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“Wow Jisung. I’m impressed. Your meter indicates that you are testing your blood sugar on average seven times a day. You’ve more than doubled from three times daily at our last appointment together,” Dr. Kim praises as he pulls up Jisung’s numbers on his computer. Jisung sits in the stuffy doctor’s office on a familiar plastic chair. He’s been coming to this office every three or four months for the past two years.
Dr. Kim is a young man about Jisung’s age. He has a clean look and a polite, professional demeanor. His dark hair is worn neatly slicked back and black spectacles frame his brown almond shaped eyes. He wears an ironed blue button up under a spotless lab coat. It’s a stark contrast from Jisung’s own scuffed up vans, black cargo pants, and his boyfriend’s purple hoodie he recently stole. They both dress for their professions Jisung supposes. He came here right after a short shift at the music store he works at. This is only their second appointment together after Jisung’s previous doctor retired last year.
“Yeah, I guess I have been doing better with it. My boyfriend has been really helpful reminding me,” he chuckles. Dr. Kim has no idea just how supportive his boyfriend is when it comes to his blood. He tries to reigns in the conspiratorial smirk that fights to take over his face.
“That’s excellent. It can be valuable to have people in your life to look out for you and keep you on track. I know life can get busy and it can be hard to do it all yourself,” Dr. Kim carries on with an easy supportive smile. “Now, if we take a look at your recent A1C, looks like the results just came in yesterday,” Dr. Kim continues as he clicks around on the computer displaying Jisung’s records. “Here it is,” he turns the screen so Jisung can see, “looks like your A1C is at 7.7. Now this is of course a bit higher than we would like it. Ideally, we would like to bring you down into the six range.”
Jisung nods, feeling a bit guilty… a failure yet again. Dr. Kim is being nothing but factual, but he can’t help but take it as a criticism. His A1C has stayed almost the same as last time, which was 7.8. Still not as bad as it was during his high school years. That was a rough and hormonal time for Jisung. His A1C was hovering in the double digits back then. Not pleasant.
He's snapped back into the conversation when the doctor speaks again, “Have you given any more thought to what we discussed last time? Getting a CGM? They have gotten very advanced these days. Even though you are testing a good amount, a CGM would give you a blood sugar level every five minutes and would clearly show your trends. Many patients find it very helpful for making their treatment decisions,” Dr. Kim explains.
Jisung vaguely remembers discussing this at his last appointment. He had been very wary of change when it was brought up. He thinks he remembers the doctor advising him to look into it, sending him home with a few brochures and suggested YouTube links to watch. Needless to say, Jisung had entirely forgotten to do all that. Oops. To his credit he had been very occupied not long after with his new whirlwind of a relationship with his very own vampiric blood sugar tester.
“Ahh, I’m still not sure about it. I didn’t look into it too much yet,” he admits sheepishly.
“That’s alright, take your time to think about it. We can revisit the option at your next appointment,” Dr. Kim assures him. “For now, I think we should make some changes to your ratios. See if we can bring your A1C down with that, okay?”
“Sounds good,” Jisung agrees.
“Firstly, your basal dose is 32 units administered nightly, correct?” Jisung nods, “I think we should try bringing it up to 35. Have you ever considered giving it in the mornings instead? That could possibly help these afternoon highs we’re seeing,” the doctor goes on while pointing at Jisung’s graph again.
The appointment finishes up quickly after they make some adjustments. Dr. Kim once again sends Jisung off with plenty of pamphlets about continuous glucose monitors and suggestions for additional reading and videos to help him make a decision. Little does he know about Jisung’s new main concern.
Minho has gotten very good at sensing Jisung’s blood sugar level. He’s even started guessing based on his smell, but that usually only works when he is either very high or low. He’s always very attentive when Jisung tests. He likes to help. He'll prepare the strip, hold it up to Jisung’s finger for him, watch as the blood gets sucked away before more drips out. He's always gentle as he takes the bleeding finger into his mouth. Eager to suck up any he can get. Softly licking the wound and helping to heal it with his saliva, Jisung has recently learned.
Checking his blood sugar has become more than a necessary nuisance. It’s an intimate experience he gets to share with his partner. He would actually miss it, he thinks. Worse, would Minho miss it? Would he be disappointed to lose the little tastes of Jisung that he has grown used to? Maybe it’s silly to consider things like that when it comes to his health, but he can’t help it.
