Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

♥︎

Bonggu’s new neighbor is a vampire. 

Maybe it sounds a little crazy, but there’s just no other explanation for all the weird stuff going on with that guy. He stays out late every single night. He only wears dark colors. He literally has red eyes and sharp teeth. Paired with his silver hair, he looks like he’d fit right in with the Hio family from Vampire Knight. 

Obviously, Bonggu didn’t immediately jump to vampirism. At first, he figured the guy is just goth or something. It’s not like Bonggu isn’t used to seeing alternative people. Plenty of people in Seoul are alternative. Bonggu himself is kind of alternative. He’s been dying his hair pink ever since he got back from his military service a year and a half ago. He’s perfectly aware that his neighbor could be dying his hair too. 

He could also be wearing colored contact lenses and fake fangs. Sure, it’s a bit much, but who is Bonggu to judge someone’s over-the-top fashion choices? Just last month, he and Hamin dressed up as Sanrio characters for their students’ summer showcase. He was waiting for the train at Ttukseom Station with floppy pink ears and a frilly pink collar over his dance clothes. If his neighbor wants to wear weird stuff when he goes out for the night, Bonggu’s in no position to call him out for it. 

Just like he’s in no position to call the guy out for his nocturnal habits. It’s a little excessive to go out every night, but not totally out of the ordinary in this neighborhood. Most of Bonggu’s neighbors are Hanyang University students. It’s pretty normal for them to go out to the clubs late at night, even on weekdays. 

But what isn’t normal is screaming bloody murder at 1:00 in the morning. 

“He’s getting away! Damn it, I need more blood!”

Bonggu pulls his blanket tight over his head as his neighbor’s screams echo through the walls. The guy’s been screeching about blood for almost an hour now. At first, Bonggu tried to rationalize it, just as he’s been rationalizing everything else that he’s noticed this past week, but come on. It’s just so obvious. It’s like the guy wants Bonggu to know he’s a vampire.

The thought has Bonggu trembling as he curls in on himself under his blankets. Maybe the guy is toying with him. He might have heightened senses—maybe he can hear Bonggu’s heart thrumming away in his chest. Maybe he can sense the blood pumping through his veins. 

And what would Bonggu be able to do if the guy swooped into his apartment right now? It’s not like he can call the cops and tell them he has a vampire for a neighbor. They’re going to think he’s insane. 

He feels a little insane. He’s so on edge, he nearly falls out of bed and knocks his head on his nightstand when he hears a group of drunk people laughing out in the hallway. Any other night, and he wouldn’t even notice it. Right now, though, every sound has him feeling like he’s going to jump out of his skin.

It’s no wonder his neighbor chose an apartment complex in Seongsu. Shouts and loud noises aren’t anything the people in this building aren’t already used to, especially this time of year. All the university students are still on summer break. Plenty of them get a little rowdy on their way to and from the clubs at night. 

Now that Bonggu’s really thinking about it, he only sees his neighbor leave the building at night. Every time Bonggu leaves for work, his neighbor’s motorcycle is parked in the same spot behind the building, right where it remains when Bonggu gets back home. He doesn’t hear the engine rev to life until somewhere around 21:00.

The fact that the guy drives a motorcycle is suspicious in and of itself. If he was simply going out to the clubs, he could just walk like everyone else does. He must have a reason to need a quick getaway. That’s probably the reason he wears all black—so he can blend in with the night. Paired with the eyes, the teeth, and the hair, it’s so clear what’s been going on ever since he moved in last week. 

He was never just clubbing. He was hunting. And now, he’s finally caught his prey.

“He’s low! Dive him! Dive him!”

This time, Bonggu does fall out of his bed and knock his head on the nightstand. He can barely register the pain though, because holy crap. The guy must have an accomplice. Maybe he’s got a human familiar, like Renfield or Guillermo de la Cruz or Yayoi Matsunaga. It would be ideal if that familiar was more like Yayoi, but judging from all the screaming, they’re probably leaning more into Renfield territory. Nothing about what’s happening on the other side of the wall sounds voluntary. 

This can’t go on. Bonggu needs to do something. His fingers shake as he crawls back into bed and reaches for his phone.

“Guys, come on! How could you let him get away like that?!”

Bonggu’s phone drops to the floor as he smacks his head against the nightstand again. It’s impossible for him to ignore the pain this time around, but more importantly, holy crap. Guys. Plural. His neighbor must have multiple Renfields. There could be a whole army of Renfields next door. 

And yet, that army moves in complete silence. The only thing Bonggu can hear is his neighbor’s voice. It makes the blood pumping through his veins feel too loud. His neighbor must be able to hear it too. 

He’s clearly a very powerful vampire. Not only did he sneak in his Renfield army completely undetected, but not once did Bonggu hear any screams aside from his neighbor’s. He must have been using vampiric mind control to keep his victim subdued. At least that person somehow got away.

But that just means the Bonggu’s neighbor is even more pissed off and bloodthirsty. Bonggu needs to act before he ends up being next.

His neighbor is still shouting his head off, though, and he’s way too freaked out to try to garner up the courage to get out of bed and pick his phone up off the ground. Besides, who would he call at this hour? He can’t call the police. His mom’s all the way in Gyeongju. Hamin’s probably asleep. 

Bonggu huddles back under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping with everything in him that he lives to see the morning.

♥︎

Hamin’s a good kid. He’s reliable. When Bonggu left for his military service, Hamin easily agreed to help out his mom at the dance studio, despite having just started his second year at KNSU. By the time Bonggu got back, he was three quarters through a degree in taekwondo and leading his own ballet classes every weekend. He stuck around when Bonggu’s mom decided to retire and move to Gyeongju. He could’ve left to focus on his studies, but he’s perfectly content to plan his course schedule around his afternoon shifts at the studio. And ever since summer break began, he’s been coming in every morning to help out with the younger kids. He’s even putting together a taekwonmu routine for the autumn showcase.

He’s reliable, smart, and athletic. He’s definitely the kind of person who would know what to do. 

“Sounds like you should call up Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

Scratch that. Hamin’s a brat. Bonggu buries his face in his pillow and groans. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Hamin chuckles. “But seriously, hyung, if you don’t want to come in today, you can just say so. You know I don’t mind holding down the fort.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Bonggu mutters, unearthing his face from his pillow and bringing the phone back up to his ear. “I can’t. If I leave my apartment, he might get me.”

“Do you want me to come pick you up? If he tries to talk to you, I can fight him off.”

In hindsight, athleticism is meaningless in this situation. What’s Hamin going to do? Come at the guy with a tornado kick? That’s nothing when the guy can probably snap a tibia in half with one finger.

“You can’t just fight him off,” Bonggu scoffs. “He’s a vampire. He’s probably got, like, superhuman strength.”

Hamin lets out a snort and asks, “Does he sparkle in the sunlight too?”

Bonggu’s tempted to throw his phone at the wall. He doesn’t, though. One, that would absolutely alert his neighbor to this conversation if he isn’t already listening in with his superhuman hearing. And two, maybe Bonggu needs to give Hamin some more grace here. In all fairness, this does sound totally insane. He’d be cracking jokes if he was in Hamin’s shoes. 

But as crazy as this all sounds, Bonggu knows what he heard last night. 

At least, he knows some of it. He still has no clue how that guy sneaks in his Renfield army. For all Bonggu knows, they’re still in that apartment right now. 

“You’re breathing kinda hard,” Hamin says, laughter dying out. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

Bonggu puts a hand on his chest. He didn’t realize just how much he’s shaking. In his defense, he’s got a very good reason to be on edge. His neighbor didn’t stop screaming until nearly three in the morning. Even after that, Bonggu couldn’t get a wink of sleep. He spent the remaining two hours before his alarm went off shivering under his blankets and nearly crapping his pants every time he heard a motorcycle engine rev out on the street or drunken laughter pour out from the hallway, both of which happen very frequently in this neighborhood. Really, it’s a miracle he isn’t having a full-blown panic attack right now. 

He does have a raging headache, but that can probably be attributed to banging his head on his nightstand so many times in a row. He rubs a hand against his bruised forehead and says, “Of course I’m serious. Why would I lie about something like this?”

It’s silent for a moment. Bonggu can’t help but burrow further under his covers as he waits for Hamin to say something. He’s got his aching head fully submerged in his blankets when Hamin finally says, “I don’t think you’re lying. I think you’re tired. You know you get weird when you’re tired.”

“You’re weird,” Bonggu grumbles. 

“Hyung, don’t take it personally. I’m just saying, you’re under a lot of stress right now.”

Hamin’s not wrong about that, Bonggu has to admit. It’s been hectic since his mom retired last year. He made a point to assure her that he was capable of handling things on his own, but he never realized just how much paperwork is required to run a business. Ever since last September, he’s had to come in early every morning and stay late every night just to stay on top of everything. Even when he gets back to his apartment, it’s not like he can really relax. He’s gotta make lesson plans and film choreography for his students to review at home. He hasn’t gotten more than five hours of sleep at a time in nearly a full calendar year. 

More than that, really—he’d only just gotten back from his military service a few months before his mom left. He’d spent eighteen months before that running on minimal sleep in a very uncomfortable barrack. Maybe he really is just having a stress-induced mental breakdown. 

He just needs to find evidence, then. Whether he’s gone crazy or he really has a vampire for a neighbor, he just needs to find some kind of irrefutable proof. 

That means he’ll need to interact with his neighbor. 

Crap. 

“You’re wheezing again,” Hamin says, voice tinged with concern. “Should I come over?”

“Don’t do that,” Bonggu rushes out. He may not know for sure yet, but there’s no chance in hell he’s putting Hamin in danger. Hamin’s his best friend. His little brother, really. They’ve known each other for almost a decade now. They practically grew up together.

“Are you sure? Because I can talk to this guy for you. I bet you’ll feel way better if we resolve this whole misunderstanding.”

There was once a time when Bonggu was the one who had to speak up on Hamin’s behalf, back when Hamin was still a shy fourteen year old who’d yet to hit his growth spurt. The thought of that sweet, introverted kid coming face to face with a vampire has Bonggu bolting up as he says, “Don’t come here.”

“Hyung,” Hamin sighs. “If you just let me talk to him, I’m sure you’ll see he’s harmless.”

Maybe calling Hamin was a bad move. Despite his childhood introversion, he’s gotten way more confident since getting taller and taking up taekwondo. It’s made him a bit too fearless, even of forces beyond human capabilities. He blissfully ate seaweed soup the morning of his college entrance exams. He sleeps with a fan on during the summer. He stopped being afraid of ghosts years ago. Of course he isn’t scared of vampires anymore, either. 

Well, Bonggu’s certainly not going to put him in a position to revisit that fear. He lays back down and says, “I’ll deal with this myself. I’m just letting you know why I can’t come to work.”

“Alright,” Hamin says with another long sigh. “Then at least think of this as a day off, okay? I swear you’ll feel better if you relax.”

“Uh huh,” Bonggu mumbles distractedly as he pulls up the search engine on his phone and looks up methods for fighting off vampires. It’ll be hard to comb past all the book and movie references, but surely there’s some granule of truth to the myths. An aversion to garlic, burning in the sunlight, hissing at crucifixes—Bonggu just needs to find some way to catch his neighbor off-guard, and then he’ll have the proof he needs. 

Then he can hire a shaman to do a cleansing ritual. He won’t have to do any of the exorcising himself, just so long as he survives the evidence-gathering stage. 

That part won’t be easy, Bonggu knows. He’ll have to be careful if he wants to live to see tomorrow.

“I mean it, hyung. Don’t do anything crazy. Just get some sleep.”

Bonggu obviously can’t sleep yet. He’s still in danger. He lets out an affirmative hum as he hangs up the phone and focuses his attention on compiling a list. 

♥︎

Obviously, Bonggu can’t just show up at his neighbor’s door with a wooden stake or a big silver cross. One, he’s got no clue where to find those things, but he also needs to be subtle with his evidence-gathering if he wants to actually survive. 

A rice cake is totally inconspicuous, though. And even better, he already has all the ingredients, so he doesn’t need to leave his apartment to make it. He’ll have to go out if he wants to bring it to his neighbor, but if things go awry, he can just run back to his place next door. Easy peasy. 

The thought has Bonggu feeling confident as he spends the morning making the rice cake. By the time he packs up the tupperware and steps out into the hallway in the afternoon, he isn’t even shaking all that much. 

He feels even better when he gets a look at the sky. The sun is out, streaming into the breezeway. If Bonggu’s neighbor really is a vampire, he’ll probably burn to a crisp the second he opens his door. But even if that particular vampire myth is fake, then the rice cake should do it. Bonggu did a pretty good job of masking the taste of garlic with all the extra sugar he mixed in with the red beans and rice flour. 

And if nothing ends up happening, if it turns out that he really is just overstressed and making all this up, well, it’s not like it’s all that weird to give your new neighbor a rice cake. Usually it’s the person moving in who does it, but no one’s going to stir up a fuss about Bonggu being friendly. Either way, he’ll know for sure. Whether he needs to seek therapy or hire a shaman to rid this apartment complex of evil spirits, he can finally move on with his life. 

That would be a relief. He really doesn’t have time for all this. August is almost halfway over, meaning Hamin’s university classes are going to start soon. And on top of that, they’ve got less than two months to get their students ready for the autumn showcase. They need to plan out the choreography, order costumes, book a venue, and set up ticket sales, all while Hamin’s in the middle of the second semester of his final year. He’s going to be way too busy to come in every afternoon. It’ll be up to Bonggu to iron out all the details. 

He’ll need to decide on costumes for him and Hamin to wear. They could just go as My Melody and Pochacco again. Those were a hit with the kids for the summer showcase, and Bonggu really doesn’t have time to order new costumes on top of the billion other things he needs to do before October.

It’s on Bonggu’s mind as he knocks on his neighbor’s door—the autumn showcase. If he thinks about seeing those big, scary fangs, he just knows he’s going to chicken out. 

Crap, he’s thinking about the fangs. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this right now.

Before he can turn around and book it back to his apartment, though, he hears the door click. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest when a mess of silver hair peeks through the crack in the door and says, “Huh?”

