Archive of Our Own ^beta

There are three simple rules in Seonghwa (and Hongjoong!!!!)’s apartment: 

1. Take off your shoes indoors (“We’re not wolves around here, Hongjoong. We don’t frolic in the mud.”) 

2. Do your chores; everyone has their share in this house

3. Do not—under any circumstances!—touch Seonghwa’s wine collection (triple exclamation marks) 

All good, all reasonable. Hongjoong may not be the cleanest person—always leaving the place a little less tidy than up to Seonghwa’s standards. Though it has earned him some grumbles and complaints, Seonghwa has always been more than lenient and all too forgiving. 

The wine part left Hongjoong a little puzzled at first, but he learned quickly as he got toured around that Seonghwa was a wine seller and importer. The impressive wine wall—yes, wall. Hongjoong’s eyes had nearly popped out of his sockets—suddenly made a whole lot more sense. 

At first he wondered if maybe it was because they were expensive and for special occasions only. Seonghwa seemed like the type of guy to host fancy parties where 1800s Merlot would be required and they talked about the state of the economy and the quick decline of art in today’s day and age. 

After living with the guy for well over two years now he realizes it’s just because Seonghwa is a raging alcoholic. 

Without fail, Hongjoong would come home, all slumped and exhausted, to Seonghwa sitting on the couch with girl group M/Vs playing or a dusty book in one hand, a firm glass of wine in the other. Sometimes he’ll be nursing it like a coffee. He’ll be curled up in a fluffy pink blanket, greeting Hongjoong the moment he steps in. No gaze at him, no shift in his movements. That’s how much of a routine the two of them have. 

Now the reason he had stumbled upon Seonghwa was rather weird, just like most things surrounding Seonghwa, it seemed. Hongjoong had found the ad in the newspaper. Very old fashioned, but if the official paper would post it, it must be trustworthy. Much more than—shudders—those Facebook ads with grainy pictures that showed an inch of the wall that could be just about everywhere. 

Hongjoong had taken his chance. Desperation doesn’t do the best to his rationality and his impulsivity is expanded by tenfold when he has his mind set on something. Disastrous manifestation he likes to call it. It’s how he ended up with his entire left ear laced with rings. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Mingi argues it’s stupidity. Hongjoong doesn’t listen to voices in his head, though. That’s why he ended up on Seonghwa’s doorstep after all. 

Housing was ever the problem. Like a starved hyena Hongjoong had jumped to accept a job offer before even thinking about the living situation he was in (a miserable commuter, stuck on trains and victim to them being canceled more often than not, cursed be those leaves on the tracks). But then again, he was a low scale producer still working his way up from commercial jingles in desperate need to make it big in the city and share his art with the world. 

Seonghwa owned a suspiciously large apartment in the heart of the city, looking right over the central market. On the top floor, too. 

It was too good to be true. 

Hongjoong had gone along, gaslighting himself that if there was a catch, or if it was a scam, it would very much be fine and expected, but the place was very much real. All its vintage glory and all. 

It was a Saturday, the sun already far down despite it being 5.30 in the afternoon. Hongjoong had stood there in his puffer coat—three sizes too big to accommodate the three layers he was hiding beneath it—with chattering teeth and knocking knees. At least his palms were clammy. 

His finger hovered over the doorbell, having checked the address on the cutout at least seven times before he finally dared ring. 

“Kim Hongjoong, I already thought it was you.” 

There is a man standing in front of him, dressed in what has to be a cosplay of Morticia Addams if she were even edgier and liked leather and belts. Lots and lots of belts, wrapping around his torso like a corset. It’s glorious. It’s everything Hongjoong never knew he needed.  

His skin is ghostly—almost gray—with dark circles under his eyes and full red lips. He looks unwell, really, and yet Hongjoong can’t look away. His eyes are inviting, asking Hongjoong to stare a little longer, to stare only at them. The light flashes over them, making them glow. Hongjoong’s breath hitches in his throat. 

Pull yourself together, weirdo. 

Hongjoong blinks. “Sorry. What?” 

“The… the security camera.” The man scratches his neck. “I’m Park Seonghwa, by the way. You already knew, but for the formalities.” 

He holds out his hands. Hongjoong doesn’t hesitate to take it, though immediately tenses up at the harshness of his skin. It’s rough, patchy almost. His nails draw into Hongjoong’s skin as a rush of frost glides up his arm. Seonghwa pulls away before Hongjoong can. 

“Oh,” Hongjoong breathes out. 

Seonghwa lowers his head. “Do come in.” 

Hongjoong nods a single time, curling up into his jacket a bit more. Seonghwa steps aside just a tad bit for Hongjoong to pass by him, guiding him up a curved stairway. There is a functioning elevator right there, but Hongjoong won’t mention it. He’s trying to get the place, and pissing off his potential housemate doesn’t get people affordable bedrooms. 

Seonghwa’s hair bounces along with his step as if the wind is blowing along with him. Hongjoong swears each time Seonghwa laughs a fairy comes to life. His teeth aren’t perfectly straight, canines slightly pointed. He’s explaining about the architecture. Hongjoong sure loves beams that keep up the ceiling. Seonghwa’s eyes sparkle. 

He glances over his shoulder. “My apologies for the odd timing, I’m usually… occupied during the day. And later into the night I unfortunately start my shift at work.” 

Hongjoong wonders just what it is he does. Hongjoong’s job isn’t the most conventional, his sleeping schedule even less so. Mingi had the audacity to ask him if he was nocturnal after the both of them spent the night huddled up in their shared studio, their chairs pressed against each other as some form of counterweight. Really, Mingi can’t speak. He’s just as bad, if not worse. 

“It’s quite alright! I’m glad enough you agreed to this meeting,” Hongjoong chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “Besides, it fit perfectly in my own schedule. 

Seonghwa smiles at him. His teeth are pearly white even in the shadows. Hongjoong swallows a gasp. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to mind the sudden stiffness in his posture as they cross the final step, ending right before an ebony door. It looks rather dated, something from a gothic horror novel. The guy must be very committed to his aesthetic, it seems. 

“Do you like winter, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I think it’s fine. A bit chilly, but I do enjoy a big jacket. You seem to match the season.” 

“Sharp observation. I do quite like the winter hours the most. The winter night sky is quite gorgeous.”  

A romantic. It is rather theatrical, especially with that odd lilt Seonghwa has in his voice, something timeless. He articulates the words in ways Hongjoong hasn’t ever heard before, a clearness to them. Hongjoong feels like he is watching a 50s melodrama rather than conversing with an actual living human being right before him. 

The shadows fall on Seonghwa’s face in an odd line, casting a thin line over only his eyes. And yet they still shine. There is a soft glow to his overall being, like he illuminates in the dark. Hongjoong has a hard time turning away. These days he still does. Two years and he is still in disbelief of just how gorgeous Seonghwa is. 

He is timeless. Everything around him changes and yet Seonghwa remains as he has been, like a buoy to hold onto in the storm. It slightly awkward seeing Seonghwa outside of the setting he has gotten to know him in, like he doesn’t quite belong there, and yet the longer Hongjoong looks, the more he starts fitting. The more he starts making sense. 

Hongjoong doesn’t remember much from the signing of the contract aside from Seonghwa’s gentle speaking and his captivating stare. He swears his hands moved on their own, breath stuck in his throat. The daze only snapped once he was back out in the cold, unsure of everything that had just happened. Part of him was convinced it was a fever dream. That is until Seonghwa had emailed him the ground rules. 

Hongjoong might start believing in god. The rules were simple, the rest of the email detailing what it is Seonghwa does in his day. Sell wine. Very well. Not something Hongjoong would have guessed, but now that he knows it makes sense. 

Hongjoong had moved in almost immediately. 

His room is an odd contrast against the rest of the house. It’s like stepping into a new dimension. Seonghwa had raised his brows the first time he caught a glimpse of it, but his expression quickly melted into a smile with a shy comment of how he liked what Hongjoong was doing with his space. 

There are unfinished art projects scattered over almost every surface, and vinyls on his wall. Seonghwa had offered Hongjoong to use the player they have, which was another bonus. He had feared Seonghwa would be distant and cold, and though they can be awkward at times, there is a silent comfort to Seonghwa’s presence. He isn’t loud by any means, always catching Hongjoong by surprise when he suddenly emerges from his room to ask Hongjoong how his day had been, informing him of his own plans or something silly he had found. 

Hongjoong was sure he would one day call this place his home. 

And he does. Seonghwa has long left for his job today, overseeing wine imports and whatnot. Hongjoong fears he’ll never understand it. Seonghwa had explained it once. Hongjoong isn’t the best listener when he’s bored, though. 

The house is quiet, and Hongjoong—against all odds—has a free night. Dinner was too much of a task, so instead here he is, on their floor with his back against the kitchen island. He’s shoveling cereal in his mouth—the one with marshmallows. It’s fine dining—like a starved beast, mind hanging halfway out his ear. Staring at screens all day does that to a person. 

At least this way he isn’t wasting energy, blanking ahead of him rather than at a tv. From where he is sitting he has a clear view of the hall. First room to the right is his, across is the storage, and then finally at the end is Seonghwa’s room. 

Hongjoong has never seen Seonghwa’s room. The door is always shut, and Hongjoong never had a reason to be in there. Anything Seonghwa wants Hongjoong to see he will take out of there, place right on the table they are sitting at. 

However, Hongjoong is a curious creature, and two years is really long to suppress that urge. The urge to scramble around the floor, sneak around to satisfy his cravings. 

Seonghwa’s door is always shut, but today it’s open just a creak. It’s not an invitation. Hongjoong knows this. He isn’t a heathen. 

The door creaks open further. 

Now that is just a sign from the supernatural. 

Hongjoong clutches his mug, spoon still in his mouth as he tiptoes further. Seonghwa isn’t home. He shouldn’t be doing it, but there is a magnetic force pushing into his back, leading him closer. He holds his breath. 

He peaks inside, squinting. Seonghwa’s room is entirely dark, velvet curtains shut tightly. There is a chandelier hanging from the ceiling with candles stuck in them. Just how he lights them Hongjoong has no clue. Perhaps it was only there for style. There is a dresser, closet of course, all looking to be centuries old. No bed. 

Hongjoong frowns. He runs his eyes over the area again. Dresser, spooky chandelier, coffin—

Hongjoong’s spoon clatters on the floor. He jumps backwards. Milk sloshes over his hands, falling onto the carpet. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hongjoong hisses, wiping his sock over the spot. Seonghwa is going to kill him for that. 

He freezes up. Kill him. Oh, almighty heavens, Seonghwa could kill him. Hongjoong looks back into the room, veins thrumming. The coffin looks back at him. 

Hongjoong might have possibly sold his soul off to the devil. 

This damned housing crisis. 

“I think my housemate’s a vampire. That, or a murderer. An alcoholic murderer, but a murderer nonetheless.” Hongjoong spins around on his chair, hands folded behind his head. He kicks Mingi’s chair. “Hey. Answer me. I’m going through something.” 

Mingi growls something under his breath, tearing his headphones off. He turns around with crossed arms, lips pursed. “Way to barge into a conversation. That only took you two years. What gave it away?” 

Two years is a lot of times. What did take Hongjoong that long? Manners, mostly. Respecting people’s space and privacy. Besides, it’s not like Seonghwa has killed him yet. Not even when he stained that tablecloth Seonghwa really seemed to like. The one with handmade embroidery of a rose. Black coffee really doesn’t leave fabric. Ever. 

Seonghwa could have killed him then. He hadn’t, though. Maybe he was saving it up to make Hongjoong’s death as gruesome as possible. 

But then, those eyes. Those shiny, pearly eyes. Someone with such eyes couldn’t possibly be evil.  

Hongjoong sighs, counting on his fingers. “Cold as hell. Coffin? I don’t know, he apparently has a coffin in his room. Aversion against daylight. Backhanded commentary about wolves, too. It’s even in our contract.” 

“Elitist bastards,” Mingi mutters into his caramel latte. 

Hongjoong raises his brow at him, slowly rolling his chair forward. Mingi blinks. Hongjoong blinks back. The silence drags on as both of them try to stare each other into saying the first word.  

Mingi clears his throat. “So now what? Scared he’s gonna eat you?” 

“Oh no, I’m staying,” Hongjoong says. “The place is too good. So. No need to stake him yet.” He presses his lips together. “Unless he raises the rent. Then I might just do it.” 

Mingi huffs, melting into a fit of giggles. He shakes his head, looking up at Hongjoong through his bangs. He’s been growing out an unexpectedly short chop, one they both hadn’t been anticipating, but it had started growing on them. 

Hongjoong waits for him to stop laughing. 

Mingi clears his throat. He rises back up. “Wait… Hongjoong, you don’t actually mean that, do you?” 

“Not sure." Hongjoong shrugs, turning back away. “We’ll see how it plays out.” 

Mingi shoots him a deadpan look just before he can block it out. He taps away at his keys. 

“Mingi,” Hongjoong says. “We have a view over the central square. It’s worth it.” 

Mingi salutes. Hongjoong knows he’s rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, sir. If anything, he won’t be able to eat you in your sleep. Keep your doors locked, though. And your windows.” 

Does Hongjoong actually think Seonghwa is a vampire? Possibly, but he could also just be very committed to the aesthetic. Hongjoong has heard of vampire crazed people before—ranging from girls who love Twilight to Carmilla truthers, all varying degrees of goth. Who was Hongjoong to judge? He himself really enjoyed putting himself out there in his mix and match mess getup. 

He does have to admit Seonghwa is… odd. Lots of quirks, that guy. Plus, his way of presenting himself is all sorts of unconventional, but Hongjoong is no better. He himself enjoys a good skirt every now and then, and he has to admit, Seonghwa looks amazing in them. And when he wears those corsets, frilly lace? Hongjoong might have to up his game. 

But yeah, Seonghwa is—quote, unquote—weird. For lack of better word. Hongjoong should have known, with their first encounter, nothing surrounding this guy could have been normal. What exactly is normal anyway? Definitely not exciting, and Hongjoong is nothing if not curious. And so he will have to investigate. 

