Archive of Our Own

If Choi Subong were to guess, he’d say that he’s the only man in the world—hell, maybe even in history—who can proudly say that he’s managed to befriend a vampire.

It sounds like a weird achievement. To be fair, when he was a kid, and his teacher asked him to come up with something he’d want to do or be when he’s older, he wouldn’t have said: ‘Mrs Jang, when I grow up, I want to have a vampire live with me 24/7!’ Yet, here he is. And he’s oddly fulfilled with his achievement, too. Most people who come across his extremely scary, intimidating, terrifying vampire would get their souls sucked out of them, but not Subong. Nah, Subong’s the exception.

He resists snorting loudly to himself at his own depiction of Namgyu, as he looks over to where he’s lazily strewn over their half-beaten couch. He’s definitely not the traditional vampire he had imagined prior to meeting him; there’s no long flowing black cape, scarlet red eyes (though, he did suggest ordering him coloured contacts too when Subong was ordering his blue ones, getting him a pillow thrown at his face, rudely) or greying skin.

At first glance, Namgyu doesn’t look like an undead, antichrist creature. His slightly out-of-the-ordinary appearance could easily be passed off as the outcome of being some antisocial freak who never leaves the house because they’re too busy moderating their Discord server.

Except that’s also not really accurate. He’s only saying that because of his pale skin, that’s unable to see sunlight. Some Discord mod wouldn’t have the same pristine complexion that Namgyu has, void of any eye bags, acne, markings, or anything you can think of: he doesn’t have. Hasn’t even heard of.

Subong got the smallest pimple one day, and Namgyu thought it was life-threatening (which, okay, he’s guilty of entertaining because Namgyu fussing over him, playing nurse, was so fucking hilarious, call it manipulative or whatever.)

He didn’t need the verbal confirmation to know that Namgyu wasn’t human; one look at his way-too-pretty face screamed that alone. He might as well have the words: “I am a vampire!” tattooed on his forehead.

And that’s not weird to think that, okay? If he thought Namgyu was objectively fucking beautiful. Chicks have been geeking out over vampires for decades. What he’s feeling is nothing but a tame observation of his surface appearance.

No, but, seriously—his...allure? Has to be an actual side effect of being a vampire, right?

They’ve only really had one real conversation about his ‘condition’ as they call it, and it was nothing but basic speculation.

“I dunno man,” Namgyu shrugged as they were out on their balcony one night in the early stages of their friendship when he had freshly moved in, it was freezing considering that they’re in the height of winter, yet Namgyu’s fine in just a tank top, “I think I was born as a... You know, vampire. That, or I don’t remember my previous life.” He’s pretty sure that he’s contracted frostbite by now from being out here, and while, yes, theoretically he could smoke his vape inside, it’s nicer out here. More bluntly, it’s a nice moment they’re having, and he doesn’t have the urge to ruin it.

If getting frostbite meant he’d have Namgyu playing nurse with him again, he might stay out here all night.

Way too off topic.

In the corner of his eye, he quietly watches how the wind brushes strands of hair away from Namgyu’s face and lets that set in. The fact that he has no parents, childhood, friends or memories. In all the years he’s been aimlessly wandering Korea without any purpose to his immortality, Subong has been the first thing in his ‘life’ that’s had any meaning. If he were in Namgyu’s position, he’d be pretty pissed with the universe. “How many years you been around for?” He asks, whilst he’s handed a cigarette.

Namgyu considers the question thoughtfully, as Subong brings the flame of his plastic lighter (he instantly threw his previous, expensive, lighter out once he realised it was made of silver) to the cigarette and lets the end catch sparks before it’s handed back to him, “Thanks.” Vampires can’t be near fire, after all, “And I dunno. A long time, I think.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you remember?” Everyone has a first memory, right?

He hears the small crackle of the cigarette’s paper being burned away, before, “War.” Namgyu states blankly, staring forward at the soft glow of Seoul that’s reflected on his almost translucent skin, “I remember being... Fuck, scared. I woke up to the sound of people fighting, and I remember thinking that something wasn’t right. Unfair. But then I realised I wasn’t one of them. So, it wasn’t something I could be angry about because I wasn’t one of them, was I?”

He describes it vaguely with lots of ‘they’, ‘it’, and Subong doesn’t ask what it means. None of it can be good, judging from how he’s describing it.

Namgyu’s face twists into thought, “I know how to speak Japanese.” He continues, saying it as if he’s asking Subong what that implies.

And what’s worse is that it suddenly clicks to him that he does— well, could know. Not... for sure, like, he obviously can’t go back and check for himself, but... It really can’t mean anything else, right?

There’s a possibility that maybe, just maybe, he coincidentally happened to be a linguist in his previous life. Maybe he lived way, way, way before 1910. Maybe, if he did have a living body with a beating heart, it didn’t rot away after his home was invaded.

The possibilities drive him insane; he’s been unable to stop thinking about it. “Seriously? Shit, that’s pretty cool. I know how to speak English.” Subong won’t ever tell him about his theories, though. It’s better that way, right? Why would he bring up something that implies so much sorrow when it could not even be true? He’s protecting his boy’s mental state. “You know if there are any others? Like you?”

That made him choke up with genuine laughter. This probably isn’t a trait of being a vampire, but his laugh is, like, weirdly pretty. Not in a soft, cutesy, aegyo way that people try to fake sometimes, but in a genuine snorty, pig way.

Wait, shit, no, that sounds bad, he takes that back. He means, like, a cute piglet? You know?

“Sure, let me go put up a few posters. ‘Looking for other vampires, please respond’ I’m sure I’ll hear back,” He sees him roll his eyes.

Wow, what a pessimistic mindset to have, “What? Don’t want vampires at our door? Thought you were team Edward.” He grins, they had put on Twilight to watch last night after sharing a few edibles.

Namgyu laughs so hard that he brings the hand that’s holding his cigarette to cover his mouth. The burning flame is wandering dangerously close to his skin. “That was the worst movie I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you seriously put that on.

Fuck if he knows whether the movie was actually bad or not. He was... distracted. Unfocused. On something that wasn’t how wide-eyed his roommate gets when genuinely invested in watching something. All he knows is that the chick in the film gets all gooey-eyed for vampires, so that’s...a fact,  “Seriously? But, those are your people!” He nudges Namgyu’s shoulder. After last night, he now knows that he has a habit of biting down on his lower lip with the one fang that’s slightly pushing further out than the other when concentrated.

He scoffs and tries to pull away, but there’s a telling smile growing on his face, “Those are not ‘my people’, they were so fucking freaky.”

Okay, well, either he’s straight-up lying or heavily insecure, and it’s definitely not the second one. The vampire family in that film could totally be passed off as a distant relative of Namgyu’s, if it weren’t for—“Especially their creepy ass eyes.” Right, the eyes.

See, if you squint really, really closely at Namgyu’s face like he’s done maybe 10 or 11 few hundred times— but that’s beside the point because obviously, seeing a vampire is still new to him, duh, so he’s just trying to comprehend it fully—some people would notice that fact that he has no pupils. There is technically no colour to his eyes, only an abyss of dark pools. He has the eyes of a doll, only they blink with emotion that some lifeless puppet could never achieve.

“Maybe you’re not a vampire, then,” Subong shrugs, throwing out his most recent theory.

Namgyu, reasonably, turns and fixes him a look that silently asks: ‘Are you fucking stupid?’ Ouch, “Why?”

“I mean, you could be something else, right? Another monster? What makes you so sure you’re a vamp?”

Subong is starting to believe he’s not one. I mean, look at him, there’s no way he’s not mixed with some siren-y powers. It’s a plausible explanation for why he’s been... You know, mixed-up.

“I have two V-shaped fangs, I can’t touch fire or silver, garlic makes my throat swell, sunlight cooks me alive, oh, and the only thing that goes down my throat is fucking blood,” Namgyu lists, his voice filling with misery as he goes on until it cracks at the last one, “I’m pretty sure I know what I am.”

Okay. Dick move on his end, “Yeah... No, you’re right. That’s my fault.”

One drag of a cigarette has him all peachy again, “’S fine. I don’t care.” He obviously does.

So, yeah. There’s no direct confirmation of what Namgyu is, but there aren’t many other possibilities.

It’s funny, though, because Namgyu has to be the world’s worst vampire.

When he said ‘Most people who come across him get their souls sucked out of them?’ Subong didn’t mean that literally: he was really trying to explain that Namgyu’s kind of a huge bitch, tearing people apart verbally.

To his knowledge, at least, Namgyu doesn’t have the intent to kill people, which was one of the first ice-breakers they had to address when he moved in.

“I could, if I wanted to, though,” Namgyu argued defensively when he had first asked him, “What? You think I can’t do it or something?”

“Calm down, man, I didn’t say that.” He did think that he could, but now the way he’s adamantly arguing on how scary he is gives him second thoughts. “Just asking so I know whether or not to lock my doors when I sleep.” A joke, he wouldn’t have let Namgyu into his literal home if he didn’t already trust him.

But it makes him falter; the defensiveness behind his voice slips and renders him quiet.

Subong ignores the silence and goes back to setting up a bed for Namgyu, throwing a few pillows down on his half-beaten mattress. Even if he doesn’t have to sleep, it’s the thought that counts, right?

He almost jumps when Namgyu speaks again, “I wouldn’t, you know.”

“Wouldn’t what?” If he’s being honest, he had already forgotten what the topic was.

“Hurt you—I’m not some fucking animal.” He spits out bitterly.

Oh. Shit, “Hey, I know you’re not,” Even if he snorts like a piglet, “I’m only fucking with you.”

“Okay,” He hears him breathe out, knowing he’s probably making double—triple sure that not a single hair strand is slipping from behind his ears. Namgyu’s a real perfectionist about that, “Because I know what self-control is.”

Now that almost makes him fuck up and drop another pillow on the floor. Because, what? “Yeah? You saying you’d wanna take a bite out of me?”

No direct response, but a stream of his piglet giggles erupts from where he’s standing.

The mental image of him being caged in place, Namgyu closing in on his exposed neck with his two pointy, polished fangs bared, forces him to swallow down a prominent lump in his throat.

Eventually, he also found out that Namgyu had somehow tried drinking animal blood before? From a goat, or something? Now, he’s not judging someone for their tastes, or whatever, especially since he can’t really control it with the whole vampire blood-drinking thing, but he does care a lot about the state of his carpets and the smell of animal carcasses piling up.

Hypothetically, if it did come to it, though, he would drag in whatever weird animal or hell—even human if it was that serious, for Namgyu to suck the blood out of.

Shit. He really has his head messed up now.

He doesn’t have to worry about that, anyway. For now, he seems fine with either not eating anything at all or taking small bites of dark, bitter chocolate and sipping strong coffee. It’s the strongest, sweetest taste that his flavourless taste buds can pick up on. At least his lungs are being well fed with tobacco.

It still doesn’t seem real that he willingly gave up a bedroom in his already cramped apartment to someone he had known for 2 weeks prior.

Their first-time meeting didn’t feel real either. Nothing about their time together does; it’s all too surreal for him.

It had started when Subong began regularly coming to the nightclub, hidden away in a shady alleyway, called ‘Club Pentagon.’

And before he continues, he’ll make it clear that he’s always considered himself to be straight. There’s nothing wrong with playing for the other team like that; it’s just the fact that women do it for him and not dudes. Simple.

The reason why he came to Pentagon, which he had later found out to be this weirdly secretive gay club, was to network. Not his fault at all that he didn’t know this place’s entrance rules; it wasn’t exactly advertised anywhere that this wasn’t some regular nightclub.

But even after not finding many contacts that’d help him get his rapping career off the ground, he had to come back, okay? The—the drinks were cheap!

If he also happened to see some mysterious, conventionally attractive face constantly lurking in the corner, scoping out his surroundings as if he considers everybody else in the room to be a threat, so what if he also came back because of that? It was some weird shit, he was investigating.

He found his answer when Subong ended up lingering at the club for way longer than he was supposed to, pissing off the bouncers who had warned him to fuck off the premises hours ago, until it had reached daylight at 6 am. Bright and early, but still blasted from the... Night? Morning? He just had. Subong snuck out of the back entrance, where there was nothing but heaps of garbage bags.

Almost nothing.

Because in the midst of the trash was Namgyu. Unmoving, and skin being charred off in a sizzling cloud that hung over his limp body.

What the fuck?

Despite seemingly literally burning alive, when Subong reached out to try and do something, he felt that Namgyu was icy-cold on the surface, as if he had been stored in a cryofreezer for months. Yet his skin has a rugged, scarred texture that continues to erode the layer.

Not knowing what else to do, Subong dragged him further back into the alley, where it was sheltered with shade. That seemed to at least stop the skin from actively setting itself ablaze.