“Huh?” Bonggu echoes, nearly dropping the rice cake to the floor. 

He is not prepared to handle a potential vampire alone. Hell, even if Hamin or his old army platoon or an entire fleet of shamans was here, he still wouldn’t be prepared. His neighbor looks creepy as hell peeking through the door like that. The shadows cast on his face make him look like Nosferatu. 

There must be a reason he’s hiding in the shadows like this. Bonggu knew he can’t handle sunlight. 

“Sorry, I was sleeping,” the guy says, letting out a yawn as he pulls the door open all the way. “What’s up?”

Sleeping this late into the afternoon? He’s totally nocturnal, just as Bonggu suspected. He probably sleeps in a coffin during the day. Or hanging upside-down from his ceiling. Between those mental images and the startling image he’s seeing before him right now, Bonggu feels like he’s about two seconds away from passing out. 

Because this is not what his neighbor usually looks like. Sure, Bonggu only ever sees him at night and from a distance, but he’s certain he’s never seen the guy wear glasses before. He can’t even properly assess whether or not his eyes are still red under those glasses, because he’s too busy looking down at the guy’s chest. 

Maybe Hamin had a point about sparkling in the sunlight. The guy isn’t wearing a shirt under his open hoodie. He may very well be made of marble like one of those Twilight vampires, because he’s been hiding abs under all those dark clothes. 

“You okay?”

How could Bonggu possibly be okay? He’s practically being flashed right now. If it’s an intimidation tactic, it’s totally working. Bonggu’s plenty intimidated now that he’s getting a proper look at the guy up close. He’s intimidatingly tall. 

Well, he looks like he’s about the same height as Hamin, but it’s very intimidating when his entire torso is out like this. 

It’s a shockingly smooth torso, on top of being shockingly muscular. Despite the silver hair, the guy looks like he can’t be any older than Bonggu is. 

“Seriously, you good? You’re not saying anything.”

Bonggu flinches back when the guy waves a hand in his face. That hand isn’t disintegrating, despite being in direct sunlight. 

Bonggu’s not in the proper headspace to assess what that means. He really needs to stop staring at this guy’s abs. 

“Yup! I’m good,” he blurts out, holding up the tupperware with trembling hands and shoving it towards his neighbor’s exposed chest. “Here, I made you a rice cake. Bye now!”

“Really?” His neighbor chuckles. “That’s so sweet of you, Bonggu.”

Oh, this is bad. Really bad. Bonggu should have run away when he still had the chance. He should’ve gotten on the first train to Gyeongju instead of knocking on his neighbor’s door like an idiot. It’d be a little embarrassing to run off to his mommy at his big age, but being embarrassed is way preferable to being a vampire’s meal. 

Because obviously that’s what his neighbor has planned. Why else would he know Bonggu’s name? He must’ve been staking Bonggu out ever since his meal ran away last night. Hell, maybe he’s been waiting to sink his teeth into Bonggu ever since he moved in last week.

Bonggu’s so dumb. He’s exactly where this vampire wants him.

“Who’s Bonggu? Never heard that name in my life,” Bonggu wheezes out, stumbling as he tries to back away towards his apartment.

To his horror, the guy follows him out into the hall and grabs his arm. 

This is it. He’s going to be pulled into his neighbor’s vampire lair. The guy’s going to sink his teeth into his neck and drain all the blood from his body. He’s never going to see Hamin or his mom again. He’s never going to see his kids perform in their autumn showcase. 

It’s a sad thought. He loves his mom. He loves Hamin. He loves those seasonal showcases. He also loves not being dead. He really should have thought of a back-up plan before doing something this stupid. As it stands, the only defense he has against this vampire is the rice cake, which he stupidly handed over before he could take the lid off the tupperware. 

But before Bonggu can garner up the courage to rip open the tupperware and subject his neighbor to a face-full of red beans and garlic, his neighbor lets go of his arm and says, “Careful there. You almost fell over.”

Now is Bonggu’s chance. He’s got both arms free. He’s too embarrassed to react properly, though. He just finds stable footing and says, “Uh.”

“So you’re not Chae Bonggu? That’s the name on 208’s mailbox, isn’t it?”

Crap, right. Of course. The mailboxes. The guy hasn’t been here long enough for his own name to be added to his box, but he must see Bonggu’s name all the time when he goes to check his mail. Their boxes are right next to each other. 

Bonggu’s cheeks heat up from the embarrassment of it all as he stammers out, “Oh, right, yeah. Just—most people call me Bamby, so. Uh.”

This just keeps getting more and more humiliating. The only person who still calls him by his childhood nickname is his mom. He must look so stupid right now.

He shouldn’t care about looking stupid. He should care about staying alive. This vampire is definitely messing with his brain.

“Bamby?” the guy echoes, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s cute.”

His smile is kind of cute, Bonggu can’t help but think. His teeth poke out over his lower lip in an endearing way.

His neighbor definitely has mind control powers, because there’s no way in hell that thought popped into Bonggu’s brain organically. He should be thinking about getting into his apartment before those teeth are plunged into his neck.

But then the guy pats Bonggu on the top of his head. It kind of feels like he’s sucking all the thoughts straight from Bonggu’s brain, because all Bonggu can find the wherewithal to think about is how nice and warm the guy’s fingers feel in his hair. 

There’s absolutely no way that was an organic thought. The guy’s fingers are probably ice cold, and he’s just using mental manipulation to trick Bonggu. Despite that, Bonggu can practically feel how hot his face is getting at the contact.

The guy can probably smell all the blood rushing to Bonggu’s cheeks. That just makes him blush harder. 

“Oh, shit,” the guy mutters, frowning as he brushes Bonggu’s bangs to the side. “What happened, Bamby?”

It’s overwhelming, the flurry of emotions Bonggu’s being subjected to right now. Terror is definitely still up there, but embarrassment is vying hard for the top rank in his mind. It doesn’t help that the guy is still shirtless and wearing glasses. For some reason, that’s just making this all infinitely worse. 

That’s probably part of his intimidation strategy, too. Some kind of vampiric seduction. He must pop open his collar and put on these glasses when he goes out at night to lure in his victims. 

Bonggu can totally see it working. Now that he’s gotten a better look, it’s clear his neighbor has purposefully taken on an alluring disguise. He’s masquerading as a very cute guy. 

One that knows Bonggu’s name and is touching his forehead. He needs to get a grip right now—literally. His hands are sweaty as he blindly reaches behind himself and tries to get purchase on his doorknob.

“Nothing. I tripped in the stairwell,” Bonggu says as he fails to get his door open.

“You should put some ointment on this,” the guy says, frown deepening as he rubs his thumb above Bonggu’s eyebrow. “I have a first aid kit at my place. Want me to treat it for you?”

In this position, Bonggu can easily imagine the guy tightening his grip on his forehead and knocking him out before dragging him off to his apartment. And if that happens, there’s no hope for Bonggu’s survival. He’ll be dead before he can even look up shamans who specialize in vampiric exorcisms. 

“I can take care of it myself,” he mutters as he finally manages to get a steady hold of his doorknob. “I gotta go. See ya.”

“Wait, don’t you want to know my name first?”

Absolutely not. Bonggu just wants to get the hell away from this guy. He’s still touching his forehead. 

He’s considering whether it would cause irreparable damage to jump out of his window and make a run for it when the guy says, “I’m Do Eunho. You can call me Eunho hyung if you like, since we’re neighbors and all. You sure you don’t want some help with this bruise?”

“Hyung?” Bonggu scoffs before he can think better of it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four. How old are you? Twenty?”

Eunho’s probably a thousand and twenty-four. He must have lost the ability to tell how old regular humans are after living as an immortal for so long. He’s clearly lost the ability to gauge proper social etiquette. His hand is still on Bonggu’s forehead. 

“I’m twenty-five,” Bonggu corrects, squirming his way out from under Eunho’s hand. “How long have you been twenty-four?”

Eunho’s eyes go wide. They look startlingly amber behind his glasses. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. It’s just—” He lets out a cough, ears tinging red as he stammers out, “I didn’t see you on campus before I left, so I figured you must be younger than me. Sorry.”

So he’s masquerading as a student. A pretty inconvenient cover, if Bonggu’s learned anything from Twilight. More importantly, though, Eunho’s evading the question. He’s totally lying about his true age. Bonggu takes a mental tally in his head—on top of the clear age discrepancy, Eunho’s definitely been living as an inhuman creature for a long time, because no regular human would be this chill about being shirtless while touching a stranger. His eyes may look amber right now, but that’s probably just because he’s obscuring them with his glasses. Just like the fangs—they don’t look as sharp as Bonggu was expecting, but he must just have them retracted to keep up appearances. That’s probably the same reason he’s got warm hands and red ears—all just part of the disguise he’s spent however many centuries perfecting. And sure, he doesn’t burn up to a crisp in the sunlight, but it's not like Nosferatu is a totally accurate textbook on vampirism. The vampires in Twilight and Vampire Knight and plenty of other stories are totally fine with the sun. 

All the big ones are averse to garlic, though. That’s, like, the telltale sign of vampirism. 

“It’s fine,” Bonggu says, keeping his grip tight on his doorknob. “How about you try that rice cake, huh?”

“Okay,” Eunho says, smiling sheepishly as he lifts the lid from the tupperware. The smile drops as soon as he leans in to take a sniff. “Oh Jesus, is there garlic in this?”

There’s no way a regular human would’ve been able to tell. Bonggu loaded that thing up with quadruple the amount of sugar the recipe called for. Eunho must have a superhuman sense of smell. And he looks pretty damn averse to what he’s smelling.

It’s not one hundred percent certain yet, but the signs are definitely there. 

Bonggu squares his shoulders and says, “Maybe. So what if there is?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had a garlic flavored rice cake before,” Eunho chuckles before lifting a slice to his lips. 

To Bonggu’s disappointment, Eunho doesn’t react when he takes a bite. Well, he does grimace, but he doesn’t recoil or disintegrate or start hissing like Bonggu was hoping. 

He just flushes and says, “That’s…really unique. I think I’ll finish it later.”

Obviously, he won’t be. He’s making no effort to hide the grimace on his face. Whether it’s a true vampiric aversion to garlic or his superhuman smell cluing him into Bonggu’s plan, Bonggu can’t be sure. For all he knows, Eunho really is more like the vampires from Vampire Knight. He might be totally fine with garlic, just like he’s fine with the sun.

That would mean he probably really can control minds and shift forms. He must be a pureblood. Bonggu’s absolutely not prepared to handle a vampire of this calibre.

“Okay,” Bonggu says as he flips around and yanks open his door. “See you around, Eunho.”

“Bamby hyung, wait, I don’t mean it’s bad or anything. I bet this would go great with beer. Wanna come over? I can patch up your forehead and we can—”

No, nope, absolutely not. Bonggu slams the door shut behind him, falling in a heap to the floor as soon as the lock is in place. 

But even with a door between them, he can’t stop thinking about Eunho’s glasses and red-tinged ears. The word ‘cute’ keeps popping into his head. That’s definitely not his own doing. 

Just like the mental image of Eunho’s bare chest that keeps flooding into his mind. Eunho must be implanting that there himself.

Bonggu just needs to get away from this building. He’s still in this vampire’s field of influence.

It probably wouldn’t hurt that much to jump from his window. He’s only on the second floor. He sucks in a breath to steel himself before pulling open the window in his bedroom and sending up a silent prayer that he doesn’t break anything. 

♥︎

About three things Bonggu is absolutely positive. First, Eunho is a vampire. Second, there is a part of him—and Bonggu doesn’t know how potent that part might be—that thirsts for his blood. And third, Bonggu unconditionally, irrevocably—

“It sounds like you have a crush on the guy.”

Bonggu lets out a long, pained groan. Somehow, this is even more embarrassing than calling Hamin up from a crumpled heap in the parking lot. He uses his uninjured foot to kick Hamin in the chest and say, “No, dummy. Are you even listening?”

Because obviously Bonggu was going to say he unconditionally, irrevocably made a massive mistake, not just booking it down the hallway and leaving through the stairwell like a normal, rational person. If he was vulnerable before, he’s practically serving himself up to Eunho on a silver platter now. How’s he going to defend himself with a swollen ankle?

Not broken, thankfully. But very swollen. He sucks in a pained breath when the kick inadvertently has his injured ankle sliding off Hamin’s lap.

“Oh, I’m listening,” Hamin says, pulling Bonggu’s ankle back into place and pressing the icepack against it. “You said you showed up at this guy’s door, drooled over him being shirtless, and got so flustered when he touched your hair, you decided to swan dive out of your window. You’re lucky, you know. You could’ve gotten really hurt if you landed on concrete.”

Bonggu doesn’t feel lucky. The pile of trash bags he landed on left him smelling like rancid fruit when Hamin came to pick him up. He still kind of smells like week-old fruit salad, despite taking a shower and changing into a set of Hamin’s pajamas. 

The urge to kick Hamin again is strong, but not as strong as the urge to apologize for stinking up his apartment and stealing his clothes. And it is pretty nice of him to tend to Bonggu’s ankle. 

And his forehead. Bonggu sheepishly rubs at the fresh bandage above his eyebrow and says, “I never said any of that. What about the rice cake, huh? And the teeth?”

“So he doesn’t like garlic in his desserts and he needs braces,” Hamin says with a shrug. “He sounds like a normal guy to me.”

Bonggu thumps his head against the couch cushion and lets out a frustrated grunt. “He was literally screaming about blood last night. Did you forget that part?”

“Look, hyung,” Hamin says, giving Bonggu’s ankle a sympathetic pat. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, alright? I just think you need more evidence than him staying up late and saying weird things. I mean, did you get a look into his apartment at all? Did you see any coffins or dead bodies or anything?”

Bonggu tucks his chin in to scowl at Hamin. He already told him he didn’t get a look inside. It was dark in there. And why would a vampire let someone see their lair anyway? Of course Eunho isn’t going to make things obvious. He’s got a cover to maintain here. 

Hamin lets out a sigh and says, “Let’s think about this rationally. What are you gonna do if it turns out he’s a vampire?”

“Call a shaman,” Bonggu mumbles. 

“Do you know any shamans?”

