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Jinyoung is used to feeling out of place. Vampires aren’t exactly a rarity, there’s enough of them around to warrant a good 15% of blood donations going straight to the shelves for consumption. But as ancient creatures with a history of violence and bad blood (no pun intended) they’re also not the most favoured Other Worldly Beings, even with the laws and regulations. He’s been tossed out of clubs and had foul names spat at him for doing absolutely nothing but most of the time people aren't particularly malicious, they just flat out ignore him.
So yeah, he knows what it's like to feel alone in a room full of people, but he’s never felt more out of place than he does staring up at an oversized photograph of his own head and shoulders, humans on either side of him with their eyes also glued to the picture.
He knows he shouldn’t really be here, that it’s a bit taboo to attend the photography exhibition of your ex boyfriend, but he’d been too tempted by the slightest hope of there being a glimpse into the time they spent together.
He wishes he could read Jaebum’s mind sometimes, maybe then he could’ve seen what was going on in there on the days when he wouldn’t say anything. Thankfully, Jaebum lets his work speak for him. His photography is warming and heart wrenching and it breaks him apart to know that none of this is really relevant to his life anymore; Jaebum, his artwork, their apartment.
He hadn’t been expecting to stumble upon a large photograph of himself on one of the far walls, the image blown up to massive proportions and displayed proudly for everyone to see. To be fair, it’s hardly a picture of himself, just simply the top of his body poking out from below the white linen sheets, his face hidden from the camera and his figure out of focus.
The true focus of the picture is the balcony in the background, the tall vase of azaleas perched on the top of their shared terrace table. It’s such a bittersweet image and Jinyoung finds himself choking up at the fact that none of the people in this gallery know the truth about the photograph, the meaning or the story behind it. None of them know about the way Jaebum had fucked him into the mattress the night before it was taken, none of them know that Jinyoung had smashed that same vase during their fight. To them it's just a pretty picture and Jinyoung hates it.
“I thought you didn’t like contemporary photography?”
He’s gently startled from his thoughts, eyes torn away from the photograph, by the smooth, low voice that echoes behind him, loud enough to be heard but almost not wanting to be. He turns to see Jaebum standing there with his stupidly gorgeous face and his dark hair styled out of his eyes for once. He looks good but Jinyoung doesn’t dwell on it.
He suddenly realises that everyone else has moved on except for him. It’s not a foreign concept.
“—Jaebum, I-” He stumbles, words tripping over themselves in a hurry to pry his lips apart. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Jaebum quirks a brow and Jinyoung swallows uncooly, his nerves shooting up in a way he wouldn’t have expected them to.
“At my own exhibition?” He asks, voice dipped in a very mild drizzle of amusement. The unimpressed tone is thinly veiled, however, and it makes the blood he’d consumed not too long ago boil in his veins.
“It’s not opening night, I didn’t think you’d be narcissistic enough to go again.”
Jaebum smiles a genuinely at that. God, Jinyoung's missed that smile over the past few months.
“Touché. Jackson made me come, said he felt guilty that I left early on opening night to grab his medication. I guess now I see why he really wanted me here.” He replies and Jinyoung can hear the slight reverberations of sadness in his voice, the same ones he’s been hearing in his own speech as of late. Then Jaebum’s words catch up to him—
“Wait, Jackson? I didn’t tell anybody I was coming here. Just coincidence I’m afraid.”
Jaebum blinks at him silently for a second and cocks his head, giving him a quick one-over that makes his breath catch in his throat. “Hm.”
Jinyoung knows he’s thinking it too; that perhaps the hand of fate had a little to do with this, always meddling in their affairs. It would make sense, Jinyoung sometimes thinks that he was destined to meet Jaebum.
They both turn back to the picture before them and Jinyoung is suddenly hyper aware of the absence around them, most of the people having flittered to the other side of the gallery, leaving them alone. Nobody recognises Jaebum but that’s not surprising, he keeps a relatively low profile.
“You really are talented.” Jinyoung confesses as he eyes the photo, thoughts vocalised by accident, and he flushes with blood that isn’t his.
“Thanks. I guess that means a lot considering how much you prefer old fashioned photography.”
Jinyoung smiles faintly and grips his own arm to keep himself anchored to reality.
“The older stuff just reminds me of home. But I suppose this does too.” The words are out before Jinyoung can catch himself and Jaebum glances up at him in surprise, eyes filled with longing. Jinyoung shuts his own eyes, cursing himself for revealing such a personal thought. He doesn’t want Jaebum to know he misses all of it so fucking much.
“What does home mean to you now?” Jaebum asks quietly and Jinyoung’s chest tightens, makes him feel alive for once. He gives him a stiff smile, an unintentionally sad one.
“I don’t have a home right now. Just a house.”
Jaebum blinks, stupefied, unwanted emotions swirling around in his gut like a shark circling injured prey.
“Jinyoung—”
“Don’t.” Jinyoung cuts him off, sad smile still present and breaking Jaebum’s heart all over again. “I’ll see you around, Jaebum.”
And with that, Jinyoung turns to find the exit, and leaves. Jaebum wants to say something to him, yell across the gallery for him to come back, so he can scoop him up into his arms in a tight hug, so he can kiss his adorably large ears and pouty lips, but he remains silent and watches the figure of his ex lover leave through the wide, double doors.
“Stupid fucking fate.” He spits under his breath as he turns back to the photograph hanging on the wall, now so much more painful and provoking than before.