🩸🩸🩸
After he leaves the medical office Jisung makes his way to the bakery. Minho won’t be there yet, the afternoon sun still lingering in the sky for at least another hour or two.
The place is lively with several customers coming and going. Some of the tables are occupied inside. Small families snacking on croissants and French onion soup. Dates sharing a piece of decadent cake. Lone business employees working while eating a sandwich made with artisanal bread.
Jisung queues in line behind a girl with long brown hair who chats a little louder than is polite into her phone. He sees that Felix is currently working the counter, while Suzi is coming in from the back room to restock the display with fresh bread and pastries. This is the way he first came to know this bakery, as a lively hub of activity full of wonderful smells and a hum of sound over the soft jazz music they play. Nothing like it is when he spends his quiet evenings here with Minho.
“Hey bro,” he greets Felix when it’s his turn to order. He has come to know many of Minho’s coworkers by name over the last few months. Felix, he likes especially. The boy is truly more of a cinnamon roll than the buns sitting pretty behind the display glass. The Australian native speaks with a cute twang as he greets Jisung back in his signature deep tone.
“Hiya Jisungie,” he beams back at him, “What can I get for you today?”
“Can I get a grilled cheese on sourdough and a bowl of the tomato bisk,” he orders. It’s what he usually gets when he comes here for a meal rather than just a dessert.
“You got it. That’ll be ready in about ten minutes,” the blond informs him as they finish the transaction.
Jisung finds an open table and puts his bag on top as he sits. His bag is a rather large grey canvas thing, several different pouches holding his laptop, headphones, as well as all his diabetic supplies he might need on the go. He has three little pins attached to the front, a cartoon red electric guitar, Calcifer from Howl’s Moving Castle, and a little black cat that Minho had gifted him a couple weeks back. He smiles at the little illustrated cat showing its fangs. It reminds him of his boyfriend every time he sees it. A cute housecat with overgrown teeth.
He pulls out his test kit and makes quick work of checking his blood sugar. The prick stings and bleeds uselessly for a whole minute. The process is decidedly less romantic when he’s alone. He pouts at the result. 183. This won’t do. He hasn’t eaten anything since lunch four hours ago. He even walked here after his appointment. There is no reason his blood sugar shouldn’t be perfect. He huffs as he pulls out his insulin pen to prepare his correction and dose for the food he will be eating soon. He already knows about how many carbs are in it, so he doesn’t need to wait.
Soon enough Felix is calling his name. When he returns with his food, he settles in to work on some music while he eats. He was recently sent a track by his manager at the music shop, Chan. They, along with their other friend Changbin, make music together as a hobby. Jisung mainly likes to work on the topline and lyrics. He gets lost in his writing as the sun slowly sets outside.
He's startled out of his work flow when someone sits across from him. He peeks over the top of his laptop, which he only now realizes he has been hunched over uncomfortably. His beautiful boyfriend smiles back at him softly. Minho’s eyes still look a bit crusty, and his face is very slightly swollen. He likely woke up right before heading to work. Unfortunately, vampires do need to sleep, Jisung had learned, they just do so during the day.
“Hey, Jagi. Whachu workin’ on?”
“Just a new 3RACHA track,” he answers as he hits save and closes his laptop.
“Wait, can I hear?” Minho makes grabby hands at his headphones.
“Not much to hear yet,” Jisung chuckles. “I’ll show you once we record the demo.”
“Fine,” Minho huffs and rests his head on his folded arms.
“When does your shift start, sleepyhead?” Jisung smiles at Minho, practically curled up like a kitten.
“In like twenty minutes,” he mumbles.
“More like ten,” a voice chimes in. They both look up to see Felix’s teasing face.
“Ahh, Yongbok-ah,” Minho whines.
“What? It’s true!” the blond protests. “Are you done with that, Jisung?” he asks pointing to the empty plate and bowl he pushed to the side of the table almost an hour ago.
“Oh, yeah,” he says passing the empty dishes.
“Thanks! See you in ten minutes Hyung,” Felix says cheerfully as he turns to walk away.
They sit in a companionable silence for a few minutes before Minho finally sits up. He stretches his stiff muscles. “How was your appointment today, Jagi?”
Jisung tenses slightly at the reminder. “It was fine,” he answers honestly. “My A1C wasn’t great, but Dr. Kim and I made a few adjustments, so we’ll see how it goes.”
“Ahh, I did think your hemoglobin tasted awfully glycated lately,” Minho nods sagely.