“No,” Bonggu mutters, sinking down further on the couch. “But I’m sure I can find one.”

“You’re just gonna end up getting scammed,” Hamin says, voice going annoyingly soft as he lays a placating hand on Bonggu’s shin. 

Bonggu’s scowl deepens. “So what are you suggesting I do?”

Because what other option is there? Kill Eunho? It’s one thing to imagine the guy disintegrating in the sun or shrivelling up after eating garlic, but actually having to do it himself would be way more than Bonggu is prepared to handle. Now that he’s seen the guy’s face up close, the thought of actually driving a wooden stake into his chest is making Bonggu’s stomach flip.

Crap, now Bonggu’s thinking about Eunho’s chest. His stomach is really starting to flip. 

“I think you should calm down, first of all,” Hamin says, nose pinching up as Bonggu clutches his churning stomach. “Stop working yourself up over this guy. It’s clearly giving you indigestion.”

“Of course I have ingestion,” Bonggu scoffs, propping himself up on his elbows to look Hamin in the eye. “Who wouldn’t? He has the ability to control minds. If I don’t do something, the whole city could be in danger.”

“If he really can control minds, don’t you think he’d do more than make you think about how cute he is? I think you’re just concussed.”

Hamin looks way too amused, given the gravity of the situation. Bonggu delivers another kick to his chest.

“Fine, okay, I’m sorry,” Hamin snorts, grabbing Bonggu’s foot and holding it down. “I promise I’ll take this seriously, but I really think you should get a full night’s sleep before jumping to any conclusions. Just take another day off work and—”

“No,” Bonggu cuts in. “I can’t miss two days in a row.”

“But you’re injured. If you’re not gonna let me take you to a hospital, you should at least stay off your feet for a while.”

It’s not like Bonggu’s injury is that bad. He’s dealt with plenty of swollen ankles in the past, and they usually clear up within a week or so. Still, he really shouldn’t have jumped out of his window. On top of making him vulnerable to Eunho, it’s just stacking even more work on Hamin’s shoulders. The poor kid’s already had to run the studio all on his own for a whole day. 

And maybe there’s a small part of Bonggu that wants to put off going back to his apartment a little longer. Who can blame him? There’s a scary monster there. Hospital-worthy injury or not, he’s not exactly chomping at the bit to run into said scary monster again in his current condition. 

He scrunches his face up and says, “I just won’t teach, then. I’ll do the office work while you lead the classes.”

“You’re just going to use the office computer to look up shady shamans,” Hamin says accusatorily. 

Bonggu’s uninjured foot is still being held captive. He settles for leaning forward to flick Hamin’s thigh.

“Be nice,” Hamin tuts, holding up the ice pack threateningly. “Or I’m not letting you sleep over.”

It’s a cruel threat to wager against someone in Bonggu’s position. Still, Hamin’s already gone out of his way so much tonight. He was supposed to go out for drinks with his taekwondo buddies, but instead, he’s playing medic for Bonggu’s highly avoidable self-inflicted injuries. He’s going to have to deal with the Thursday morning ballet class, and those students love giving Bonggu crap instead of paying actual attention to the lesson. The least Bonggu can do is not give Hamin crap right now. 

Besides, Bonggu doesn’t know the first thing about shamans. He probably would get scammed if he tried to find one on his own. He lays back on the couch, offers Hamin a conciliatory smile, and says, “Sorry, sorry. I promise I’ll use the computer for work purposes only.”

“How about this,” Hamin says with a smile of his own. “During lunch, we can do some investigating. We can check to see if there are any missing persons reports from the past week, maybe look around online and see if anyone’s said anything about suspicious guys on motorcycles leading people back to your building. And if we find something conclusive, we can call the police.”

It’s not a bad idea. The police are definitely more likely to believe it if there’s concrete evidence, and two witnesses instead of just one. And anyway, it’s not like they have to tell the police Eunho’s a vampire. They can just report whatever they find and let the authorities handle it from there. 

“That’s a smart plan,” Bonggu says, sitting up to offer Hamin a pat on the arm. “Nice work.”

Hamin’s grin widens. “Thanks. Now stop moving around so much. I gotta wrap your ankle up.”

Bonggu really should have at least put on some padding before jumping out his window. He can’t help but grimace a little as Hamin wraps the gauze tight around his foot. 

♥︎

“Hyung, come on,” Hamin whines, draping himself across the back of Bonggu’s desk chair. “Let’s just get dinner, alright? We can do this before classes start tomorrow.”

Absolutely not. There’s no way Bonggu’s letting Hamin come in early to help him sort out the books tomorrow. Hamin’s already had a very stressful, very unproductive day. Bonggu warned him about that one listening-inept ballet class, but practically none of the classes  listened to him at all. They were all too busy shoving their way into the office and interrogating Bonggu about his injuries and his clothes. The old Seonghwi Art High School Taekwondo Club t-shirt Hamin let him borrow proved to be just as intriguing as the gauze wrapped around his ankle and the bandage on his forehead. Once Bonggu got done explaining that he hadn’t been in an accident serious enough to make him step down as a dance teacher, he had to explain that he isn’t abandoning the studio to oversee the martial arts club at his and Hamin’s old high school. Poor Hamin barely made it past warm-ups with any of the classes. Even after Bonggu dispelled the kids’ fears about his injuries and his career change, they were far more interested in trying to convince him to show them pictures of him and Mr. Yu in high school than learning choreography.

Between the failed lessons and almost having his pre-growth spurt photos exposed, Hamin’s been through the wringer today. He didn’t even get to eat lunch because they were too busy failing to dig up any dirt on Eunho.

Bonggu should’ve known that they wouldn’t find anything useful online. Eunho’s a mind-controlling, ancient, super-powerful vampire. He’s not going to leave a trail of breadcrumbs after his kills. If the evidence could easily be found through a simple internet search, Eunho would’ve been caught a long time ago. 

And now there’s a pile of paperwork that Bonggu should’ve spent the day getting through instead of wasting time explaining his clothes, retelling the same story about tripping on the stairs over and over again, and forcing Hamin to help him look up criminal records for every Do Eunho born in 2003—which, as they are now both very aware, don’t exist. Because obviously they don’t. Eunho was probably born in 1003. 

God, Bonggu feels stupid. And guilty. He can hear how much Hamin’s stomach is growling.

“You go eat,” Bonggu mumbles, clicking away at his spreadsheet.

“Come eat with me,” Hamin whines. “Your concussion’s just going to get worse if you stay in this stuffy office.”

Bonggu is not concussed. He’s also pretty sure concussions don’t work like that. He’s got way too much work to catch up on to bother correcting Hamin on either of those things, though. He just shrugs and says, “I’ll leave when I’m done.”

“Don’t you want to catch your vampire today? You can’t do that if you’re stuck here.”

Bonggu twists around to look at Hamin incredulously. “We didn’t find anything, remember? How are we supposed to catch him without evidence?”

“We can follow him when he leaves tonight,” Hamin offers up. “See where he goes to catch his prey.”

“What? No,” Bonggu rushes out, eyes going wide. 

Hamin lets out a frustrated groan and wraps his arms around Bonggu’s shoulders, squeezing tight as he says, “Come on. I’m so hungry. Let’s go eat at your place and work out a plan there.”

It’s moments like this where Bonggu can’t help but see Hamin as the shy, clingy middle schooler he was when they first met. When he found out Bonggu liked dancing too, he practically glued himself to Bonggu’s side like he was a human shield from all the older, taller students. Whenever Bonggu tried to get him to socialize with kids in his grade, he’d whine and groan and attach himself to Bonggu just like this. 

To think that socially anxious kid now has the bravery to face a vampire. To be fair, though, he clearly still thinks Bonggu’s just having a stress-induced breakdown. It’s not like he’s seen any actual evidence himself yet.

Well, Bonggu’s not going to let him. This is his mess to deal with. It would be wrong to risk Hamin’s life just because he’s too much of a coward to face Eunho himself. Hamin may be an adult now, but Bonggu’s still the older one. He’s got a duty to keep Hamin safe. 

And feed him. He really shouldn’t have made Hamin work through his lunch break. 

“Let’s just go get some fast food,” Bonggu says, pushing his chair away from his desk and batting Hamin off of him. “I’ll pay.”

“Yessss,” Hamin whoops, drumming his hands excitedly on Bonggu’s shoulders. “Let’s get burgers.”

Bonggu’s stomach is already flipping at the thought of returning home on his own tonight. He pushes it back and offers Hamin a smile as he goes to grab his wallet. 

♥︎

Okay, sure, maybe Bonggu’s the older one, but it’s not like Hamin is a baby. He’s a fully grown twenty-three year old man. A very athletic, very tall twenty-three year old man. 

One that is currently all the way on the other side of the Han River, because Bonggu made the stupid choice to tell Hamin that he doesn’t need to be escorted home.

And yeah, he doesn’t under normal circumstances, but this is far from a normal circumstance. Eunho’s standing right in front of his door. 

Bonggu really, really wishes Hamin was here right now. 

He also kind of wishes he hadn’t eaten that burger. It’s threatening to make a reappearance when Eunho catches sight of him standing stock-still at the end of the hallway.

“Bamby hyung!” Eunho calls out, a grin spreading across his face. “Look what I have for you! Cookies!”

Sure enough, there’s a baby blue bakery box in Eunho’s arms. It’s got a tiny cartoon whale on the side. 

It must all be part of Eunho’s tactics. He’s trying to lull Bonggu into a false sense of security by holding such a cute little box. He must be doing the same with his appearance—he usually wears all black, but he looks deceptively innocent with his light blue henley. He looks disarmingly cute with his bangs styled over his forehead instead of pushed back like normal.

Bonggu shakes his head clear of the thought. If anything, Eunho looks freaky as hell just standing in the hallway like that in broad daylight. He’s absolutely trying to turn Bonggu into his next victim.

“I’m sure I’m the last person you want to talk to, after what happened the other day,” Eunho says, his gaze dropping to the floor. “But maybe we can start over, right? What do you say?”

So Eunho must know that Bonggu’s onto him. He’s trying to quell Bonggu’s suspicions by acting all sweet and bashful. That act is sure to drop the second he senses Bonggu’s guard is down. 

Bonggu tries to work past his panic and figure out a plan. He could rush back downstairs, but what if Eunho chases after him? His ankle is still swollen, he’s loaded down with fast food, and with Hamin’s sweatpants pooling down over his sandals like this, he’d probably trip and fall if he tried to run. He would be caught in an instant. 

He doesn’t have any weapons. There’s no one else in the hallway. Even if he called Hamin, he wouldn’t be able to get here in time. It takes at least fifteen minutes to get here by cab, and that’s only if the traffic is light. Bonggu would be long dead before Hamin’s even out of Songpa. 

There’s no other choice. Bonggu has to face Eunho on his own. He sucks in a breath and tries to force his heart rate to go down as he trudges across the hallway. 

“Are you alright?” Eunho asks, eyes going wide as he rushes forward to grab Bonggu’s elbow. “Did you fall down the stairs again?”

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Bonggu should’ve known that Eunho would immediately sense his injury. He’s literally limping. He might as well just stick his neck out and offer Eunho a bite at this rate. He can’t stop his face from flushing as he wriggles his way out of Eunho’s grasp and says, “I’m fine.”

To Bonggu’s mortification, he stumbles when he tries to take a step forward. His stomach is churning too much to keep his balance, and Hamin’s stupid sweatpants are too long. He must look like a wounded deer pathetically stumbling its way into a wolf’s den right now. 

He deeply regrets ever telling Eunho his nickname. It feels horrifically ironic in this context. 

“Let me help you inside, Bamby hyung,” Eunho says, wrapping an arm around Bonggu’s shoulder before he can fall over.

Bonggu narrows his eyes suspiciously. Vampires can’t come into your house uninvited. 

He may not be a goner just yet. If he can just step past the threshold of his apartment, Eunho won’t be able to follow after him. 

“I got it,” he says, limping over to his door. Eunho’s arm stays firmly wrapped around his shoulder. From this close, he can smell Eunho. 

He doesn’t smell like death and decay. He smells like cookies. Between that and the contact and the mounting regret for every action he’s taken in the past twenty-four hours, Bonggu’s having a difficult time remembering how to walk, let alone unlock his door. 

“Do you need help with that?” Eunho asks when Bonggu fails to put in his code correctly.

Yeah, right. Bonggu’s not falling for that trick. He furrows his brow in concentration and tries with everything in him to dispel the mental image of Eunho baking cookies in a cute little blue apron with a cartoon whale embroidered along the front—an image no doubt implanted by Eunho himself—until finally, after an embarrassing amount of attempts, he gets his stupid door open. 

Thank god. Bonggu breathes a sigh of relief when he steps into his entryway. 

“See ya later,” he says, grinning as he goes to shut his door. 

To his horror, Eunho sticks a hand out to hold it open. 

“You don’t want your cookies?” Eunho asks, lips pulling down in a frown as he holds up the box. “My baker hyung helped me make them. I promise they’re really good.”

This is bad. So bad. He definitely styled his bangs down on purpose. With all that hair in his eyes, it’s hard to focus on the color and way too easy to focus on the shape. Bonggu hadn’t noticed that they’re downturned before. They make Eunho kind of look like a puppy, especially when he’s pouting like this. The light colored henley isn’t helping at all. 

It’s deceptively adorable. That dastardly mental image of him in a cute little apron is back in full force. 

“I really am sorry about the other day. I swear I’m not usually such an ass.”

He sounds so forlorn about it. Bonggu can’t help but feel a little guilty, even if this is all an act. 

What if it isn’t an act, though? What if Eunho is just a regular guy? If that’s the case, then it really must look like Bonggu was offended by their previous conversation. He did slam the door in Eunho's face last night. He nearly did the exact same thing just now. 

That slight, miniscule chance of this all being a massive misunderstanding has Bonggu’s heart clenching. He can’t stop himself from imagining Eunho driving his motorcycle home with a big, sad, pitiful frown on his face as he balances that adorable little box under his arm. 

That box is currently out of view. Bonggu’s heart flutters against his will when Eunho turns around and starts walking back to his apartment. 

“No, wait,” Bonggu says, reflexively grabbing onto Eunho’s sleeve. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t offend me.”