After a while of him sitting there with him, figuring that he might as well try to sober up whilst checking up on this dude he kept seeing in the corner of his eye, Namgyu bolted awake. Like a startled animal, he scampered back until he accidentally caused a trash bag to spill all over him: “Eurg, what the fuck?!”

He thought that explaining he had found this stranger passed out and burning in the sun would come as a shock to said stranger. But the guy acted like this was hardly a normal fucking Saturday?

“Oh.” The stranger stated, squinting down the alley where sunlight is beaming down against the brick walls, “Shit. Okay. Uh, thank you? For—dragging me?”

Excuse him? How is he so... casual? About this? If Subong were in his shoes, being told that he was being cooked like an egg in the sun, he’d be freaking the fuck out. “Yeah, it’s, uh, all good.” The stranger starts muttering curses under his breath and wiping the shit off his clothes that had come from the torn bag, “So... Do you have some sort of... skin condition?”

Stranger freezes, glancing up at Subong and blinking slowly. His eyes are so deep and pretty, it’s almost unsettling. “Yeah. Yeah, something like that.”

‘Something like that,’ Huh. Maybe he has an allergy to daylight; he’s pretty sure he’s seen other people like that on TV sometimes.

Subong’s still out of it, head spinning and not thinking about anything other than how silky this stranger’s voice sounds when speaking so softly, “I’ve seen you around before.” Ends up tumbling out of his mouth before he even realises what he’s saying.

The stranger whips his head up, and a flicker of something that looks like terror fills his wide eyes, “What?”

Fuck. Did that really come out too creepily? “I mean—like, in there,” He desperately gestures to the doors of Pentagon, “You come here a lot, right?” Oh. Wait, no—shit, gay club, right. “Not a ton, I’m—I’m not trying to call you anything, man.” He quickly backtracks as fast as he can. Maybe he’s scared because he’s not supposed to be coming here.

“I—I guess? You—you’ve only seen me here?”

“I’m not a stalker,” Subong does his best to clarify, but it doesn’t end up sounding any less creepy. “I just, I dunno, it’s fine, never mind.”

After making sure he knows that he’s not a stalker, but just has a talent for memorising faces, especially when they stand out enough, he learns that the stranger with the ‘sun allergy’ is called Namgyu.

In the following nights, Subong kept revisiting Pentagon. Only now, he was less scared to approach the guy trying to conceal himself in the shadowy corners.

It took days of talking, but eventually he could confidently say he considered Namgyu to be his friend.

And that’s saying a lot for someone like Subong. Someone who knows a lot of people, acquaintances and all, but doesn’t actually know anyone past surface-level conversation.

In a week, he learned that Namgyu’s favourite colour is olive green, though it’s hard to tell when he exclusively wears black, he likes dark-roasted coffee, and he likes crowds to blend into the background.

Oh, and also that he’s been homeless for maybe 100 years.

It took a lot of convincing to make Subong think that his new friend isn’t constantly manic from all the dope he uses, but there’s only so many times you can see a pair of fangs and test whether they’re fake or not before believing it.

Once he realised, though, that was all it took for him to open up his home to Namgyu. Why? Because... It’s what friends do. You know how dangerous it is just wandering for your entire life? Okay, probably not very dangerous for someone who’s already undead, but it’s gotta be lonely.

And...Subong can relate to that in a way. Sure, he’s not a fanged man-eater, but he’s never truly felt complete, if that makes sense? When he’s surrounded by people, laughing and celebrating, there’s always been a small part of him that’s felt as if he doesn’t belong in that circle. Like he has to put on his easy-going smile and push down the thought that he would rather be anywhere but there.

He’s never understood it himself. Never bothered to try to understand it.

You know who does get it, though? Namgyu. Nobody’s ever understood him better than he has, and that’s probably a weird thing to say considering who—or, what he is.

Whatever. Who’s gonna judge him? Barely anything exists outside of their tiny world that they’ve constructed for themselves inside their apartment.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°

“Hyung,” Namgyu yawns out as he sits up enough to peer at where Subong’s stood, fixed in place in their kitchen. His hair is all messed up from lazing on their couch for a few hours, watching whatever channel is playing on their TV. “What are you doing?” The whole ‘Hyung’ thing started with Namgyu saying it first, sort of just slipped out one day. His excuse for it was that his physical body looked way younger than Subong’s, which he’s still trying to figure out if that was supposed to be calling him old. Either way, it kinda gives a sense of normalcy, so if it helps Namgyu in any way, he’s not about to ruin that for his boy.

Was he being asked a question? “What?”

He gets an unimpressed eyebrow raised in return, “I said: what are you doing? You’ve been standing there for like...5 minutes now.”

Huh. What was he doing? Right. Kitchen, food. “Getting something to eat, I’m fucking starved.” Nothing worse than walking into a room with a goal in mind, only to then have your mind accidentally fogged up thinking about your roommate. Happens to the best of us.

Subong can feel eyes on him the entire time whilst he shifts through their snack cupboard in search of something quick to eat. Truthfully, he forgot whether he actually came to get food in the first place, but that’s what he’s assuming.

“What you watching, my boy?” He asks when he flops himself at the end of the couch, in the space where Namgyu’s legs aren’t taking up.

He shrugs, shifting his position so that he’s sitting up straight right next to Subong. Nearly, right next to him. If he were to also move over just slightly, their shoulders would be touching—“Dunno. Some boring shit.” The ‘boring shit’ in question is definitely a romcom. No wonder he’s so bored.

It’s almost laughable how pissy he looks over problems with the simplest solutions, “Put something else on, then. I’m not watching this.” He doesn’t even know what this is. It looks like a cheesy romcom, but he wouldn’t think Namgyu would be willingly watching stuff like that.

“Okay, fine. You choose.” The remote is thrown at his chest with way too much force, causing the wind to be knocked out of his chest.

“Careful,” He splutters, rubbing over the spot where there’s most probably a bruise forming, “Fuck... Shit, hurts.”

Maybe he’s playing it up a little. Okay, a lot, to make him feel bad. Sure enough, he sees the exact moment where his eyebrows crease, and the corner of his mouth twitches in concern.

What a truly terrifying vampire, he tries not to snicker. Just as violent as the old churches depict him to be.

Namgyu’s right fang, which sticks out over his bottom lip, bites down out of worry, “Shit, I—I didn’t mean to—”

Oh.

He thinks Subong’s being 100% serious.

Not really knowing how to backtrack from this, he digs himself deeper, “Yeah, you know, human skin is just not as tough as yours, man. Gotta watch out.” He sells it with this heavy sigh and avoids eye contact as much as possible. If he meets his stare for even half a second, his entire act will crumble instantly.

“I thought—I mean, I didn’t think I threw it that hard,” Namgyu murmurs out, snatching the remote back and actually throwing it to the floor, as if it had consciously made the decision to be thrown against his chest by itself.

By now, there’s actually no pain at all. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I might need to go to the hospital later, though...”

“Subong?”

He’s still looking determinedly away, feigning being hurt, “Yeah, man?”

There’s a beat of silence before, “You’re so full of bullshit.”

What?! “These are some serious accusations,” He tuts disapprovingly, “What evidence do you have, vamp?”

“The fact that I can see you trying not to break character.” Namgyu points out, glaring at the side of his face.

“Hearsay,” Subong waves off.

Namgyu’s fangs always poke out when he smiles too widely, “Overruled.”

‘twas fun while it lasted. Now you know why he’s in the rapping line of work and not acting, those theatre kids are no joke, “Alright, alright. You got me.” He turns his head back and suddenly notices that Namgyu is way closer than he remembers him being, “Surprised you didn’t try to exploit my weakness and take a bite out of me.” Subong jokes with a grin.

It’s a joke, but if he could, Namgyu’s face would totally be red right now. He could almost see it, “With all the shit you eat, you’d probably taste disgusting.” Again, 100% false. If he did, mosquitoes wouldn’t be biting him all the time.

“Now, that’s just a lie, and you know it. I’d taste super fucking delicious. Can you, like, smell me or something?” Vampires are supposed to have super-scent, right?

“Smell you?” Namgyu repeats slowly, before breaking out in a cat-like smirk, “Okay. If you want me to, come here.”

Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah. Pause. Time-out.

He was originally only half-joking, but it would’ve been nice to get a warning before having the guy crawl up into his lap, leaving him zero space for himself.

And it’s instantly a lot. All at once. Almost suffocating the way his entire vision gets swallowed by the view of Namgyu being so close to him. Unlike him, Subong’s very much still living with blood pumping through his body, so he’s unfortunately not immune to the way colour rises in his face—from how unexpected the whole thing was. Not in any other way like that.

Namgyu rakes his fingers through his purple hair before leaning in slightly to make a show of inhaling whatever smell he’s picking up. Subong has never felt more nervous or insecure about his body; he feels like he’s about to collapse. He did use deodorant today, right? What if it’s worn off and he smells—

“Huh,” At this point, Subong’s not even daring to breathe as he holds in tense air. But Namgyu’s inconclusive, ‘huh’ breaks that.

“What?” He’s a very hygienic guy, in fact. He knows he wouldn’t smell in any way, but for some reason, Namgyu’s making him doubt everything he knows, “Do I... Have a scent? Or something?” What are they even doing this for again?

Finally, after what seems like years, Namgyu pulls away, “...I dunno. I can smell your shitty aftershave if that’s what you’re asking?”

Oh, okay. His heart dropped right there, because what does he mean, ‘shitty?’ He drops a whole week’s worth of wages on his colognes and aftershaves? “Clearly, you’re tripping. I smell good as fuck,” Does he? He does, right? Namgyu doesn’t actually think his smell is bad, right? “You totally wanna bite me.”

Namgyu stays between his legs for a drawn-out, silent moment. In their position, he’s looming over Subong with his head tilted and eyes narrowed, and he’s really thinking about something. The way his slight overbite shows one fang sticking out when he’s focused gives it away instantly.

Then, whatever trance they’re stuck in gets broken by Namgyu scoffing out a small, almost embarrassed, laugh, and he returns to sitting next to Subong. Only, he’s seated even impossibly closer now, half-leaning on his chest.

It forces him to angle his chest away. Not because he’s uncomfortable or anything, well, maybe he is? But because he thinks his ribcage will snap from how harshly his heart is pounding against it, and he can’t risk Namgyu feeling or hearing that. He hopes he understands that he’s not uncomfortable with him leaning against him. Well, maybe he is, but not in a bad way.

In the corner of his vision, he catches Namgyu giving him a confused glance before moving entirely to the other side of the couch, waiting, then getting up suddenly and storming to his room.

Subong finally manages to gulp down the lump that had been stuck in his throat during their whole interaction.

Fuck.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°

‘what powers do vampires have?’

‘powers of a vampire’

‘could a vampire make themselves more attractiver’

‘are vampires supposed to be pretty instead of scary’

‘can vampires seduce peoples’

‘was bella swan crazy’

‘how to know if i like men real quiz’

So maybe he’ll need to do a thorough clearing of his search history after tonight.

And he will do that. Like...right after he stops staring at the 95% score that’s looking back at him on his screen.

95% is a pretty high score, higher than he ever had in school, even if he did study sometimes. But what the fuck does some quiz posted by probably some bored 12-year-old know about him and his life? Nothing. That’s what. You know who decides if he actually likes chicks or not? Him.

And the verdict is... 

...

...

...

Thanos looks through the crack of his door that’s left slightly ajar, and a shadow briefly passes across. Namgyu’s probably getting something to... well, maybe not eat or drink, he might be bored and going to watch his show.

It’s weird for him to think now that there was a time in his life when he didn’t know Namgyu’s name, or what his voice sounded like, or what he looked like.

He lived 24 years without Namgyu. Namgyu lived... a really long time without Thanos.

In comparison, Thanos can’t start to imagine what living here would be like without having someone by his side smoking a cigarette on their balcony. It’s become something he’s used to because before, he couldn’t stand the smell of burning tobacco; it was fucking nasty. But it’s hard to keep thinking along those lines when they’ve become... associated with a figure. You know?

Namgyu, on the other hand, probably thinks this is just a small second of his eternal life. To him, their entire year living together has likely felt like some fleeting moment that passes like a week.

They’re not on the same level physically, biologically or time dilation.

They don’t know the full extent of how Namgyu’s condition works. Maybe everything he’s feeling is the result of his slowly succumbing to death through manipulation. Vampires are supposed to drain the life out of people, right?

The thought that he’d live out how many years he has here makes him uneasily content.

It might be whatever spell Namgyu has over him talking: but 95% is, again, a pretty high score.

High enough to maybe solidify the actual theory he’s been tiptoeing around for 11 months, that he might be in love with the freaky vampire holding his spare room hostage.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°

Something's wrong.