It’s really simple. Or well, the first Google search was. Vampires, how to spot vampires, what do vampires like, vampirehnghgnghggngnn were all very easy to tap on his keys. Many pictures of cheap halloween costumes and images that made Hongjoong feel a certain way later, he had come up with a neat list, if he does say so himself. Seonghwa would be so proud of him. 

how to prove seonghwa is a vampire

1. draw blood

Step one was simple. Blood. Now Hongjoong is a lunatic, but he’s not that crazy. But, he also can’t wait around for a perfectly timed nosebleed (unless? The hours at work and deadlines have been stressful enough). 

He can’t wait for fate to play its part. It has taken him two years already. Fate was taking its sweet time and Hongjoong really can’t count on slackers. 

To be clear, Hongjoong is no chef, so a knick in his finger is definitely an option. He won’t rule it out, but he would rather not turn to that. Instead he has a slab of steak on a cutting board. It was a punch at his wallet, but he deserves the finer things in life every now and then. Besides, it's all for a greater cause. Looking back, Seonghwa never really minds what Hongjoong eats, not even when the choices are particularly terrible and potentially detrimental. However, that could be because he never really prepares it himself. 

Holding Seonghwa’s knife set must look like a kid playing kitchen. Hongjoong’s grip is horrendous. He had cooked with Mingi once. Mingi never trusted him in his kitchen ever again. 

Hongjoong pokes into the steak with the tip. He swears the meat bounces back. Is that a good sign? Is meat supposed to do that? He pokes at it with his finger. He pulls away with a shriek. That felt horrible. That was horrid. 

“You’re in the kitchen?” 

Hongjoong jumps. Seonghwa steps away just in time as the knife swipes past him. He catches Hongjoong’s arm, laying it down on top of the counter. Hongjoong’s cheeks heat up. Seonghwa’s hand is gone, but Hongjoong knows he will dwell on it. The outline of Seonghwa’s hand clings to his skin like frost. 

“Fuck, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong mutters. “Do you even use your footsteps?” 

Seonghwa gives him an easy smile, cuddling up in this blanket he has draped over his shoulders. “My apologies. I tread lightly.” 

“I’ve noticed. Unfortunately too late.” 

Seonghwa holds his glass, filled just halfway with wine, but Hongjoong knows it was filled to the brim. As little he knows about wine customs, he is sure that is against wine protocol. 

Seonghwa shifts his weight onto his right leg, arms crossed. He glances at Hongjoong’s work. “What are you cooking? It smells delightful.” 

“I’ve got a little payout at work, so I’m cooking some steak.” Hongjoong pokes at the meat again. “Didn’t think it was gonna look like a massacre though.” 

“Your knife technique could use some work,” Seonghwa says. His eyes twinkle. 

“Hey, I think I’m doing rather great!” Hongjoong exclaims. 

Seonghwa hums, nodding. He looks down at the mismatched chunks. “You’re right. You’d make an outstanding butcher. You definitely know how to unleash your brute force on the poor slab.” 

“Insulting me is not going to get you a good bite of this slab, is all I’m gonna say.” 

“Oh no. I’m all set.” 

Seonghwa swirls his wine glass, bringing it to his lips. The red liquid clings to the crystal, washing out. Hongjoong’s eyes fall onto his lips as Seonghwa runs his tongue over them. He swallows, slapping down his knife. 

“Your loss,” he mumbles. 

“Perhaps next time.” Seonghwa nudges his shoulder. “Please step aside. I will do it.” 

Hongjoong is all too glad to comply. Seonghwa drains his glass, setting it in the sink. He takes the knife from Hongjoong and starts cutting. It’s like watching 24Kitchen. Seonghwa has his hair tied back, but the front strands still manage to fall into his eyes. He even resizes the meager chunks Hongjoong had managed to tear off. 

He hums under his breath, a small smile gracing his lips. Hongjoong mirrors his expression. Everything Seonghwa does, he does with this feeling of utter peace lying over him. Hongjoong could watch him do the most mundane and never get bored. Seonghwa looks absolutely ethereal in each and every setting. 

Seonghwa glances at him. His eyes are the deepest of black.  

Hongjoong stiffens up. He rushes behind Seonghwa, smothering his palms with soap. “Oh! By the way! Hwa, you got mail!” 

“Hm?” 

Hongjoong jerks his head in the general direction of their dinner table. He wipes his hands dry, wandering over. The letter is wrapped up in a dated yellow paper. Seonghwa’s name is written right at the center in a swirly font. It’s sealed off with a red wax stamp, chalice pressed into it. Hongjoong picks it up, waving it in Seonghwa’s direction. 

“Yeah, it looks really… dated. What the hell, is this parchment?” Hongjoong chuckles. “The wine industry is weird.” 

Seonghwa squints at it. He sighs. Hongjoong swears he rolls his eyes. “Oh,” he turns away, slamming a pan onto the stove, “you can toss it by the paper waste.” 

“I don’t think it’s considered paper waste,” Hongjoong says. It picks at the seal.  

“The compost then.” 

“I don’t think it’s that either. You don’t want to read it?” 

Seonghwa tosses the meat into the pan. It sizzles to life, oil splattering around. Seonghwa wastes no time wiping it up. His face is drawn in a blank, though his skin has taken on an ashen tone. There is no rosy blush like he usually has after drinking. He looks devoid of life. He scrubs so hard the towel tears. 

“No,” he says, firm. “They’ve been bothering me to no ends. I’m quite done with the likes of them.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes widen. It isn’t often Seonghwa gets mad. Hongjoong has seen him flared up plenty, but he usually never crosses the border of irritation. The only time Hongjoong had seen him truly angry was when he was on the phone. Even Seonghwa isn’t immune to the stress that comes with a job, it seems. 

“Al…rightey then!” Hongjoong rushes away with the envelope, tossing it in the trash. He lets the lid drop for extra measure, then joins Seonghwa by his side again. It’s his dinner they’re cooking after all. “Really no steak?”

“No steak,” Seonghwa affirms. He pats Hongjoong on the shoulder with a grin. “Time for you to take over again. Don’t burn the house down, alright?” 

“I won’t!” 

Seonghwa waves at him over his shoulder. He passes the cupboards, pulling out another wine glass. Hongjoong watches him float over their floorboards, blanket flying after him like a cape. He uncorks one of the bottles, pouring a generous amount before he slips away into his chamber of hell. 

Hongjoong sighs, clutching the kitchen counter. 

Failure. Damn it. At least he got an overpriced meal out of it. 

“I take it back.” 

Mingi spins around on his chair. “What is this about?” 

Hongjoong taps at his spacebar. The words jump over the page, leaving blanks between letters. It almost looks like a constructivist poem. Maybe that way the rhyme might start making sense. He had some trouble matching the syllables to the rhythm, especially when his mind keeps wandering to just how weird the previous day had been. 

Hongjoong has half the thought to dig through the trash, find out just what that letter had contained, or just who had sent it. He talked himself out of it, though, because that is just plain creepy and a blatant invasion of privacy. He wouldn’t want people digging through his mail, that’s for sure, especially not if he had a personal vendetta against the sender. 

That and Seonghwa didn’t react to the Hongjoong’s silly little idea at all. Three steps backwards. Benched. 

“He’s a drunk. One that is well off, but a drunk nonetheless.” Hongjoong sighs. “I don’t know why, but he just constantly has that freaking wine glass filled.” 

“Maybe they have new methods of drinking blood,” Mingi mutters. 

Hongjoong stops his wallowing. He clicks save for his file and spins his chair over to Mingi. He grabs his hands. “Mingi, you genius. He does suspiciously drink red wine all the time, and who really likes that?” 

“A wine seller?” Mingi asks. 

“Or a bloodsucker.” 

Mingi nods, a tight smile on his lips. He scoots away, wiping his hands on his pants. He turns to his screen, clicking around aimlessly. He watches Hongjoong from the corner of his eye, then goes back to ignoring his blatant presence. Hongjoong pokes his side.

Mingi jerks away with a screech, then covers it up with a cough into his fist. His ears are bright red. “Right. By the way, I’m proposing we both take a day off Monday and Tuesday.” 

Hongjoong frowns. “We have meetings planned.” 

“It was faulty on my part.” Mingi gives him a sheepish grin. He pouts, eyes glossing over. God, he looks like a kicked puppy this way. “I really can’t make it. Like super occupied, not available, phone on silent all the time.” 

“The hell are you even going?” Hongjoong asks. 

He watches Mingi deflate. He waves his hands around a bit, eyes turning to the ceiling as if the reason is written out on there. Hongjoong already knows he’s about to bullshit his way out of this one. 

“Cult meeting. We’re going to sacrifice a goat to the moon. Sorry.” Mingi pulls up his shoulders. “I’d love to take you, but it’s invite only. No plus ones.” 

Hongjoong points a sharp finger in his direction. “You owe me.” 

“Name your price.” 

Mingi’s eyes crinkle up into a grin. Hongjoong will never admit he looks cute like this. 

Hongjoong huffs. “I’ll get to it. You better get a good chunk of work done today or I won’t be so lenient next time.” 

Mingi salutes him. “Aye aye!” 

On his days off Hongjoong likes to do nothing at all. His everyday life is already packed enough with hitting deadlines at odd times and having no real schedule whatsoever. His doctor would scold him for it, saying this is a definite early grave. But Hongjoong is young and thinks he’s indestructible, still fighting for his dreams. One day he’ll come around. 

As he’s humming along to the radio, drawing shapes on his ceiling, soft knocks sound on his door. There is a pattern to Seonghwa’s knocks, a skip in each of them. He is very serious about it; he uses it every time. It’s not like anyone else will ever knock on Hongjoong’s door ever. They are the only two living here, but it is endearing in its own way. 

“Yes?” Hongjoong drawls, just for the formalities. 

“May I enter?” Seonghwa’s voice sounds muffled through the wood. 

“Come in!” 

The knob turns and Seonghwa shuffles in awkwardly. He stands stiff as a stick, his eyes going wide at all the color splashed anywhere. Hongjoong’s curtains aren’t as good as Seonghwa; the light spills through them, breaking through the glass in a rainbow. Seonghwa’s eyes sparkle at the sight, his fingers twitching. Hongjoong almost wants to tell him it’s okay to touch it. 

That’s another thing about Seonghwa: no matter how scary he may look, he is so very precious. There is a wonder to him beneath the usual dimmed melancholy that is so innocent, as if he’s experiencing the world for the first time. 

Hongjoong chuckles. “Seonghwa, I told you to just walk in after knocking. It’s okay.” 

Seonghwa tears his gaze away from the light, clearing his throat. He washes out in the brightness of the room. “I… really cannot. I’m sorry.” He clasps his hands together. “Anyways, I wanted to ask you if you had any plans for dinner.” 

Hongjoong raises his head. He glances at the clock. Oh wow. 

With the days lengthening his sense of time had started fading out. Without the sun setting at 5PM sharp indicating the time had become a lot harder, but it makes sense why he is feeling sluggish now. He hadn’t even thought of it. There are countless options. Way too many options. 

The list pops into his mind, right before his vision. 

IMPROVED WAYS how to prove seonghwa is a vampire

1. blood

1b. GARLIC!!! (chuck a clove at him????)

Hongjoong tucks the list away. The perfect opportunity has risen. 

“Well, not yet.” Hongjoong turns over on his stomach, cuddling a pillow. “Although, thinking of it, what if we order some takeout.” 

Seonghwa nods, his brows furrowed together. “Very well, very well. Let me grab my cellphone.” 

He is about to spin on his heel, but Hongjoong calls him back. After all, he doesn’t want Seonghwa to have to go through his long and elaborate ritual of entering rooms again. He’s already beating himself up over this one time enough. Besides, Seonghwa and his cellphone weren’t exactly the best of friends. Oddly enough Seonghwa did seem to have an affinity with gaming consoles. Truly a man of wonder. 

“Hwa,” Hongjoong says. 

Seonghwa looks over his shoulder. “Hm?” 

Hongjoong raises his phone with a chuckle. 

Seonghwa’s mouth drops open. “Oh! Very well, very well. What were you thinking?” 

Hongjoong pulls out the delivery app. “I was thinking Italian. Some pizza, garlic bread—“ 

“No!” 

Seonghwa stands tensed up. His back is curled up like a cat ready to pounce, his eyes so wide the whites are visible. He is adorable, truly. His cheeks are flushed, hand reaching out as if he would personally wrangle the phone from Hongjoong’s hand if he has to. Hongjoong knows he can. He very much can. 

Maybe Hongjoong is being reckless with all this. It’s never good to poke a sleeping bear. Seonghwa has been nothing but peaceful and kind and respectful, but it’s now that Hongjoong has an inkling of suspicion that he sees all the signs he had previously missed. He sees them in everything, in each little shift of posture. 

Seonghwa is terrible at keeping secrets. How he had done it so long, Hongjoong doesn’t know. 

Hongjoong swallows a chuckle, fighting to keep his expression stoic. “O…kay. No garlic bread? It’s kinda, the best thing on the menu.” 

“I’m— I’m allergic! You know this, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa exclaims. He scratches his neck. “It, uh, it gives me terrible rashes. Don’t you remember?” 

“Alright. No garlic bread.” Hongjoong has teased him enough. 

“Thank you.” 

Seonghwa looks so relieved Hongjoong almost feels bad for risking his life like that. He deflates against Hongjoong’s doorpost, knocking his fist against the wood in a fast rhythm, rambling along about all the other good stuff the Italian cuisine has to offer, clinging mainly to the desserts on that list. His pearly white teeth bounce off the light, and yet the rest of him seems to melt away into it. 

Hongjoong realizes he hasn’t seen Seonghwa this illuminated before. The most he had seen was in the artificial flickering of their living room light. They should get that bulb replaced sometime. They’ll get around to it. For now, Hongjoong will celebrate. 

Point 1b? A sparse success.

Hongjoong comes skipping into the office. Last night’s dinner had nearly toppled over their fridge with the amount of leftovers they had. Hongjoong decided to do the kind thing today and share. Seonghwa had declined to take them with him anyway and Hongjoong doesn’t know how much more Italian food he can manage to scarf down before he will have to ban it from their household for at least a decade and a half. 