“Are you sure?”

God, he looks so forlorn about it. Bonggu can’t help but offer him a smile. “I’m sure. I mean, it’s kind of a compliment, right? You basically said I look young.”

Eunho’s sad, pitiful pout turns into a bright grin. “You do have really smooth skin. What moisturizer do you use?”

As if Bonggu could possibly remember what skincare products he uses at a time like this. He’s way too busy trying to force himself to stop staring at Eunho’s mouth. 

It’s a lost cause, though. His teeth are sticking out over his lower lip again. 

“I don’t remember,” Bonggu tells Eunho’s lips. 

Those lips pull down into a frown as Eunho asks, “Do I have something on my face?”

Oh, god. Bonggu needs to snap out of it expeditiously before he embarrasses himself even further. He darts his eyes down to the bakery box and blurts out, “Nope, you’re good. So tell me about these cookies, huh? What kind are they?”

“It’s a whole bunch of different flavors. Here, I’ll show you.”

Bonggu’s brain short circuits when Eunho steps past his doorway. He must’ve invited him in by accident. Sure, he didn’t say ‘come in,’ but he did stop the guy from leaving. That must count as an invitation in the vampire rulebook. 

Because there’s still a chance. Bonggu doesn’t know for sure. And now, there’s a 50/50 shot he just invited a monster who wants to drink his blood right into his apartment. 

Eunho’s attempts to get his guard down were successful, then. Once again, Bonggu’s exactly where Eunho wants him.

“Awesome, thanks,” he mumbles as he discreetly takes his phone from his pocket and pulls up Hamin’s contact information.

VMPAIRE IN MY HOUSE!! EMERENENGY COME OVOER NOW!!!1

Hopefully Hamin will understand the gravity of the situation. And hopefully he’ll be able to work past the typos. Bonggu’s hands are shaking too hard to re-type the text. 

Fifteen minutes isn’t really all that long. Eunho was fighting with his victim for hours the night before last, and even then, that person still managed to get away. Bonggu just needs to hold out until Hamin gets here. 

What, precisely, he’ll do when Hamin’s here, he isn’t sure yet. At least he has fifteen minutes to iron that particular detail out. 

“Seriously, are you okay? You look really shaken up.”

When Bonggu looks up from his phone, he’s met with the terrifying sight of Eunho standing right in front of him. He must have superspeed. It only took him a moment to go all the way to the kitchen and back. 

He must be messing with Bonggu’s perception of time too. When Bonggu glances back down at his phone, he sees two missed calls from Hamin. When his phone was vibrating, he’s got no clue. His hands are practically vibrating themselves.

But regardless, he can’t call Hamin back. Eunho is standing way too close.

“I’m okay. I just twisted my ankle a little the other day,” Bonggu says, unable to tear his eyes off Eunho’s lower lip. There’s still a little peek of canine poking out over them. Even when he isn’t smiling, his teeth are kind of adorable.

It really is no wonder Eunho’s such a powerful vampire. It must be so easy for him to claim victims. He’s an expert at mind control. Prior to yesterday, Bonggu never once in his life organically thought such embarrassing things about a person’s teeth.

“Really?” Eunho asks, eyebrows knitted together. “You must be in a lot of pain. Let me help you sit down.”

Bonggu blinks his eyes in an attempt to regain his bearings. It’s a little hard to. His eyeline is right at Eunho’s mouth. He’s got an up-close view of those cute little puppy teeth right now. 

No, crap, not puppy teeth. Fangs. If Bonggu doesn’t get his act together, those fangs are going to be plunged right into one of his carotid arteries. 

He quickly scours his brain for all those vampire myths he looked up the night before last. Sunlight is a bust, obviously. He doesn’t have access to any crosses or stakes or silver bullets. He used up all of his garlic making that stupid rice cake. 

Rice. That could be the key here. At the very least, it could buy him some time until Hamin shows up. 

He hasn’t seen Eunho hop around like a Chinese vampire, but he’s well aware now that some vampire myths are just myths. There’s still a chance there’s some truth to the arithmomania thing. 

“Let’s try those cookies first. What kind did you say they are again?” Bonggu asks, squirming his way past Eunho and making a beeline for the kitchen. 

Before he can make it too far, though, he feels Eunho’s hand wrap around his wrist. 

“Wait, how bad was that fall?” Eunho asks, brushing his thumb across the back of Bonggu’s hand. “Do you need to go to a doctor?”

For a moment, Bonggu can’t find the wherewithal to respond. Eunho’s thumb is rubbing across the back of his hand. His hands are even warmer than they were yesterday. In fact, they’re kind of sweaty. Bonggu wouldn’t have thought a cold-blooded monster is capable of sweating. He also wouldn’t have thought a murderous vampire would be so insistent about offering medical assistance to their victim. 

Eunho really might just be a normal, albeit weirdly touchy guy.

But there’s still the chance that this is all just a part of his master plan—trick Bonggu into thinking he’s safe, distract him with a bunch of cringey implanted thoughts about puppies and aprons, then go in for the kill. Bonggo’s gotta spill some rice on the floor quickly before Eunho uses that grip he has on his wrist to drag him off to his vampire lair. 

“I’m fine,” Bonggu says as he trudges forward, eyes locked on the container of rice sitting on his kitchen counter. Eunho put the bakery box close just enough for him to plausibly ‘accidentally’ side-swipe the container. All he needs to do is swing his arm out a little to the left, and then Eunho will be stuck counting out every individual piece of rice. That’ll leave plenty of time for Hamin to get here. 

“Wait, let me help you—”

“Oops,” Bonggu says, unable to conceal his grin when the container topples to the side. A good half of the rice spills off the counter and onto the floor. Eunho’s gonna be stuck counting for a long, long time.

“You’re a little clumsy, aren’t you?” Eunho asks with a snort.

He’s still holding onto Bonggu’s wrist. He’s making no effort to drop down to the floor and count out the granules. Bonggu flushes and says, “Uh.”

“I gotta say, it’s kinda surprising. I would’ve thought you’d be pretty coordinated.”

Bonggu is coordinated. He’s a great dancer. Not that he’s in any state to point that out—one, Eunho is still petting the back of his hand with his weirdly warm thumb. He’s still not counting the rice. He’s smiling again, and the way his teeth push down on his lip is looking really puppyish. Bonggu has to wonder if they’re not fangs at all. 

He takes another mental tally in his head—Eunho doesn’t burn up in the sunlight. His skin isn’t ice cold. He doesn’t have arithmomania. Jury’s still out on the garlic, but his eyes really do look amber from this close up, even without glasses. And from this close, it’s a little difficult to deny that his hair is dyed. The transition between the silver on top and the black on the bottom is too stark to be natural.

But he was screaming about blood two nights ago. He might’ve been doing the exact same thing last night. For all Bonggu knows, he successfully claimed a victim that time around. Bonggu can’t let himself be lulled into a false sense of security here. 

Besides, how the hell does Eunho know he’s coordinated?  He never once said anything about his job. He shoots Eunho a frown and asks, “How do you know that?”

“I just assumed, I guess,” Eunho says, reaching out to pluck at Bonggu’s t-shirt. “You did taekwondo in high school, right?”

Huh. Right. Bonggu forgot he’s still wearing Hamin’s old club shirt. But so what if Eunho didn’t read his mind to get that information? This could still all be part of his tactics—show up at Bonggu’s door looking all cute, feed him cookies and hold his hand, and then right when Bonggu’s defenses are down, he’ll protract his fangs and plunge them into Bonggu’s neck. 

Well, screw that. Bonggu’s not going down without a fight. He may not be a martial artist like Hamin, but he’s still an athlete. He’s practically been dancing since the day he was born. He was in the ballet club all three years of high school, and that involved just as much kicking as the taekwondo club. The thought gives him the courage to square his shoulders and say, “I’ve dabbled here and there.”

It’s not technically a lie. He does dabble in a little taekwondo. Well, he got basic combat training in the army and he knows some techniques from all the times he’s sat in the bleachers at Hamin’s tournaments. Either way, though, Eunho must not be able to tell what he’s thinking. He looks earnestly impressed as he lets out a low whistle and says, “That’s so cool. What belt are you?”

Crap. It’s a little harder to work around that without outright lying, and Bonggu’s never been a particularly good liar. He turns red every time. Even if Eunho can’t read his mind, he’s totally going to be able to read his face. 

Not that it would make much of a difference. Bonggu’s been in a perpetual state of flushed both times they met. 

It’s inevitable, how red Bonggu’s face gets as he stares down at the floor and confesses, “I don’t have one. This is actually my friend’s shirt, not mine. But they taught us some basic moves when I was in the army, so it’s not like I don’t know any taekwondo. And Hamin’s teaching me some taekwonmu. I mean, it’s not exactly the same, but I’m really good at kicks. I bet I’d be first gup if I did taekwondo for real.”

Oh god, he’s rambling. This is so embarrassing. Bonggu’s face feels like it’s on fire. 

“So that’s Hamin’s shirt?”

“Uh huh,” Bonggu tells the floor, feeling his face get hotter by the second.

His face is at risk of exploding when it takes a long time for Eunho to say anything in response. He doesn’t dare look up from the floor—he just silently plops himself up onto the counter and does everything in his power to avoid making eye contact.

There’s a whole bunch of rice under Eunho’s socks right now. Bonggu can feel some underneath himself as he takes a seat on the counter. He may very well die from the massive stream of blood flowing up to his face. 

Death feels truly imminent when Eunho leans up against the fridge and asks, “Is Hamin your boyfriend?”

Bonggu tears his eyes off the rice-covered floor to stare at Eunho incredulously. “What?”

“Sorry, that’s,” Eunho sputters, grimacing as he curls in closer to the fridge. “I didn’t mean to- well, I was just wondering because—” He cuts himself off and swipes a hand over his face before letting out a strained laugh. “I keep making an ass out of myself in front of you.”

He’s blushing again. It's extended past his ears this time and fully taken over his face. Whether that’s leftover blood from last night’s feeding or his own, Bonggu doesn’t know, nor is he in the proper headspace to think about it thoroughly. He’s still stuck on the Hamin thing.

“So you said you already did your enlistment?” Eunho asks, flush deepening as he trots past Bonggu and busies himself with fiddling with the bakery box. “When was that?”

“Last year,” Bonggu mumbles distractedly. Maybe Eunho’s trying to assess if he’s got anyone in his life who would notice if he went missing. Jumping to ‘boyfriend’ specifically is cringe-inducing, but who knows? Maybe Eunho can read minds a little bit. Maybe he can read just enough to know Bonggu and Hamin are close, but not quite enough to gauge the nature of their relationship. 

Or maybe he just caught a vibe. He did just catch Bonggu staring at his lips a few minutes ago. He probably caught Bonggu staring at his chest the other day too.

Bonggu’s thankful Eunho’s back is currently turned. His face must look like a stoplight right now.

“It’s cool they taught you some taekwondo,” Eunho says to the bakery box. “They didn’t have us doing anything cool like that in the navy. They just had us doing swim drills all the time.”

It’s far too easy to imagine Eunho in a swimsuit. Bonggu’s already well aware of what his chest looks like. His legs are probably just as muscular. His back certainly is. Even with the henley in the way, Bonggu can see how broad it is.

Bonggu immediately regrets letting his mind wander in that direction. His brain has decided to take it upon itself to conjure up Eunho baking cute little cookies with a cute little swimsuit under his cute little apron. 

They probably don’t even wear swimsuits like that in the navy. Not that Bonggu’s brain is interested in realism here—Imaginary Eunho’s got no valid reason to be dripping water while standing in front of an oven. 

Bonggu’s face must look an awful lot like the rancid cranberry residue he swan-dived into last night. 

“It was still kind of fun, I guess,” Eunho says, eyes still locked on the bakery box. “I met some cool people. Me and this one guy would always be put on watch together, so we ended up getting really close. He actually goes to Hanyang too.”

“Great,” Bonggu chokes out. 

“You might know him,” Eunho says, peeking over at Bonggu. “He’s a year older than you, but he took an extra semester off after he got discharged, so you might be in the same year now. Do you know anyone named Yejun?”

This might be a trick to see if Bonggu’s close enough to any of his university student neighbors for them to seek him out if he disappears. Unfortunately, Bonggu’s brain is too occupied with force-feeding him images of a half-naked Eunho to even try to recall if he knows anyone in this building with that name. He can hardly remember what that name was to begin with. He just mumbles, “I’m not a student.”

“Oh, did you already graduate?”

“I never went to university,” Bonggu murmurs distractedly. Imaginary Eunho now has his glasses on. It’s a lethal combination, paired with the swimsuit and the apron. Bonggu’s strongly considering taking his chances with the window again.

Eunho lets out a stilted chuckle and drags a hand through his hair as he says, “I keep making assumptions. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Funny, because Bonggu’s wondering the exact same thing about himself when the view of Eunho’s eyebrows is giving his stupid brain far too much material to work with. He’s got sharp, thick eyebrows. They complement his cute puppy teeth way too well. 

Jumping out the window isn’t sounding too bad of an idea right now. If Bonggu got an actual concussion this time around, at least that would probably stop all these unwelcome thoughts. 

“So are you working, then?” Eunho asks.

“Uh huh,” Bonggu says, trying to stop himself from grimacing at the mental image of Imaginary Eunho pushing his wet hair off his forehead. They’re not even in a pool in his imagination. They’re in the kitchen, just like they are in the real world. That doesn’t stop Imaginary Eunho from shaking the water droplets off himself like an adorable, sweet little puppy with masculine eyebrows. Bonggu purses his lips to stop from cringing at the imagery as he says, “I’m a teacher.”

“For real? That’s awesome,” Eunho says with a grin. “What do you teach?”

“Dance,” Bonggu mutters, still hard at work keeping his face neutral. It’s no easy feat. Imaginary Eunho’s flashing him an adorable smile and sitting on a motorcycle now. 

“Wait, seriously?” Eunho asks excitedly. “Man, I have to introduce you to Yejun and Noah.”

“Sure, okay,” Bonggu mumbles, barely listening. He’s got no idea who that other person is. Hell, he still doesn’t know who Yejun is. All he actually knows is that Imaginary Eunho is now draped over his imaginary motorcycle like he’s an imaginary cover model. 