Really fucking wrong.

And surprisingly, it’s not the fact that he’s just woken up and immediately walked in on Namgyu in the middle of watching Twilight. He doesn’t even think he’s ironically re-watching the cheesy first one either; it’s the second?

It’s pretty out-of-character for him, but that’s not what’s mainly going on.

Namgyu looks sick.

Seriously sick. What’s real annoying is he’s still beautiful despite the way he looks as if he’s a few seconds away from retching everywhere. But the sight of him made his heart fucking plummet from concern.

His skin has drained from being more or less translucent to a greyish hue that’s so lifeless and cold, making his hollowed cheekbones way more prominent than they were yesterday. Around his eyes are dark circles that aren’t even normal for people who go days without sleep to have, unlike Namgyu, who doesn’t have a reason to sleep.

He’s so overwhelmed by a mix of fear and concern that he doesn’t think when the words, “What’s wrong with you?” Leave his mouth tactlessly.

Shit.

Namgyu, who looked like he was stuck in a trance before he spoke, visibly jumped when he realised he wasn’t alone in the room anymore. In the span of a few seconds, he looked between Thanos and the TV before making a lunge for the remote, “I wasn’t watching—” He pauses as he’s holding the remote up, finger hovering over the off button, “...What?”

And whilst Namgyu secretly watching Twilight willingly, does make for perfect material to poke fun at him with, that’s not exactly where his priorities are at right now. “You look sick?” Again, why did that come out so fucking weird? It’s not surprising that Namgyu is staring back at him like he just grew fangs himself.

“I look sick?” He questions quietly, bringing up a ringed hand to his own face and brushing over the skin.

Maybe he should throw himself off their balcony if he doesn’t get himself in check right now. The next words that leave his mouth had better be normal and conversationally perfect, “N—no, shit, I mean, you look pretty—” Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, abort, abort, abort, “...Grey. Pretty grey.” Would 3 storeys be enough to definitely kill him or only shatter all of his bones?

Namgyu’s dark eyes widened, “What do you mean, grey? I’m grey?” His eyes flickered to the paused still-frame of Edward Cullen on their TV, then back to him.

He’s one ugly motherfucker. Thanos is almost 99.9% sure that Namgyu has a thing for him, but he has no clue why. Is it because he’s American? ‘S not that special, so what? He can speak English too.

The question feels like a trap, so when he slightly opens his mouth to respond, he gingerly shuts it again. Yeah, no. Not when he can feel the words: ‘You have the prettiest skin I’ve ever seen’ right on his tongue.

But, not responding was somehow a gazillion times worse than that, as Namgyu flies into a panic: silently. Like, he starts tugging on a strand of his hair that always seems to fall victim to his inner-freak-outs, and his pupil-less eyes are darting in all directions except in Thanos’s direction.

“You just look really... under the weather? You sure you’re good?” This is really serious now. It’s making him feel bad for all the times he exaggerated a paper-cut or pimple for the full-on nurse treatment, if this is how Namgyu felt.

Finally, Namgyu glanced up to meet his probably extremely fucking worried expression with an almost guilty look, “...I dunno. Woke up in the night feeling like shit. Didn’t know you could... see it.”

“You look good,” He feels the need to clarify, “Just, kind of, you know—”

“Disgusting?”

Blasphemous. Seriously, he knows vampires like Namgyu are supposed to be all ‘Anti-Christ’, but to take it this far? It really gets to a point, “What? No— fuck, of course not, what?” It caught him so off-guard again that if he’s not careful, he will slip up, “What do you mean you feel like shit?”

Namgyu shrugs, “My eyelids feel like they’re burning, and I feel... drained? I think?”

In human terms, that would probably translate to, “You’re tired?” But that doesn’t make sense.

“I tried to sleep. Like you do.” He snapped whilst picking at his sharp fingernails, “Didn’t work.”

“Did you touch anything? Eat anything?”

“No, I don’t know what happened,” Namgyu argues, running a hand over his face, “It’ll go away, probably.”

That’s not really the reassurance he thinks it is, “Probably? What if it doesn’t?” Then what?

Namgyu doesn’t offer a response; instead, he goes unusually quiet and keeps pulling at the roots of his hair.

He can’t let him do that, especially not with the amount of time he spends washing it with a hair routine with products costing more than the water bill he ends up getting. “Quit it,” Thanos says, coaxing his hand out and letting it fall in the space between them, “Look, whatever the fuck is going on, we’ll figure it out, alright?”

He’s never claimed to be a therapist or anything, guiding people through their emotions, okay? He’s not exactly known for being a comforting type of guy, mostly because he’s never cared before. You don’t really get the opportunity to sit in a friendship circle at the club and give each other motivating pep talks before snorting the coke that’s lined up.

But nothing has ever felt more important to him than making sure Namgyu knows that he’s fine. Even if he’s doing a shitty job at doing it.

That’s what he thinks, until he’s pulled out of his thoughts that are running through endless possibilities of what’s causing Namgyu’s state, to see him staring back with slightly parted lips as if he’s momentarily paralysed.

Until he nods, “Yeah. I know.” Thankfully, he’s smiling even if only slightly.

They don’t know anything apart from what cheesy romcoms with unattractive male leads that are from fantasy books made for teenage girls tell them, or what Churches from the 1800s wrote about the monsters that ‘roam among them.’ For all they know, maybe vampires can get some version of the flu. Aren’t bats supposed to have a ton of diseases anyway?

Still. It’s really fucking weird that it’s happening for the first time now.

At least Namgyu doesn’t seem to be in physical pain, right? That’s what he needs to focus on.

He opens his mouth to confirm whether he’s 100% sure he’s definitely not in harsh pain, when he realises that Namgyu’s not looking at him in the slightest.

He’s looking down, down at—

Oh.

Somehow, he failed to notice until now that their hands are still accidentally interlocked.

Okay.

Now, either he can withdraw and save himself from the question of: ‘Hyung, why are your palms so sweaty? Do you even shower?’ Which would not be helpful after yesterday’s situation, where Namgyu didn’t like the way he smelled (?).

Or... he can kind of just... let it stay like that? Namgyu can be the one to pull away if he wants, but this is nice as it is. Really nice.

“I know you do,” Thanos says, squeezing his hand a tiny bit. He distantly wonders whether the cheesy hand holding is more reassuring for himself or Namgyu, “Look... I don’t know, what if I try finding some freaky psychic shit online? Think that’d help?”

Namgyu creases his eyebrows, so that’s immediately a no in his language, “A psychic? They’re going to think I’m crazy, or call the polic—” He sharply cuts himself off and looks up at Thanos in what’s definitely fear.

Thanos works from home as a more-or-less anonymous producer and rapper, selling various beats that he doesn’t want for himself to other artists. He’s content with how things are right now, with plenty of attention online. Doing in-person shows would be cool, don’t get him wrong, but it’s never been an end-all goal for him. So, this is pretty much the height of his career.

This came up during one of their late-night balcony talks, where Thanos casually threw out that he’s not too interested in being aspirational, or whatever anyone else with his level of talent would do. But, and don’t ask how, because he seriously doesn’t know, Namgyu interpreted that as him being at risk of ruining Thanos’s image.

In his head (Thanos assumes), he thinks that if someone sees the great Thanos with a guy who ‘clearly doesn’t look human’, they’ll report it, and it’ll all be a huge bother.

And despite Thanos telling him that it’d be really, really unlikely, the idea hasn’t left his head yet.

To be fair to the guy, though, since that conversation, he’s also been stuck with the concept of someone having a problem with them being together in public. Except, in his scenarios, it usually goes along the lines of a stranger walking past them, and is so star-struck by Namgyu’s beauty that they smooth-talk their way into sweeping him off his feet or something. In his opinion, that’s a way more realistic version of events than whatever Namgyu’s thinking of.

“Nobody’s calling the police,” He snorts, “Except maybe me if I walk in and see headless animals for sacrificing rituals or something.” You never know what some people be doing in the privacy of their homes.

Namgyu chokes up his first laugh of the day and shifts to the side so that he can let Thanos have more room on their cramped couch.

Throughout the entire time, they’re still holding hands.

It’s not something he’d normally make a deal out of. He’s a naturally affectionate guy with just about everyone he meets: if he fucks with you even the tiniest bit, you get a hug. With so much hostility going around, it never hurts to be friendly.

When they first became actual friends, he assumed Namgyu hated physical touch. Whenever he’d even brush against him accidentally whilst passing by, he’d bristle and put maybe 20 feet between them for the next few hours. It stung a little. Similar to when you want a stray cat to like you, and it runs away instantly, even though you’re trying to bring it food.

If it were anyone else, he would be somewhat aware of the fact that they don’t like to be touchy, but probably forget by the time they meet next. Namgyu’s different because he really didn’t want to scare off his boy like this. So, hands were kept to himself.

But maybe he should start looking into being a psychic himself, because he knew that wasn’t actually the case. Namgyu’s constantly got this longing in his eyes that doesn’t align with his standoffish nature.

“I dunno, don’t you hate it?” Namgyu had pressed him 5 months ago. They had just re-entered from their balcony after a shared smoke session. Thanos had finally managed to convince him to try a few inhales from his vape because he was running low on cigarettes for the night. He got back some not-so-positive feedback.

Whilst they were outside, Thanos had jokingly pushed his shoulder away after Namgyu told him that his vape tasted like how single-dish desserts made by Western moms look, specifically the ones with a fuck ton of ingredients that could already be desserts alone thrown together and shoved in an oven. His vape doesn’t taste like that, fyi, he’s living proof as someone free of diabetes.

That shoulder shove caused Namgyu to shut down, but this time, Thanos couldn’t help but ask why.

“Hate what?”

Namgyu slowly slides off the couch and hits the floor with a soft ‘thud’ and rests his chin on his knees, “Feeling me.”

His tone sounds so despondent and sad, but it only heightened his genuine confusion: “What are you talking about?”

He sees him swallow nervously, before Namgyu tilts his head up to meet his eyes, “I’m cold,” Leaves his mouth, “Like, all the time.”

Well... yeah, he is, “So, what?”

“So what? You’re gonna get frostbite from me.” He laughs out coldly. If it was supposed to come across as a joke, it came out fully serious.

Frostbite? From him? “Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible, my boy.” For a guy who’s a real good nurse, he’s not that educated on sicknesses. “You think I’d give a fuck, though?”

Namgyu stares at him blankly as Thanos joins him on their carpeted floor.

He’s not saying anything, so he takes it as notion to continue, “I fucking hate the heat. Being all sweaty and shit? It’s uncomfortable as fuck,” His next words come close to dying in his throat, but they’re pushed out before they do, “ ‘S better that you’re cold, like a mini-ice pack.” He jokes, emphasising his point by trying to nudge his shoulder again.

Except, instead of pulling away like a normal functioning person, his hand awkwardly lingers there.

After that, it was like a complete 180-degree switch. Not a day has passed without them touching in some way.

And despite being on the same page on everything to do with proximity, or rather, their lack of it, somehow holding hands has been the one thing they really haven’t done until now.

It’s so childish. Like, he sees straight chicks doing it all the time, there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with it unless you’re still a pre-schooler, which Thanos isn’t. It shouldn’t be making him feel like all of his nerves have been set on fire in a way that contradicts the iciness emitting from Namgyu’s skin.

He considers being the one to pull away again, especially now that the thought that he’s definitely into Namgyu like that has crossed his mind.

Yeah, okay, he has to get his hand back before Namgyu figures out exactly what’s going on. He knows the second he does realise why Thanos’s been acting weird for... weeks? However long this has been going for, it’s gonna be awkward as fuck, and that’s not gonna be good for what they have going on—

“...Don’t you hate it?”

“I’m cold,”

“...You’re gonna get frostbite from me.”

Ah.

Fuck.

The words echo through his head, along with the memory from yesterday flashing through his mind, where Namgyu disappeared into his room after Thanos moved away.

It hits him that he’s being a serious dick. All because he has this... revelation about himself going on, he’s being a jackass without even realising it.

And that can’t do, okay? It’s really fucked up, is what it is.

Even if this has consequences later on, if Namgyu does pick up on the sound of his own heart pounding almost painfully, he sucks it up at the thought of Namgyu letting himself think that he’s the one tweaking. Which, usually he is, but only when on something that’d reasonably cause it. Not like the same sort of tweaking that Thanos has been going through lately.

Before he can do much to talk himself out of it, he gestures for Namgyu to move closer by lightly tugging on the hand that’s still locked with his. For a split second, Namgyu stares at him dumbly as if he doesn’t understand what Subong’s trying to encourage him to do, then it clicks, and it doesn’t take more convincing to get him to crawl over between where his arm is now resting on the back of their couch to fully lean against Thanos’s chest.