He drops Mingi’s lunch on his desk with a shit eating grin. He leans against it with his arms crossed, ready to receive his praises and thanks. 

Mingi frees one ear. He glances up at Hongjoong with a single brow quirked. “What is this?” 

“Don’t be pissy about it. It’s pizza.” 

“Is it cold?” 

Hongjoong’s face falls into a scowl. “We have a microwave.” 

“Alright.” Mingi twists away from him. He purses his lips with a small grin. “Thanks.” 

Hongjoong hums, waving his words away. “Don’t even mention it.” 

He hops into his own seat, starting up his computer. He twists around as he waits for it to start up. He knows this company is far from the most luxurious, and the equipment is fine enough, but Hongjoong is counting down the days until his trusty software will finally give out. 

As he waits for it to start up he calculates the chances of survival if he mentions it to the higher ups. Oh well. It’s higher than falling to Seonghwa’s hands when he finally realizes the stunt Hongjoong had pulled. 

Hongjoong can’t get the image of Seonghwa’s face out of his head. His wide eyes and the subtle tremble in his usually still body. This way his pupils had blown wide. He hadn’t made it obvious during dinner, chattering away like no one’s business about what cute little critter he had managed to befriend and the newest import he had managed to flag. Hongjoong didn’t miss the way he had shoved his food around his plate. 

Hongjoong clears his throat. 

No response. 

He clears his throat louder. 

Mingi groans. “Spit it out already!” 

“Hey, Mingi,” Hongjoong runs his fingers over the wood of his desk, “theoretically speaking, do vampires die if they consume garlic?” 

Mingi goes silent for a moment, as if he’s really contemplating the question. He spins around, his brows furrowed. He glances up at the ceiling. He shakes his head. 

“Hm, nope. But it does knock ‘em out for a while, and gives them hives? It’s odd. They’re truly so fragile.” He huffs. “How do they think they’re the ones better than us?” 

Hongjoong turns to face him. “What?”

“What?” Mingi blinks at him. He claps his hands. “Hey, did you see the file I sent you?” 

“You sent me a file?” Hongjoong asks. 

Mingi slaps himself on the forehead. “Silly me! I must have forgotten! Let me do that right now.” 

Mingi pops on his headphones, his broad back turned to Hongjoong. He reaches out for a cold slice of pizza, sticking it into his mouth. Hongjoong doesn’t even bother asking any longer. This is his life now, isn’t it? Stuck in limbo between ludicrous delusion and the supernatural. 

Hongjoong cuddles his package to his chest. He’d been following the map of his delivery bus like a hawk eyeing its prey from the sky. It had come at last, after a full two days of waiting. How had Hongjoong lived without a mug with a squirrel tail ear?

Stepping into the elevator he skims through the other letters. He was surprised to see so many. Usually Seonghwa swipes through them each night-slash-early morning before coming back up to their home. He must be busy these days, or have a lot on his mind. 

Some of them are addressed to Hongjoong—insurance-related, other big words he is yet to think about. He keeps those between his index and middle finger to separate them from the rest. The others are Seonghwa’s regarding bills. A chunk of Hongjoong’s rent goes there, too, so that should be fine. Another letter catches his eye. 

It’s not as dated as the previous one. It doesn’t look like it’s been pulled from a dusty bookcase or is made up out of animal hide. Hongjoong thumbs at the fox sealing it. Seonghwa’s name is written on it once again, though it’s not as extravagant and swirly as the other time. The penmanship isn’t sloppy, but Hongjoong can tell there was urgency. 

The elevator dings. It comes to a halt with a screech. Hongjoong can tell why Seonghwa avoided using it; it’s one of the few downsides to the building and sounds like it should have died three safety inspections ago, but it’s still running. Hongjoong steps out

He struggles to get his key into the lock. He must look like an idiot, balancing a bunch of stuff against a wall while simultaneously trying to push the door open. God forbid he drops that mug. Not after waiting for it for so long. It is handmade, too. It is his most prized possession. 

A knock sounds from the other side, that same skip in the pattern. Hongjoong gives up the fight, balancing all of his baggage. Seonghwa appears in the open doorway. 

“You could have put them down, you know?” he says, a soft smile on his face. He steps aside for Hongjoong to pass him. 

Hongjoong stumbles inside. He drops the goods onto the kitchen table, immediately unpacking his package. He nods in the direction of the stack of letters. “Those are yours. Mostly bills and one freaky letter again. I think they might be persistent. They got a whole different person to write this one.” 

Seonghwa frowns. A gust of wind hits Hongjoong’s side as Seonghwa’s elegant fingers swipe over the surface for the letter. He runs his thumb over the writing, then turns it around to inspect the wax seal keeping it confined. He brings it impossibly close to his eye. 

His jaw is set. He sucks in a sharp inhale through his nose, brows furrowed. It doesn’t seem like he is going to be moving with it, staring the letter down like he is waiting for it to cower in fear beneath his gaze. Hongjoong thinks it just might, goosebumps trailing over his skin. 

Hongjoong’s breath hitches when he catches a glimpse of Seonghwa’s eyes. They’re pure black, as if his pupils have expanded over his irises. The veins in his hands have risen, and his features seemed to have sharpened. Hongjoong has gotten so used to Seonghwa smiling at him that he had forgotten the edge Seonghwa could have to him, like carved from stone. 

Hongjoong’s tummy does a little backflip. Right off a cliff. 

Why did mildly annoyed Seonghwa have to be so goddamn hot. 

“The wine business sure is weird,” Hongjoong says. It’s an attempt to break the tension—in himself or in the air, either is fine. More than fine. For good measure he adds a dry laugh to it. 

“Oh they’re weird alright,” Seonghwa agrees. “And persistent too. I wonder who set them up to this.” 

He sighs, but doesn’t toss it away. He slips into his room, door falling behind him with a soft click. Hongjoong blinks at it, then turns back. He taps the ceramic mug. He stares at the frankly quite demonic squirrel face painted in it. Its pupils are pointing in separate directions, and its mouth is curved in something like a bow with a single tooth sticking out. 

2AM Hongjoong should have his shopping rights revoked. 

He holds it up to eye level. “You thought that was weird too, right?” 

The mug doesn’t answer. Its one goggly eye points in the direction of Seonghwa’s room. Hongjoong nods. “You’re right. He is pretty amazing.” 

Rare Saturdays are somewhat sacred in their household. It’s when Seonghwa pulls out the projector and Hongjoong wrestles the beamer into working just one more time, smacking it back to life when its vitals start dropping and then exclaiming his genius when it actually works. 

Seonghwa indulges him each time. He’s too kind like that. 

They don’t talk about the letter incidents. Seonghwa seems to have brushed it off him, but sometimes Hongjoong catches him so stiff in their shared vicinity he fears Seonghwa might have died standing upright. 

He still holds his wine glasses. They don’t seem to have increased, either, which is a better sign. Right now, though, Hongjoong has wrestled him onto the couch, draped that fluffy pink blanket of his over his shoulders and told him to please, not move. 

Seonghwa chuckles as Hongjoong scrambles around to get everything to perfection. There is no trace of that dark expression, his eyes back to their soft browns that seem to take up the light inside of them. 

“You worked so hard,” Seonghwa coos. He runs his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair. “What a good job of you.” 

Hongjoong swallows down his heart. It’s threatening to rise to his throat and spill out on the carpet if he doesn’t. He feels his face heat up, but he snuggles closer to Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa is still cold as ice, but Hongjoong doesn’t mind it too much. Seonghwa’s fingers haven’t left his hair. 

“I’m sure you haven’t seen this one yet,” Hongjoong says. “100 percent.” 

Seonghwa hums. “If you say so. I’ve seen many movies in my life.” 

“Not this one. Trust me.” 

Seonghwa hums again, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He brushes the strands from Hongjoong’s eyes, leaning his cheek atop his head. Seonghwa isn’t physically warm, but being close to him like this makes Hongjoong’s heart light up. He wants to be close to Seonghwa, feel his body next to his and hear his laughter, watch his nose scrunch up when he’s trying to hide how amused or how annoyed he is by something. 

Being impatient makes Hongjoong efficient. He wants to get results and he wants to get them fast. Sometimes it has him skipping over steps and therefore has him taking even longer, but other times he manages to combine things together that make his life a hundred times easier. 

Today it’s easy entertainment, Seonghwa and answers. Some answers. A semblance to answers. 

IMPROVED WAYS how to prove seonghwa is a vampire

1. blood

1b. GARLIC!!! (chuck a clove at him????) ✔

2. force the information out of him through (slight, very mild, mental) torture 

Hongjoong doesn’t hate Twilight, but the story is a little silly. There is enough critique out to grasp it by the throat. It’s not a great movie, but Hongjoong has seen much worse. Much, much worse. Besides, it’s all about perspective. Perspective can make anything amusing. 

Hongjoong glances up. Seonghwa’s profile is illuminated by the blue scale of the movie, lips set in a tight line. His brows are slightly furrowed, nose scrunched up. He shuts one eye when the words ‘spider-monkey’ fill the room. 

He clasps his hand over his face, though still peaks through the cracks of his fingers. He is going to break. Hongjoong didn’t think it would go this fast. 

He shifts to catch Seonghwa’s attention. Seonghwa looks to his side. Hongjoong reaches for his hand, taking it in his own, running his thumb over his knuckles. He smiles. 

“So? What do you think?” he asks. 

Seonghwa clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “I definitely haven’t seen it before.”

His voice is strained. He’s holding his honest thoughts down in his throat, forcing them back down. He stares down at their intertwined hands, watching the way Hongjoong plays with his fingers. 

Hongjoong hasn’t been a very physically affectionate person. Well, he has been, but asking for it was the hardest part. He takes a while to warm up to people, and when he does he takes a while to asking them for the things he wants, but Seonghwa had been so inviting Hongjoong couldn’t help but fall into him. Shared nights on the couch with limbs brushing until they’d shuffled so close together there was no space left between them. It hadn’t changed after that. 

“And now honestly?” Hongjoong asks. 

“This is stupid,” Seonghwa mutters. “You’re never picking the movie ever again, I hope you know that. You’ve lost movie privileges.” 

“Two weeks.” 

“A month.” 

“Deal.” Hongjoong sighs out. “I think it’s funny.” 

Seonghwa scoffs. “Oh, yes. It is hilarious how wrong they can get everything about vampires wrong!” 

He throws his arms up, jostling Hongjoong along with his motions. 

Hongjoong flails to keep his balance, pushing himself upright. He shifts himself to face Seonghwa, holding up a hand. “Woah, calm down there, bud.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head, a laugh of disbelief slipping from his throat. He scratches his temple, pointing at nothing. “Sparkles? Really?” He scoffs. “Besides, if he is over a hundred years old, he should be better at controlling his bloodlust. You don’t need to kill humans to drink their blood. Ridiculous!” 

Hongjoong chuckles at the outburst. Seonghwa’s eyes have gone wide, pearly black. His hands are flailing all over the place as if he’s trying to paint a picture for Hongjoong to see, so he can understand just how incorrect all of this is. 

Hongjoong has an easy grin on his face, leaning over the back rest, supporting his head on his fist as Seonghwa rambles on. 

“And?” he presses on. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

“And vampires don’t have superpowers,” Seonghwa concludes in a mutter. “I don’t know who thought of that. A lunatic, perhaps.” 

“Or a genius,” Hongjoong says. 

“I suppose.” Seonghwa groans. “Most of them are kind of a nuisance, though! I wouldn’t want to hear people’s thoughts.” 

“Just wait until the last movie. There’s some cool ones out there. Like, there’s one guy who can do elemental stuff.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”  

“What about werewolves?” 

“They do stink.” Seonghwa chuckles. “Unfortunately they tend to be rather cuddly, too. Very affectionate bunch.” 

“The question is, where did you learn all this,” Hongjoong says.

Seonghwa stiffens up. “It’s common knowledge!” 

“If you say so.” Hongjoong pokes Seonghwa’s cheek. “You’re so worked up about this. It’s just a movie. It’s not real.” 

Seonghwa drops his forehead on Hongjoong’s shoulder. Hongjoong lets out a sympathetic sound, patting Seonghwa’s back. “There, there. All good.” 

“Goodness. I don’t know what came over me.” Seonghwa lifts his head. “Serious question, Joong, do you enjoy this?” 

Hongjoong shrugs. “I would say it’s rather entertaining.” 

Seonghwa purses his lips like he has more to say, but quickly swallows down his words. He nods. “Oh. Then let’s continue watching.” 

He snuggles up to Hongjoong, connecting their hands again. Seonghwa doesn’t look to be having an easier time with it, huffing at the ridiculous extent of it all. Hongjoong can’t blame him, but it is amusing to see him grumbling about and deliver offhanded commentary whenever he can. 

Seonghwa points ahead of him. “Which do you like more? The wolf or the disco stick?” 

“Hey now, I’m not particular to any of these individuals,” Hongjoong says. Picking between bad and worse really only has terrible outcome. He wraps his arms around Seonghwa. “But maybe if there was a very sympathetic vampire out there, I wouldn’t mind it all so much.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes go ever so slightly wide. His cheeks don’t heat up, but his expressions have crumbled. He tries his hardest to keep them gathered, but it proves to be more of a task than anticipated. He is very interested in the movie from then on. Hongjoong chuckles, pressing their heads together. 

Seonghwa’s sense of style is unconventional. That much is known. He looks like Hongjoong’s dream Pinterest board from back when he was fourteen and My Chemical Romance was the holy grail to him. 

Seonghwa likes to dress up. He likes to play around with textures and shapes, and isn’t afraid to cross the gender binary either, wearing skirts and dresses as much as he does pants. It’s all varying shades of black, sometimes balanced out by whites. 

Each time Seonghwa steps out of his room Hongjoong readies himself to see the unreleased segment of some fashion magazine. If the wining business starts boring him Seonghwa should consider going into fashion. 

Now his usual style is already extravagant. Sometimes, however, Seonghwa amps it up a little. More frills, more lace, and the corsets. Dear lords in heaven, the corsets. 

“Hey, Hwa—“ Hongjoong stops his typing. “Where are you heading?” 