“That reminds me, what kind of cookie do you want? Yejun and I made strawberry, chocolate chip, honey butter, and black sesame.”

And now Imaginary Eunho is holding up a plate of adorable little cookies. Bonggu shudders and says, “I don’t care. They all sound ador—fine. They sound fine.”

“I’ll give you a sample of each, then. Do you keep your silverware in this drawer?”

Real Eunho’s hand brushes Bonggu’s thigh as he gestures to the drawer beside him. It has the grave consequence of leading to Imaginary Eunho’s hands grasping onto Bonggu’s thighs as he drives the motorcycle. 

Bonggu has no idea how to drive a motorcycle. Still, his brain is having a wonderful time feeding him visions of himself driving through the city with Imaginary Eunho sitting right behind him. 

He mumbles out a half-coherent, “Uh huh.”

It isn’t until Bonggu hears the clang of metal hitting the linoleum that he snaps out of his cringey fantasy. He’s met with the sight of the real Eunho squatting right in front of him and brandishing a knife. 

Holy crap. Holy crap. This is it. Bonggu knew he shouldn’t let his guard down. Honestly, at this point, he’s got no one to blame but himself when Eunho plunges that knife into his chest and—

“I guess I’m the clumsy one,” Eunho says, grimacing as he stands back up and places the knife in the sink. “Sorry about that.”

“Gah,” Bonggu chokes out in lieu of a proper response. His heart rate is through the roof right now.

“Noah always tells me I’m the least coordinated out of all of us,” Eunho chuckles as he grabs a new knife. “But maybe with your help, I can get my act together before our competition.”

Bonggu’s stomach churns at the words. What kind of competition could a vampire be involved in? Some sort of freaky, scary, murdery ancient ritual? Do vampires gather together and make some kind of sick game out of claiming their victims? Maybe Eunho isn’t all that skilled at killing yet. That would explain why his victim got away the other night. It would explain why he needed people there to help him.

So those must’ve been the people Eunho was talking to the other night—Yejun and Noah. The other members of his vampire coven.

“If you have the time tonight, maybe you could come to our rehearsal,” Eunho says as he cuts a cookie into quarters. “I’ll probably embarrass myself, but it could be fun.”

Fun? Rehearsing for a murder is Eunho’s idea of fun? But Bonggu supposes it makes sense—dinner and a show. Maybe that’s why he’s putting in so much effort to lull Bonggu into a false sense of security. He’s going to be the main course for Eunho and his coven at this so-called ‘rehearsal.’

“I can’t tonight,” Bonggu stammers out, fingers trembling as he takes his phone from his pocket. 

“I get it,” Eunho says with a shrug. “You probably teach early in the morning, right?”

“Uh huh,” Bonggu mumbles as he unlocks his phone. Hamin’s called him another three times. He sent a text eight minutes ago saying he’s on his way. If Bonggu can just hold out for another seven minutes, Hamin should get here. 

He quickly sends a follow-up text. 

geot here wiqickly oleedase!!!!!

Shit, that’s indecipherable. Hopefully Hamin will at least understand the urgency of the situation and tell the cab driver to push the speed limit. Bonggu doesn’t have time to try to re-type it, anyway. Eunho’s standing right next to him.

“Is that Hamin?” Eunho asks, leaning over to glance down at Bonggu’s phone. 

Bonggu quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket. He can feel it vibrating against his thigh. Hamin must be calling him again. Hopefully, he’s calling to say he’s almost here, because clearly Eunho is onto them. He’s frowning again. 

But before Bonggu can cobble together a decent enough lie, Eunho flushes and says, “Sorry, I know that’s not my business. Here, this one is strawberry.”

Bonggu feels panic rise in his throat when Eunho holds the cookie up between them. For all he knows, that thing is laced with tranquilizers. He might be dragged off to wherever the hell this ‘rehearsal’ is taking place before Hamin has the chance to get here. 

There’s little he can do, though. The cookie is already right in front of his mouth. Eunho’s about to force it down his throat. Bonggu braces himself for the inevitable and shuts his eyes. 

“Oh wow, okay. I was just gonna hand it to you, but this is fine too.”

Bonggu’s eyes fly open. The panic must be making him stupid, because why the hell would he willingly submit to being force fed tranquilizers? 

But he can’t quite find it in himself to clamp his mouth shut in time. Eunho’s right in front of him, smiling and directing that piece of cookie right for his lips. He just stares slack-jawed when the taste of strawberry hits his tongue. 

Eunho cocks his head to the side and asks, “Do you not like it? Is it too sweet?”

Bonggu can’t register how it tastes. He’s too busy thinking about the fact that he just let Eunho hand feed him. His mind is struggling to decide if that’s more mortifying or terrifying. Both, maybe. 

Definitely both. He flinches before he can stop himself. It has the dire consequence of making him reflexively swallow the cookie before he can spit it out.

This is the end of the line for him. Soon enough, the drugs are going to hit his system. He’s going to pass out. The next time he wakes up, he’s going to be in some freaky dungeon god knows where. 

“You probably don’t like sweets all that much,” Eunho says. “I kinda figured, after that rice cake. Wanna try the sesame one?”

It was a nice life while it lasted. It’s really too bad, though. Bonggu had so much he still wanted to do—see his kids in their next showcase, watch Hamin graduate, get a degree himself somewhere down the line. He always figured he’d eventually have enough down time to take a couple night classes one of these days. Looks like he’ll never get that BFA in dance he’d been hoping for. He’ll be too busy being dead. 

“I swear this one’s not too sweet,” Eunho says as he holds another piece of cookie up to Bonggu’s lips.

So he’s not even gonna give Bonggu the option to just hand it off this time around. Bonggu can’t really blame anyone but himself for that one. He accepts his fate and opens his mouth. 

The cookie’s good. Not too sweet, just like Eunho said. Bonggu can’t taste the poison at all. 

“It’s delicious,” he says despondently. 

Eunho offers him a bright smile. “I’ll get you a full one.”

Bonggu waits with baited breath for his body to start to shut down. It isn’t happening, though. His heart rate is through the roof, but it’s been like that for the past ten minutes. Nothing else feels out of the ordinary. 

Maybe the tranquilizers aren’t strong enough to work in just two bites. Bonggu would need to eat an entire cookie for them to take effect. There may still be a glimmer of hope for him. 

He just needs to keep Eunho distracted for another five minutes. Then Hamin will be here. 

“Eunho,” Bonggu says, pulling himself off the counter and grabbing Eunho’s hand before he can get to the bakery box. “Are you thirsty? Want me to get you something to drink?”

“Wait, your foot—”

Excellent. Eunho’s already abandoned the cookies to fuss over him. The fussing includes lifting him back onto the counter, but the momentary heart attack the contact gives him is far preferable to being poisoned. He manages a smile and says, “Thanks. Do you like tea?”

Making tea will easily fill a full five minutes. Bonggu just needs to make sure Eunho’s attention stays on him the whole time. Should be easy enough. The guy’s acting as if he’s going to crumble to the ground if he so much as puts the tiniest amount of weight on his ankle. 

And perhaps Bonggu does feel a little like he’d fall over if he wasn’t already sitting down. Eunho’s hands are still weirdly warm. One of those weirdly warm hands is still touching his waist, despite the fact that he’s back on the counter. 

But whatever. Hamin will be here soon. Bonggu just needs to hold out until then. 

“If you’re offering,” Eunho says. “Let me help you make it. Where do you keep your tea?”

Their faces are way too close together now. Bonggu can’t stop himself from staring at Eunho’s lips again. “Above the fridge.”

“Up here?”

“Gah,” Bonggu says in lieu of real words. He’s now being subjected to the sight of Eunho’s stomach when his henley rides up as he reaches up above the fridge. It’s impossible not to stare. At least Eunho’s not one centimeter away from his face anymore. 

No mere mortal stands that close to someone. That kind of disregard for social boundaries must come from seeing a person as nothing more than a meal. Hamin needs to get here fast.

“So do you teach on the weekends?” Eunho asks as he reaches around Bonggu to grab the kettle. 

Bonggu’s kind of short-circuiting. Eunho’s right there again. His forearm is a millimeter away from touching Bonggu’s waist. Bonggu stares down at that forearm and says, “Yeah. I teach every day.”

“That’s too bad,” Eunho sighs. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to stop by one of our rehearsals tomorrow. But we’re rehearsing every night until the competition. Maybe if you have some free time one of these days, you could stop by? You don’t have to stay the whole time. I mean, especially with your foot and all, you could just come for a little bit, sit on the couch, and give us a few tips. And you and I could go out for dinner before, if you like. My treat, of course. I mean- just to make up for everything. Not, like, in a weird way. I’m sorry.”

Eunho’s clearly got plenty of blood in his system, because his face keeps getting progressively redder. He must be truly ravenous if he’s this eager to feed again.

But at the same time, Bonggu can’t even begin to imagine what sort of ancient vampire ritual would necessitate the victim sitting on a couch and ‘giving tips.’ It seems pretty unorthodox for the victim to be permitted to leave on their own accord. It seems very unorthodox to take that victim out for dinner beforehand. People would see them together. Bonggu’s hardly an inconspicuous victim, and Eunho’s definitely a memorable suspect. 

“Where would we go for dinner?” Bonggu asks hesitantly. 

Eunho perks up at the words. He grins as he says, “Anywhere you want. What kind of food do you like?”

Like Bonggu could possibly recall varieties of food at a time like this. His brain’s a total mess, trying to make sense of everything, and it’s not at all helping that Eunho’s currently pushing the sleeves of his henley up so he can fill the kettle at the sink. 

“What kind do you like?” Bonggu asks. 

Eunho’s grin widens. “I like everything, really. What do you think about seafood? There’s this place in Changjeon that has really good clam kalguksu. If you want, we can go there before rehearsals. It’s right across the street.”

Bonggu shifts as uncomfortably as he watches Eunho set the kettle on the stove. That sounds like it might actually be a real restaurant. It’s getting kind of hard to believe that Eunho would really take him to an actual restaurant right before he intends to commit murder. In Changjeon, no less. It’s hardly an unpopulated neighborhood.

“When would we be going?” Bonggu finds himself asking. 

Before Eunho can give an answer, though, there’s a knock at the door. 

“Bonggu hyung! Are you alive?!”

“Oh, were you expecting someone?” Eunho asks, glancing between Bonggu and the door.

Bonggu breathes a sigh of relief. Hamin’s just in time. A moment longer, and he would’ve been really screwed. He was so close to giving in to Eunho’s vampire tactics. But hearing the concern in Hamin’s voice as he bangs on the door is bringing Bonggu right back to reality. 

Because Eunho could so easily be lying about these ‘rehearsals.’ He obviously wouldn’t just outright say he and his coven intend to tie Bonggu up and drain him of his blood. This is probably how he manages to secure his victims in the first place—act innocent, whip up some lie that he knows will get people to trust him, then drop the act once he’s got them somewhere they can’t escape from. This ‘dinner’ he claimed to want to treat Bonggu to must be nothing but a ruse. Bonggu’s the real dinner, after all.

Well, unfortunately for Eunho, Bonggu’s not so easily fooled. It really is a good thing he texted Hamin when he did. He scoots off the counter and says, “Yeah. Hamin’s here.”

Eunho’s face falls at the words. Just another sign, then—he must not have expected to have to deal with a whole other person tonight. Bonggu’s heart rate finally starts to calm down as he hobbles over to open the door. 

“Hyung,” Hamin rushes out, breathing hard as he skirts past the door. “Are you okay? You weren’t picking up, so I—oh. Hello.”

Panic spikes right through Bonggu all over again when Hamin glances past his shoulder. But luckily, before he has to conjure up another lie to get Hamin away from Eunho as fast as possible, Eunho shuffles past them and says, “Sorry for the intrusion.”

And then he’s gone, shutting the door closed behind him. Bonggu quickly locks the door and falls against it, all the tension that’s been flooding his body finally releasing. He shoots Hamin a smile and says, “He almost got me. You came just in time.”

It takes a moment for Hamin to say anything. His eyes dart between Bonggu and the box of cookies on the kitchen counter. They linger on the shut door before he finally asks, “So what happened, exactly?”

A lot, in hindsight. Mind control was most definitely involved. Bonggu’s not entirely sure about the poisoning, but it’s enough of a possibility that terror spikes right through him again when Hamin makes a beeline for the kitchen. 

“No!” Bonggu rushes out, running past Hamin and shoving the cookies into the trash can. “They’re poisoned.”

It takes a long time for Hamin to say anything again. A long time. Bonggu can’t help but squirm a little bit. 

Finally, Hamin lets out a sigh and says, “Start from the beginning. What happened between you and that guy?”

A lot of things. Bonggu feels a little like he’s going to pass out just from how close of a call everything was. He leads Hamin to the couch and mentally prepares himself to recount the events of the past fifteen minutes.

♥︎

“So let me get this straight—”

Bonggu’s got a bad feeling about this. Hamin looks far too amused, given everything he just heard. And sure, yes, it sounds insane—Eunho showing up at his door with poisoned cookies, freaky ancient rituals that take place on a nightly basis, the existence of at least three vampires in Seoul who partake in these freaky ancient rituals—but come on. Hamin literally saw Eunho. He has to believe Bonggu now. 

“—This guy dresses up nice, gives you cookies, asks you out on a date—”

“Woah, hold on,” Bonggu rushes out, face twisting up in a grimace. “No one said anything about a date.”

“He did,” Hamin snorts. “Didn’t you just say he invited you out to dinner?”

So Hamin didn’t listen to a word Bonggu said. Bonggu lets out a groan into his couch cushion. His words come out muffled as he says, “He was lying, obviously. Did you miss the part about the ritual?”

“Did he use the word ritual?”

So maybe Eunho never outright said ‘ritual.’ But why would he? No vampire is just going to go around telling their victims exactly what they plan to do to them. ‘Rehearsal’ is obviously a code word here.

Bonggu lifts his head from the couch and shoots Hamin a scowl. “Even if he didn’t, it’s clear he’s up to something. No normal person acts like he does.”