It’s nice. Really nice, as he’s able to force himself to relax and take in the feeling of Namgyu’s weight resting on him.

To fill the silence that’s fallen on them, Thanos leans forward to press play on the remote as he makes a mental note to bring up how Namgyu sneaked off to continue watching the Twilight saga in secret when his boy isn’t feeling like shit.

Once the movie continues to play, he settles back and even though he tries to focus on how the main chick is running up a flight of stairs to meet some guys in red clocks or whatever the fuck is going on, his train of thought gets lost too easily.

It gets lost as he glances to his side, where Namgyu’s sitting impossibly close, yet looking the most comfortable Thanos has ever seen him. He watches the slight flutter of his eyelashes as they stay concentrated on the scene being displayed on their TV, and the rise and fall of his chest as he takes small breaths.

All of Namgyu’s quips and comments throughout their entire friendship replay in his mind like a montage. Every time he made an offhand, seemingly casual joke about ‘not being human.’

It’s bullshit. Seriously.

Almost laughable when he’s looking down at the most human sight he’s ever seen.

1 nose, 2 eyes and 4 limbs. That alone is more than enough evidence for Thanos to know that Namgyu’s a person. A human being. The only person he’s ever met who’s ever mattered so much to him.

There are people out there who’d probably try to exorcise Namgyu if they ever came across him. People who wouldn’t hesitate to mark him as a merciless maneater who deserved to be smited off the earth.

To Thanos, they’re far less human than Namgyu is.

He blinks out of his internal monologue when he sees the main girl (Bella?) dramatically sprint out of a fountain in slow motion. However, the scene he remembers from before, and this connects, he has no fucking clue. He’ll re-watch it after reminding Namgyu of this moment.

Does he see why teenage girls geek out over this? No, but it’s pretty funny when moments like this come up.

Then it flips to the vampire in the movie, played by the oh-so-sexy Westerner in Namgyu’s eyes (again, he’s 90% sure that’s how it is with the way he’s suddenly hyper focused on the scene), where he shrugs off his button-up, and—woah, woah, woah—

Thanos grabs the remote within milliseconds of seeing that v-line on their 60-inch ultra-display TV screen and instantly clicks off the movie, pointedly avoiding Namgyu’s confused look.

Stupid ass movie for teenage chicks and divorced middle-aged women.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°

Tomorrow comes, and Namgyu looks even worse than the day before.

His skin has darkened to a greyer hue, and purple veins have begun to spread over his skin like infectious cobwebs. What’s more is that Namgyu’s hacked up black... vomit? Phlegm? Something’s coming up, and it can’t be good.

After the 3^rd time that happened, they eventually decided to resort to the last plan of action, by scouring the corners of some shady dark-web looking website to find a psychic that’s equally insane enough to believe Namgyu’s... condition as it is, but not too insane that they go all crazy and try doing some ritualistic shit.

And whilst they didn’t end up finding an exact psychic, they did stumble across an ad on whatever website they were searching on, describing a shaman with the ‘unique ability to see the beyond’, hopefully, that includes seeing a manual on how to cure a vampire sickness.

There aren’t exactly any shining reviews attached to the ad, no references or details of what experience this shaman has at all. Only an address and operation times.

They’re kinda forced to end up coming to this shaman, because they’re the only one they’ve found who accepts ‘clients’ at the dead of night. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe.

However, wherever this shaman works is way out of the city. Meaning, they have to take two connecting trains to meet this guy or woman.

Which is what leads them to sit side by side on the train’s seats, at 11 pm, talking back and forth despite the looks they received from a very tired office worker who looked like he’d been doing overtime for over a week.

Namgyu’s state is disguised by a blue, clinical mask and some light makeup, which Thanos found under his sofa from the last time his sister visited his place and accidentally left her face paint behind. It’s good enough not to get any questioning stares, at least.

“I look fucking stupid,” Namgyu mutters quietly to him as he readjusts his face mask for the hundredth time. He’s complained about it being itchy another hundred.

Thanos might have to agree on that, though. Not stupid, but the mask is hiding away his gorgeous face, which almost seems like a crime. “It’s fine, we’re almost there, anyway.”

He gives a heavy, displeased sigh, “You really think they’re gonna help?”

Does he think so? Does he think some random ass address from a website that nobody else has probably ever heard of will solve...this? “Maybe,” He shrugs, “Gotta have some hope, my boy.”

“I hope this shit will be over fast so we can still go out.” Namgyu rolls his eyes, obviously mad at the fact that they’re here on a Saturday night instead of getting shit-faced somewhere.

“See? That’s the spirit!” That’s about the most optimism he’s going to get from him at the moment.

There’s still another 10 minutes left of their train ride, so they’ll likely get back in time to still head to some nightclub like they do most weekends.

Even though it’s well dark outside the windows, there’s a shred of light from the city’s atmosphere still illuminating the outskirts they’re crossing over.

“You could’ve stayed behind, you know.” Namgyu eventually says, whilst being fixated on their limited view outside the windows opposite them.

Stayed behind? “What’re you talking about?”

“Could’ve gone to the club...without me,”

Thanos stares holes right into the side of his face that’s not looking at him in the slightest.

Without Namgyu?

The thought of that is just so... boring. Maybe it’s stupid for seeming so co-dependent on someone like this, but it’s not only that! In his defence, they’ve practically been together for a year straight.

Not together in that way—but, you get what he means.

It’d probably be nice if it was—that’s getting off-topic, though, this isn’t about that—

It’s about the fact that he knows how pointless it is to go to their places doing the things that they do without him.

And he also needs to hear for himself what the fuck is going on with his boy, to figure this out immediately.

“Nah, ‘s no fun without you, duh.” He reaches over to fist-bump his shoulder, “Besides, you’re not much of a people person, right?” That’s a lie. Namgyu’s pretty great at being a talker and kind of buttering up to people; it’s basically how he got by unnoticed for so many years.

Namgyu’s eyes narrow as he turns to face him, “I would’ve been fine,” He protests adamantly, “Just surprised you didn’t want a senoreta or something.”

It genuinely takes him a second to decode what word he was trying to say, “A Senorita?”

“...Yeah. That.” Okay, maybe Spanish isn’t his strongest language, so what?

Also, is he trying to imply that he thinks he’d leave him for some chick? What? “Fuck would I do that for?” He snorts, “You’re more important to me than some bitch. Obviously.”

He almost chokes on the last word. Alright, he let his mouth run on autopilot for too many unregulated seconds, but that wasn’t, like, him saying anything, right?

Shit. Maybe it was way too much, judging by how Namgyu’s staring at him so—

Well, he actually can’t tell. Surprise? Judgement? Impressiveness? There are a lot of possibilities considering nothing’s giving it away, and usually he’s the best at determining how Namgyu’s feeling based on a single look. Not this time, he guesses. The idea of Thanos being unable to read the other makes him so unreasonably uncomfortable.

Finally, he blinks and mumbles out through the mask covering his mouth, “Seriously?”

Yeah, seriously, “I’m not exactly becoming nocturnal for anyone else, am I?” Shit. Okay, now that was definitely pushing it. But, he also does mean that, though. He’d miss the days when he woke up at 2 pm instead of 7 if it wasn’t for who he spent the night with.

Did that sound weird again?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter when Namgyu’s clearly smiling, that he would see if it wasn’t covered by that mask. The best he gets is the fact that he’s able to see his eyes crease despite his falling hair, trying to hide that.

And only because if Namgyu were to raise his hand right now to fix his hair, it would cause him to expose his hand that’s clearly grey and has purple veins scattered across, Thanos takes the initiative himself to tuck the fallen strand back in its place.

Instead of flinching away like he would’ve done 5 months ago, Namgyu freezes completely still whilst he adjusts his hair.

“What about you?” Thanos goes on to ask so that their tense silence can be broken.

Namgyu clears his throat before answering, “What about me?”

“Are you gonna...” Date? Fuck people? In all the time they’ve known each other, he’s never seen Namgyu show any interest in...anyone, “Like, would you want to see...someone?”

Yeah. That was discreet. A+ goes to him.

Namgyu laughs loud enough for the businessman sitting nearby to give them another scornful look, he notices and sneers back, which has a surprisingly effective effect even through his mask.

After the businessman turns back around, he continues, “I don’t think that’s really an option for me, is it?”

...

Well, fuck.

He shouldn’t really feel as shattered as he does by those words. It’s what he should’ve expected to hear, a perfectly reasonable response for someone in Namgyu’s situation. Someone who’ll outlive every other creature walking the earth by a million years.

Thanos doesn’t want to feel as shitty as he does, as it really sets in, but it’s worse than indirect rejection. It’s futile. There’s a force out there in the universe blocking him from what he felt like was some kind of fate, even if there was a chance that Namgyu wanted the same thing.

It fucking sucks that the universe is a tease. Dangling perfection right in front of his eyes, to prevent him from reaching out and taking it.

“Right. Course.” Thanos feels a bitter smile being forced upon his face. He tries to hide how there’s no truth behind his expression by standing from his seat, but staying in place by holding the grab handle above.

Is it him being selfish? Expecting his own desire to be fulfilled, though Namgyu’s...

Before he can think further, he almost jumps at the feeling of a hand wrapping around his wrist, which is now dangling loosely by his side.

As he glances down, it’s Namgyu. Of course it is.

Thing is, though, it’s not really a gesture of... affection? They’re not holding hands again, or anything like that, but it more or less feels like Namgyu’s trying to ground him. Is he swaying, or is that only the train moving?

Wordlessly, Namgyu drags him back down to his seat.

And that’s how they stay for the rest of the train ride.

Thanos has never really been big on cardio work. He’ll... work out, kinda, occasionally, but rarely anything more than using some weights for his arms or using some fancy gym machine to make sure that when he stretches, the tattoo painted on his back looks good.

That said, he regrets every second of ignoring the treadmill as he climbs the twelfth set of stairs on the way to this shaman’s place in this huge apartment block that looks like they had accidentally crossed over the border and into North Korea. There’s no elevator either, so he has no clue how these people survive doing this daily.

It forces him to drag his body up another stair, even though every muscle in his leg is begging him to give in.

Namgyu, thankfully, is in a similar state, not far behind him. “What the fuck?” He hears being hissed out spitefully.

If he doesn’t really do cardio, Namgyu, in comparison, hasn’t heard of it due to the only exercise he does being bouncing up and down while high out of his mind in nightclubs. 

Thanos looks over his shoulder to see Namgyu heaving, upholding himself by clinging to the handrail for support. He’s probably wishing that being a vampire came with the ability to shape into a bat instead of only being able to look like one. “Need me to help, princess?” He jokes, hoping he says no, because Thanos can barely carry himself right now.

Thankfully, Namgyu’s response is to glare up at him, “All this, just to see some fucking shaman?”

Seriously. This is why there are no reviews for this shithole, “It’ll... be worth it, probably.” He says, not even believing himself.

“No, it won’t.”

“Well, shit, maybe if you were a better vampire, you could’ve flown.” Thanos points out. He’s grateful that Namgyu’s scaling behind him because he can’t control the way a grin spreads across his face.

It doesn’t take much to hear the scowl in his voice when he spits back, “Maybe, if you found literally any other place, we wouldn’t be here.” Who’s going to tell him about normal people’s work hours and how they were lucky to find this shack? “Hundreds of fucking wackos in the city, and you choose the one all the way out here.”

“Quit bitching, we’re basically here,” Ad said this shaman person was on the fourteenth floor, and they’ve just made it to the thirteenth.

He feels the glare that’s being burned through the back of his head, “Uh-huh. Your knees are shaking, by the way, Hyung.”

Wow. Nevermind, he takes back everything he’s ever said about Namgyu. He truly is a cold, insensitive vampire.

That’s a lie, but that was still a very unnecessary detail for him to point out.

Plus, the muttered, “Chicken legs,” was really just the cherry on top, too. Everything and everyone’s out to get him these days.

Eventually, they make it to the apartment with the same number that’s posted on the ad he found. Immediately, the door is already unlocked and left cracked open enough to see a glimpse of the inside.

They silently glance at each other, debating whether or not they’re supposed to enter without knocking or not. It does seem kinda rude to barge—

“You may enter.” A woman’s voice echoes from inside.

Huh, okay then, if she insists.

Thanos takes the initiative to push the door open slowly, letting it loudly creak as they take in what they just walked into.

Wow.

He has no idea what he expected a shaman’s room in the middle of nowhere to look like, but it was still a shock at how different it was from the exterior leading up to this.