“Shut up,” Jisung scoffs, “there is no way you can taste that, you’re just spewing wikipedia at me now,” Jisung laughs. It’s sweet how much Minho has dived into learning about diabetes.
“So, your pancreas really just noped out when you were a kid then?”
“Well, that’s one way to put it, yeah,” Jisung said from where he lay against Minho's chest. He was scrolling while Minho was reading medical journals like a nerd. He might love this guy for real.
“Did you know diabetes used to be called The Pissing Evil?” Minho squawked a laugh.
“Isn’t that a lovely factoid to share while I’m eating,” Jisung huffs as he drops his fork briefly. Then he’s over it again because the japchae that Minho cooked him is really good. For someone who does not strictly have to eat, he’s a great cook.
“Did you know that they used to treat diabetics with pig insulin before they learned to synthesize it?” Minho asked him as they lay in Jisung’s bed post coitus.
“Its nice to know that’s what’s on your mind at the moment,” Jisung groans tiredly, “but, yes, I did know that. Another reason to be grateful to live in modern times. Before the pig insulin I would have just died a slow death.” Jisung doesn’t really like to think about that reality. Most days it’s easy to forget that there is anything wrong with him. His life carries on pretty normally, but to think if he lived over a hundred years ago, he would have wasted away as a child. It makes him sad for little Jisungie even though he grew up fine with modern medical intervention. He still doesn’t like to think that he has to rely on access to healthcare. Any number of political or natural disasters could change his life in an instant. He shudders as Minho hugs him closer.
🩸🩸🩸
Jisung walks home alone later that night. Minho was working the closing shift as he often does. It’s perfect for his nocturnal schedule to work from 6 pm to 2 am, then he has the rest of the night for himself. Jisung had stayed another hour after Minho’s shift started, but he was feeling drained after his long day, so he decided to trudge home.
When he arrives at his little studio apartment he flops on his couch with a groan of exhaustion. Something fell out of his bag as he threw it down. He turns over to look at it. An unassuming little pamphlet lies on the rug. Thin baby blue paper and a glamor shot of a woman with a little round device prominently displayed on her upper arm like a badge. It’s staged to look like she’s walking a cute golden retriever. The text beneath her reads 'Don’t Let Diabetes Slow You Down'.
Jisung groans again, louder, but he reaches down to pick up the pamphlet. The paper feels glossy and cool to his touch. He flips through it, trying to make out the words in the low light of the room. Continuous Glucose Monitor. Sugar level tested every five minutes. He could even get an app on his phone for it. Only have to change it every 10 days. Goodbye finger calluses.
It does all sound rather appealing. He hums in thought. Maybe he should consider it. It would be nice to not have to prick his finger several times a day. That honestly hurts more than the shots ever do.
Maybe if he had accepted this four months ago, he wouldn’t feel so conflicted. At the same time maybe he wouldn’t have a boyfriend at all if he had gotten one back then. Would Minho have approached him that night? Asked him out? Or would Jisung have never even walked into that bakery so late if his blood sugar hadn’t been low? Never meeting Minho at all. He frowns.
Would Minho still care for him so gently if there wasn’t blood to taste? If he wasn’t needed in the same way?
He shoves the pamphlet under a book on his coffee table and gets up with a huff. A relaxing shower is what he needs right about now. He does his best to forget all about it. That’s a problem for future Jisung to solve.
🩸🩸🩸
A new thought plagues Jisung as Minho sucks idly on his finger while they watch an episode of their current show. They are relaxing on Minho’s couch like they often do with a cat, Doongie this time, curled up on the edge of Jisung’s blanket. Jisung eats popcorn with his free hand. Minho never released his fingers after Jisung tested earlier. He keeps them in his mouth lightly sucking or licking over them every so often. Jisung isn’t sure if Minho even realizes he’s doing it. He seems to like the act even long after there is no blood left.
The thought strikes Jisung then, as a side character’s blood pools on the screen.
“Why haven’t you ever asked to drink my blood?” Jisung suddenly turns to Minho accusatorily.
“What?” Minho mumbles around his fingers before finally releasing his hand. His spit dribbles out after it and he looks down as though he’s startled to see Jisung’s hand in front of his own face.
“You’ve never asked to drink my blood. Why is that?”
“What do you mean? I drink your blood all the time,” Minho squints down at Jisung’s wet hand for evidence.
