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three days. three days since he’d been stuck in this goddamn room. three days since your teeth had sunk into his neck. three days since he had thought he was in love.
youngtaek was a fool.
he sat in your previously shared bedroom, black curtains drawn tight to block out any sunlight. yet to grow accustomed to the nocturnal sleep schedule he needed, youngtaek stumbled out of bed and eyed the clock on the opposite wall. six. he groaned, rubbing his eyes ― he’d only slept twenty minutes longer than yesterday.
a knock on the door startled him. you didn’t usually visit until the late evening, but it wasn’t as if he looked forward to your presence anyway. youngtaek sat back down on the edge of the bed, knowing that you would come in whether he liked it or not. he stared at the door in wait.
the knob twisted, and, ever so gently, the door pushed open. you stepped into the room, carrying a cup filled to the brim with a thick red liquid.
youngtaek noted how exhausted you looked; you had bags under your eyes and none of the usual bounce to your step. he wanted to be angry with you, but you made it difficult when he was busy worrying about you instead.
“i thought that maybe if i came earlier, you’d want to try eating,” you said, voice barely audible.
when you’d first changed him, you were confident. his distaste for his new lifestyle, however, left you suddenly cautious ― like you were skating on thin ice. he didn’t like you being so uncomfortable, but he couldn’t bring himself to assure you that everything was fine either. you had crossed a boundary.
“it’d be drinking,” he rolled his eyes. “and no. i’m not ‘drinking’ anybody. i thought i made that clear.” he’d have to if he wanted to continue living, but youngtaek wanted to preserve his humanity for as long as he could.
“you’re going to get sick,” you said, placing the glass down on the wooden nightstand.
“i’m already sick. how do you live like this? you just willingly go out into the night and kill people?”
“i don’t kill them!” you recoiled. “what happened to you was an accident, taek. i got carried away and-”
“i’m tired of the excuses,” he scoffed, rolling back onto the bed to face the wall. photos of the two of you, taken on your polaroid camera, covered it. he had yet to have the heart to take them down. his eyes lingered on a picture from last week: the two of you posing for a bad selfie at the park. that was the first night he told you he loved you ― he'd begun to regret it.
“it’s not an excuse. i’ve never been in an intimate situation like that before ― i just didn’t think instinct would take over that much,” your voice had faded to a whisper. “i changed you because i couldn’t let you die.”
youngtaek frowned, hearing your voice quiver. he didn’t know what it was like; he hadn’t yet experienced that ‘instinct.’ you’d explained it to him a few times ― it was like falling asleep after days without rest. you had minimal control. your assertions about your ‘instinct’ had rarely kept him from feeling comfortable around you ― even when you said you wanted to taste his blood.
“i trusted you. you had promised to never do that to me.” youngtaek had calmed down somewhat, but the anger still threatened to pour out in waves that could drown any hope of salvaging this relationship.
“i know.”
the bed sank behind him. he rolled onto his back, looking at you. you refused to meet his gaze, so he took in your features instead. from the shape of your eyes to the curve of your lips, youngtaek thought he had loved everything about you. “but you did.”
“i know,” you repeated wearily. “and i can only say sorry so many times. i know it doesn’t mean much, but i’ll do the best i can to help you adapt.”
“adapt. you expect me to live like this?” youngtaek sat up, clenching his fists. the reminiscence of love disappeared with your selection of words.
“you have no choice!” you shot back.
“you have to kill people! how do i not have a choice over whether i do that?”
you shook your head. “no, no, no. i live off animals, taek. that’s what i’ve been bringing you, but you always kick me out before i can explain.”
oh. “you can do that?” youngtaek was skeptical. he didn’t know how much he trusted you anymore. nonetheless, he let his hands relax, giving you his full attention. he might be undead, but he wasn't an asshole.
“i live off deer mostly ― they carry a good amount of blood and aren’t too hard to catch. it’s just the taste that you have to get used to. they’re bitter.”
“great. so i’m subjected to never tasting anything good ever again.” are there any positives? youngtaek didn’t want to be a vampire. he didn’t know how you’d come to accept it either.
“you can still eat food ― it just doesn’t nourish you.” desperation filled your words.
“but somehow blood does?”
“i don’t know how it works. i’m not that much older than you are, you know that.”
he did. you had told him that you were changed at 21 but had only been a vampire for two years. it wasn’t a long time, considering how long you could live.
youngtaek thought, with a sudden twinge of self-consciousness, that maybe he was being too harsh. you were inexperienced. and he was the one who’d decided to stick around after he’d found out the truth about you.
“i’m not eating,” is all he finally said.
the expression on your face shattered and you stood, picking up the glass of blood as you stepped towards the door.
youngtaek was quick to his feet, grabbing the glass from your hands and placing it back down on the nightstand. “i meant that i’m not eating right now. i will, soon, i promise,” he sighed, taking your hand in his. he stared down at it and tried to imagine what it’d look like wrapped around the throat of some unsuspecting woodland mammal.
but it was still the same hand that had reached out to him that day you’d first met, the same hand that had softly held his cheek in comfort. it was still a part of you that had been so real to him and, despite this new balancing act that had taken over his reality, he wanted to believe in it. and, as deranged as it may make him, in you.
“i…” youngtaek swallowed out of habit, newly formed fangs pricking his tongue. “i just don’t want to lose everything that i was.”
and that was it: all his feelings, vulnerabilities, and fears laid out in the open for you to finally see.
he felt, rather than saw, the stiffness escape your shoulders. “you won’t, taek,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand.
it was gentle, like the rest of you had been. youngtaek tried to conjure up images of you when it had happened ― the blood on your canines and the way your fangs had protruded like knives. but all he saw instead were your eyes, wild with regret; all he heard was your voice, repeating his name over and over, dread and anguish bleeding right through it.
“can you promise that?” in retrospect, it was a cruel question, and youngtaek knew it. but to your credit, you didn’t flinch away as he had.
and unlike him, you always did your best to meet him with all the honesty you could.
“i can’t. but i can help you try to keep it.”
youngtaek looked at your hand again, resting so easily in his. and then he nodded.