Unlike the gloomy, depressing staircase and wallpaper that was peeling off in patches, the walls in the apartment were coated in vibrant tapestries with iconography woven into the fabric. He barely remembers anything from what he was told about the ‘Gods’ and all when he was a kid, so he fails to put a name to any of the faces that surround them. A large table sits next to the doorway with candles, cheongju and soju lined up neatly, which they almost knock into. Poor design choice, and probably a sign that she doesn’t get many visitors. Either way, he feels the way Namgyu’s hand twitches in the urge to pocket one of the bottles, and he doesn’t even like rice wines.

Stepping further into the room makes him realise how pungent the smell of incense, mixed with the scent of old fruit that’s bagged in a corner, is. It invades both his nose and throat, almost making him gag.

Even as a 25-year-old man, the entire colour scheme of reds, blues and yellows almost sends him into sensory paralytic shock. His closet at home feels like a grayscale in comparison to this; it’s almost sad.

A woman sits in the middle of the room, with a low table caging her in and statues looming ominously behind her, “So, you’ve come,” She smiles in a way that doesn’t reach her eyes as her gaze flickers between him and Namgyu, “The spirits had told me you had arrived.” She announced, holding her head high. The shaman is dressed head to toe in a hanbok, primarily a royal blue shade, yet her hair is pieced together messily in a ponytail. He doesn’t know much about the process of doing hair as a chick, aside from watching his sister, but he can guess that it took her about 30 seconds to do.

Namgyu raises a sceptical eyebrow, “The door was open,” He deadpans, “I feel like you just heard us come up.”

True. That was one echoey-ass staircase; he could hear his own voice projected through all fourteen floors.

“Silence,” She snaps, “You insolent creature of inhumanity.”

Pause. What?

“What?” Namgyu repeats, out loud.

The shaman sharply shushes him with a hand raised to empathise that, “I am Seonnyeo, shaman of the sea.” Another patronising smirk overrides the annoyed look that was previously there, “You have come here for my guidance.” She states as if she already knows.

“Shit, definitely not here for the food,” Thanos mutters mostly to himself as he casts another look at the fruit—is it rotting? But he hears Namgyu snicker beside him.

Seonnyeo waves a hand in a gesture for them to take a seat on the floor opposite her, “Hm, interesting.” She mutters, her eyes not leaving Namgyu for a second as he takes his place.

Thanos feels his stomach turn as he starts to question whether Namgyu had a point when they were climbing those stairs, “You’re a shaman?”

She tears her gaze away and refocuses it on Thanos instead, “I don’t believe I offer any other services.”

Well, she’s the one promoting herself on the amateur version of the dark web, so fuck if he knows.

“What did you mean when you called me inhuman?” Namgyu interrupts.

“You do not listen, do you?” The so-called shaman quips again angrily, “I am Seonnyeo, shaman of the—”

“Of the sea,” Thanos cuts in, they have literally just heard her say that, “Right. So, you... know?”

Seonnyeo shuts her eyes and gives a curt nod, “Not often do I allow vampires to enter my premises.”

Lucky them? Or not? “Vampires?” Namgyu questions intently, “You know more?”

It passes within an instant, but he catches that frame of a second where she flinches, “Well—I, I have only just said—” That’s a no.

They share a doubtful look in sync as they listen to Seonnyeo babble something about her opinion on the ‘undead.’

“Inhumane. Improper. Against the will of the Gods.” She mutters in a manta-like tone.

Yeah, ‘against the will of the Gods’ as if Namgyu chose to be stuck like this. Stuck in an apartment with a crazed lady, “He’s sick, something’s off with him, can you help?” He might as well get straight to the point so that they can leave as soon as they have the information.

That stops her endless mumbling, as she peers over his body, “Yes...Yes...” Without any form of question, she reaches out to forcefully grab his arm and pulls it forward for inspection.

Namgyu yelps and tries to retract his arm before he’s yelled at, “Stop it.”

Thanos can feel another look directed at him: ‘What the fuck did you get me into?’ As he pointedly avoids it.

“Obscure creatures,” Seonnyeo concludes, as she releases her hold. What’s obscure is that both statues set up for display behind her are made entirely of plastic. Looks like someone didn’t have the budget to fit that in. “Punished by the Gods.”

“Punished for what?” The question leaves Thanos’s mouth first, but he can tell it was on the verge of leaving Namgyu’s, too.

At that, she opens and closes her mouth repeatedly, as if trying to find the words, “For the reason why you are here, what else?”

‘Here’ as in this apartment, or ‘here’ as in...on earth? “Are you going to tell me what’s fucking wrong with me, or not?” Namgyu snaps, his right eye twitching impatiently.

Seonnyeo closes her eyes before tilting her head up to look directly at the ceiling. It’s that exact moment where Thanos considers whether or not he fucked up by dragging them all the way here for this.

Eventually, she seems to return from wherever spirit world she had transported to, “It has been decided. I shall.”

Great. Fucking great, so this could be worth something.

They stared at her expectantly, waiting for her start diagnosing or whatever she planned to do. But Seonnyeo stayed unmoving.

He followed her line of sight until it landed on the small jar on her desk with a label reading: ‘Tip jar’

Right, okay, he forgot about that part since there was no mention of what her prices were beforehand. How much would it usually cost to figure out what’s wrong with a vampire?

Thanos threw ₩35,000 into the pot. Seonnyeo looked at him like she had been seriously offended.

Is she serious? This is gonna be worth more than ₩35,000? Shit better be a full diagnosis with prescription and everything. Maybe even a whole essay paper describing every single detail.

He places another ₩20,000, and that finally makes her look satisfied, “That’ll be all. Arm.” She instructs, demanding Namgyu to roll up his sleeve.

He does so after one last uneasy glance at Thanos, and waits silently without complaint as Seonnyeo ghosts a finger over the purple veins that go down to his nail, feeling the texture and lines...or something.

What if this actually is serious? Can vampires die? Is Namgyu dying?

The thought of his apartment being empty again, when it was supposed to have someone else in one room away, is unsettling. Too unsettling. That’s not how it’s supposed to go at all. Before Namgyu, Thanos was living, being, completely alone. Nobody else has ever made him feel like he’s had some kind of purpose, even if it is only to give Namgyu a home.

“Hm. This is too unclear for the Gods,” Seonnyeo announces eventually, glaring at Namgyu like it’s his fault that her Gods are slow, “When was the last time you consumed?”

“Consumed?” Namgyu repeated, obviously confused by whatever the fuck she means by that. Does she ever not talk in riddles?

She rolls her eyes, “Eaten. When have you last eaten, vampire?”

“He had, like, dark chocolate yesterday,” Thanos helpfully supplies when it looked like Namgyu was faltering for words.

It’s not appreciated when Seonnyeo’s glare is redirected at him. It also wasn’t before when aimed at Namgyu, but still— “Human flesh, when have you last consumed human flesh?” She rephrases, mumbling something about stupidity under her breath. Oh, so that’s what she meant.

One of Namgyu’s fangs that’s sticking out slightly bites down on his lower lip as he avoids looking in Thanos’s direction, “...I haven’t.”

“Fine then, drank?” She continues, an irritation lying in her words.

He bows his head slightly, almost refusing to answer. It almost reminds him of a kid who got in trouble for something he shouldn’t have.

Seonnyeo looks appalled for a brief moment before recovering and refiguring her face into one of annoyance, “And you come to me with questions why you’re in this state?”

“That’s what I paid you to tell us, right?” ₩55,000, in case you forgot.

In response, she gestures with a hand at Namgyu’s general presence, “Should it not be obvious? Even to beings like yourselves.” She sneers. The superiority in her voice is unbearable to listen to, like the way she talks as if she’s above them, just because she has a fancy hookah stashed away somewhere that makes her see ‘spirits’, “Malnourishment.”

He was genuinely surprised that she had spoken a clear word without any misleading implication. Wow. Good for her?

But also— “What do you mean, malnourishment?” Thanos presses.

“I mean what I say,” She lets go of Namgyu’s arm, “He is defying his own nature, and suffering the consequences.”

“So, you’re saying he needs to start eating people?”

Seonnyeo doesn’t directly answer him as she reaches back into the heap of random items and withdraws a heavy book that hits the table with a loud ‘thud’ when she drops it. After flicking through hundreds of pages, she eventually lands on a page illustrating a grey monster and turns the book around to face them.

“The vampire is a creature who sustains by feeding off the life of others after death. They are solely dependent on humans to provide for them. Without a host or body, they succumb to exist.” Seonnyeo slowly describes, her voice taking on an eerie tone, as she points to the vampire painted on the page.

That vampire looks nothing like Namgyu. There are small details, such as the lifeless skin and the purple veins that had just begun to form on Namgyu’s skin, which were also present in the drawings. But, unlike him, the sketch had uncanny hollow eyes that dug into his skull and sharp ears that didn’t make him look human at all.

It’s hard for him to imagine that thing, and Namgyu are meant to be the same kind. They don’t seem even remotely related in his eyes; one of them is beautiful, and the other isn’t. It’s contradicting.

“I’m dying?” Namgyu finally speaks, but it comes out in a choked whisper.

“Succumb to exist, vampires do not die, they are stripped of all strength till they are stuck in a body permanently without the power to move or speak.” She corrects, “The process of that has begun.”

He glances sideways at Namgyu, whose eyes are wide, and it’s clear he’s still processing the words that are hitting him.

“The only way to get him back to how he was is for him to eat someone, that’s what you’re saying?” He knows Namgyu’s tried drinking animal blood at most, but that’s different. Would he be able to hypothetically kill? He has to.

“That depends. I’m assuming there is no bond, if you have been reduced to this state?” Seonnyeo directs her question at Namgyu.

He creases his eyebrows in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She stills, looking between them both, stunned, “This—I—Do you know nothing? Never in your lives have you ever done research? Reading?”

False. They have done research for her information; they had only just watched Twilight literally yesterday.

“What, by the Gods, do you think those fangs of yours do?” She accusingly points towards Namgyu’s mouth, which he hazardously places his hand over as if to hide it.

“Bite, eat, drink, and whatever?” Namgyu guesses.

“And the venom?”

Thanos feels like, at this point, so much information has passed through him that barely anything is beginning to phase him.

Namgyu, though? “What fucking venom?” He hisses out between gritted teeth.

“I am shocked,” Seonnyeo shakes her head, “Shocked.” Had she expected him to pull a vampire manual out of his ass after waking up, however many years ago? “Vampiric creatures stem from bats, this you must know?”

He nods.

“Therefore, should you not expect to carry similar traits?” She explains as if she’s talking to a child. Don’t bats suck blood, too? Isn’t that why they’re associated, and stuff? “Vampire bats are known for the venom they carry and drug prey with. Vampires, by extension, also demonstrate the same usage of venom; however, where they differ is in how a vampire’s venom is used to create a bond of attachment through continuous feeding from one host body that sustains them perpetually. Any other form of harm to feed off humans is unnecessary and can be dangerous to stray from that bond by drinking from another.”

Shit. Okay. That’s good, right? There’s an easier method after all, “What happens to the person? The bond... carrier?” Namgyu asks uncertainly. 

“Submission of will, the strength from their human body could be taken at any time if the vampire wishes to. Their lifespan could be manipulated by adding more or fewer years, as the bond goes both ways. The vampire could sustain the human in return through venom injection once they are fulfilled.” Huh.

It’s weird. It almost sounds too easy; there has to be a catch somewhere. Some tiny disclaimer font? “What about like...emotionally?” Thanos finds himself asking this time.

This is officially the scariest shaman in all of Korea. He knows he found her off a shady website, and he really should’ve expected her to be slightly off-putting, but the way she raises an eyebrow and fixes him with a knowing look makes his stomach churn. There’s no way she read through him that easily, right? “Well, of course, the bond would...heighten a co-dependency. It wouldn’t be called an attachment, otherwise.”

Again, that doesn’t sound bad to him? Is he crazy? He already feels almost co-dependent in the way that doing anything besides being around Namgyu sounds like hell.

Maybe they didn’t get a full research paper or anything, but this is still pretty good for ₩55,000. At least they know that the solution to healing him is pretty easy, for a second, Thanos found himself seriously worried. “That’s it then? Alright.” He started getting up from his seat and offered Namgyu a hand in standing up from the floor, which was quickly taken. “Thank you, Seno—Ma’am.” Yeah, he really doesn’t want to be calling this lady ‘Senorita’, but sometimes it slips out, you know? It doesn’t even matter if she knew enough English to translate; psychic bitch probably understood one way or another.

“Leave, now.” Seonnyeo dismisses them strictly, as she closes her eyes as if to shut them out.

No need to tell them twice, rotting fruit isn’t exactly the best room fragrance.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°

By the time they had reached their apartment, it was nearing sunlight and was therefore their usual sign to ‘sleep,’ which is more like ‘rest’ for Namgyu. Whilst on the train ride back, they agreed to decide about everything they had been told tonight, tomorrow.