“Just drops. That hardly counts. Don’t you like the taste of my blood? You always say you do, but you’ve never asked for more.” Jisung points out. He’s not sure if this is something to be mad about, but now that he’s thinking about it, he does feel a bit offended.
“Jagi, I love the taste of your blood,” Minho turns to face him, putting his hands on the human’s shoulders and squeezing lightly, “but you’re my boyfriend. You are not obligated to be my food source too, you know? I get all the blood I need on the black market anyway, like any respectable vampire,” Minho explains.
Jisung pauses to think. Minho did tell him he drinks from blood bags a few times a week to satiate himself. He’s even seen Minho drink a few times, though his boyfriend is surprisingly shy about it. He won’t let Jisung see as he pours it into his red thermos cup. He drinks it with a matching straw. Jisung has fondly referred to it as his sippy cup. That did get him glare as his boyfriend gulped down his drink with black eyes and fangs peeking out behind his lips. Maybe that face would scare Jisung shitless if they met in a dark alley, but on his sweet boyfriend it just looks cute. Jisung never really asked how Minho got his blood bags though.
“The black market? Where do you actually get them from?” Jisung asks, tilting his head.
“I have a seller. A doctor. He gets them from the blood bank right before they expire and would have to throw them out anyway,” Minho maintains earnest eye contact as he explains.
“Hmm. That makes sense,” Jisung muses thoughtfully, “but wouldn’t it be more convenient to drink mine? If you like it and we are together so much anyway…”
Minho smiles fondly. “That’s very sweet Jisungie, but aren’t you worried about yourself? It would hurt way more than your little needles. And if I took too much or too often it could mess with your cortisol and spike your blood sugar, or it could even mess up your A1C readings,” Minho goes on patiently.
Jisung squints at his boyfriend, “it sounds like you have looked into it if you know so much.”
“Maybe a little,” Minho smirks, “but mostly it just came up as I was reading other things about diabetes. It certainly got me thinking, but even if you weren’t diabetic, I still wouldn’t expect anything from you.”
“Well,” Jisung thinks. “As for the pain, I don’t really know how bad it would be unless I experience it. And your saliva would heal it quickly, right?” Minho nods. “And if frequency and amount would be an issue, couldn’t I just every now and then let you take a little drink?” he argues.
“I guess in theory that would probably be okay, but it’s not something you have to do you know? Why are you thinking about this all of the sudden?”
“I don’t know,” Jisung shrugs, “it just popped in my head. Pop,” he demonstrates, “when you have a vampire boyfriend there are lots of possibilities to consider. I guess I’m just curious. Couldn’t we try it at least once? Maybe I will find it super painful and hate it, then we won’t ever have to do it again.”
“I guess you’re right,” Minho concedes. “If you really want to try it we can. But you know I never want to hurt you, Jagi. If it feels bad, we will stop right away, okay?”
Jisung nods eagerly. He feels a rush of excitement. He’s going to get a vampire bite! That feels objectively pretty cool. Teen Jisung would have been so impressed with twenty-four year old Jisung right about now.
“Where will you bite me? My neck?” Jisung is already turning his head to display his smooth unmarked skin. Well not completely unmarked. He still has a little bruise from where Minho sucked too hard on his jugular last week.
Minho giggles at his eagerness. “Probably shouldn’t do the neck. It will still be visible for a bit before healing completely. Let’s do it somewhere less visible. Maybe here?” Minho grabs a fistful of Jisung’s peck and smirks, “wouldn’t mind getting to sink my teeth into that.”
“Perv!” Jisung shouts in mock offense, “But yeah that works for me,” he giggles.
They decide to relocate to Minho’s bedroom before getting started. Minho lays out a towel ‘in case of spillage’ and helps Jisung out of his shirt. As Jisung lies down he feels that rush of anticipation to experience something for the first time. It might turn out to be unpleasant, but he’s still chomping at the bit to feel it for himself.
Minho climbs onto the bed and straddles Jisung’s thighs. He tries to remind his body that they are not here for sexy times right now, but it’s hard when his boyfriend looks so majestic above him. Minho’s eyes darken as he gazes down at Jisung like a prey animal caught in his clutches. It’s pretty fucking intense, especially when he opens his mouth so Jisung can watch as his fangs extend.
“You still sure you want me to bite you? Take a good look at my teeth, they’re not small.”