“It sounds to me like he’s acting like someone who likes you,” Hamin says, rolling his eyes. “You might as well give him a shot, hyung. He’s a good-looking guy.”

Bonggu shivers at the thought. Sure, Eunho’s cute, but it’s so obviously a front he puts on. He must be using his mind control to prevent Hamin from seeing that. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really think you’ll feel better about this whole thing if you actually slept an entire night for once. You get kind of crazy when you don’t sleep.”

There’s not much Bonggu can say in response to that. He does, unfortunately, have a bit of a track record. He didn’t sleep at all in the three days leading to his scholarship audition for Seonghwi Art High School, and he distinctly remembers his sleep-deprived brain deciding day-of that his original choreography wasn’t memorable enough. What was memorable, apparently, was a one-man rendition of Orange Caramel’s “Catallena,” complete with the screaming. It’s a miracle he still got that scholarship. Maybe he scared the panel into letting him have it. 

There’s no doubt he freaked the hell out of his staff sergeant one month into his enlistment, though. After thirty days of sleeping in a crappy bunk bed with a bunch of strangers snoring non-stop half a meter away from him, Bonggu had gone a little loopy. It didn’t help that that was around the time they started rifle training. Bonggu hated rifle training. He somehow convinced himself the only way to get out of it was to sneak off to the forest behind the training center as his platoon marched off to the shooting range. He remembers having his first good nap in a full month as he curled up under a tree, all while his staff sergeant was having a heart attack over him suddenly disappearing. It wasn’t until after he was suddenly woken up by his very panicky, disturbingly teary-eyed staff sergeant that it occurred to him how bad it looks to go MIA while handling dangerous weaponry. 

So maybe Bonggu’s got a habit of losing his common sense when he’s tired. That doesn’t mean he’s wrong about Eunho. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles weakly.

Hamin offers him a smile as he stands up from the couch. “I’ll make you some tea. That’ll help you sleep.”

“Water’s already in the kettle,” Bonggu says, flushing at the memory. He can’t help but feel a little guilty for kicking Eunho out so suddenly. He never did get to have that cup of tea Bonggu promised him. 

He looked kind of sad when he left earlier. Bonggu can’t help but feel really guilty. 

He’s got no reason to feel guilty. Eunho tried to poison him, after all. The evidence is right there in Bonggu’s trash can. 

Not that Bonggu’s got the heart to look. He just knows he’ll feel awful if he thinks about how sweet Eunho looked when he was standing at the door with that cute little bakery box in his hands. 

Bonggu shakes the thought away. There’s no use working himself up right now. Hamin’s right—a full night’s sleep will help clear his head. Whether he should run for the hills or offer Eunho an apology, he can figure that out once he's not dying from sleep-deprivation. He did, after all, sleep on Hamin’s couch last night. He could really use a full night in his own bed without any distractions keeping him up. 

And without fearing for his life. That would help too. He peeks up over his couch and asks, “Wanna spend the night?”

Hamin lets out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Bella. I’ll protect you from Edward Cullen.”

The urge to throw something at him is strong. Not as strong as the relief of not having to stay in his apartment alone tonight. Bonggu settles for ignoring the comment and stretching his injured ankle over the armrest of the couch. If things go awry, at least Hamin will be here to drag him out of the apartment. Bonggu’s definitely not going to try diving out of his window again. 

♥︎

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Someone get over here and help me!”

“Hyung, what was that?” Hamin asks, head peeking in past Bonggu’s bedroom door. 

Not that Bonggu can actually see him. His own head is firmly buried under his blankets, where it’s been ever since Eunho started screaming his head off ten minutes ago. But even without seeing him, Bonggu can hear just how hard Hamin flinches when Eunho lets out another yell. Hamin’s socks skitter against the floorboards as he races from the door to the bed. 

He plops down next to Bonggu and says, “Holy shit.”

Holy shit is right. Eunho’s being extra vicious this time around. He sounded scary before, but with all the cursing thrown into the mix, he sounds downright petrifying. 

“I told you,” Bonggu whispers. There’s something kind of vindicating about having another witness to this. Terrifying, but vindicating. Bonggu knew he wasn’t just concussed or crazy. 

Maybe a little concussed. His head still stings from the night before last, and all the loud noises aren’t doing anything to help. He makes sure to keep his head firmly out of range of his nightstand. The last thing he needs is another injury holding him back when Eunho’s so clearly on a vampiric rampage just a wall away.

“What the hell is his problem?” Hamin whispers back. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Well, duh. That’s prime time for vampire antics. Bonggu’s not quite in a place to point that out, though. Eunho’s still screaming. He settles for squirming in closer to Hamin’s side as the screams get louder.

“I’m draining him—just fucking- hold him there!”

“Draining him?” Hamin echoes incredulously. “Jesus.”

“I told you,” Bonggu repeats, tightening his blanket over his head. “So you believe me now?”

Eunho lets out another blood-curdling scream before Hamin can respond. The way Hamin yelps is an answer enough, though. Finally, Bonggu can’t help but think. Maybe now they can actually do something. 

Just not right now. It’s 1:00 in the morning, for starters, and Eunho sounds scary as hell screaming like that. 

It’s such a contrast from how he was acting today—blushing and averting his gaze like he was shy or something. Dressing all cute and acting like he baked cookies simply out of the kindness of his own heart. Bonggu knew it was all an act. 

“I’m not saying this means he’s a vampire,” Hamin whispers from somewhere above Bonggu’s blanket pile. “But he’s definitely got something wrong with him. Is he always this aggressive? He seemed kind of timid earlier.”

“That’s exactly what he wants you to think,” Bonggu says, risking a peek out of his blanket. “It’s all part of his act. He makes you think he’s this cute, unassuming guy, but it all falls away when he finally gets his hands on you.”

“Cute?”

The way Hamin’s smiling is not at all appropriate, given the gravity of the situation. Bonggu lets out a frustrated groan and hides himself back under the blanket. “You know what I mean.”

“No, wait,” Hamin snorts, pulling the blanket away from Bonggu’s face. “Tell me more about how cute this guy acts. Did he try to hand feed you cookies?”

Bonggu flushes at the unwelcome memories flooding into his brain. 

“He did?!” Hamin exclaims. “No wonder he’s so pissed off right now. All that wooing just for you to kick him to the curb for another guy. I bet he thinks I’m your boyfriend, you know.”

All the blood in Bonggu’s body must currently be located in his face right now. He hides himself back under his blanket before Hamin can see. 

It’s too late, though. Hamin tosses the blanket back and shoots Bonggu a horrified grimace. “Oh god, did you tell him I’m your boyfriend?! Why would you do that?”

“Shut up,” Bonggu groans, flipping onto his side and hiding his face in his pillow. “I never said that. He asked, and I was too freaked out to correct him, but—”

Bonggu cuts himself off with another groan. They’re veering way too far off course right now. If they keep it up at this rate, there’s no way Eunho isn’t going to be able to hear their conversation. They’re both being way too loud right now. 

Actually, they’re the only ones being loud right now. There’s no sound coming from next door. 

Bonggu flips back over, eyes wide and terrified, and asks, “Do you think he—”

Before he can finish his question, Eunho’s voice comes pouring through the wall again. It’s much quieter than before as he says, “What? It’s nothing. I just have some stuff I need to get out.”

It’s strange. He was screaming at the top of his lungs just a few moments ago. The sudden switch in tone is eerie. Bonggu shuffles up against the headboard, eyes locked with Hamin’s as they listen through the wall. 

“Ugh, just—it’s this guy, okay? Whatever. Focus on the enemy.”

Whoever he’s speaking to, Bonggu can’t hear them. It’s clear Hamin can’t either. Maybe Yejun and Noah are capable of communicating telepathically. 

If that’s the case, they must be even more powerful than Eunho is. The thought has Bonggu’s stomach twisting up all over again. He curls his blanket over his shoulders and leans against Hamin’s side as they strain to hear. 

“I already tried, but he said he’s got a—ugh, it doesn’t even matter. Stop asking.”

“He’s talking about you,” Hamin whispers. 

He sounds almost excited about it. Bonggu smacks his arm and says, “Be quiet. He might hear you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this now, okay? He’s literally right next door. Just drop it and help me kill this fucker!”

Holy crap. Holy crap. Bonggu darts a hand out to tangle it with Hamin’s. 

“Holy crap,” Hamin whispers, hand shaking in Bonggu’s own. 

Bonggu can’t find the strength to say words. He just silently huddles back under his covers. 

“Guy’s definitely a freak,” Hamin mumbles as he huddles his way in beside Bonggu.

It doesn’t feel so vindicating anymore. It just feels really, really scary. Bonggu squeezes his eyes shut, hoping with everything in him that he and Hamin live to see another day. 

♥︎

As far as Bonggu’s concerned, he and Hamin have a pretty solid case to bring to the police. They don’t need more evidence—frankly, the nightly screaming should be enough to warrant an investigation. At the very least, they can issue a noise complaint and wait for the cops to find all the bodies Eunho inevitably has stacked up in his apartment. If they really need to, they can dig the cookies out of the trash and take them in for forensic testing. 

Either way, they absolutely have no reason to visit Beomgolae Bakery. All they’d be doing is putting themselves right in the vicinity of another vampire. 

And with a name like that, Yejun isn’t even trying to be subtle. Only an actual killer would name their bakery after killer whales. 

“We don’t have to talk to the guy,” Hamin says far too casually, given the situation. “I just want to see if we can gather more evidence. I mean, yeah, the murder stuff last night was pretty freaky, but we shouldn’t do anything crazy just yet.”

Bonggu eyes the bakery box Hamin took out of the trash warily. This feels all too much like a trap. It’s too convenient—so Eunho just happens to bring over cookies in a box with a name and address printed on the side? It’s like he wants Bonggu to go there. 

This could be his plan B. He couldn’t get Bonggu to follow him yesterday, so he’s luring him in with breadcrumbs. Or cookie crumbs, in this particular case. Regardless, Bonggu’s got a bad feeling about this. 

“It’s not that far out of the way,” Hamin says with a shrug. “This address is just a couple blocks from Gwangheungchang Station. We can buy some coffee before work and leave as soon as we detect a bad vibe.”

“I’m already detecting bad vibes,” Bonggu grumbles. 

Hamin nods his head sagely. “In that case, wouldn’t it be best if we find something concrete? At the very least, we’ll be able to give a physical description of Yejun to the cops.”

It’s not a bad point. They don’t know the guy’s surname. It shouldn’t be too hard for the police to track down someone with a name like Noah, but there’s gotta be thousands of Yejuns in the city. Knowing what he looks like is going to help a lot. 

They just need to make sure Yejun doesn’t know what they look like. Clearly, Eunho’s told him and Noah all about Bonggu. He and Hamin should probably go undercover. 

“I’ll find you a hat,” Bonggu says, lifting himself up from the counter. “You should wear a hoodie, too. Eunho might’ve told his coven what we look like.”

“Good plan,” Hamin says as he tosses the box back in the trash and follows Bonggu to his bedroom. “You got an extra pair of sunglasses? If we’re going undercover, we might as well go full incognito.”

Bonggu offers Hamin a smile. Maybe this isn’t so bad of a plan after all. They’ll be fully disguised. They don’t need to talk to anyone. They can just pop in, get a look at Yejun’s face, and pop right out. Easy peasy. They won’t even be late for work. Changjeon’s only a couple train stops from Hapjeong. 

Sure, it’s a little freaky knowing there’s a vampire bakery in the same district as their place of work, but that shouldn’t last too much longer. It’ll be shut down once the police get involved. 

It really is a wonder no one’s caught on sooner, though. Beomgolae Bakery is a really suspicious name. 

♥︎

Beomgolae Bakery is the cutest thing Bonggu’s ever seen in his life. The front door has a decal of the same adorable whale from the box of cookies. There are slightly smaller versions of that whale painted on the walls inside, along with a whole aquarium’s worth of other ocean animals. And while it isn’t as cringe-inducingly adorable as Bonggu imagined it yesterday, the apron the barista’s wearing is still very cute. It’s got a tiny jellyfish pin on the front. 

No name tag, though. This middle-aged man running the counter could very well be Yejun.

“Act normal,” Hamin leans in to whisper. 

How can Bonggu be expected to act normal right now? He’s standing face-to-face with a vampire. 

“Welcome in,” said vampire greets with a smile. “What can I get you?”

It’s strange—Eunho’s so distinctive, but this guy looks like any ahjussi you’d see on the street. His eyes are brown and his teeth are flat. He’s the same height Bonggu is. More than all that, though, it’s really throwing Bonggu off to see the flecks of gray in his hair. Eunho told him that Yejun’s twenty-six.

He could be in a disguise right now, though. Really, this whole bakery could be a front they put up specifically to capture Bonggu. The thought has Bonggu shuffling in closer to Hamin’s side. 

“I’ll take an iced coffee, please,” Hamin says, giving Bonggu’s shoulder a pointed squeeze. “Hyung?”

Maybe there’s a reason Yejun looks so much older than Eunho. He could actually be older—like, tens of thousands of years older. What if that means he’s the coven leader? His powers could be beyond anything Eunho is capable of. He does have the ability to communicate telepathically. And he must be able to teleport. Both times he came over to help Eunho feed, Bonggu never once heard him enter or leave the apartment. 

“He’ll take an iced coffee too,” Hamin says.

Bonggu flinches when Hamin gives his shoulder another squeeze. He’s supposed to be acting inconspicuous, but he just spent who knows how long staring slack-jawed at this middle-aged man. Hopefully the sunglasses at least helped make that less obvious. 

Or maybe wearing sunglasses indoors just makes him and Hamin look insane. Yejun certainly looks weirded out. 

“Are you alright?” Yejun asks, tilting his head to the side. “Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll have my son bring your coffee out to you.”

Maybe that’s some kind of vampire coven lingo. If Yejun’s the leader, he might refer to Eunho and Noah as his children. It would make sense, maybe, if he’s the one who turned them in the first place. He kind of is their father, at least for their second, undead life.

It’s a terrifying thought. Bonggu’s thankful Hamin’s still holding onto his shoulder so tightly, because he’d probably fall over from fear if he had to walk on his own. 