Seonghwa pulls the phone away from his ear, holding up a hand. He is jittery, so unlike his usual calm exterior. His eyes shoot in every direction, trying to balance his call while forcing his feet into heeled boots. A muffled voice is speaking. Seonghwa shields his mouth from the speaker. 

“I am so sorry, Hongjoong, but I have to head out tonight,” he tells. “There was a mismanagement regarding the importation. Sleep well, okay?” 

He brings his phone back up again, patting their side table for his keys. The person on the other end is relentless, talking with no ends. Seonghwa rolls his eyes, waiting for them to finish their tirade. He pauses his movements, rising back up. 

“I have no hands in this matter,” he spats. “You know this. It’s a full moon! This happens every month, I don’t understand why this still surprises you. I will swear an oath if you need me to—“ He gets cut off by another fit of rambling, though this time he isn’t as patient. Through gritted teeth he says, “They are not my responsibility. I am not the boss of them, they can do what they want. I can’t talk to them. Not in this state at least. You will have to give me some time.” 

Seonghwa huffs. “Your letters? No, I haven’t read them. And I’ve done that on purpose. It seems you don’t know how to read signs very well.” 

The voice blabbers again. Seonghwa’s hands tighten around the phone, eyes darkening with each passing second. 

“The years surely have made you quite the prick,” Seonghwa says. “But fine, why don’t I clean up your mess.” 

And he’s out the door, no coat, no nothing. 

Hongjoong stares at his mismatch of lyrics. He doesn’t know an awful lot about Seonghwa’s job, only the grand lines of it all. He doesn’t see why the full moon has to do with any of this. Hongjoong admits when the moon is out like that it makes him restless and he has a harder time sleeping, but that’s mostly because of the light coming through. Maybe it made them misread labels. 

Hongjoong sighs, getting back to it. He is organizing some files, now that Mingi miraculously cannot do it anymore. Hongjoong had left him some texts, but none of them were coming through. He must have been very serious about that retreat. 

Hongjoong sighs, staring out of the window. It is a lovely night. There’s barely a cloud in the sky and the streetlights are rendered useless. Hongjoong picks up his ugly mug to stand by the window. There’s a rare group of people that passes over the central square every now and then. On Saturdays they have markets here. Hongjoong should take Seonghwa to those once. He’s sure he’ll enjoy them. 

The mild annoyance in Seonghwa has only increased over these past few days. Whoever is bothering him should consider quitting it. Hongjoong’s had his fair share of unreasonable bosses, but he knows how to bite off him. Seonghwa is much more timid. He will put up with their slander upfront and then search for a more peaceful moment to approach the situation. He hasn’t been granted any of those. 

It’s clearly taking a toll on him. He isn’t snippy with Hongjoong, but he is getting distracted. Where he is usually sharp and composed he is now sloppy. The dishes have been piling up, and sometimes it’s rare for him to even leave his bedroom. He doesn’t remember the last time Seonghwa has brought out the vacuum cleaner, and though Hongjoong doesn’t mind doing it—Seonghwa has conditioned him well—it’s getting noticeable. 

Hongjoong stands there until his coffee turns cold. A breeze runs through the room. Hongjoong shivers, following it along to the balcony. Seonghwa really was getting too scatter minded these days. He never forgets to shut windows at night. 

He clicks it shut before resuming his spot at their counter. He taps away a few more emails, not bothering to check them for any spelling mistakes before sending them out in the world. It’s nearing witching hour. Hongjoong deserves some slack for that. 

He doesn’t know when his screen had started turning blurry or when the letters had started dancing, but the next thing he knows is him curling up into his arms, closing his eyes for just five minutes. Or so he tells himself. 

He awakens to a thud. It sounds like a bell chime. Hongjoong blinks the grogginess from his eyes, stretching out. He squints at the clock, though he can’t really make out a time. The apartment is dark, especially now that he doesn’t have the awful blue light coming from his laptop. He stretches his back, groaning when a few joints crack back into place. 

He crosses eyes with a shadow. 

Hongjoong lets out a curse, nearly toppling from his chair. He’s definitely wide awake now. He stumbles up to his feet, backing away against the counter. This is how cats must feel when paper crisps just the wrong way. 

The shadow coughs. He knows that cough. It’s forced and awkward, trying to dilute the situation. 

“Hwa?” Hongjoong calls. 

Sure enough, Seonghwa emerges from the shadow. He’s clutching his head, wiping at his nose. He sniffs. “Hey, Joong. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Why are you entering from the balcony?” Hongjoong asks. “How long have you been there?” 

“I used the emergency staircase. You were asleep. I was… I was taking in some fresh air. As you do.” Seonghwa points over his shoulder, shutting his eyes. He lets out a sigh, motioning around. “You should do it too. You don’t breathe fresh air nearly as much as you need to. It helps clear your head.” 

Hongjoong switches on the light. It takes a second for the bulbs to cooperate. They really have to fix that sometime. Seonghwa flinches at the sudden brightness, hissing as he clutches his head. 

“Oh shit,” Hongjoong says. 

He rushes to Seonghwa’s side, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. He doesn’t look good. Now, Hongjoong is convinced it’s impossible for Seonghwa to look awful, but he is getting very close to it right now. His skin is almost translucent, blue veins sitting high beneath the surface. His pupils are blown wide, a trickle of blood running from his nose. 

Seonghwa sniffs again, wiping it away. 

Hongjoong searches for Seonghwa’s gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know where to start.” Seonghwa laughs, though immediately winces. He closes his eyes. “And there was a goat involved? I don’t know…” 

“Okay, why don’t we sit down? Let’s do that first.” 

Hongjoong puts Seonghwa down, picking up the blanket. He lays it in Seonghwa’s lap so he can decide what to do with it. Seonghwa cuddles it to his chest, burying his face into it. Hongjoong slips to their kitchen, pulling out a mug for Seonghwa as well. It’s another one of Hongjoong’s. This one has little cats chasing each other. The little black one reminds him of Seonghwa, with its big, round eyes. 

Seonghwa looks at him like that sometimes, when he’s talking about the latest girl group comeback. It’s right before he demonstrates the choreography. Hongjoong smiles to himself. 

The kettle clicks. Hongjoong reaches into their tea collection, pulling out chamomile. That one should do the trick. He returns to Seonghwa’s side, placing the mug in front of him. He drops down next to him. 

Seonghwa immediately leans into him, blanket in his clutches. He sucks in a deep breath. Hongjoong removes the hair tie and runs his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair. There are some knots. Seonghwa whines every time Hongjoong works his way through them, but doesn’t move. They don’t speak, only listening to the buzzing of their lights. 

“The injuries aren’t anyone else’s fault,” Seonghwa then murmurs. “I ran into an immovable objects.” 

“You must be really tired then.” 

Seonghwa only hums. He sighs. “Hongjoong, I’ve been meaning to ask, uhm. Have you been hanging out with a dog as of recently?” 

Hongjoong frowns, tracking back. He hasn’t really been out much. He’s only commuted up and down to the office, passing by the convenience store every now and then for a quick fix of caffeine or lunch. He doesn’t remember running into dogs, but then again, he is not the type of person to drop everything just to pet one. 

“No… Why?” he says. 

“Oh, well, you just…” Seonghwa picks at the dust on Hongjoong’s shirt. “You suspiciously smell like one.” 

Hongjoong unconsciously sniffs. He doesn’t notice anything different. It could use a wash, but it’s not that bad. “Really? Does it smell bad?”

“No, no!” Seonghwa shakes his head. His hair tickles Hongjoong’s neck. “Certainly not, but I have a sensitive nose. I tend to pick up things better.” 

“Alright then.” Hongjoong presses his nose to Seonghwa’s hair. He smells like the outside. He seems to have calmed down. Hongjoong murmurs into him, “But, do you want to talk about it?” 

“It’s…” Seonghwa starts. He sighs, trying to find the words. “There is this inner circle I’ve been trying to cut ties with, but as a… main member, it’s rather hard. They’ve been pestering me about it.” 

Seonghwa rises. Hongjoong’s heart drops at the loss of contact, but he keeps to himself. Seonghwa pulls his knees up to his chest, cuddling them along with all the layers of lace he’s wearing. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. The white is a sharp contrast to the deep red. 

His eyes are far away. Hongjoong tilts into his line of sight, trying to find them. “Is it hard to leave?” 

“It’s proving to be.” Seonghwa picks at his skirt. “After all, I’ve spent a good portion of my life with these people. It’s a lot harder if the ties run that long.” 

“They don’t sound like a very sympathetic bunch,” Hongjoong mumbles. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

He realizes there might be a lot he doesn’t know about Seonghwa. A lot he can’t know, and yet here Seonghwa is, trying to tell him anyway. He’s sure it’s condensed into barely a fraction of it all, but he’s trying. Hongjoong lays his hand on top of Seonghwa’s. 

“Some of them are,” Seonghwa says. A rare smile falls upon his lips. “But let’s just say a few of them brought me to where I am. They quite literally turned me into what I am today.” 

“Guess it really is hard.”

Seonghwa’s eyes glow. “It’s okay. I’ve handled worse.” 

Seonghwa falls asleep right on that couch. The tea stains the edges of the cup, untouched. 

Hongjoong swirls his squirrel mug, leaning against his desk. He realized their cupboard at home was getting a little too cluttered, given his hoarding tendencies and Seonghwa’s need for different types of glasses. Squirrel Mug would make a better studio companion. With its lopsided pupils Hongjoong is sure it’ll catch everything happening around them. 

“Mingi,” he calls.  

“What, Hongjoong.” 

Mingi sounds exhausted. He takes off his headphones, stretching out his limbs. His shoulders crack, his elbows, each vertebra in his back. He groans, massaging at the spot. When he turns to Hongjoong all his can describe it with is rough. Mingi is looking rough. 

It isn’t in his appearance per se. Yes, his clothes are a bit more ruffled, but that’s just Hongjoong nitpicking. It’s in his overall disposition today. He feels disheveled. 

“Did you get a dog?” Hongjoong asks. 

“No? You’d be the first to know if I did,” Mingi says. “I would take it with me everywhere. Why do you wanna know?”  

Hongjoong sips at his coffee. “Curious.” 

Mingi raises a brow. “Did your vampire roommate say something about it?” 

“Did he?” 

Mingi growls something under his breath. He slams his fist down on his thigh. “Bastard. I’ll show him wet dog.” 

Hongjoong nods. Mingi stares off into nothing, his brows furrowed and jaw set. Hongjoong slowly slips back into his seat. He plays a passage, humming along to it. He shakes his head. It’s just not quite right. Not quite there yet. His mind is too muddled to figure out what exactly it’s missing. 

He turns around. “Mingi?” 

“Spill,” Mingi says, offhanded. 

“How do you get rid of a vampire?” Hongjoong asks.

Mingi snorts. “Has Seonghwa raised the rent?” 

“Hm, no.” 

“Then?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

Mingi doesn’t ask for any elaboration. He hums in thought, scratching his head. “Well, in any case, fire always does the trick,” he says. “If they’re particularly nasty, I’d love to come.” 

Hongjoong shrugs. “Sorry, Mingus, invite only.”  

Mingi rolls his eyes. He flips Hongjoong off over his shoulder. 

Hongjoong catches it and tucks it away in his pocket. “Now, you should go over those emails I sent you. You have a lot of catching up to do.” 

Something has shifted in the air since that night. Seonghwa was never a loud individual, but he is downright gloomy these days. Despite his dark exposition, Seonghwa is one of the most gentle and patient and downright sweet people Hongjoong has ever been put up with. 

He has to do something. Seeing Seonghwa this sad doesn’t feel right. He looks glass-like, ready to crack into a million shards. He has taken up cleaning again, though it’s not like before. Rather than clutter, Hongjoong is sure he can see his reflection in each surface, polished up to perfection. Even his clothes have lost their extravagance. Instead Seonghwa lounges around in his matching pajama sets or his night robes. 

Hongjoong sighs, standing in his doorway as Seonghwa frets over which sponge to use. He doesn’t even have his wine glass with him anymore. Now that is definitely bad. 

“Hwa.” 

“Hm?”

“Wanna head to the store with me?” 

Seonghwa finally looks away. “You want me to come?” 

“Well, yes.” Hongjoong grins a little. “I would love your incentive while picking out which cabbage is better.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes gleam. “Oh, alright! Let me go get myself ready.” 

He hastily stashes the cleaning supplies away in their little basket, hiding them beneath the sink. He rushes past Hongjoong on soundless feet. A small gust of wind hits Hongjoong’s face. Hongjoong shuffles along to their exit, shoving his feet into his beatdown sneakers. He pats his pockets for all his belongings, then zipping up his jacket. 

“Hey, sorry to make you wait,” Seonghwa’s voice comes in, rushed. 

He turns the corner, dressed from head to toe. He has a goofily big hat on, casting a shadow over the entirety of his face, but for good measure he still has large sunglasses dangling from a lace-gloved finger. His trench coat reaches almost up to the floor, but with the heels he is wearing it won’t drag over the floor. He ties his silk scarf a bit tighter around his neck. 

Hongjoong runs his eyes over him, trying to find the words. “Won’t the black be a little too hot?”

Seonghwa looks down, then back at Hongjoong. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

“Alright. Let’s get going. You got the shopping bag?” 

“Right in my pockets.” 

Hongjoong shoots him a thumbs up. He lets Seonghwa pass him, locking the door behind them. Even with heels on, Seonghwa does not want to use the elevator. Hongjoong is easy to comply. Going downstairs is much easier than up, but he is not hauling bags all the way up here. 

The path to the grocery isn’t too far. A 15 minute walk is nothing, and it’s just enough for Hongjoong to catch that good ol’ vitamin D. He knows he spends too much time indoors. Feeling the sun on his skin after all that time is honestly refreshing. This must be why people enjoy taking strolls. 

Seonghwa keeps his head down. Hongjoong wonders just to when that freaking hat dated back. Hongjoong’s sure he saw it in the pictures of his great-grandmother. He wonders just how old Seonghwa truly is. 

He hides underneath it, avoiding each beam of sunlight that could attempt to fall upon him. Still, Hongjoong catches the way he glances from beneath it, watching the way the light breaks against the glass and spills out over the tiles and bricks. He wonders how much Seonghwa misses the day. 