“That’s what she said,” Jisung cuts through the tension with a silly laugh. Minho rolls his eyes and gives him a serious look. “Okay. Yes, I’m still sure. I trust you Jagi,” he says taking a deep breath in.
Minho gives him a determined nod before looking back down at his chest. Jisung is fairly muscular up top, and Minho has complimented his arms and chest many times. It’s hardly the first time he’s seen Jisung shirtless, yet it feels brand new somehow as Minho’s hands sweep over his ribs gently. A tingly path is formed as he caresses Jisung’s side before stopping at his chest.
When Minho leans forward, he doesn’t bite right away. He takes his time nosing along Jisung’s skin. Leaving burning kisses in his wake. He can hear the vampire take deep lung fills of his scent. He looks up to meet Jisung’s eyes as he places a last little kiss to his upper peck. Jisung nods.
When Minho bites into him it burns. Jisung gasps and whimpers at the painful stabs. It’s so much worse than pricking his finger with a lancet or giving himself a shot with his little nano needles. It’s even worse than when he gets his blood drawn at the lab. It’s worse than scraping a knee or stubbing a toe. It’s two little knives stabbing him in tandem. Maybe this is what it feels like to be a piece of steak on a fork.
“Ow, ow, oh,” he whimpers as Minho’s teeth draw back out. Then the suction starts. Minho’s soft lips attach around the bite and suck softly. His blood pools up in his mouth, a trickle, but more than the feeble drops he’s given before. Now it just feels like he’s getting a particularly intense hickey. It still stings, but the pain is significantly less without the fangs in his skin. It dulls as Minho licks over the wound as he sucks up his warm fresh blood.
The spot on his chest feels hot and sticky, but it’s almost pleasant now. Jisung’s head feels vaguely fuzzy as he stops writhing and lets it happen. His breaths are panting, and his hands reach out to grip Minho. He runs his fingers through his burgundy locks to soothe himself.
Minho slowly detached himself. His sucking is replaced entirely by gentle licks to help stave off the flow of blood. The bleeding stops quickly since he hadn’t gone too deep. He licks Jisung’s chest clean as the punctures shrink and scab over. He ends with another soft kiss to the bite mark.
Minho moves up the bed until his face hovers over Jisung’s. “Jisungie,” he calls softly, his voice carrying the subtle characteristic lisp of his fangs. His lips look redder than usual, but that may just be Jisung’s imagination. He looks radiant and so lovely as his eyes pinch in concern.
“How do I taste, Jagi?” Jisung manages to smirk tiredly.
“Like a dream,” Minho leans down to kiss him lightly on the mouth. He’s smiling as he comes up again. “How did it feel? Was the pain bad?”
“It was pretty awful at first,” Jisung admits, “your fangs are no joke Hyung,” Minho frowns, “don’t worry, after the bite it wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of nice towards the end. I felt close to you,” Jisung whispers.
Minho kisses him softly again. They make out for a while after that, thoroughly forgetting they were having a conversation. Jisung feels love bubbling up in his heart like a can of soda that got all shaken up. He can feel it about to pop open and spill all over.
Minho must have felt it too, because when they part, he says, “Jisung-ah, I love you,” for the first time. Jisung feels his eyes well up with tears faster than his blood after pricking a finger.
“No fair, I was about to say that Hyung,” he whines as the first tear oozes over his waterline. “I love you, so much.”
They just smile like idiots and settle into bed to cuddle contently.
🩸🩸🩸
“What’s this?” Minho says from Jisung’s couch. He is currently in his little kitchenette cutting up an apple for a snack, so he can’t see what his boyfriend is on about. “Oh. Are you getting a CGM device?”
Jisung feels the floor dropping from under him when Minho says those words. The knife slips from his grip and clatters onto the cutting board, narrowly missing his fingers. His gaze snaps over to the couch. He can only see Minho’s head from here, he’s looking down and reading something.
“That would be great, wouldn’t it? I know how annoying testing your blood all the time can be. I’ve actually been reading about these, but I wasn’t sure if your doctor would recommend it,” Minho muses as he flips through the little blue pamphlet that Jisung had discarded there several weeks ago and forgotten about.
Jisung blinks. “What? But…you wouldn’t mind if I got one?”
“What?” Minho looks up at him perplexed. “Jisung-ah, why on earth would I mind?” he gets up to join Jisung by the counter.
“Well…just. Because,” he sputters almost at a loss. It had made sense in his head back then that Minho would be upset about it. “Because you are so into helping test my blood sugar and getting a taste after.”