Maybe Namgyu was tired from travelling for so long and so far, compared to their weekly trips to some nightclub and back. He’s never asked what exactly his life as a vampire was like before they met, so it’s a genuine possibility that he’s never even left the city before. Like him, Namgyu’s also perfectly fine with contentment. The point is, Namgyu’s been practically mute since they left that apartment. Barely speaking a word to him the entire journey, except—

“I’ll pay you back.”

Thanos lifts his head from where it was resting against the train station’s wall to stare at him with confusion, “Huh? For what?”

The mask is back on, covering half of his face. If he couldn’t almost see right through it based on the upper half of his face that isn’t covered, he wouldn’t be able to tell what emotion is lying under the flat voice he’s using, “The money. For that know-it-all bitch. ₩55,000?”

Sad. Namgyu looks sad, “I got it, don’t worry.” Unless he wanted to go out and jump somebody for money, there wasn’t really any other way for him to be paid back anyway, since he doesn’t even have a bank account.

“No, seriously, I will,” Namgyu says again, but now it’s sounding more like a threat to the next person they come across at the club with a wallet.

“Think of it like healthcare,” Thanos shrugs, “I get money when I feel like shit, don’t I? That’s what I’m doing for you.”

That’s where their conversation dies, and to fill the silence, Thanos takes a cigarette from Namgyu’s pocket and takes the lighter that he carried with him to ignite the end before handing it to him.

He takes it with a small, “Thanks, Hyung.”

Thanos awkwardly nods, quickly inhaling from the vape he also brought to swallow down the sentence he was afraid would tumble out uncontrollably.

I’d pay any amount of money to make sure you’re okay.

“I don’t want to see another fucking shaman again,” Namgyu announces spitefully as he kicks his shoes off once they make it through their door.

He snorts, “Hey, she figured out what was up, right?”

His response is met with an incoherent mumble that he could barely make out. The most he could hear was, ‘The bitch doesn’t know anything.’ Which wasn’t the best thing to hear now that he had thought he had it figured out. “What?”

“What?” Namgyu repeats back at him, whipping around from where he’s stood to glare.

Shit, definitely cranky.

He’s never dealt with Namgyu being so frustratedly angry at everything. It was common for him to bitch at the little inconveniences scattered throughout his day, but not to this level, where he’s obviously distressed.

It scares him. Because he doesn’t know how to fucking handle it, without making him more distressed. Thanos has never been good with anything emotional-wise: all of his prior friends from when he was semi-popular in high school didn’t care for it, so neither did he. For the first time in his life, he wants to be able to give reassurance. To make sure he’s not freaking out.

Fuck it, without any kind of a plan or thought of what he was doing, he steps closer and grabs one of Namgyu’s hands to hold them in his own, “All of this shit is going to be over by tomorrow, you listening to me, my boy? 2 days from now, you won’t even be thinking about it, so...calm down.”

“It won’t—”

“It will,” Thanos cuts him off in the middle of his determined refusal.

He looked down between them and realised he subconsciously managed to cover the worrying purple veins that were edging to a shade close to his own hair colour with his thumb. It’d be easy to imagine that there was nothing there at all if the image of his entire arm being covered in the same lines weren’t burned into his mind.

“I think you should sleep with me tonight—”

Well, fuck. He didn’t mean to say that.

...

Fuck, shit, wait—“Not like that, I mean—” He backpedals as fast as he can whilst Namgyu stares at him blankly, “Just to make sure you don’t, like, freak out during the day, you know?

The look on Namgyu’s face is easily readable: “Yeah, of course.” He thinks he’s weird, and Thanos is starting to reconsider his balcony idea.

“Great. Alright. Okay,” Thanos cringes as he accidentally blurted out every answer he could’ve given instead of settling on one, “You...uh...wanna go now?”

He shrugs, “Sure, if you’re tired, hyung.”

The question forces him to realise that he is tired, has been tired out from all the worry over the past 2 days. Sleep actually sounds really nice right now. Sometimes, when he’s with Namgyu 24/7, it’s inevitably easy to forget that he doesn’t have the same immunity that he does to human conditions.

It’s not even remotely laughable the way he feels like he’s going to stop mid-way to leading Namgyu to his room and throw up. His gut is twisting in discomfort, and it’s probably—no, definitely noticeable from Namgyu’s point of view. There’s not really a method in explaining this one if he decides to comment on it, is there?

What is he even freaking out about? Namgyu was the one who was freaking out, whose nerves he was trying to ease. Now, it feels like the roles have completely flipped, and it doesn’t feel any better. It feels worse because at least there’s a cure to Namgyu’s state; he’s just stuck like this.

It’s stupid, too. It’s not like they’ve never been in each other's rooms before. Namgyu has spent most of his time, if not on their couch, in Thanos’s room. They’ve just never actually stayed and slept. 

Everything about this feels weird. Not a gross weird, like the same weird he’s been feeling for weeks.

... Okay, months, but who’s counting? Not him.

...

For 1 year.

...

Without counting the time before they had actually spoken to each other the first time.

The details aren’t even important, anyway; the point is that he needs to calm the fuck down before his skittishness makes Namgyu freak out, again. Which is kind of the opposite of what he’s trying to do here.

He turns away from where Namgyu’s sprawled across his bed to pull his shirt off while facing his closet. If he stares hard enough at his closet’s door, he’s sure he’ll see his own reddening face looking back at him.

Namgyu might not sleep; he’ll just... stay there.

What if he snores? Has anyone ever told him that he snores in his sleep before? Or if—like, his breath stinks, oh fuck, Namgyu thought he stank the other day, didn’t he?

He starts thinking back to all the times he’s ever woken up next to someone, such as his recent hookup from 1 year and 3 months ago.

He gets back far enough to when he was a 6-year-old sleeping next to his mom after a nightmare, when Namgyu suddenly interrupts, “Thanos? What’s this?”

You know what? He’s confident in himself. He’s Thanos. Online music legend. If anyone can lie in bed next to a hyper-attractive vampire/his roommate whilst feeling like a middle school kid with a pathetic crush, it’s him. He’s got this, “What’s what, my boy?” He grins widely, flipping around with the most self-assurance he’s had in weeks.

That’s instantly shattered just like his face drops when he turns to see Namgyu raising an eyebrow at his laptop’s screen.

Oh. Fuck.

“How to know if I like men,” Namgyu reads out loud, “...You googled this?”

He didn’t clear his fucking history. He didn’t even close the tab. He didn’t even close his laptop and had kept it on charge.

“That? Oh, shit, I forgot—” It’s hard to think when his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and the only word that’s being played repeatedly in his mind is the word ‘fuck’ over and over, “I was, like, you know, testing. If I were... like, a misandrist or not.”

Huh.

A misandrist. That could work.

“A what?” Or not, “Why would you...hate men?”

“Because...look, I’ve seen some men say some really fucked up things, man!” He has zero idea where he’s going with this, “And I just had to make sure I don’t hate all men, and just those guys, right?”

The silence that follows is loud. Really loud.

Until Namgyu speaks up again, “... Is this because I called the shaman a bitch?”

“Absolutely.” Not, “You can’t say that kind of shit anymore in 2026. It’s not cool.” Thanos shakes his head disapprovingly, praying to the same Gods Seonnyeo was that it was believable enough.

“Are you serious?” Maybe not too believable, “She—you heard the way that bitch spoke!”

Completely true. Bitch was condescending as fuck, “Still, man, you need to respect a woman no matter what.” He really sells it with the serious face he’s fronting. Nothing is funny when the risk is Namgyu figuring out what’s actually up.

“Fine, fuck off then.” Namgyu spits, slamming the laptop shut and making a move to stand from the bed.

Too far, too far, too far, wrong outcome, “Wait, shit, no,” He lurches forward to grab Namgyu’s shoulder before he walks out, “I’m fucking with you, look, can we just... not talk about it?”

Just like the whole room, sleeping together thing, this shouldn’t be a big deal. It shouldn’t be anything—Namgyu’s said from time to time that he’s into, or would be into guys, and that’s fine. It should be fine when it comes to him, too.

But Namgyu figuring out that he’s into guys seems a step too close to figuring out that he’s into him.

Namgyu bores his pupilless eyes into his for a long second, and it feels like an eternity of him reading through his soul, “Fine. Be a feminist, or whatever.” He eventually scoffs, letting himself sit back on the bed.

Thank fuck.

Daylight is almost breaking through his blackout curtains by the time he tugs the duvet over his body. He makes a check every 30 seconds over his shoulder to make sure that Namgyu’s not affected by the dim light.

“I’m okay,” He keeps his voice low after Thanos looked over his shoulder for the fifth time.

Thanos clears his throat awkwardly as he turns back around on his side, “Yeah, I know. Just making sure.”

“Thanos?” Namgyu hums quietly. Even though Thanos is lying facing the wall, he can feel how Namgyu’s cold breath hits his spine. If he were to turn, they’d probably be directly facing each other.

“Yeah?”

There’s a beat before, “If I turned into what that bitch said, being useless and stuff, you know, would you take care of me?”

It’s hard to piece together what he means when tiredness is hitting him so harshly, “What? You mean when she was talking that shit about you losing strength?”

Thanos gives in to whatever he was resisting against and rolls on his other side to where he’s now face-to-face with Namgyu staring back at him, “Yeah.”

“That wouldn’t happen,” He denies, though the determination is lost from his voice, so the statement comes across softer than he meant to, “You’re gonna be fine by tomorrow, then we can watch the third Twilight movie if you want.” He slurs out.

“There’s a third one?” Namgyu whispers in mock-horror.

He thinks it over for a few long seconds, “5, I think. I remember my sister would watch it a lot.”

“Wow,” The small smile that grows on his face isn’t anything but beautiful, “Is that why you picked me up? Because you were desensitised or something?”

“Yup.” He grins back, “Saw you and knew you were the Edward Cullen of my dreams.”

In the morning, he can gladly blame any post-moment awkwardness on the delirium that he is feeling.

The compliment didn’t fall well on Namgyu, “...’kay. So, would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Take care of me? If I were immobile or something like that.”

Thanos yawns widely, “Course. Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”

“No, like, if I couldn’t speak. Or move.” Namgyu corrects with more force in his voice, pressing for an answer.

If Namgyu couldn’t move or speak to him? Huh. That would suck, but— “Doesn’t matter, I’d just talk to you telepathically. Through minds and shit.”

He gives out a snort, but it’s so hushed and tired-sounding that it comes across more like a hitched breath of air, “You can’t do that.”

“Sure, I can.” Thanos watches his dark eyes droop under the soft glow emitting from the curtain. There was something so contradictory about Namgyu being placed under a natural light that made his heart falter, until it started racing to catch up to the beats it missed: “I’m reading your mind right now.”

“Yeah? What am I thinking?” He challenges lightly.

“That you’re super lucky being in my bed right now, ‘stead of some other bitch.” Thanos thinks back to the moment in the train when Namgyu asked why he came with him.

It registers to his airless mind that he shouldn’t have said that a moment too late. He’s phrasing it as if he wants Namgyu to like him, which—he does, but he can’t know. Luckily, Namgyu focuses on something other than that, “Bitch?” He wearily smirks, “What happened to your feminist side?”

“I was tryna say what you were saying earlier, about getting a girl. Should I have said ‘Senoreta’ instead?” He still grins at the pronunciation.

Namgyu flushed slightly before grabbing at a pillow and softly swinging it at his head, “Shut up. You’re tired, go to sleep.”

“I’m actually—”

“Goodnight.”

Morning, actually. But, he won’t point that out.

Thanos turns again to the only side he can get any sleep on and closes his eyes.

He’s always been slow when it comes to falling asleep; for most of the night, he’ll stay rigid, but awake.

Meaning that he’s still wide awake, only with his eyes shut, when he feels two cold fingers press against the side of his neck, as if testing something. The feeling passes before he can determine whether it was real or not.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°

Thanos eventually blinks his eyes open when the sun seems to be setting, as a soft orange glow illuminates his room. At first, when he wakes up, he momentarily forgets what happened the previous night until he feels the weight of someone else’s body lying not far behind him.

When he sits up against the headboard, he glances to his right to see Namgyu.

Asleep?

Both of his fangs are peaking out as the soft sound of snores leaves his slightly parted mouth that’s almost muffled against the pillow. Snores. Namgyu snores.

He snorts before slapping a hand over his mouth as he forgets the other was asleep. See, if it were him snoring, he’d be undeniably embarrassed for months, but when Namgyu’s doing it, it sounds nothing but angelic. It’s evidence that he is alive, even if only somewhat.