“Stop freaking out,” Hamin whispers as he leads Bonggu to a table.

How could Bonggu not freak out? They’re currently trapped in a building with the coven leader. He grabs Hamin’s hand and says, “We need to leave.”

“Before we get our coffee?” Hamin asks as he forces Bonggu down in a chair. “No way. I’m gonna be dead on my feet if I don’t get some caffeine. Seriously, how do you survive waking up this early every day? It’s unnatural.”

Hamin’s gonna be literally dead on his feet if they don’t book it out of here as soon as possible. Yejun’s shockingly quick with the coffee machine despite being hundreds of thousands of years old. He’s already got both cups filled—though, that should hardly be a surprise. He’s got superspeed. 

“Nam Yejun, come out here and bring these coffees to those young men over there.”

“Huh?” Bonggu bleats out before he can stop himself. His eyes go wide when he sees another, younger person—well, younger-looking—walk out from the kitchen. 

“Oh, it’s your guy,” Hamin whispers eagerly. “Stop staring. You’re being so obvious right now.”

It’s impossible not to stare. The real Yejun is definitely a vampire. He looks like a vampire. 

Well, sort of. His teeth aren’t sharp like Eunho’s, but he is really tall. And while his eyes aren’t red, they are startlingly blue. They kind of make him look like a member of the Aido family from Vampire Knight. 

Maybe in the real world, different eye colors mean different things for vampires. Yejun could very well be the coven leader after all. It’s a little strange that he has a human father, but for all Bonggu knows, the man at the counter is just his familiar or something. He could be acting as Yejun’s father to help him keep his cover. 

“Here you go,” Yejun says with a bright smile as he places the cups on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

It’s a very meticulous cover, if that’s what’s going on here. Yejun managed to find a human familiar with an identical smile to his own. 

Or even worse, what if he turned his real father into his familiar? That would be diabolical. Bonggu can’t help but shiver at the thought. 

“Ah, is it cold in here?” Yejun asks, eyeing the hats and hoods both Bonggu and Hamin have pulled tightly over their heads. He flips around and calls out, “Dad, turn down the AC!”

The man at the counter lets out a huff and says, “Take that up with your mother. You know I’m not allowed to touch the thermostat.”

“Sorry about that,” Yejun sighs. “I’ll go talk to her right away.”

Bonggu stares in shock as he watches Yejun return to the kitchen. So he bound both his parents to a life of eternal vampiric servitude. This guy must be pure evil incarnate. 

“So what do you think?” Hamin asks, leaning in as he takes a sip from his coffee. “Pretty normal, huh?”

Bonggu stares at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“What? They all just look like people. You don’t really think they’re vampires, do you?”

“No,” Bonggu whispers, eyes darting to the counter where Yejun’s dad is sitting on a stool and scrolling through his phone. “I think Yejun’s a vampire. The others are his familiars.”

“Hyung,” Hamin sighs. “Just look at him. Look at—oh, come on. You really think she’s a vampire’s familiar?”

So maybe the lady who comes out of the kitchen needs to stand on her tip-toes to smack Yejun’s hand away from the thermostat. That doesn’t mean she’s the one who has to actually capture Yejun’s victims for him. He probably just keeps her around to maintain his cover, same as the man at the counter.  

Besides, Yejun probably doesn’t need help. He’s the coven leader after all. 

“Stop focusing on the parents,” Bonggu says with a scowl. “Look at Yejun. I mean, did you see his eyes?”

“Yeah? They’re blue,” Hamin asks, cocking his head to the side to look past Bonggu’s shoulder. “But so what? His mom’s got blue eyes too.”

So she does. For some reason, that looks a little less vampirish on a petite middle-aged woman. Still. It’s not like that’s the only suspicious thing going on here. 

“Whatever,” Bonggu groans. “Why aren’t there any customers here, huh? Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“It’s 5:30 in the morning,” Hamin points out. 

The beginning of the morning rush—that is, if this was a real bakery. But before Bonggu can offer that up as a retort, another customer walks in. 

Bonggu nearly gasps at the sight of him. The guy who just walked in looks even more like a character from Vampire Knight that Yejun does. Hell, he could be Hanabusa Aido himself with his blonde hair and freakishly blue eyes. 

“Oh my god,” Bonggu whispers, reaching out to thump Hamin’s hand. “Look at him. Look at his eyes.”

Hamin lets out a soft chuckle and says, “This is clearly a family-run business. They’re probably brothers.”

Bonggu doubts that. The guy looks nothing like Yejun or his parents. In fact, his eyes are even bluer than Yejun’s. 

That must mean he’s the real coven leader.

“Noah!” Yejun says, grinning as he reaches across the counter to dap the guy up. “How’re you doing, man?”

Good god. This is a trap. Bonggu’s breath hitches in his throat as he tangles his trembling fingers with Hamin’s.

Despite the sunglasses, Bonggu can tell Hamin’s own face must look an awful lot like his. They’re both silently frozen in place as Noah leans on the counter and says, “I’m still recovering from yesterday.”

“Again?” Yejun’s mom tuts. “Noah, go sit at a table. I’ll get you some ice. Yejun, don’t you dare touch the thermostat while I’m gone.”

“It’s freezing though,” Yejun retorts. “Just look at them.”

Bonggu squeezes Hamin’s hand when Yejun, Noah, and both Yejun’s parents turn to look their way. This could really be it. They’re about to die, and it’s all because they were stupid enough to fall for Eunho’s obvious bait. 

“You’re not cold, are you?” Yejun’s mom asks. 

“Guh,” Bonggu chokes out. 

Hamin kicks Bonggu’s shin under the table and says, “We’re fine, ma’am. Don’t worry about us.”

“They’re wearing hoodies in the middle of summer,” Yejun says, following after his mom as she walks over to the kitchen.

“You want your mother to die of heatstroke? Leave the thermostat alone.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Yejun’s dad says, giving Yejun a pat on the back as he follows Yejun’s mom into the kitchen. “Go sit with your friend.”

Panic spikes through Bonggu’s chest when both vampires take a seat at a table way too close to his and Hamin’s. They can probably smell Bonggu’s fear from this distance. He tightens his grip on Hamin’s hand and says, “Let’s go.”

“We’re here to gather intel, aren’t we?” Hamin whispers. “So let’s gather some intel. And stop trying to break my hand off.”

Pretty hypocritical coming from the guy who just kicked Bonggu’s shin. Besides, they have to leave now. They have all the intel they need. If they go to the police, they could provide Yejun’s full name and a clear description of all three vampires, along with both their human accomplices. There is literally no reason to stick around and wait for them to attack. 

“Hyung, calm down,” Hamin murmurs as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Just listen to what they’re saying.”

Bonggu’s got absolutely no interest in doing that. They’re not even saying anything useful. Noah’s complaining about having to go to the gym or something. Bonggu yanks on Hamin’s hand and pleads, “Get up.”

“Ssh,” Hamin says, nodding towards the counter. “They’re talking about your guy.”

They’re still talking about some gym. But Hamin’s making no effort to move from his seat, and Bonggu’s at risk of drawing attention their way a second time if he keeps tugging on him like this. He sinks down in his seat, takes a gulp of his drink to steel himself, and listens. 

“My shift’s gonna suck so much today,” Noah groans as he stretches his foot out in front of himself. “Maybe I should just stay home and let Taeyang handle everything. Think Eunho would care if I sit out rehearsal too?”

Yejun shakes his head as he lifts Noah’s foot onto his lap. “We probably aren’t actually rehearsing tonight anyway. Eunho’s gonna throw a fit when he finds out what we’re doing.”

“See?” Hamin mouths, hiding his face behind his cup and offering Bonggu a smile. 

How can he smile at a time like this? He literally heard what it sounds like when Eunho’s angry. It’s scary as hell. Bonggu shoots him a scowl as he sinks further down into his seat. 

“Do we really have to do that tonight?” Noah asks with another groan. “We don’t even know if he’s gonna be home.”

“Eunho says he’s always home by 20:30.” 

Bonggu’s heart rate jumps at the words. That’s when he usually gets home from the studio. 

Noah sighs and says, “Can’t we do this after the competition? We should focus on that right now.”

“Says the guy who wants to slack off tonight,” Yejun snorts. 

“Hey, I’m injured,” Noah retorts. “Besides, I already have the whole thing memorized. No offense, but you both still kind of suck.”

“One night off isn’t going to mess up our whole routine. But you know what would?” Yejun asks, tapping his knuckles against the front of Noah’s shoe. “If he throws another fit and breaks your toe for real. You know he gets even worse when he’s distracted. This’ll help us all out in the long run.”

Noah grimaces as he glances down at his foot. “Ugh, you’re right. Can you text me his new address again?”

“Sure,” Yejun says as he pulls out his phone. “Be careful going up the stairs when you get there. Apparently, they’re really slippery.”

“I can’t believe there’s a person out there clumsier than Eunho,” Noah snorts. “Are we sure he’s a dancer?”

Yejun shrugs and says, “I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

“What’s his name again? Baby?”

“Bamby,” Yejun corrects.

Holy crap. If there was even a shred of doubt before, it’s all gone now. Bonggu bolts up from his seat, using all his strength to yank Hamin up after him as he rushes for the door. 

“Ouch,” Hamin whines once they’re outside, pouting as he rubs at his hand. “You didn’t even let me bring my coffee.”

Bonggu pushes his shoulder and asks, “Didn’t you hear what they said?!”

“I can’t believe you let Eunho call you Bamby. You never let me call you that—ow.”

So maybe the second push was a little unnecessary. Bonggu would apologize if he wasn’t too occupied with staring at Hamin incredulously, because he was very clearly not listening to the more vital element of that conversation. 

The vampires are coming to Bonggu’s apartment. Tonight. 

“We need to leave the city,” Bonggu says, breath picking up as the panic sets in. “We can go to my mom’s place. They won’t be able to find us there—”

“Hyung, wait,” Hamin says, placing his hand on Bonggu’s shoulder. “This could be our chance.”

Bonggu shakes his head resolutely. “We can call the police from Gyeongju. We just need to get away first, and then we can—”

“Hyung. Noah’s down for the count, right? His toe is broken or whatever. We can use that to our advantage.”

Did he conveniently forget that Bonggu’s also injured? Besides, it’s hardly a fair match-up. Even if it was just Hamin against a single vampire, there’s no way he’d win. He doesn’t have supernatural capabilities. Bonggu squirms out from under Hamin’s hand and says, “We can transfer your credits to SinGyeongju University. I can open a studio there, too. We can start over and just—”

“We don’t need to do all that,” Hamin says, mouth set in a determined line. “We just need to be prepared for when they show up, right? They don’t know that we know.”

Bonggu risks a glance back at Beomgolae Bakery. Sure enough, no one’s running out the door to catch them. He can still see Yejun and Noah chatting at their table through the window. 

Still, it’s way too dangerous. They’re lucky they managed to escape with their lives just now. That luck is sure to run out if they keep testing fate like this. 

“Let’s close the studio early tonight. We can prepare at your place together.”

Hamin looks way too determined for Bonggu to feel comfortable. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Not if we’re armed,” Hamin retorts. “Come on, we gotta catch the train.”

Bonggu can’t even begin to imagine what kinds of weapons Hamin has in mind right now. The thought has him reaching out to hold Hamin’s hand in a death grip again as he follows him to the train station. 

♥︎

Bonggu is perfectly aware that he and Hamin don’t have access to actual weaponry. Hamin’s never even held a gun before, and Bonggu’s staff sergeant ended up just sending him to the medic’s office whenever it was time for the shooting range after he ran off that one time. But even if they could manage to find and use a gun, it’s not like it would be effective against a trio of highly powerful, mind-controlling, telepathic vampires. They’re probably immune to bullets, if they can’t just stop them mid-air with telekinesis. 

Still, Bonggu was expecting Hamin to have something else in mind—crucifixes, talismans, maybe a line of salt or a stick of incense. But this just seems a little silly. 

“How are we even gonna get these things on the train?” Bonggu asks incredulously.

“We’ll carry them,” Hamin says, twirling a jahng bong in his hand. “That’s how I got them here in the first place. Here, take this one.”

“Can’t we just let the police handle it?” Bonggu asks as he catches the jahng bong Hamin tosses his way. 

Hamin lets out a sigh and says, “Hyung, I’m not saying I still don’t believe you or anything, I just don’t think we have enough evidence to open up a real case against those guys. I mean, what if this is all just a big misunderstanding? Wouldn’t it be better to settle it between us than get the cops involved?”

It’s terrible logic, as far as Bonggu’s concerned. He’d much rather get laughed off by the police than die at the hands of three vampires, especially when his only form of self-protection is a big wooden stick. He stares at the jahng bong in his hands warily and says, “No.”

“Bamby hyung—”

“Hey,” Bonggu tuts, whacking Hamin’s arm with the jahng bong. “Who said you could call me that?”

Hamin shoots him a grin. “So you’re totally fine with a vampire calling you that, but I can’t? You know, I can’t help but wonder if this is all just your own weird way of denying your crush on—”

Bonggu cuts him off with another whack to the arm. “I’m not five years old. I don’t get crushes.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. He clearly likes you too.”

“Shut up,” Bonggu grumbles as he flips around and digs his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s just go.”

“Aw, are you blushing? Bet you wish you didn’t turn him down, huh?”

“Shut up,” Bonggu groans, tossing his keys at Hamin’s chest. “Lock up the supply closet on our way out. And don’t bring any more weapons to the studio. What if one of the kids got their hands on these things?”

Hamin lets out a laugh as he follows Bonggu out to the main room. “They will have their hands on them. The older students are using these for the taekwonmu routine. But don’t worry. I’ll teach them how to handle them safely.”

So Bonggu’s only point of defense against vampires is a dance prop. Great. He and Hamin will be dead by morning. 

It really is a shame. He would’ve liked to see that routine Hamin choreographed for the autumn showcase. Maybe he can watch on from the afterlife. That is, if he manages to keep Hamin alive.

“I’ll show you how to use it when we’re back at your place, Bamby hyung. You’ll be a pro by the time your boyfriend shows up.”