Hongjoong slows down his pace just a bit. They reach the store about ten minutes later than they need to. Hongjoong reaches for a cart. They receive some odd glances, mostly Seonghwa, but Seonghwa brushes it off him with ease. He must be used to it by now. They speed through the vegetable section. Hongjoong isn’t a fan of them, but he’s at that age where health is starting to matter to him. 

Seonghwa is swift to pick the best of the bunch, dropping them in the cart. He glances at Hongjoong every now and then to see if he agrees with the choice. Hongjoong, honest to god, would trust Seonghwa with his life. It’s absolutely insane. 

The breeze through the fresh produce, however they are quickly conquered by the candy isle. Seonghwa’s eyes grow like those of a cat as his eyes fall on all the shapes and colors. His jaw drops as he shuffles past each and every pack. 

Hongjoong can only watch him with a fond smile. Childlike wonder beneath the melancholy. 

“Do you… want it?” Hongjoong asks carefully. He really doesn’t know how vampire biology works. When it’s revealed he has plenty of questions aligned. 

“Huh? Oh! No, no, I just always wondered how it tasted.” Seonghwa stands like a dear in headlights. He clears his throat, arms dropping by his side. “It looks so colorful. It must be lovely.” 

He glances back at them, bottom lip worried between his teeth. 

Hongjoong’s heart breaks a little. “We can get it. These are our groceries.” 

He means it. Even if it’s just for Seonghwa to stare at. It’s not like they’re ever going bad. But that would be closer to torture, would’t it be? To place something forbidden so close in his vicinity and still keeping it unattainable. 

“Oh, no,” Seonghwa says. “I’m good. Just… the colors are very fun to look at.” 

“Alright then. Let’s see what else I have on the list… Ah! Right, I wanted to make pasta tonight. Let me get—“ Hongjoong bites his tongue at the mention of garlic. He stuffs the list in his pocket. “Never mind. How’s rice?” 

Seonghwa smiles. “Sounds lovely.” 

Hongjoong sighs out in relief. They make another round through the store, collecting items like it’s a quest. If Seonghwa makes oogley eyes at all the lab made cereal colors, Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. He deserves a bit of time for himself. 

By the time they’re done the sun is lower in the sky. Seonghwa doesn’t forgo a single layer, holding the groceries firmly in his gloves grip. Hongjoong had offered to take it, but Seonghwa argued he had already pushed the cart around. He should be making himself useful too. 

Hongjoong mutters that he had been plenty useful, but if Seonghwa wants to carry their load so bad, Hongjoong isn’t going to oppose against it. 

“Thank you, Joong,” Seonghwa says. “I really needed that.” 

“I thought so. You’ve been a little down these days. It’s not much, but at least you’re getting out, you know?” 

Hongjoong looks down, picking at the chipped polish on his nails. He should redo that sometime, or maybe he can join Mingi to his fancy nail tech. Whatever they’re doing for Mingi, Hongjoong wouldn’t mind on himself either. 

Seonghwa smiles. It’s not the fullest, nor is it the brightest, but it’s honest. He bumps Hongjoong’s shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be grand. You really do care, huh?”

“Ey now, let’s not draw big conclusions,” Hongjoong says.  

They’ve barely made it down the street when something flashes past them. It’s small and black. Seonghwa grabs the back of Hongjoong’s shirt, pulling him back. Hongjoong stumbles, arms flailing to keep his balance. Seonghwa guides him back to his feet. His eyes narrow. 

Hongjoong follows his gaze, looking around to see if some kid is going to come up to them asking for their ball, but there is nothing. It’s like no one noticed it happening. Everyone keeps walking ahead, chattering with one another. Hongjoong would have thought he was hallucinating had Seonghwa not been so stiff, eyes shooting everywhere. 

He squeezes Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Hey, Joong, why don’t we take a shortcut?”

He straightens up, readjusting his hold on their groceries. He gives Hongjoong a grin that is just a tad bit too tight around the edges and it doesn’t make his nose scrunch up along with it. It’s urgent. His eyes travel behind them. 

Hongjoong will have to agree with him. He claps his hands, putting on his best excited front. “There’s a shortcut?! Since when?!” 

“No need to yell, and yes,” Seonghwa says, chuckling, “there is.” 

“How didn’t I know that?” 

“Well, I’ve been in the area for a while. I wouldn’t advise taking it at night, but since it’s the two of us, I reasoned it should be fine.” 

He spins on his heel, heading straight into an alley that really doesn’t look any better than just walking by the streets. He links their arms together. Long legs really do have an advantage. If the apocalypse ever hits Seonghwa is certain to survive just due to the fact that he makes bigger steps. One big step forward is three of Hongjoong’s hobbles. Hongjoong should start learning how to climb. At least that way he makes somewhat of a chance. 

Getting boosted by Seonghwa’s quick pace does have its benefits, though. The surroundings seem to be blurring around them. It must not be as much of a shortcut as it’s just Seonghwa’s speed. He’ll take it. He’ll contemplate the physics of it all later. 

They stumble along inside their building. Seonghwa is already halfway up the stairs before Hongjoong has even lamented having to climb them. He waits, though, until Hongjoong has caught up, giggling when Hongjoong glares at him. Truly, he thought they were panicking. Not enough for Seonghwa to be worried about his wellbeing, it seems. 

“Woah,” Hongjoong wheezes as he drags himself over the final step. He checks his phone. “That saved us a whole ten minutes!” 

Seonghwa only smiles. There isn’t a wrinkle to be found on his clothes. He takes off his hat, dropping it in their grocery bag before he sets it down. His hair falls down into waves. Hongjoong’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t dwell on it. Clearing his throat, he sticks his keys into the lock. However, Seonghwa’s hand shoots out, icy atop Hongjoong’s. 

“Why?” Hongjoong asks. “Is something wrong?” 

Seonghwa purses his lips. He gently nudges Hongjoong aside. “Let me do that. Stay behind me, okay?” 

Hongjoong complies, sticking himself behind Seonghwa. He stretches out on his toes to peek along. This way he can just see over his shoulder. “Why?” he asks again. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs. 

Hongjoong drops down to his feet again with a huff. “Fine, Mr Mysterious.” 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. He turns the key. A hand—clawed and dead—reaches out, wrapping around Seonghwa’s wrist. He flashes through the door. 

“Hwa?!” Hongjoong screeches. 

He rushes inside, groceries long forgotten. He doesn’t bother kicking off his shoes. Seonghwa can scold him for it all he wants later. His heart thumps in his throat as he enters their living room, hand reach out to his pocket. 

There are two men on his couch. Seonghwa is standing across them with crossed arms, foot tapping.   He has a brow raised, as if he’s waiting for either of them to confess. It’s a scary sight, and yet the pair don’t do as much as flinch. 

They’re an odd pair. Honestly, seeing the three of them together doesn’t look like anything that should ever happen. All of them seem to stem from different eras. One of the men is dressed in a fitted waistcoat over matching gray trousers, his puffy sleeves wrinkled. His sharp eyes gleam with mischief. 

The other looks like he stepped out of an 80s MTV shoot, double denim, both garments as baggy as the other. His eyes are hidden by a pair of large glasses. His grin shows all his teeth, cheeks dented. It is by far the weirdest bunch of people Hongjoong has seen collected. 

“Seonghwa, how nice of you to finally come home!” Sunglasses says. “I thought you didn’t go out during the day.” 

Seonghwa pinches the bridge of his nose. “How did you two get in?”

“You gave us open invite,” Waistcoat supplies. Dimples grace his cheeks when he smiles. “Love what you did to the place! Vintage.” 

“I think you shouldn’t be saying that, San,” Seonghwa mutters. “Care to explain, Wooyoung?”

“No nickname?” Wooyoung pouts, but Seonghwa’s gaze doesn’t relent. Even beneath the glasses Hongjoong can see him rolling his eyes. “You told us this was as much our home as it was yours, therefore entering becomes rather easy.” 

Wooyoung’s grin widens even further. He looks like could eat them up in one bite. Seonghwa doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him, though, chuckling. He shakes his head. “You cheeky bastards…” 

Wooyoung’s grin only widens as he leans back into their couch. 

San coughs. It manages to catch their attention. “While I would love to discuss the semantics of our rules, we have more important business to attend.” 

“Right,” Wooyoung says. He points at Seonghwa. “Your absence has started to garner some attention.” 

It’s only now that they acknowledge Hongjoong’s presence. Three pairs of eyes fall upon him, all varying in intensity. Hongjoong’s skin crawls a bit. 

Wooyoung lowers his glasses. “With all due respect, this is a private conversation.” 

Hongjoong doesn’t see his name on any contract for him to be acting this way. He decides against pulling his mouth open, though, but he still delivers his best glare. Wooyoung isn’t impressed. He scoffs, turning to San. San places a hand on his thighs with a warning whisper. It’s enough for Wooyoung to slink back into his spot.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asks. 

“If you would excuse us,” Seonghwa murmurs. 

“Are you certain? I can call security on them.” 

“Security wouldn’t do much against them. I fear pest control would be a better option.” 

“Hwa!” Wooyoung exclaims. He crosses his hands over his chest. “You’ve put a stake through my soul.” 

Hongjoong knows he can be a kinder person at times. He can get a little grumpy and snippy with people, but he can see his own wrongs after cooling down. This Wooyoung though is starting to get on his nerves. He nods, spinning on his heel, right around the corner. He shuts the door to his room loud enough for them to assume he has entered. 

He doesn’t know how keen vampire senses are, but he assumes they must be heightened to an extent. Still, their conversation will be taking most of their attention. They’re speaking together in hushed voices. Hongjoong doesn’t catch much aside from the words ‘clan’ and ‘districts’ and ‘angry’. 

He peeks around the corner. Seonghwa is still standing a safe distance from them. Hongjoong can be a kinder person, but trespassing isn’t something he will forgive easily. He closes one eye, reaching into his pocket. Aims. 

Wooyoung shoots to his feat. “Ya—!” 

Hongjoong throws. The piece of garlic bounces off his forehead. Wooyoung screeches, hands covering the area. However, as he does, he pulls his hands away, shaking them in the air. San too has jumped off the couch, narrowly dodging. 

Hongjoong turns back around the corner, pressing himself flat against the wall. He has to swallows down his laughter. There is a thunk against the window, followed by another round of yelling and stumbling. 

It goes silent. Hongjoong’s takes a few deep breaths trying to calm his heart. Silence could mean two things; either the intruders are gone, or Hongjoong is about to meet his end. 

“Joong, come out from there. Please, could you pick that up.” 

Hongjoong shuffles out of his hiding spot. The door to the balcony is wide open, Seonghwa standing in the middle of the mess with his hand covering his mouth. It only does so much to cover his giggles. 

“I really didn’t think it was gonna hit,” Hongjoong admits. He picks up the garlic clove, tossing it into their bin. He goes to wash his hands.

Seonghwa looks over his shoulder as he shuts the balcony off. “Where did you even get those?” 

“Emergency pack. I keep them in a little airtight container, just in case.” 

“You’re insane.” 

“Only a little.” Hongjoong nods at their now empty couch. “Who were those two?” 

“Some friends,” Seonghwa says. “They were concerned for me.” 

Hongjoong raises his brow. “Didn’t seem very concerned in my humble opinion.” 

“They have an odd way of showing it,” Seonghwa says, shrugging. He sighs. “They weren’t the trouble, but trouble may be coming my way.” 

Hongjoong’s ears perk up. Seonghwa has been talking about trouble quite a bit. With the ignored letters, and now he is apparently personally being picked up. There is a lot Seonghwa has been putting up with, nothing a simple shopping trip could distract him from. 

He shuffles over to Seonghwa’s side, following his line of sight. It’s directed at his wine wall. There is an empty spot right in the middle. 

“Is it bad trouble?” Hongjoong asks. 

“It’s not trouble I can’t handle,” Seonghwa reassures him. “You don’t have to worry. It won’t reach you.” 

Hongjoong groans. He punches him in the shoulder. “This isn’t about me! Are you going to be safe?” 

Seonghwa blinks at him with those big, brown eyes of his. He points at himself. “Me?” 

“Yes, you!” 

Seonghwa shakes his head. His eyes shine, light bouncing off his teeth. He ruffles Hongjoong’s hair. “You don’t have to worry about that either. I am the last person you should be concerned about. I know how to bite.” 

Hongjoong’s heart speeds up, heat rising to his cheeks. He has to look away if he wants to save his dignity, and yet he can’t. His eyes are glued to Seonghwa’s mouth, his teeth, the curve of his lips and the arch of his brows, the sharp slope of his nose. 

Despite his slender physique, Hongjoong feels small beneath him. Seonghwa looks down on him, shadows warping around him in a way that makes him tower. 

Hongjoong’s heart has reached his ears, head spinning. Seonghwa’s canines glimmer when he runs his tongue over them, white breaking through the blood red. 

“Will you prove it?” Hongjoong asks, breathless. 

Seonghwa hums, clapping his hands behind his back. “In due time.” 

Hongjoong believes him.

“Mingi.” 

They’ve hit the afternoon dip, and though no sunlight comes in here, the clock shows a steady 3PM. Hongjoong is on his third cup of coffee and still exhausted. The figures on his screen had started becoming a lot smaller than his eyes can handle, and usually that’s the sign for him to take a break and bother Mingi instead. 

Mingi only sighs, twirling his hand for him to go on.

Hongjoong slinks down into his chair, tossing himself left and right, thinking of how to word it. But then again, Mingi has heard him say a lot of deranged things, and it’s not like he doesn’t have enough blackmail on Mingi’s name either. No point beating around the bush. The world’s already weird enough as it is. 

“Are vampires usually hot?” Hongjoong asks. 

Mingi clicks his tongue. He takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Vampires are never hot, Hongjoong. They are dead. Have you ever felt a hot corpse?” 

“Not like that! Like—“ Hongjoong throws his hands to the sky, frowning. “Ugh, you’re so unhelpful.” 

Mingi has the nerve to look offended. He scoffs, crossing his arms. “So what? You have the hots for your roommate?” 