It feels like he shouldn’t be seeing Namgyu like this at all, sleeping at complete peace with his dark hair splayed out across the pillow. He’s only ever seen him put together and awake, with some type of emotion fronted on his face. Now, his features are oddly relaxed in a beautiful kind of way.

Wait.

Is he supposed to be sleeping?

Is he sleeping?

Oh, fuck, is he—is he dead? Did his sickness get so bad that it consumed him entirely during the night? Shit, the entire point of this was for Thanos to make sure he was okay, and now he’d gone and done the opposite.

“Namgyu!” He yells, roughly shaking him, “Namgyu, fuck, are you—” Please, whoever’s listening to him, don’t let it be the worst.

“What the fuck—” Namgyu grumbles as he’s forced to open his own eyes, thank fuck, “Huh?” He squints through the tiredness in his eyes.

Thanos heaves out in gratefulness, “You’re not dead.” He states dumbly.

He looks down at himself from where he’s supporting himself, sitting up with two arms, “I mean...?” He trails off with an eyebrow raised.

“Not dead-dead,” Thanos corrects himself with a wince, “I thought—I’ve never seen you sleep like that before.”

Namgyu’s eyes widen, and jaw drops just slightly enough to notice, “Oh. Shit.”

To him, it sounds like he hadn’t realised he had fallen asleep either, “Yeah. No worries, man, I'll buy you a nice wooden coffin for today, if you want.” He jokes, watching as the thoughts start turning in Namgyu’s brain as he fully wakes up.

“Don’t,” He scoffs eventually, “That’s not happened to me before, probably won’t again.”

It was weird that tonight was a once-in-a-hundred-years chance of him sleeping, experiencing living human behaviour. But, to be fair, so many weird events have passed lately that this just feels like one of many.

“Thanos?” Namgyu sat up properly by copying the same position that Thanos was in, “Can we talk? About the whole...sickness thing?”

Oh, shit. Here it comes.

“I was thinking, before I fell asleep, you know, about some of the things that bitch said,” A hand trails up to his hair to lightly pull at the strands before he continues, “And, I thought that...”

He’s nervous. And so is Thanos, but the fact that Namgyu is more nervous than he is says something. ‘He was thinking about some of the things,’ such as...the whole bond thing?

That’s it, isn’t it? Holy fuck, Namgyu’s going to ask him to carry a bond with him. The thought of it, something tying them together officially, makes his head feel like it’s spinning.

He’ll say yes, obviously, and he guesses he’ll be forced to bear his own neck.

No, please, don’t feel too sorry for him, really! It’s all part of being a good friend that he’s forced to do this!

“And I thought that—” Shit, shit, it’s happening.

“—I could find someone at Club Pentagon to bite.”

“—I’ll do it!”

...

Oh.

“Huh? Do what?” Namgyu asks with his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

All the blood feels like it’s been drained from his head. Namgyu might as well have already eaten his heart whole, “Take you to Pentagon. Of course.” He excuses defeatedly. Is it pussy to say that he feels like crying? When the fuck has he ever cried at something?

“Oh,” He responds with a slight tone of confusion still in his voice, “Well, thanks.”

“No problem.” Thanos chokes out in English, getting up so that at least he can hide his embarrassment, trying to find a shirt to throw on, “C’mon, we’ll get going now.”

Namgyu agrees and slips out of the room to find clothes of his own, leaving Thanos alone with the thoughts that are weighing down his head.

The thoughts in question are mostly a loop of ‘it’s not—never, going to happen’ playing over.

And over.

And over.

That’s what he had thought before, so it shouldn’t have made a difference what just happened.

Except, it feels like it does. The final, solidified proof from the universe.

He’s a stupid man. That acknowledgement also isn’t anything near new to him; he was told that by everyone in his life. Well, not exactly him, but Subong was.

Subong was the kid in high school who had enough friends to get by from being loud and attracting attention wherever he went. He was also the kid who couldn’t process any of the things that came out of his teachers’ mouths during class. All of his report cards always carried the same words: ‘A pleasure to have in class, but not very bright.’ He was stupid in school.

He was stupid after, too.

Always stupid, but never would he have thought he’d be stupid enough land himself in this situation. Being in fucking love with the one person who wouldn’t be able to be with him, even if he wanted to.

Eventually, Thanos emerges from his bedroom with a necklace hanging around his neck.

It’s an old metallic pendant in the shape of a cross he had found at a thrift shop when he was still in high school. During that time, he’d keep it stocked with various pills that he’d hand out like candy to any of his friends who asked. The only attachment he has to that thing is the memory of him being liked because of that necklace. Mostly because of what was inside of it, not the pretty exterior.

Once he had left that scene and had met Namgyu, there wasn’t so much of a need for it. They got high, but not from that necklace.

Right now, though, it was somewhat nice to have the reminder that he was, or could be, liked pressing into his neck. Insecurity has never haunted over his head so badly until today, and it feels so fucking pussy for him to feel: a grown man.

When he steps out into their living room, he sees Namgyu dressed in preparation for Pentagon.

Moments like this force him to realise how warped his body has become from being around Namgyu every waking moment of the day, because the sight makes him feel like a stake has been shoved through his body.

And this isn’t him trying to say that Namgyu doesn’t usually dress up nicely to go out, because he does. Like, his casual going-out looks would make any normal person sink to their knees in worship, but tonight is different. It’s the same, but only elevated by about a million per cent.

His black dress shirt is made out of a silky, satin material that’s only half buttoned to expose a long V-line going down. Every crease of the ruffled fabric looks perfectly intentional, as if created to tease. Around his neck is a thin silver chain that hangs low enough to almost hide under the shirt. His matching dark pants are wide enough not to completely seem like they’re suffocating him, whilst still fitting him just right.

The real kill shot that makes his knees feel boneless is the way that his hair is tucked carefully behind his ears, whilst cascading down his neck.

He’s fucking beautiful, and Thanos, he realises, is a very weak man. Weak and stupid.

“You ready?” He managed to choke out once the air returned to his lungs.

The idea of making their way to Pentagon feels like he’s walking to his own execution, to be shamelessly murdered on an altar publicly for everyone to see.

Namgyu looks up at the sound of his voice with a faint smile on his face, “Yeah, let’s—” He watches as his eyes flicker down from Thanos’s face and rest on the space of his chest where the cross sits. Namgyu has a selective taste for jewellery, so he half expects him to make some kind of comment on it.

That doesn’t happen.

What does happen is Namgyu flinching and backing away from him, as if Thanos is dangerous.

“Namgyu?” He asks, confused, why he suddenly put over a foot of distance between them unprompted.

“Stay the fuck away,” Namgyu breaths angrily, “Stay—why would you—” He gets out with terror laced between the words, “Get—stop.”

Thanos stood motionless in the middle of the room, confused beyond his understanding. Had he done something? Said something? “What? My boy, it’s me?” Colour drains from his own face as the thought that Namgyu knows occurs to him. Maybe while he was sleeping, he took another look at his laptop.

Namgyu presses his hand against the wall behind him, feeling for security before rushing into the hall closest to his side and throwing himself into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Hey—Namgyu?” Thanos shouts as he attempts to follow, but doesn’t make it in time before the door shuts in his face. “Shit, what’s wrong?” He tries the door handle, but Namgyu seems to be barricading it with his weight from the other side.

Thanos quiets entirely as he listens to Namgyu’s panting on the other side, and the whisper of, “I need to leave, go, I can’t, he wants me gone.”

“Namgyu,” He knocks with one hand whilst still trying to open the door with the other, “Open the door, what’s, what’s going on?”

It doesn’t budge.

In defeat, he lets both of his arms fall uselessly to his side as he stares at the door between them. He wishes he had the ability to see through just to know what was going on.

Any other day, he’d respect that he needs to be shut away and would try again later, but he can’t. Because they’re kind of on a time limit right now, they don’t know how much time they have until Namgyu’s sickness overcomes him, “Namgyu? My boy, we need to leave, you need to get better, remember?” He tries.

Any sound from the other side of the door is silenced, and Thanos’s heart drops to the floor as he thinks the worst, “Namgyu?”

“I’ll go. I’m—” Namgyu chokes over his own words, “I’m sorry, please don’t—fuck, please, I’m begging you, man, please, I’ll leave.”

Go? Leave? “No...No, no, no, shit, what the fuck? Don’t fucking leave, Namgyu, what?”

He said something. He must have, right? Thanos slipped up somewhere, without realising.

“Please,” Thanos halfway begs through the crack in the door, “I’m telling you, I don’t want you to go. Ever. What’s going on?”

Thanos almost falls through the door that he’s leaning on as it finally opens, but manages to catch himself in time by grabbing onto the doorframe before crashing into a teary-looking, frightened Namgyu, who reveals himself.

Namgyu backs away again into the opposite side of his own room once he steps in, “You. Why would you—” He cuts himself off as he swallows, “You’re wearing that. Again.”

Wearing that? Again? He glances down at his own appearance; there’s nothing outwardly unusual about what he has on compared to any other day. There’s the cross pendant, but he’s never had it on around Namgyu, so he couldn’t have worn that ‘again.’ “What?”

“The cross,” Namgyu states, pointing at it with a single finger, “You’re wearing it again.”

Thanos stares down again, as he slips it off instantly, “What do you mean? Again?”

Namgyu’s chest rises and falls rapidly as his eyes dart between Thanos’s face, the necklace in his hands and the door behind him, as if he’s thinking about the chance he has to escape from this situation.

It’s been years since Namgyu awoke, completely alone in a pile of rubble, where in the distance, he could hear the bloodcurdling screams echoing down the alley he was in. The only thing he knew was his first name and that he was in danger. From what? He didn’t know. But the instinct to run was embedded in him.

At that time, he didn’t know what was happening in the world around him, didn’t know what those screams meant. As he wandered away from the ditch he had awoken in, he saw that there were hardly any people wandering the destroyed streets. Only men dressed in uniforms, bearing weapons and glaring at people, silently giving threats.

He kept his head down as he kept going onwards, until he found himself in the presence of a building with people filtering inside, looking over their shoulders warily as they did, as if they were doing something forbidden.

Namgyu cautiously circled the building, not daring to enter just yet, only observing.

When someone pushed open the door again as they left, he got a glimpse of the interior. Hardly decorated, the only thing he remembers was the wooden cross pinned to the wall with a man nailed to it.

“Excuse me, sir?” A man’s voice came from behind him. He turned to see an elderly man dressed in all white. A golden necklace rested in the middle in the same shape as the decoration from inside, “Are you supposed to be here?”

The question made him speechless. At this point, he had never spoken to another.

However, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the necklace. It was burning through his eyes and enforcing fear into his heart.

He ran again. Without answering the man at all.

His running slowly transformed into walking, as he realised that he had all the time in the world to get to wherever he was heading.

“I was alone, basically. Having only spoken to one person, I walked through the countryside for years.” Namgyu admits to him as he gradually explains. By the time he finishes the first part, he had sunk to the floor with his head resting against the wall, whilst looking up at Thanos, “And then, there was you.”

“Me?” It comes out so uncertain, even though he already knew it was true.

Namgyu nods with a cold laugh, “You.”

The city looks so different in comparison to the distant village he had once known on the other side of Korea. Lights blind him at every turn, and he realises that it’s easier to conceal himself through the bustling nightlife that comes with this new environment.

He talks to people in passing, learning about the world around him subtly. What year it currently is, what needles are used for, and other things. The small questions to learn the basics without giving away too much about his ‘condition.’

He’s long accepted that he will never be completely ‘normal’ and that he’ll need to be careful for the rest of his life. From the few books that he’s stolen whilst travelling, he knows more about himself than before. He knows that he’ll be hunted under the presumption that he’s dangerous if someone were to find out.

The easiest place for him to hide, as he’s come to realise, is in the shady corners of nightclubs where no one looks. If they do, they’ll be too drunk to remember the next day.

It was a winter night, and he was on his way to the same club he’s been frequenting for months now, when he saw him for the first time.

A man with unnatural purple hair, a piercing on his left ear, painted nails and a tattoo peaking out from under his shirt.

They pass each other on the street, and whilst the man doesn’t stop walking, or spare a glance at him, Namgyu does. He stops in his steps and stares after the man walking in the opposite direction from him.

There’s no logical explanation for the urge that hits Namgyu at that second. The desire to follow, linger behind.

So, he does.

Without being noticed, he retraces that man’s steps until he follows him into a club he’s never seen before.

And he watches from a dark corner, trying his best not to be noticed, especially when the man occasionally glances in his direction, coincidentally. It’s a small club; there’s no way that he was looking at him on purpose.

The longer he stares at the man talking to others who he’s sat with, on stage, getting drinks, the more this...hunger builds up in him. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before; his stomach feels starved, and this strange purple man seems to be, for whatever reason, the answer to it.

He doesn’t find the courage to talk to him that night before he disappears.