“Jisung,” Minho sighs, pinching his nose bridge as he leans against the counter by Jisung’s side “I do that because I want to help you manage your diabetes, to be healthy,” he emphasizes. “If I can help by tasting your blood sugar level when you run out of strips or healing the prick faster with my saliva then I will. The blood is just a tiny bonus, it’s not important Jagi. If this would make it easier for you to manage your numbers then you should get it, don’t hold back because you think I’m only here for a tiny drop of blood a couple times a day when we are together,” Minho finishes with a sigh.
“Okay, well when you put it like that, I feel silly.” Jisung pouts.
“That’s cause you are silly,” Minho smiles, “and I love that about you, but you don’t need to be silly about this, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh.”
“Oh.” Minho pulls him in for a hug. “Besides, you already have been begging me to bite you again,” Jisung can hear the smirk in Minho’s voice even when he can’t see it, “so it’s not like I’ll never get a taste of my Jisungie again.” He playfully latches onto Jisung’s neck with his dull bunny teeth.
“Get off me you leech!” Jisung screeches as he tries weakly to shove his boyfriend away.
🩸🩸🩸
Jisung opens and closes his mouth trying to build up some moisture. He’s had a bad case of cotton mouth for the last hour and a half. He’s squatting down next to a box of plastic sealed records as he stocks the bottom shelves at the music store. The grating sound of a beginner guitarist struggling through the chords of Stairway to Heaven pounds into his ears. He has a headache coming on. He can hear Chan talking the guy up, likely trying to make a sale on the guitar as quickly as possible.
Jisung stands with a groan. His bladder feels like it’s about to take matters into its own hands and have him piss all over the vinyl floors. He rushes to the single bathroom before he embarrasses himself. His pee rushes out, but quickly stops. A tiny amount considering he has already gone three times in the last hour. He huffs as he flushes the toilet.
Jisung can’t deny it any longer. His blood sugar is very high at the moment.
It’s been a rotten day. He slept in this morning (even though he didn’t have to wake up until 12, don’t judge him), and had to rush out the door with a piece of toast and jam stuck in his mouth. He was still not used to taking his basal insulin dose in the morning, so he had entirely forgotten. He only remembered when he got to work and saw a ‘good morning’ text from Minho. His boyfriend would always text him a reminder before going to sleep himself. Jisung sat in the tiny staff room and reached into his bag to get his insulin. He usually carries an extra long-acting pen with him just in case.
He tried not to panic when he came up empty. He turned his whole bag over and was horrified to realize that not only did he not have one, but that he had forgotten to grab his test kit or any insulin altogether before he ran out the door. He tries to remember if he had at least given himself a shot for breakfast, but he was so tired he honestly can’t remember.
That’s how Jisung ended up spending his shift with the slowly rising discomfort of high blood sugar. He tried not to think about it too much as he worked. It was for a few hours. It wouldn’t be so bad right?
Now it was almost 6 o’clock and he had one hour left to go.
Chan comes up to him after he exits the backroom. “Dude, are you alright? That’s like the fifth time you’ve used the bathroom today?” his friend’s brow is furrowed like a concerned puppy dog.
“Yeah, I’ve just been drinking a lot of water, got to stay hydrated,” Jisung excuses. He doesn’t want to worry Chan with it, he’ll be fine. He’s sure, as the manager, Chan would have insisted he go home and take care of himself. But Jisung has never been very good at that. Besides he can’t leave Chan to tend the shop alone, he tells himself. Evenings are the busiest time, and Changbin won’t be here to take over for another hour.
Chan looks at him dubiously. Maybe he had seen Jisung’s empty water bottle in the break room earlier, but if he had he doesn’t press him on it.
Jisung feels pretty crappy by the time he leaves the shop. He hadn’t eaten anything since that piece of toast, for fear of spiking his blood sugar even more. His body feels heavy and sticky, like his blood has turned to syrup in his veins. His mouth is still dry. His head pounds. And he had to pee another time before leaving the shop.
He power walks home, both to get there faster and in hopes of lowering his sugar a bit. The sky is dark now, twilight having faded to night. Streetlamps illuminate his path and lights from shops spill out onto the sidewalk. There are still plenty of people walking around, running errands and commuting.
When he reaches his building, a figure stands by his door.