Hongjoong’s mind travels all the way back to Seonghwa’s pretty smile and his silly obsessions and kindness, his confidence and the amount of comfort he has to express himself however the hell he likes. Seonghwa who gets fired up easily, but never lets it go too far, is rational as he is empathetic. 

Yeah. Hongjoong has the hots for him. 

“Essentially, yes,” he admits. Cool and easy. Hongjoong is so cool about this.  

“Still convinced he’s a vampire?” Mingi asks. 

“Oh, I’m certain.” 

“And that doesn’t concern you one bit?” 

Hongjoong shakes his head, solemn. “It’s terrible. It actually adds to his hotness.” 

Mingi spins around so quickly Hongjoong fears he might fly out of his chair. He stares Hongjoong dead in the eyes, making sure they are seeing each other. He points at the door. “Get out.” 

There is no space for argument. Hongjoong has a very hard time making out if he’s joking or not. For his own convenience he is going to assume that he is, but he did need a coffee refill anyway. He holds up a finger. 

“Wait! Before that!” he says. “How do you keep vampires out?” 

Mingi raises a brow. “Put up a crucifix? I don’t know, Hongjoong. I don’t have the answers to everything.” 

Hongjoong nods. “Thanks, Mingus. You’re a hero. I’ll make you un-owe me just for that. Caramel latte, right?” 

He twirls by Mingi’s desk, picking up his mug. Mingi blinks after him. He must be rendered speechless with how honored he is. 

Every plan comes to a halt at some point. Either in success or in utter shame. IMPROVED WAYS to prove seonghwa is a vampire wasn’t something Hongjoong really needed anymore, but he could add an asterisks to the end of that title and write in tiny letters *and how to ward off his pesky friend(s). Hongjoong really doesn’t want to get eaten, if he’s going to be honest. He’s not that type of guy. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, because Seonghwa insists they need one. After all, this way they stay in touch with the outside world. He’s halfway through a column about local cuisine when Seonghwa stumbles into the room, fumbling with the cuff of his sleeve. 

“Hey, Hongjoong, have you seen the—“ Seonghwa cuts himself off with a scream. “What is the symbol of Christ doing in your ear?!” 

Hongjoong jolts, fist curling into the paper. It’s all crumpled. He can barely see the words now. “Jesus, Seonghwa!” 

Seonghwa hisses. Hisses, like some cornered alleycat. His eyes narrow, zeroing in on Hongjoong. He’s hunched over slightly, as if he’s ready to pounce, teeth bared. 

Fuck if that doesn’t do a little something to Hongjoong’s stomach. 

Hongjoong blinks. “What the hell was that?”

Seonghwa coughs, seemingly regaining himself. His pale cheeks don’t redden, but the weird twist of his mouth betrays him. “I’m so sorry about that. The last time I ran into… such symbols, it wasn’t a great experience.” 

Hongjoong’s heart drops to his stomach. Seonghwa’s eyes are cast down, lips pressed together. He has turned his body away from Hongjoong, hands hidden in the many layers of his clothing. Hongjoong has fucked up. 

This is exactly an expression he never wants to see on Seonghwa, small and frightened and utterly hurt. 

“They hurt you, didn’t they?” Hongjoong curses under his breath, fumbling around with his jewelry.  “I can take it off. I’m sorry, this was so stupid of me. I didn’t think this through at all.” 

Seonghwa takes a hold of Hongjoong’s wrist. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. Please don’t feel obliged to change for me. I’m fine. It merely surprised me.”

And even now Seonghwa is just too forgiving. He is too kind and too nice and too gentle on Hongjoong when all he deserves is a smack upside his head. 

“No, I am doing something wrong. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. Of course you have a bad experience with the christian church.” Hongjoong can’t stop his mouth from running. The words keep coming, spilling from his lips like a waterfall. “I was doing this stupid experiment to see if you were a vampire or not, but—“ 

“You knew?” 

Seonghwa’s voice is so small. He takes a step back, looking Hongjoong up and down with wide eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure, but Seonghwa, you sleep in a coffin,” Hongjoong says. “At first I blamed it on you being goth, but there were many things that indicated otherwise. You are really bad at hiding it.”

Seonghwa shuts his mouth. Then opens it again. He clasps his hands together, scratches his neck. “Well, now that you know, I will have to kill you.” 

Hongjoong pales. “What?” 

Seonghwa stares him down. His eyes are piercing. He takes a step forward. Hongjoong stumbles backwards out of the chair. His butt collides with the tiles, but his scrambling distracts him from the pain. His back collides with the lower cupboards. 

Seonghwa’s heels click against the floor. With each step forward Hongjoong’s heart leaps. His breathing shallows, a dizzy spell taking over his mind. Seonghwa crouches down in front of him, tilting his head. His irises fill out in a deep black. His cherry lips spread into a grin. 

His teeth are already sharp usually. Hongjoong assumed it was just a vampire thing, especially when those other two had come by. However now both his upper and lower canines have grown to twice their size. If he shuts his mouth Hongjoong is sure they would still stick out. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting. 

And then Seonghwa starts laughing. It scrunches up all his features, coming from high in his throat. Clear, loud ha ha ha’s. Seonghwa wipes at his eyes, teeth shrinking back down. 

“Oh, I’m just kidding, Joong! But don’t go around yelling it off the rooftops.” He giggles. His eyes crinkle up. They’ve returned to that warm golden brown. “Just see this as me getting back at you. I didn’t scare you too much, I hope.” 

He holds out his hand. He is glowing all over, skin of polished porcelain. Hongjoong grabs him with trembling fingers. Seonghwa’s smile is gentle. He drags both of them upright with a swift motion. Hongjoong’s knees wobble. 

Seonghwa catches him quickly. His body is still rumbling with laughter. He pats the back of Hongjoong’s head before setting him down on the kitchen chair. Hongjoong melts into the marble, laying his head onto it. 

His eyes are wide open. He thinks he has forgotten how to blink. His veins are still thrumming with leftover adrenaline. He coughs. “So… the wine?” 

“Innovative blood banking,” Seonghwa answers with ease. “I quite enjoy consuming it this way, I must admit. And I really do distribute the bottles, just not to the clientele you originally had in mind.” 

“Oh. So when the import went wrong…?” Hongjoong swallows. He looks up at Seonghwa with round eyes. 

Seonghwa blinks at him, trying to let the question settle. His jaw drops. “Oh, it’s not like we killed anyone for it! It really was a weird situation. Something came along and destroyed most of the stock. I don’t think it was on purpose, but they were adamant. 

“There was a goat they left behind, though. I think whoever did it felt really bad about it and instead traded prey.” He chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “So yeah. That happened. Interesting day that was.” 

“You eat goats?” Hongjoong mumbles. 

“It’s an acquired taste.” 

Hongjoong hums. Seonghwa is a vampire. He has been living with a vampire. For years. Holy shit. He could have died. He could have died so many times. Why was he stupid? Why did he not have a single ounce of self-preservation at all?

This silly little quest wasn’t supposed to end like this, but Hongjoong can’t say that he minds it all that much. It makes sense. Seonghwa being a vampire is like the final piece of a puzzle completing the picture. He lifts his head off the counter. 

“Now, this question may sound weird, but I am inclined to ask it,” he starts. “Do you feel the desire to drink my blood?” 

Seonghwa opens his mouth to answer, though closes it again. He looks like a stranded fish this way. “Hongjoong—? I— No! Heavens, no!” 

Hongjoong drops his head back down. “…Not even a little bit?” 

He is pouting, bottom lip jutted out. Seonghwa should have found him somewhat delicious looking, right? Or perhaps he didn’t think that at all and that’s why he had allowed Hongjoong to come stay with him so easily. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa calls his attention. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you want me to bite you?” 

“No…” Hongjoong turns his gaze away. “Maybe.” 

Seonghwa sighs. He cups Hongjoong’s cheek, guiding him into an upright position. Hongjoong lays defeated in this chair like a slinky. He doesn’t look at Seonghwa, instead opting to count all the curves Seonghwa’s vintage—and most likely authentic—furniture has. 

“I don’t know, it’s rather… How do I say this?” Seonghwa runs his tongue over his lips. You know. Like a sinner. “It will arouse you?” 

He sounds unsure, like it’s not his own venom causing such things, like he hasn’t firsthand witness the effects. 

Hongjoong huffs. “You don’t say.” 

“No, Hongjoong, my fangs release an aphrodisiac to make the…” Seonghwa cringes, “prey more compliant. You will feel immense pleasure and more willingness to… to engage.” 

Heavens, Hongjoong wants to tear out his hair. Seonghwa is standing here, dressed like sin and desire, bumbling around a conversation that sounds way too much like the birds and the bees for Hongjoong’s liking. 

“So what are we waiting for?” he asks. 

Seonghwa’s mouth slams shut. He eyes Hongjoong up and down, but Hongjoong doesn’t look away. His gaze is vast and determined. Seonghwa clears his throat. “I think I am the one who should be afraid of you.” 

“Are we gonna do it?” Hongjoong urges on. 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “At least ask me on a date first.” 

Hongjoong freezes up. He stares at Seonghwa. Seonghwa stares back. The great grandfather clock dings in the background. 

“What,” Hongjoong says. 

“What,” Seonghwa echoes. He looks down at his watchless wrist. “Would you look at the time! Sun is down!” 

Without further word he spins on his heel, sprinting for the balcony. He hops over the railing, arms spread wide. Hongjoong lets out a yelp, rushing after him. The harsh wind cuts through his skin, the stone railing of their balcony knocking the air out of his lungs as he crashes into it. 

He squints, ready to see a splotch of Seonghwa right on the sidewalk. However, it’s empty. Did vampires perish to dust underneath extreme pressure? A pitched chirping breaks Hongjoong out of his thoughts. He looks ahead of him. A little bat flaps its wings ahead of him, nothing but a dot against the shadows. 

Hongjoong’s face drops into a deadpan. 

Well, that’s just a bit dramatic. And that says a lot, coming from him. 

The windows rumble. Hongjoong taps his fingers against his bicep as a gust of wind runs through the apartment. Seonghwa excels at stealth, but even with his abilities heels will still be noisy shoes. Hongjoong clicks on the light, spinning around in his chair. 

“Had a nice run?” 

Seonghwa freezes up. A deer in headlights. He could have been a statue had his clothes not flowed along with the breeze. He doesn’t look much different from before he left. His hair is a bit more disheveled, yes, but other than that Hongjoong would never have guessed he animorphed into a little winged problem-fleer. 

“You were supposed to be asleep!” Seonghwa exclaims. He straightens himself out, picking at his cuffs. 

Hongjoong snorts. “You’ve been living with me for a while. You should know of my messed up sleeping schedule.” 

“Strike me down,” Seonghwa mutters under his breath. 

“We can have that arrange after I take you out on a date. How’s that sound?” 

Seonghwa looks at him like he’s grown two heads. Given Seonghwa’s supernatural extravaganza that shouldn’t be the weirdest thing he has ever seen. Still, he runs his eyes over Hongjoong like he’s waiting for the punchline. 

Hongjoong sighs. “Does that sound good?” 

“You want that?” Seonghwa asks. “With me?” 

Gosh, he’s so hopeless. Hongjoong is conflicted whether he wants to yell at Seonghwa to cherish himself better or kiss that silly expression off his face. Perhaps he could do both at the same time, but that will have to wait. 

“I like to think I was rather obvious, but to clarify, yes. I would love that,” Hongjoong tells him. “While you were out, I was thinking about our options. Dinner is out of the picture, which is great. That’s such a cliche, don’t you think?” 

“Uhm.” 

“I’m free on Sunday. I hope that works for you, too, otherwise I’ll have to take out the planner and we both know how horrible I am with those.” 

“Sunday, uhm, yes. Sunday is fine,” Seonghwa splutters. Hongjoong imagines his cheeks to pinken up. 

Hongjoong nods. He gets up, stretching out. “Very well. Now, I hope you got all that out of your system.” He wanders ahead until he’s by Seonghwa’s side. “I will be retreating to my chambers for the night.” 

Seonghwa’s confusion falls into a blank. “Are you mocking me?” 

Hongjoong presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “If the shoe fits. Good night.” 

He glances over his shoulder quick enough to catch Seonghwa’s disbelief, fingers touching the place where Hongjoong’s lips had been. Oh, he already knows he’s going to have so much fun with this. 

Mingi coughs into his fist. He looks over his shoulder. “So, uhm. No questions today?” 

Hongjoong hums. The lyrics flies from his fingers onto his keys. He hums the melody under his breath, matching the syllables. Isn’t the world more at ease when there is love in it? 

“Joong?” Mingi asks again. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, smiling. “Hm, nope. Nothing. I’m all set.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“Only good things. Don’t worry, Mingi. All is well.” 

Mingi, too, looks at him like he has grown a second head. In Mingi’s case, that can’t be the weirdest thing he has ever seen. Hongjoong must be really out of character today. 

Without warning, Mingi rolls over. He presses his hand to Hongjoong’s forehead. 

Hongjoong narrows his eyes at him. “What are you doing?” 

“Normal temperature,” Mingi mutters under his breath. He shakes his head, rolling away. “Is Mercury in retrograde? Is that it?” 

Hongjoong stays frozen in spot. Stiffly he spins back to face his screen. Right. He had the perfect line for that blank spot. 

At the edge of the city there is a hiking spot. It’s not too roughed up with nature, but those who are willing to risk their life in the name of a thrill could stray off the stone paths and gated borders. Hongjoong has his hand wrapped around Seonghwa’s as the both of them brave the steps. Or well, Hongjoong is, but Seonghwa does a great job at acting like this is very strenuous for him as well. 

The nights are chilly, especially with the sun away. Seonghwa had made a big point of wrapping Hongjoong up in endless layers of clothing until Hongjoong was sure he would roll all the way back down the mountain if he as much as tripped. Seonghwa argued it would at least break his fall, but of course he would catch him.

They managed to get to an agreement. Hongjoong snuggles into one of Seonghwa’s knitted scarves, one that honestly is more like a cape than it is a scarf. Hongjoong will take it. It smells faintly of Seonghwa’s rose-scented shampoo, as well as something that is just inherently him. It’s warm and fuzzy, reaching into his core. 