So, Namgyu returns the next with hope. And there he is again, with a routine so similar, it feels exactly like the same night all over again. Stare, avoid, attempt to approach, fail, retreat.

It’s not until 2 weeks after he saw him for the first time that he finally gets a break in.

The man looks wasted enough to not remember their conversation if everything falls flat. Namgyu doesn’t even know what he’s hoping to achieve with whatever he’s trying to do. Attention? Validation?

“Hey!” Without realising, Namgyu had bumped into the man by accident, and he was being pointed at, “It’s you! I know you!” The man is definitely too far gone to know what he was saying.

“I—” Namgyu opens his mouth to say something, when he flinches back on reflex. He feels like he’s just been burned, but why—

That’s when his gaze goes lower, and he sees it.

The same cross, symbol, that he had seen all those years ago.

It’s pure instinct when he runs away again, leaving behind the confused man.

That symbol, he’s now come to learn, is an icon of religion. Christianity, to be specific.

He doesn’t have a solid answer to why he’s so reactive to it, but from the limited scripts he’s read from the papers of travellers he had crossed paths with over the countryside, he has a general idea.

Namgyu is what the world calls a ‘vampire.’

And a vampire is evil. Not in their actions, but their mere existence is evil. He’s an unholy monster haunting the world, and to repel his kind, the cross is a symbol of faith. Faith in a God that will smite him for his wrongdoing of existing. The cross is the symbol of ultimate divine power against the evil that is him.

The man bearing that around his neck isn’t a coincidence, he’s sure. It’s a sign from the universe that he’s above Namgyu, that he’s protected from Namgyu’s undeniable evil nature.

He hides away for the rest of the night and finds out that he has the ability to cry. He considers the tears falling down to be just as evil as the rest of him.

“When was this?” Thanos asks, struggling to talk with this information processing to him, “I don’t—I don’t remember anything,” He confesses.

“About a week before you found me in the trash.” Namgyu shrugs, “There was one more time before that, though.”

After that incident, Namgyu keeps his distance. He still comes to the club every night, but doesn’t allow himself to stare as obviously as he used to.

However, he has no clue how much of their strange interaction the purple stranger remembers, but after that night, the cross had gone from his neck. That detail worms into Namgyu’s head, feeding him with new ideas. Schemes, more like.

He fights it. He does. Telling himself that he can’t do anything more after he already fucked up.

But Namgyu is a horribly weak vampire. Weak and stupid. So, he tries again.

After making sure that the purple stranger had his fair share of drinks to make his memory warped the next day, he approaches once more, “Hey,” Namgyu says anxiously. His hands are shaking so harshly that he has to bawl them into fists.

The man flips around quicker than Namgyu can blink, with the widest grin he’s ever seen painted on his face, “You! I know who you are!”

It’s the exact same thing as the other night. This is fine, “Yeah? Uh...how?”

“From...” The man trails off, the same dopey grin never leaving his face.

Then he hunches over and fucking pukes all over Namgyu’s shoes.

“Shit!” Namgyu screeches, jumping back as the vomiting continues. He hurriedly tries to urge the man to the bathroom so that at least he can be sick in a toilet.

After everything seems to have been flushed away, the man stays on his knees with his head resting against the stall, and his eyes half-shut. He’s obviously delirious.

Namgyu stands in the same stall, making sure he won’t, like, die or anything. And that’s when it hits him again.

Hunger.

The urge to bite, drink, or just take something from this man to please himself.

It’s an evil desire to have, the want to selfishly hurt and take. More than that, it’s a sin. He’s exactly like how the scriptures describe him.

Fuck it. He doesn’t know this man in the slightest. He’ll take what he needs and then disappear, and then it’ll be done with. Plus, the guy is too out of it to even realise.

So, he creeps lower to where the man is almost passed out and bares his fangs. He’s never done this before, never felt a hunger like this, so he has close to no idea what he’s supposed to be doing.

He gets centimetres close to his neck, before the man suddenly snaps his eyes open, making Namgyu jump back in shock.

An apology is about to tumble from him until the man opens his mouth to speak, “Shit...Ain’t you—” He coughs, his throat sore from throwing up, “—Beautiful, angel.”

Namgyu freezes.

What?

He’s— what? He’s not an angel. He’s a vampire, closer to a demon if anything.

He was about to drink from him. He’s evil—not, not—

Namgyu runs from the bathroom and into the cold night, ending up in a nearby alleyway to catch his breath and thoughts.

Without realising, the sun was creeping up from behind the clouds, and before he knew it, he had collapsed in that alleyway lifelessly.

“That’s when you found me, so, yeah.” Namgyu finally finishes, avoiding his eyes, “I sort of overreacted when seeing the cross again, so that’s my bad.”

Thanos blinks. He can’t do anything but blink. “You think you’re evil?”

Namgyu raises an eyebrow, “I am. Don’t you read? This isn’t some fucking chick movie, that’s all you think it is, and it’s not. I’m not some guy who can transform into a disco ball in the sun, I’m an actual monster.”

That’s not right, Thanos knows that’s not right, “Are you fucking serious? Course you’re not that ugly motherfucker,” He’s still not forgetting the eyes that Namgyu made at him, “You’re... you. Namgyu, you’re not...” Evil, sinful, a monster, “Like that. You’re the only person I give a shit about, who I’ve ever given a shit about. You think you’re a monster? Look around you, you know how many people I’ve seen and met who’re nothing close to being human, even if their biology says so? You’re not like that, you’re... perfect.” He concludes lamely.

Thanos tosses the necklace somewhere outside of the room before stepping closer to join Namgyu on the bare floor, “I’d do anything for you, you know? Hell, I’ve gone nocturnal just so that I could be around you. I threw away any garlic, spent all my money on sunlight-proof curtains to put everywhere, anything, you know? I wouldn’t do that shit for someone evil.”

It’s Namgyu’s turn to be stunned, so he continues babbling, “Fuck, I don’t know, even if you are, somehow, you think that fucking matters? I don’t give a shit. I’d still be here, wouldn’t want you to go anywhere but here. I’d let you do anything, eat through all of my dark chocolate or coffee, watch whatever the fuck you want. I’d let you drink the blood out of my body even if I had nothing left. And I still wouldn’t call that evil, because it’s you.”

“Thanos—”

“Namgyu,” He’s been talking for so long that the words don’t feel like they’re real anymore, “I love you.”

Well, he’s really fucked it now.

Namgyu stares at him with eyes that look dangerously close to spilling tears, “No,” He chokes, “You don’t. You don’t.”

Thanos’s head fills with buzzing static as the words shatter him, “I—I do?”

“You don’t, it’s me who—I’m—I love you, and—I’m doing something to you to make you think that you do—”

“What?” Thanos gapes, “You love me?”

“Kind of,” Namgyu breaths out, again, if he could, his face would most definitely be flushed bright red, “Yeah. I do.”

He might not be able to, but Thanos is undoubtedly red right now. “Why don’t you think that I can love you too?”

Namgyu laughs humourlessly, “Because, the drawing—what I look like, that’s not something you can just love, can you? Not without something manipulating you into doing.”

Pause. He’s so fucking lost, “What? What’s wrong with how you look?”

“My face, it doesn’t look human. How are you going to look at me and tell me that you even like looking at me?” Namgyu frantically expresses, his words coming out rushed and barely coherent.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Thanos breathes in disbelief, “Have you—have you seen yourself?”

Namgyu doesn’t answer, and his hand goes up to tug at his hair again. Thanos beats him to it and grabs his wrist to stop him from doing so, pulling it down so that he can hold his hand firmly.

“Thanos,” Namgyu shakily starts, “I, I don’t know what I look like.”

What? “What?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t have a reflection. I can’t see myself. That...that drawing from that bitch’s place is the closest thing I have to knowing.”

For a second, Thanos assumes Namgyu is lying. Or, this is something pulled from this overthinking mind, but then he realises that he’s not. Then, he remembers every photo, every mirror they’ve passed, Namgyu’s never there, even when he is.

There’s no fucking way.

Namgyu doesn’t know what he looks like.

It’s definitely weird for the situation, but Thanos can’t help but start laughing uncontrollably whilst Namgyu glares at him in half-confusion, half-anger, “Shut the fuck up, I’m serious—” He protests when Thanos doubles over.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck,” Thanos heaves out whilst still smiling, “You wanna know what I see?”

Namgyu hesitates for a split moment before nodding slightly.

“Alright.” He brings a hand to the top of Namgyu’s head, deciding to start there. He’s going to give a thorough description by showing tactilely as well as verbally, “Your hair. I know that you’re aware how fucking silky it is, you put, like, every expensive product I know into it. But, it’s jet-dark, darker than almost anything I’ve ever seen. Sometimes chicks in the club come to me and ask me if you dye it to get it to that colour.”

His hand trails down to his ear, “That’s another thing that’s not like that fuckass drawing. Your ears, they’re round. Not pointy. ‘Bout as pretty as ears can get.”

Next, he moves on to his actual face as he uses his thumb to swipe next to his eyes, “You know how I said your hair’s almost darker than anything I’ve ever seen? The only colour I know that beats it is your eyes. So fucking beautiful. You don’t have pupils as I do, which makes them even prettier. Without them, you’re still so expressive, can always tell what you’re thinking just by looking.”

“I thought that was because you’re telepathic?” Namgyu whispers.

He grins, remembering their conversation last night, “That too.”

His thumb goes to his nose next, “Got a perfect slope. You know, some people in this world get nose jobs to get a nose like yours? You’re born blessed, my boy.”

Admittedly, he rushed through that feature to get to the one he loves the most.

“Then, there’s your lips,” Thanos’s voice delves lower into almost the same whisper Namgyu was using, “Got two pointy fangs, one of them sticks out slightly further than the other. ‘S cute shit when you smile, or laugh. I love it,” He admits.

Namgyu puts on a disgusted face, “Are you serious? They’re asymmetrical?”

Thanos snorts in response, “They’re still pretty frightening, perfect for a scary vampire like yourself.”

His thumb ghosts over the skin of his lips, feeling how perfectly soft they are.

It’s what pushes him to lean in and press them against his own.

Namgyu reacts instantly, easily melting into him with his hands in Thanos’s hair as if trying to pull him impossibly closer. Their first kiss is long and drawn out; maybe it lasted for 5 minutes or 50, he doesn’t know. Doesn’t care when he’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of euphoria spreading in him. It’s better than any party drug he could ever try all at once. After separating for a few short breaths of needed air, they waste no time reconnecting.

Until it’s Namgyu who pushes him away slightly, “I’m a liar, I lied to you,” He speaks practically against his lips.

Thanos’s head feels so light and airy that it’s hard to take his words seriously, “Whaddya mean?” He thinks Namgyu swallowed the life out of him already.

“I can light my own cigarettes,” He admits, interrupting himself by licking his mouth again, “I just like when you do it for me, so I never told you.”

“I know,” Thanos confesses back, watching as Namgyu quirks a surprised eyebrow, “You think I never saw you smoke at Pentagon?”

Namgyu laughs softly as he swipes across the blood dripping from Thanos’s lip that had caught onto one of his fangs, “I really like you.”

“I know.” He thinks it’s finally impossible for him to grin wider than he is now, “I like you a lot too.”

“Are you sure? 95% still isn’t 100%, you could be wrong.” Oh, okay. So, he did see that. Sure, just disregard his right to privacy or whatever.

His face is definitely a lot redder, even as he tries to defend himself, “Yeah, okay. I do, though, you know.”

Namgyu pauses for a second, seemingly trying to find the right words to admit, “You... You make me feel human when I’m with you. Before, it was like, this long period of just existing. I don’t think I was actually alive before I met you.”

Thanos was wrong. He can smile wider, “It’s the same for me. I’ve never liked living until you came along.”

Namgyu’s smile is so beautiful that he thinks he might collapse from where they’re sitting together on the floor. “I wanted to go to Pentagon to find someone to drink from or eat, because I was scared.”

“Scared? Of me?”

“Yeah,” He nods, avoiding looking directly at him and playing with the collar of his shirt instead, “Scared of what I’d do to you, I guess.”

Thanos’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand, “Don’t listen to what the shaman said, I don’t—”

“But it’s true,” Namgyu argues, “What—what if you change your mind once the bond is already there? You can’t just—”

“I’m not gonna change my mind, my boy,” He says confidently, “Always gonna be right here.” He sneaks a hand to the back of Namgyu’s head within the dark strands, “I want you to do it. That’s my decision, the rest is yours.” Always is.

Namgyu meets his eyes as if looking for one last confirmation before giving a small nod.

As his fangs sink into his neck, he realises he could never be happier than he is right now. If he died, he’d die the happiest man in heaven and earth.

°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°