his bones, that whatever happens next, whatever Yongguk is going to say, he has to say it himself.
“I think I slipped into …” Yongguk stops walking, and Himchan overshoots him by a step. He turns so they stand face to face, the wind whipping at their clothes.
“… a dangerously careless way of thinking.” Yongguk finishes.
- and Himchan can’t help but remember that it was Yongguk who planted the ideas in him long ago, when they sneaked into clubs and laughed giddily over their tiny rebellions – it was Yongguk who prompted him to see that those who makes the laws are those that benefits from them – that those who sings about ‘us’ against ‘them’ are those that only thinks about ‘me’. Yongguk used to mutter about modern propaganda, back when they could both still get drunk – and Yongguk’s eyes would be misty with alcohol but burning with the ideas racing within him, dark with his thoughts but bright with the possibilities – and he’d claim that people has fallen into a sloppy way of thinking, and Himchan would knock back a shot and agree loudly, because it’s hard not to be swept up by Yongguk’s convictions. It’s hard not to be swept up by Yongguk’s hesitant words painting a dark world lit by millions of possibilities of the goodness in people.
“I’ve-“ Yongguk looks to the sky, scattered with stars, as if looking for the words he needs there. “-I’ve too easily let other’s words define me.”
“I think it’s worse than that.” Himchan says, stepping closer. Yongguk’s gazes snaps to his face, and there’s something like pleading there, peeking under something like respect. “I think you’ve let other’s words define me.”
“Oh.” Yongguk says. “Oh.”
“It is not a measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”
Yongguk grins. “Krishnamurti.”
“Yeah, you better know that one, you made me read that bone dry book.” Himchan finds that he is grinning too, even though he knows this conversation is far from over. Perhaps it will never be over. One day soon, one of them will need to be reminded that they are just two people, that whatever biology dictates, whatever folklore teachers, whatever easily excitable authors imagined should not concern them and definitely do not define them.
And let that conversation carry on for an eternity, Himchan thinks, as they stroll back to the castle under the stars.