Seonghwa leads Hongjoong up the final step and over to a bench. It’s made of metal plates, blotchy with paint. Had it been day, Hongjoong can tell it would have been red, but in the night it’s as dark as their surroundings. 

He lays his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, staring ahead of them. His breath turns to fog in the cold. He blows out, just to see it again. It blurs the air around him for a second, before the cityscape fades back into view. Hongjoong sighs out in content. 

Seonghwa chuckles. “There are such simple, little beauties to life, aren’t there?” 

“If you let yourself find the pleasure in them,” Hongjoong says. “How did you find this place?” 

“I liked coming here when I just moved here,” Seonghwa says. He has his hands between his thighs, legs outstretched. It’s a homely pose, one Hongjoong has seen him sit in about everywhere at their place. “It hasn’t changed, even in all those years. The city scape has, though. Before there weren’t as many lights. You could see the Milky Way from here.” 

Hongjoong trails the path Seonghwa’s fingers had drawn out, imagining the white dust in the heavens. 

“Hm, but you can still see the Northern Crown,” Hongjoong says. “Oh! The Big Dipper. Cassiopeia. You can still find your way back home.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

Seonghwa gives him a smile. It’s not the largest, not made out of the most overwhelming amounts of joy crashing into his body and breaking through him just as quickly. It’s a slow-building kind of pleasure, a small, secret smile only Hongjoong gets to see. It’s one of his fondest expressions. 

Hongjoong stares ahead of him where the city has laid to rest. There is a yellow glow surrounding it with the streetlights on and bulbs of night owls. It looks so small from where they are sitting, high above it. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Hongjoong murmurs. “It’s so peaceful up here.” 

“It’s a great place to gather yourself, I suppose. There isn’t much worry that comes with eternal life, but I like to sit here and see how the world keeps changing.” Seonghwa breathes out. “I haven’t been here in such a long time. Not with the issue building up.” 

“What was the issue?” Hongjoong asks. 

Seonghwa hums in thought. “We vampires have territories, for lack of better word. Each House has a representative. In my case, that’s me, as I am the only member of said House.”

“How did it end up that way?”

Hongjoong fears the worst. He fears the tragedy that comes with time, but Seonghwa pats his thigh with a small grin. 

“I’ve reached the age where I was permitted to leave my old House. There was a slight disagreement with how things were done.” Seonghwa chuckles. It sounds heavy. “Now, if I were to turn others, then I could of course expand my House, but I have not yet found the desire to do so.” 

Hongjoong frowns. “What about your friends? Why don’t they join you? If people can leave at certain ages, then they must be able to join too.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Their territories lie too far from mine, and as long as they are representatives, they cannot leave. San is actually set to be the heir, so there is a slim chance he will ever be leaving.” 

So many rules. Hongjoong didn’t think that the afterlife would have so many boundaries. He tries to wrap his head around it, but they will probably have to go over it another time when Hongjoong is more awake. 

“So why can you not just leave then?” Hongjoong mumbles. His eyes fall shut. 

Seonghwa laughs. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a thermos. He pours some tea into a cup, handing it to Hongjoong. Hongjoong shuffles upright, but he keeps himself pressed to Seonghwa’s side. The scent of the tea blends nicely with the outside world around them. Hongjoong hums in content. 

“I would be considered a rogue, and that will leave me with no protection or funded sustenance. Also, this way I can at least attempt to make a change.” Seonghwa brushes the bangs out of Hongjoong’s eyes, readjusting his scarf. “The head of the council is the one who turned me. Eons ago, but I cannot simply turn my back to him, as much as I would love to.

“Back then we vampires were a lot more hated than now, and hunted, even. I used to live in the sewers with the rats, as graveyards were their first places to search, but after it calmed down I found a nice sepulcher to settle in, and when night shifts became a thing I finally settled into a house. Our house.

“Because I’ve been so used to living in the dark, my skin hasn’t developed as much resistance towards the sun as most other vampires. They are able to run around at least during the sunset.” Seonghwa shakes his head. He points ahead of him. Hongjoong assumes that’s where their house might be. “Anyway, I’ve lived there ever since, leaving every now and again, but keeping it in the—quote-unquote—family.” 

Hongjoong can’t imagine it. He isn’t the most outgoing person, but he at least had someone to come home to. Before it had been his parents, and then it had been Seonghwa. Without a fail Seonghwa would be there, ready with a story or a listening ear. 

He looks at Seonghwa’s face. It’s ethereal, ageless, and yet it looks rough. Not in texture, but in expression. It lies beneath the softness of his eyes, a hardened cutout of the years, showing his true age. 

“Must have been lonely,” Hongjoong murmurs. He cups Seonghwa’s cheek, running his thumb underneath his eyes. 

“It was. No one is meant to stand alone for too long.” Seonghwa leans into Hongjoong’s touch. “You came at the perfect time. I never thought you would stay that long, though.”

“I would stay forever.” 

Seonghwa grows stiff. His brows furrow together like the words Hongjoong had spoken were from some foreign language. He lays his hand over Hongjoong’s, eyes glossing over. He doesn’t speak, though, swallowing thickly. 

“If I asked you to turn me, would you?” Hongjoong asks. 

“If you wanted to,” Seonghwa mumbles. “But you have to know there will be a lot you will be giving up.” 

Hongjoong’s lips crack into a grin. “Like the marshmallows in cereal?” 

“Such things, yes,” Seonghwa giggles along with him. He throws his arms over Hongjoong’s shoulders, fingers playing with the hair hanging over Hongjoong’s nape. “Warmth, life, even garlic bread.” 

Hongjoong gasps. “Not the garlic bread.” 

Seonghwa nods, solemn. “Think about it long and well, but if you’ve decided, I am willing to.” 

And it’s yet again such a perfect answer. Calculated and knowing, devoted. Hongjoong is sure Seonghwa would find a way to get him the moon if only Hongjoong asks him to. He is so stupidly willing to do anything for Hongjoong. 

“You’re always so proper!” Hongjoong exclaims. 

Seonghwa’s brows furrow together. “Is that wrong?” 

“Just kiss me already.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes double in size. Hongjoong huffs. He collides forward into Seonghwa, their lips connecting. Seonghwa’s lips are cold to the touch, but Hongjoong feels his body heat sinking into them, heating Seonghwa up with himself. 

Seonghwa relaxes beneath his touch. His hand travels up, holding onto the back of his neck. His thumb presses behind the end Hongjoong’s jawline, pulling him closer into him. The frills of Seonghwa’s clothing itch, his touch of ice.

Seonghwa’s chest rumbles when Hongjoong splays his fingers out against it, right where his unbeating heart lies. Hongjoong kisses without restraints. He fires up and crashes when he burns, but Seonghwa is there to catch him, to reduce his fire to an ember and keep him steady. 

The wind blows over them. It scratches Hongjoong’s cheeks. Hongjoong leans closer into Seonghwa, curling his fists into the fabric of Seonghwa’s top. Seonghwa nips at his bottom lip, running his tongue over it. Hongjoong wants to sink into his ocean. 

He eventually has to pull away for air. His chest is heaving, his lips swollen. Seonghwa smiles that million dollar smile of him. 

“Wow,” is all he murmurs. 

Hongjoong giggles. “I’m quite the catch, am I not?” 

Seonghwa shakes his head. He runs the back of his fingers down Hongjoong’s cheek, whispering through a smile, “I suppose I could get used to this.” 

Hongjoong rushes around their apartment, holding a stack of papers in one hand while the other pats around each surface he can find. Eventually he realizes this might not be a job he can complete on his own. He will have to call the helpline. 

He knocks on Seonghwa’s door before entering. “Hey, Hwa, have you seen…” 

There is no Seonghwa. His creepy coffin is empty, and there is no sign of his presence inside the closet. Hongjoong flicks on the lights. 

A little squeak comes from the curtains. Hongjoong gasps. His heart might just explode. “Oh my god. Wait— Never mind.” 

Hongjoong slaps his hand over his mouth to muffle a squeal. He sneaks closer to the little bat hanging from their curtains, huddled in its little wings. “Seonghwa?” he whispers. 

The bat yawns, cracking open an eye. He chirps a little greeting. Hongjoong swears he’s smiling. It’s lopsided and sleep-ridden. Hongjoong about melts into a puddle. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the living daylights out of him. 

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” Hongjoong coos. He runs his fingers over Seonghwa’s head. “You just amaze me more with each passing day.”

Seonghwa squeaks. Hongjoong doesn’t understand it, but he does know Seonghwa’s little snout has to be the most boopable thing he has seen in a while. Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, but he forces them back open. He is about the stretch out, but Hongjoong shushes him. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Go sleep, yeah?” he says. “I’ll be right here.” 

In their two years of living together, Hongjoong has gotten a good idea of what Seonghwa’s wardrobe looks like. He’s extravagant, but sometimes he really ups it a notch. Hongjoong never knew he hadn’t ever witnessed Seonghwa’s final form yet. 

Hongjoong is pretty sure their living room isn’t a red carpet. Hongjoong is going to lose his mind one of these days. 

“Oh, Joong, hey,” Seonghwa greets him, fumbling around with an earring. “Could you help me with the laces?”

Hongjoong gives him a kiss on the cheek before slipping behind him. He wonders how Seonghwa had managed to lace himself up all alone all these years; Hongjoong is spinning looking at just the amount of threads. He makes sure to tighten them up. Seonghwa grunts, mostly out of surprise. 

“That fine?” Hongjoong asks. 

Seonghwa chuckles. “You know I don’t breathe, Joong.” 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, mocking Seonghwa’s tone. He finishes lacing, spinning Seonghwa around. He takes a good look at him, straightening out the lace frills coming from beneath the tailored coat-dress situation. He’s wearing it over slacks this time. Must be more practical for travel. 

Hongjoong twirls his finger. Seonghwa shakes his head, though grins. He does a little spin. The fabric floats along with him. “Up to standards?” 

“It’s perfect.” Hongjoong wipes away a faux tear. “Where are you headed to, all fancy?”

“I have a get-together. Terribly dull, and most people are backstabbers and frontal schemers.” 

“Do you need support?” 

“Do I need…” Seonghwa purses his lips. “I’m not sure it’s the wisest decision for you to come with.” 

“Oh, come on,” Hongjoong says. “How bad can it be! Just a bunch of pricks!”

Seonghwa stays silent for a moment, contemplating. He sighs, nodding. “Well, just a warning. They are quite annoying. They have a theme.” 

“Hence the glam?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Hm, no. I like to make a statement,” Seonghwa says. “If they’re going to waste my time I might as well look good while they’re doing it.” 

“Do I need to get dressed up?” 

“If you wish. It would help with blending in.” 

Hongjoong doesn’t waste any time. He grabs Seonghwa’s hand, dragging him along to his room. Seonghwa laughs under his breath, but doesn’t struggle. Hongjoong looks at him with round eyes, pointing at his closet. 

He clasps his hands together. “Work your magic.” 

Seonghwa ceremonially lays his fingers on the handles, pulling them open. Hongjoong swears he hears a choir sing gothic hymns. Seonghwa’s wardrobe has to be one of the world wonders. His eyes are twinkling. 

“Which ones can I pick from?” he asks. 

Seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair. “Anything you want.” 

Hongjoong fist pumps, then runs his fingers over all the garments hanging. He won’t overdo it tonight. He has to ease into it. He picks out some shirts, holding them up to his chest, spinning in them. Seonghwa’s smile is so wide it might break his face. 

Of course, they have somewhere to be so Hongjoong cuts his fashion show short. For now. He settles for something simple. He keeps on his graphic tee, but he does snatch one of Seonghwa’s many half-skirts. He wonders if this is what it means to feel like a princess.  

Seonghwa hums, staring him up and down. “Your combat boots. You should wear those.” 

Hongjoong salutes him. “I will meet you at the door!” 

He rushes to push his feet into his double platform—he needs to at least be able to lay his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder—and rushes along to the door. Seonghwa is already waiting, counting all his keys. He looks up. His eyes widen before his lips spread into an easy grin. 

“My, my, you look stunning.” He steps forward, cupping Hongjoong’s cheeks. He leaves a quick peck on his lips. 

Hongjoong’s ears fire up. He waves away the compliment, looking down at his feet. “The impact is greater because I never dress up.” 

“Oh, hush.” Seonghwa links their arms. “Ready?” 

The car ride has Hongjoong thrumming in his seat. Hongjoong didn’t expect some vampire retreat to be anywhere close, but he hadn’t expected to be driven all the way out of the city, buildings turning into plains of grass. His palms feel sweaty, heart thumping in his throat. Seonghwa lays a hand on his thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. 

“Don’t worry too much. They’re not as scary as your mind makes them out to be.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t seem to understand that vampires that aren’t him aren’t the most appealing thing to Hongjoong. Seonghwa is sweet, those others Hongjoong isn’t too sure about. Sometimes he wonders where his impulse control has gone to hang out. He hopes they’re enjoying their vacation. 

“Hwa, this is like meeting your parents,” Hongjoong says.  

Seonghwa snorts. “If my parents were self-entitled, immortal bastards.” 

“Exactly! They’re going to eat me up.” 

“They are not going to eat you.” 

Hongjoong sure hopes not. If anyone should do that, Hongjoong would want it to be Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa turns onto a large driveway. It’s not an abandoned factory like Hongjoong expected it to be. Instead they enter the property of a large mansion. It has to have at least three stories, windows reaching up to the ceiling. That must be impractical with the daylight issue. 

There is one tower poking out from the rest of it, as well as multiple balconies. The walls are painted gray with wooden planks laid over it like the ribbing of a corset. 

Hongjoong clambers out of the carseat, immediately clinging to Seonghwa’s side. 

Seonghwa clasps his hand around his. “Stay by my side, okay?” 

“Roger that.” 

Seonghwa leads them up to the front door. The door swings open. It’s that waistcoat guy. He’s dressed in another one today, just a bit more formal. He wraps his arms around Seonghwa with a grin. Seonghwa huffs when he gives one last squeeze before letting him go. 

“Seonghwa!” San exclaims. “It’s been so long and— Is that—“ 

“You can’t eat him,” Seonghwa cuts him off. 