“There you are Jagi,” Minho turns to him with a smile. Jisung had completely forgotten Minho wasn’t working tonight. They had planned to meet at Jisung’s place after his shift.
Minho’s nose twitches as Jisung comes closer. He leans in to bury his nose in Jisung’s neck. He pulls away quickly with a grimace.
“Your blood smells way too sweet right now, I’ve never smelled it like this,” Minho confesses with a look of deep concern.
“Yeahhhh,” Jisung draws out the word as he unlocks his door, “I may have forgotten all my insulin at home today,” he admits sheepishly as he shut it behind them.
“What?” Minho yelps, “why didn’t you leave early? Did Chan not let you? I’ll beat his ass,” he threatens.
“No, no, I didn’t tell him or ask to leave?” Jisung purses his lips.
“Wha- why… never mind let’s get your insulin first,” Minho shakes his head. He should honestly be used to Jisung’s foolishness by now.
Jisung finds his test kit and pens sitting innocuously on the counter next to an open jar of jam he also failed to put away. He tests his blood first. He expects the number on the screen to be in the three hundreds, two hundreds if he gets lucky with walking home, but alas it doesn’t even tell him a number. The meter just says HIGH.
He hides it from Minho as he holds out his finger curiously. Minho has never tasted his blood this high, and he has a morbid curiosity to satisfy. Minho doesn’t protest, though he does roll his eyes in a way that says ‘this is hardly the time’ but licks the blood up anyway.
“Yuck,” he holds his tongue out. “That is like pure glucose. What does it say?” he asks with his lips puckered in distaste.
“Guess first,” Jisung holds back an inappropriate laugh.
“385?”
“You could be close, no idea,” he shrugs as he pushes the kit over for Minho to see.
“High? Just high? What does that even mean?” Minho asks in perplexity.
“On this meter that means over 400, beyond that I don’t know,” Jisung says as he finally reaches for his insulin.
“But then how are you supposed to treat it, if you don’t know what it is?”
“Well to start off, I’ll treat it like I’m 400. Then I’ll test later and see if I’m still super high basically,” Jisung shrugs as he winds up several units.
“Okay,” his boyfriend nods resolutely, like he’s about to disarm a bomb.
Jisung gives the shot in the side of his tummy. It click, click, clicks until it's all in. He caps the needle and discards it in the little sharps container he keeps on his counter next to a box of new ones. Then he grabs his long-acting insulin pen and considers what to do. He should probably go ahead and administer it now, even if that will mess up his schedule a bit.
Minho watches in silence as he gives himself the second larger shot. His fingers twitch on the table top like he wishes he could be helping somehow. “Can you get me a glass of water?” Jisung asks to put him out of his misery. Minho takes on the task with determination as Jisung finishes cleaning up. He chugs the water down once it’s in front of him. He really was thirsty, and his mouth is still drier than a desert.
They settle down to watch their show again. Minho had planned to make Jisung dinner after work, but for now he’s stuck eating a sad bowl of baby carrots. It was too soon to eat anything with more carbs, but he was very hungry. He pouts as he crunches on one.
“Baby don’t look so sad,” Minho grabs his cheeks, “I’ll make you better food later, once your blood sugar goes down,” he assures him. He goes to boop his nose and Jisung makes a move to bite his finger.
“You know they say it’s as easy to bite a finger as it is a carrot. And meat is a very low carb meal,” Jisung glowers.
“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” Minho laughs.
After another hour has passed, Jisung tests again. His body feels a bit lighter, but his headache pounds on.
“Hmm, better. 250?” Minho guesses.
“278,” Jisung grimaces, “but it has gone down at least,” he gives another correction as Minho agrees to make him a low carb dinner.
Before bed Jisung tests his blood another time. Minho licks his sore finger clean.
“Do you think it’s alright?” Jisung asks, not having looked yet himself.
“I think you’re at about 200 now.
Jisung takes a breath and flips the kit open. 191, it says. He sighs in relief. It’s still a bit high, but at least he can feel comfortable going to sleep now.
“Maybe…” Minho hesitates. “Do you think you should contact your doctor? See if you can get on a CGM sooner?”
Jisung considers this. He’s not sure if knowing his blood sugar really would have helped today. Maybe it would have urged him to go home sooner to get his insulin. He really got in his own way by forgetting his supplies and not asking to leave early. Still, he has made up his mind that he wants to try it, so maybe getting started sooner rather than later would be good.
