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Summary
So here he was now, standing in the apartment they shared, with Wooyoung’s dream fulfilled and his lover transformed.
With a vampire fledgling on his hands.
“I’ve told you how many times now,” San said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Wooyoung’s furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, “that you can’t sink your fangs into everything you come across?”
He gestured toward the couch. “The last time I checked, our sofa doesn’t have blood in it.”
In response, San heard something that could only be described as a quiet growl—if vampires were even capable of making such sounds. It reminded him painfully of an annoyed cat, cornered and offended, refusing to admit guilt. San raised an eyebrow, only to be met with Wooyoung squinting even harder, looking exactly like a kitten caught chewing on forbidden cables and daring its owner to scold it again.
His love.
And, unfortunately, his responsibility.