“I wasn’t going to ask!” San holds up both his hands, pouting. He turns to face Hongjoong, back to grinning. “So he is human, then? I wasn’t so sure the first time, since he was out in a wink.” 

Seonghwa stands between the two of them. He points between the two of them. “Hongjoong, this is San. He is the representative of his clan, newly appointed after his father stepped down. I’m sure you remember him. ”

San bows. “Choi San, at your service. Formal introductions are always the pleasure.” 

“Kim Hongjoong.” Hongjoong nods back, somewhere between the formalities of San’s greeting and confusion. 

“You’re looking ravishing today,” San says. 

Hongjoong tenses up. If he remembers correctly, he hadn’t hit San that last time, but perhaps he holds grudges in place of others. His eyes are cutting, sharp like those of a feline. They narrow down on Hongjoong, teeth glistening. 

Seonghwa knocks him on the head. San yelps, jumping back. He rubs the sore spot, glaring at Seonghwa like an angry kitten. 

“Oh, stop it. You’ll get over it.” Seonghwa turns his attention to Hongjoong. “Don’t take his words to heart. He doesn’t quite understand humor.” 

“I’m plenty funny!” San exclaims. “So he knows, Seonghwa?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Will you turn him?” 

“That is up to him.”  

Hongjoong doesn’t quite know how to act, being the center of the conversation, being there and not being involved in it. It’s weird to see people talk about him like he’s not there. San is eyeing him up and down like he is a subject of study, some oddity. 

As much as he wants to butt in, Hongjoong bites his tongue. This is not the time or place to start acting up. Hongjoong runs his eyes over the interior. It’s a lot more bare than Hongjoong expected, not much furniture and the walls are bare. There are a few statues to make up for the lack of seating arrangement and warmth. 

“Are you ready for that?” San asks. 

Hongjoong tunes back in on the conversation, glancing up at Seonghwa with curious eyes. Seonghwa’s features soften. He turns his face to Hongjoong, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl up. He looks back at San. 

“It’s about time someone joined my side,” he says.

San glancing between the two of them. He nods, back to that wide grin of his. “Very well, then.” He motions his hand forward. “Follow me, the lot of you. They’re about to start the meeting.” 

He leads them past a large double staircase, through a narrow hall. There are portraits of people Hongjoong has never seen before, all in varying degrees of stiff poses. However, somewhere in the middle of it he is met with a familiar face. 

It’s funny to see Seonghwa dressed up like that, a high collar and silk-embroidered waistcoat. His shoulders are pulled back, features dark and edged. He stares down at the painter in a way that could strike down a man. 

“I always knew you were a piece of art.” Hongjoong nudges Seonghwa in the side. 

Seonghwa follows where he is looking. He cringes. “Please don’t look at that.” 

“Very prim and proper, Mr Park,” Hongjoong teases on. 

Seonghwa pokes him in the side. Hongjoong yelps, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth. San glances over his shoulder, but doesn’t comment. Hongjoong straightens out his clothes, clearing his throat. He glares at Seonghwa. Seonghwa merely shrugs with the smile of the angels. 

Hongjoong huffs, turning back to the wall. A bit further hangs San’s portrait painted in a similar style, and then there’s Wooyoung’s, slapped all the way at the end on printer paper. He is posing with one hand in his pocket, the other blowing a kiss. He's winking, too. No wonder no one approved of it. Hongjoong snorts. He wonders if Wooyoung put it up there just to spite them. 

They exit the hall into a dimly lit room. It’s mostly empty except for one single figure propped up at the large round table. 

Wooyoung rises to his feet. He is by their side in a blink, tugging Seonghwa down into a tight cuddle. He rubs their cheeks together, humming. “It’s about time you came!” 

“Hello to you too, Woo,” Seonghwa says, chuckling. 

Wooyoung releases them. His eyes fall on Hongjoong. His lips quirk up in a smirk, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He leans closer, nose nearly brushing Hongjoong’s. Hongjoong flinches back, scowling. 

Wooyoung giggles. “You brought a snack? Seonghwa, you shouldn’t have! Is this your way of making it up to us?” 

“Seonghwa said we can’t eat him,” San informs him. He sounds a little too sad for Hongjoong’s comfort. 

“Oh.” Wooyoung sighs. He takes a step backwards, figure slouching. He holds out a hand. “In that case, nice to make acquaintances. I’m Wooyoung.” He narrows his eyes. “Hold on a second, you’re the one who chucked that chunk of garlic in my direction! That gave me a rash! I could very well eat you right now.” 

“I ate a loaf of garlic bread just now,” Hongjoong says. “I wouldn’t risk it.” 

“How absolutely vile of you,” Wooyoung hisses. 

Hongjoong shrugs. 

San sighs, wrapping himself around Seonghwa’s arm. “Come on, Hwa, it’s not like we’re gonna drain him. We could have him for tea.” 

“What?” Hongjoong snaps. 

“It’s where we dilute your blood into water and serve it in teacups,” Wooyoung tells him. 

Hongjoong isn’t a vampire. He knows nothing about the finesse of blood types and the different ways to consume it, but diluted, hot blood water really doesn’t seem all that appetizing. He assumes it’s more so they can serve more people with less of the source. 

“Very innovative,” Hongjoong comments. 

“We have to blend in somehow,” San says. 

Seonghwa clicks his tongue. “Are we actually going to discuss meaningful things, or are you only here to bother me?” 

The pair turn their attention to him, their eyes gleaming with something Hongjoong can only describe as trouble. 

“Such a bore, Seonghwa.” Wooyoung tilts his head, lips pulled into a thin line. “The years have made you so dull.” 

“I would prefer a life of peace, if you don’t mind,” Seonghwa says. “You’ll understand when you’re older.” 

“Very funny.” Wooyoung sticks his tongue between his teeth. He holds onto Hongjoong’s arm. “Now, Hongjoong, why don’t I lead you along—“ 

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warns. 

Wooyoung immediately lets go, holding up both hands so Seonghwa can see them.  “You know I was only joking. I quite despise human blood in these occasions. I was only trying to lighten the mood.” 

Seonghwa pinches the bridge of his nose. “That bad?” 

“Why do you think they called for an emergency,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “meeting. They want to take the piss at you.” 

“Why would they do that?” Hongjoong asks. 

Three pairs of eyes fall on him in question, before they all realize that of course Hongjoong doesn’t know. This is his first time here. All he has learned is a very compressed summary of the glossary from Seonghwa. 

“He has been purposely skipping,” San mentions. “They really don’t like that.” 

“My district is fine,” Seonghwa argues. “There is no need for me to report anything. If anything, they should stop poking their noses into the business going on there.” 

“They disagree,” Wooyoung says, brows furrowed. 

“There has been some unrest,” San adds. “Unnatural creatures, they say.” 

“We have risen from the grave. We are as unnatural as it gets.” Seonghwa bristles. “Is this about the wolves again? They’re staying out of the parks, I’ve made sure of it.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw drops. “Werewolves are real?” 

“You believe in vampires, but werewolves is where you draw the line?” Wooyoung asks, incredulous. He presses his lips together, body shaking with unspilled laughter. 

Hongjoong’s ears heat up.  “There’s an odd component to full body shifts, especially with how that would work.” 

“It’s definitely not practical, let me tell you,” Wooyoung mutters. He shakes his head. “Ready to face the council?” 

“Of course not.” Seonghwa crosses his arms. 

San grins. “Perfect!” 

He twists the knob to grand doors. They creak in their hinges as San pushes them open. The room is filled up with one large table. At the head there is a fire place, taking up another chunk of space. The table is filled up, three vacant spots. 

When they enter all eyes turn to them. It’s most people from the portraits. Hongjoong sinks behind Seonghwa’s figure, but he can’t stop himself from peeking out. After all, it’s not every day you step into a room of vampires getting ready for a meeting. Like it’s some corporate business outing. 

The vampire at the head rises to his feet. His canines are out, reading to tear to flesh. His smile looks like a beast baring its teeth. He opens his arms. “Park Seonghwa, how kind of you to finally join us.” 

“I didn’t see any reason to,” Seonghwa answers easily. 

“You have a responsibility.” The vampire clenches his jaws. He tilts his head, red eyes sparking up. “My, oh my, what is that hanging from your arm.” 

Seonghwa steps forward. “You have no rules against this. Let’s get down to business, why don’t we? Unfortunately, I don’t have all that much time, so I would prefer for this to hurry up.” 

“Very well.” 

Wooyoung and San sink down on their own chairs. Seonghwa, however, stays standing. There aren’t enough seats anyway. Hongjoong presses himself into Seonghwa. There are quite a bunch of red eyes in the bunch. He wonders if this too has to do with Seonghwa’s early days as a fledgling, or if it’s a dietary influence. 

A stacks of papers gets passed around. They don’t hand Seonghwa one. If it annoys him, he doesn’t let it show on his face. There is a mumbled opening of the meeting. Most of it is trivial matters, territory quarrels, how to regulate the blood banks. Hongjoong is a little bored, he has to admit. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be faring any better. 

His eyes are drooping, fleeting over the surfaces. Hongjoong is sure he has seen this place countless of times before. There is nothing new for him to discover, but he supposes counting bricks is a lot more entertaining than listening to discourse. 

The head vampire turns to them. “Seonghwa, are you aware of the rise of halfborns?” 

Seonghwa hums, attention drawn. “Halfborns? 

“Like in Twilight,” Hongjoong mutters under his breath.

Seonghwa wraps his arm around Hongjoong’s waist, pulling him a bit closer. Hongjoong’s cheeks heat up, the cold flush of Seonghwa’s skin hitting him like a flurry. He leans into him, curious at the exchange. 

“What is my business with them?” Seonghwa asks. His voice is deadly steady, eyes piercing. 

“There was one spotted in your district,” the vampire tells him. He runs his eyes over the paper, noting something down. 

Seonghwa glances down, as if trying to catch his words. He wets his lips. “If they do no harm, I have no reason to intervene.” 

“I expected no less from you.” 

It’s a jab at Seonghwa, his tone biting. The vampire raises a brow at him, massaging his temple. He’s challenging him, waiting for him to take the bait and snap. Seonghwa stares him down. His eyes are blank, revealing nothing of what he is thinking. 

“If that is all you wanted to discuss,” Seonghwa says. “I will see myself out.”

The vampire hums. “We will speak about this again.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” Seonghwa bows his head. “Have a pleasant rest of the night.” 

The eyes burn into their back as they leave, broken off when the doors slam shut again. 

The both of them are too tense to return back home immediately, so Seonghwa drives them out to the park. He parks his car somewhere by the road, doublechecking the locks before the both of them head off. 

The two of them must look a little funny. They’re definitely overdressed for something like a little midnight stroll, but Hongjoong can’t say he hates it. He likes it, standing between where the two worlds meet. Seonghwa glows in the moonlight, bringing out the silver undertones of his skin. 

Hongjoong reaches out for his hand. Seonghwa looks down, smiling. He swings them along with their steps. The wind ruffles the trees, moonlight casting shadows down onto the ground. Hongjoong hasn’t ever heard the city this silent. He doesn’t hate it. 

He has to admit, he hadn’t imagined his night to go this way. He doesn’t know what else he expected, but vampire meetings have to be one of the most boring affairs he has ever attended. Above that, they are downright grating. They hadn’t even spoken to Hongjoong and yet he feels like they’d peeled off a layer of his skin. 

Seonghwa doesn’t seem all too affected at first glance, but his grip around Hongjoong’s hand is tight, like he doesn’t ever want to let it go, and there is a slight tremor in his jaw. His feet are dragging over the tiles. Hongjoong nudges him in the side. 

“Hm?” Seonghwa turns to him. 

“That was absolutely suffocating!” Hongjoong exclaims.  

“I did warn you,” Seonghwa says, smiling. 

 “How have you held out for so long?” 

“Barely. I’m amazed by myself, too.” 

There’s a lightness to his tone, but the tremor in it shows he’s telling the truth. Honestly, Hongjoong is amazed too. He doesn’t know how Seonghwa hasn’t lost his mind yet. Hongjoong has only seen them for a short amount of time, but it’s enough to feel their hostility. They had wanted to shun him, all for their bruised pride. 

“Are you going to meet with them again?” Hongjoong asks. 

Seonghwa sucks in a long breath. “I’ll have to, but I would prefer to do it one on one. After all, it doesn’t concern any of them. They just wanted to put me in my spot.”

There is a finality to his tone. It’s clear Seonghwa has nothing more to say about it, and Hongjoong has nothing to add. He raises their arms, twirling beneath it. The stars twinkle in the sky, not a single cloud. It’s too beautiful of a night to let it be ruined by a bunch of assholes. 

Seonghwa laughs. He catches Hongjoong when he twirls into his arms. It’s one of those moves he sees tango dancers do. He always wanted to try that. 

“Having fun?” Seonghwa asks. 

Hongjoong grins. “Tons of it.” 

He presses their lips together before hopping back to his feet. He skips ahead, turning around. “So… What’s it like being a bat?” 

“Oh yeah.” Seonghwa scratches behind his ear. He’s doing that thing again where he is drawing some imaginary picture while explaining something. Hongjoong wants to kiss him silly. “Good hearing, not so good vision. You slammed the window on me, once.” 

“No way.” 

“Yeah. You broke my nose.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes widen. “No way! Did it hurt?”

“Yes, Hongjoong. It did.” Seonghwa chuckles. 

“Damn,” Hongjoong says. “Sorry about that. Really. I didn’t know.” 

When Mingi told him to lock his windows, he never said this would be the consequences. Hongjoong inspects Seonghwa’s face, cupping his cheeks and twisting it around in each direction, trying to catch it from all different direction. It doesn’t seem too bad. Vampires must have better healing abilities. He still feels guilty, though. 

Seonghwa lets him, mouth twisted up in absolute fondness. He reaches out, running his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair. He seems to like doing that. Hongjoong doesn’t ever want him to stop. He thinks he could spend a good chunk of forever like this. 

A soft rumble cuts through the air. Seonghwa straightens up, glancing around him. “Did you hear that?” 

Hongjoong hums, shaking his head.

Seonghwa shrugs. “Must be nothing.” He clasps his hand around Hongjoong’s. “Ready to head back?” 

Hongjoong smiles. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”