🩸🩸🩸
Dr. Kim did not have any available appointments on such short notice, but he made an exception to squeeze in a quick phone appointment with Jisung after his last patient of the day. Jisung sits at Minho’s dining table with his phone on speaker as he and the doctor exchange pleasantries. Minho had gone to his room to fold laundry or something to give Jisung privacy.
“So, Mr. Han, you messaged that you wanted to discuss starting a CGM before your next appointment?” the doctor pauses.
“That’s correct.”
“Great, then this shouldn’t take too long. I can put in your referral to the company that supplies them. This will not be a regular prescription you can pick up at the pharmacy. The supplies will be sent straight to your residence within a week or two. Is the address on file still correct?” Jisung confirms his address and Dr. Kim goes over a few more details.
At some point Minho walks by the dining room with a pile of folded linens in his arms. He shoots Jisung a smile as he walks by, but when he hears the doctor speak, he does a double take.
“Kim Seungmin?” he comes over to address the phone.
“Uhh, yes. To whom am I speaking? Is Jisung still there?” the doctor flounders.
Minho just bursts into a fit of laughter.
Jisung glares daggers at him and mouths, ‘What the hell are you doing?’
“Yes, I’m right here. So sorry Dr. Kim, that’s just my boyfriend. Don’t mind him he’s off his meds right now,” Jisung says the first lame excuse he can think of.
“Wait, Kim Seungmin is your doctor?” Minho wheezes.
“Um, yeah? How do you know his name?” Jisung hisses.
“This guy is my blood supplier.”
Jisung stares at him in stunned silence.
“Oh, it’s that Minho,” Dr. Kim sneers over the phone.
“Fancy seeing you here doctor,” Minho smirks.
“This is literally a phone call. You can’t see shit,” Seungmin fires back. They banter back and forth as Jisung’s clean image of his doctor is shattered to pieces.
“Do I need to switch doctors now?” Jisung asks after the appointment.
“No, why?" Minho hums as he distributes food into the three cat bowls by the door. Soonie is already circling his legs and meowing impatiently.
“Because my doctor is apparently stealing from the blood bank and selling it on the black market?” Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Nah, Kim Seungmin is very professional when it comes to his job. I don’t think you need to worry,” Jisung eyes him dubiously. “Think of it this way,” Minho straightens up, empty can in hand, “it’s like he’s doing a public service. The alternative is him not doing it and that would lead to quite a few hungry vampires left to their own devices, which has historically not been great,” he makes his case.
“I guess you’re right,” Jisung grimaces at the thought of rabid vampires flocking to the streets. “I’d much rather vamps stick to their sippy cups like you,” he grins.
🩸🩸🩸
When Jisung gets his first shipment, Minho is right there to suffer through reading all the instructions with him. Eventually they figured it out and got the app on his phone connected. The glucose monitor is a tiny grey thing about the size of a bottle cap. It sticks onto Jisung with a surroundings circle that feels a bit like medical tape. It stung for a second as it stuck in, but otherwise it was painless. It’s a bit strange to have something attached to him, but it’s light weight and he’s sure he’ll forget he's wearing it after a while.
“Does this mean I’m a cyborg now?” he asks his boyfriend as they watch his blood sugar, 96, appear on his phone screen.
“Maybe,” Minho muses. “It’s not a permanent attachment, but it is an electronic supplement that fulfills a purpose on your body. Sounds kind of cyborg like to me,” Minho smiles and kisses his cheek.
“Nice,” he concurs as he watches the screen change as a new number comes in, 102. An arrow points straight forward indicating that his blood sugar is neither falling nor rising greatly at the moment. “This is pretty cool. I haven’t had to bleed once and its already tracked my blood sugar for an hour,” he looks at all the dots on the little graph on his screen. He hadn’t realized how much anxiety he’d been carrying until now, watching that graph in real time.
“Hmm,” Minho hums as he hooks his chin on Jisung’s shoulder to view the screen with him.
“Are you sure you’re not going to miss tasting my blood everyday now?” Jisung turns to ask, a sliver of doubt creeping back in after all the excitement.
“Let me think,” Minho muses. Then his teeth latch onto Jisung’s neck in a gentle bite, fangs nowhere to be seen. “No, your skin tastes better anyway,” he licks over his throat to prove it. It tickles and Jisung tries to shove him away.
“Get off me! Help! Vampire attack!” he screeches, but Minho shuts him up with a kiss.