Bonggu lets out a sigh as he locks up the studio behind them. Hamin’s a good kid, he reminds himself. Most of the time, at least. Either way, he deserves to live. 

Still, Bonggu delivers a wack to the back of his legs as they walk out to the street. 

“Hey,” Hamin says, flipping around to pout at Bonggu. “What was that for?”

“Don’t call me Bamby.” 

Not that it matters so much what people call him. He’ll be dead in just a few hours. The thought has him trotting up to Hamin’s side and giving his waist a conciliatory squeeze. If this is the last time he’s going to see Hamin, might as well go out on a good note. 

“Wanna get chicken on the way home?” Bonggu asks, offering Hamin a smile. “I’ll pay.”

Hamin lets out an excited whoop. “Yess. Let’s get spicy garlic chicken.”

The words have Bonggu’s heart rate settling a little. They can give garlic one last shot here. And really, even if the vampires are immune, these jahng bongs are pretty sturdy. With a little muscle, they could totally use these things to incapacitate Eunho, Noah, and Yejun long enough to make their escape.

It’s not totally impossible. Bonggu’s barely even limping today. Maybe he won’t be dying tonight. He lets himself smile a little at the thought as he keeps his arm around Hamin’s waist and heads for the station. 

♥︎

Bonggu is absolutely dying tonight. If not at a vampire’s hand, then at Hamin’s. 

“Sorry,” Hamin says sheepishly as he kneels down by Bonggu’s side and offers him a hand. “I thought you were going to dodge.”

How’s Bonggu supposed to dodge in his condition? His ankle may be steadily getting better, but he’s weighed down by all that chicken he and Hamin just ate. He lets out a groan as he takes Hamin’s hand and pulls himself up from the living room floor. 

“I’ll go slower this time,” Hamin says, picking his jahng bong up from the floor. 

It’s inevitable, at this rate. There’s no way Bonggu’s going to be able to hold his own against the vampires. They’ll be moving at superhuman speed. Even if he wasn’t bloated, he’d still be a goner. 

“Can we please just go to my mom’s house?” Bonggu begs for what must be the twentieth time since they got to his apartment. 

Just like every other time, though, Hamin shakes his head resolutely. “You can’t let yourself live in fear, hyung. Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna have to actually fight them. I’m sure things will work out after we have a talk.”

He still thinks this is all just some massive misunderstanding. Bonggu throws himself down on the couch and lets out a long, pained sigh. 

“Come on,” Hamin goads, offering Bonggu a smile as he twirls his jahng bong between his fingers. “Don’t you wanna learn how to do this?”

It’s impressive, sure, but what use is some stick-twirling when Bonggu’s gonna be six feet under by the end of the night? He eyes the jahng bong warily and says, “You can teach me in Gyeongju.”

“If you’re really that scared, I can talk to them alone.”

“No,” Bonggu rushes out, bolting up from the couch. 

“That’s the spirit,” Hamin chuckles. “Try hitting me this time.”

Bonggu might as well. It’s clear he’s never going to be able to convince Hamin to leave in time, and there’s no way he’s abandoning him to fight these vampires on his own. If nothing else, Bonggu can at least buy Hamin some time to run when Eunho, Yejun, and Noah inevitably come storming in.

He picks up his own jahng bong and squares his shoulders. Really, this isn’t all that different from combat training. He was always pretty good at that, so long as bullets weren’t involved. Muscle memory has him landing a pretty solid hit to Hamin’s shoulder. 

“Nice, hyung,” Hamin says brightly, rubbing at his shoulder. “If you can just block as well as you hit, those guys will be no match for us.”

Bonggu offers him a shaky smile in return. So maybe he’s not tall like Yejun and Eunho, but he is pretty strong. And with Hamin on his side, with all his tournament wins and years of taekwondo experience, maybe they can get enough hits in to keep the vampires down as they book it for the train station. 

And then they can finally go to Gyeongju and restart their lives with new identities. It’ll suck to never see their students again, but they can open up a new studio—this time, one that doesn’t offer classes every day of the week. Bonggu’s still not sure how his mom had the mental fortitude to handle that for so many years. He’s barely scraping by after only one year. 

Well, he can get some mentorship from his mom when he and Hamin assume their new lives. And maybe finally take those dance classes once he’s cleared up some of his schedule. He and Hamin can go to school together on the days he isn’t teaching. 

The thought has his smile turning genuine as he holds up his jahng bong to block Hamin’s. 

“See?” Hamin says excitedly. “You’re already getting better.”

Things are totally going to be fine. Frankly, Bonggu’s kind of excited to move to Gyeongju. The scenery is nice. The temples are cool. The beach is there. He and Hamin can go swimming. 

Eunho’s probably really good at swimming. Maybe he’s been swimming at one of Gyeongju’s beaches, if he spent any time on the navy bases in Pohang or Busan.

Bonggu flinches when the thought pops into his brain. It has the unfortunate consequence of lowering his defenses right when Hamin is going in for a hit. It has the extremely unfortunate consequence of lowering his head just enough for his forehead to be the recipient of that hit. 

“Oh crap,” Hamin rushes out, dropping his jahng bong to the floor and smoothing Bonggu’s bangs off his forehead. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”

Barely. Bonggu’s head already hurt anyway. But the mental image of Eunho in a navy uniform currently running through his brain has him letting out a pained groan as Hamin inspects his forehead. 

“Maybe we should take a break from training for a second.”

Bonggu just nods blearily as Hamin leads him to the couch. Eunho isn’t even here, and he’s still infiltrating Bonggu’s thoughts. Despite all his efforts to remind himself that at any given moment, Eunho and his freaky vampire friends can swoop into the apartment and try to kill him, he can’t help but catch a final glimpse of the cringe-inducing mental image of Eunho flexing his muscles in a tight-fitting uniform. Those uniforms aren’t even designed to be tight-fitting. 

“I must’ve hit you pretty hard,” Hamin says, sucking in a breath. “Your face is really red.”

Of course it is. Bonggu lets out a sigh and rests his head on the arm of the couch. 

“How about I get you some aspirin, huh? Gotta stay clear-headed if we’re gonna duke it out with some vampires tonight.”

“Thanks,” Bonggu mumbles into the couch cushion. He doesn’t have the energy to chastise Hamin for making a joke out of this situation. To be fair, it is all starting to feel like one big cosmic joke. 

“Seriously, are you okay?” Hamin asks as he brings over a bottle of aspirin and a cup of water from the kitchen. “You’re, like, really red.”

Definitely a big cosmic joke. Bonggu grimaces as he puts a pill in his mouth and says, “I’m fine.”

But before he can chase the pill down with a sip of water, he chokes at the sound of someone knocking on his door. 

“They’re here,” he wheezes, eyes going wide as he shoots a panicked look at Hamin. 

“Don’t you worry, hyung,” Hamin says determinedly. “I got this.”

No, he absolutely does not got this. Eunho’s clearly already utilizing his mind control capabilities from all the way out in the breezeway. If Hamin faces him, Noah, and Yejun alone, he doesn’t stand a chance. 

He especially doesn’t stand a chance without a weapon. To Bonggu’s horror, Hamin puts his jahng bong on the floor before walking towards the door. 

“No, don’t—” Bonggu starts, choking on the words as that pill lodges itself in the middle of his throat. 

“Just drink some water, hyung. You’ll be okay.”

How can he say that? There are literal vampires on the other side of the door. 

Well, a vampire. Before Bonggu can stop him, Hamin opens the door, revealing just Yejun on the other side. 

Yejun looks freaky as hell as in his all black outfit. And with the sun setting behind him, he looks positively vampiric. 

It’s pure adrenaline that has Bonggu bolting up from the couch and grabbing both jahng bongs. It’s that same adrenaline that keeps him from noticing all the water he spills on the floor in the process. 

“Hey! Is Chae Bonggu home? I’m a friend of—oh shit, is he okay?”

“Blergh,” Bonggu groans from where he’s now sprawled out on his living room floor. 

Before he can fully register what’s happening, the ceiling he’s staring at gets replaced with Yejun’s face. 

So he’s definitely got superspeed. There’s no way he made it all the way from the front door to the living room that fast. Sure, it’s a tiny apartment, but still. Hamin would’ve been blocking his path. 

Hamin. Bonggu needs to make sure he is okay. 

It’s impossible to do that, though, with Yejun right in front of his face like this. 

“Hey man, are you alright?” Yejun asks, his big, scary, vampirishly blue eyes just centimeters away from Bonggu’s own. 

So vampires can enter your house uninvited. Bonggu supposes there’s not much he can do with that information now. It’s already too late for him. The best he can hope for is buying Hamin a little more time to run. 

“Wait,” Yejun says, freaky blue eyes darting between Bonggu and something near the door. “Did you guys come in for coffee this morning?”

This is an absolute disaster. Bonggu reaches out blindly to his side in search of a jahng bong as he says, “No.”

“You totally did!” Yejun says with a grin. “You should’ve told me you’re Eunho’s friends. I would’ve made my dad give you a discount. Though I guess I kinda owe you a discount anyway, right? My mom’s kind of a dictator about the thermostat. Next time, I’ll make sure it isn’t freezing in there.”

Finally, Bonggu’s fingers find a jahng bong. He holds it tight in his fist and says, “That wasn’t us.”

“Bamby hyung, I heard screaming. Are you alright?”

Vampires absolutely can enter your house uninvited, then. Bonggu’s heart clenches at the sound of Eunho’s voice. 

“Hyung? What are you doing here?” he hears Eunho ask from somewhere above him. “Aren’t we rehearsing tonight?”

“We are,” Yejun says sheepishly, offering Bonggu a pat on the shoulder as he pulls away and looks up at Eunho. “I was thinking we could rehearse at your place, now that you’re all moved in. I happened to run into your neighbor.”

“Did you literally run into him? Why’s he on the floor?”

Bonggu really should get up. He and Hamin need to get out of here as soon as possible. 

Hamin’s not by the door anymore, though. Panic rises in Bonggu’s throat. 

“Bamby hyung,” Eunho says, dropping down to the floor next to Yejun. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Hamin,” Bonggu calls out desperately. 

“Who’s that?” Yejun asks. “Your roommate? He’s in the kitchen.”

Eunho shoots him an incredulous look. “He’s his boyfriend, idiot. I told you not to do all this crap.”

“Hey, you’re the one who begged me to help you make cookies for him,” Yejun scoffs. He looks down at Bonggu and asks, “So you really do already have a boyfriend?”

A lot is happening all at once. Way too much. Terror is definitely the predominant emotion Bonggu’s experiencing right now, but embarrassment is vying hard to make its presence known. 

But it’s not like correcting them is going to make any difference right now. Both he and Hamin are going to be dead soon. 

That is, if Hamin isn’t already dead. Bonggu still doesn’t see him. The kitchen line could totally be a lie. For all Bonggu knows, Yejun and Eunho already used superspeed to whisk Hamin away to their vampire lair. 

But then the smell of spicy garlic chicken hits Bonggu’s nostrils. 

“Begone, vampires!” Hamin calls out as he shoves a piece of chicken between Bonggu and Yejun and Eunho. 

“What?” Eunho says, glancing confusedly between Hamin and the chicken. 

“What?” Yejun echoes. 

It’s silent for a moment. It’s a very long moment. Bonggu can’t help but notice that his neck isn’t being bitten. If ever there was a time to plunge some fangs into it, it’d be now, but neither Hamin or Yejun are looking at his neck at all. They’re too busy staring at Hamin like he’s insane. 

“Hey, I heard some screaming. Is everything—oh?”

And now Noah is standing in the doorway, looking between the four of them like they’re all insane. Bonggu can’t find it in himself to do much more than just stare back. He can’t exactly get up right now. Yejun, Eunho, and Hamin are all still hovering right above him. 

“You’re both here?” Eunho groans, eyes darting between Yejun and Noah. “Did you plan this?”

“We planned to help you talk to your guy,” Noah says as he steps into the apartment. “I guess that plan backfired, huh? You killing him instead?”

He’s smiling while he says it. Bonggu’s having a hard time deciphering if he should be terrified or mortified. He’s leaning more towards the latter when Eunho lets out a pained groan and says, “Oh my god, I told you he has a boyfriend!”

Noah looks between Bonggu and Hamin for a moment, eyes narrowing before he asks, “Didn’t I see you guys at the bakery? Kinda weird to take your boyfriend on a date to the place you got ‘go out with me’ cookies from.”

“They were apology cookies,” Eunho grumbles.

“They were ‘go out with me’ cookies,” Yejun says. He pauses, eyebrows furrowing as he looks up at Hamin and asks, “Sorry, what did you call us earlier?”

“Uh,” Hamin mutters, retracting the chicken and placing it back in the takeout box. “I think maybe we should have a talk. There seems to be a couple misunderstandings going on here.”

Bonggu has to agree with him on that. There seems to be a whole plethora of misunderstandings they need to work through. 

He grimaces as he loosens his grip on the janhg bong. He’s got a feeling that won’t be necessary anymore.

♥︎

So maybe there’s a chance Bonggu was wrong about this whole thing. 

Still, it’s not like there weren’t any signs. 

“You’re impossibly fast, and strong,” Bonggu says, doing everything in his power to avoid direct eye contact with Eunho. “Your skin is pale white and ice cold—well, maybe not that, but your eyes are red. What’s up with that?”

“Wait, wait,” Noah says with a snort. “Fast and strong? Eunho? This kid cries like a baby every time I try to get him to work out with me.”

Eunho shoots him a scowl. “What’s wrong with wanting to take a break? I literally just got back home.”

As Bonggu has recently been made aware, there’s a reason Eunho sleeps during the day. He just got back from his military enlistment a little over a week ago, and apparently, he’s resting up before returning to school. It explains why he’s a little socially unaware—he’s been shacked up in close quarters with a bunch of navy guys for the past twenty months. Bonggu’s well aware of what those kinds of conditions do to a person. But that doesn’t explain the eyes.

It’s a little hard to ask again, though, because now Noah’s reaching across Yejun to squeeze at Eunho’s biceps. 

“You gotta work for it if you wanna maintain all this muscle mass,” Noah says, bypassing the swats Eunho’s waging against him to poke at his stomach. “Just ask Yejun. He still comes in to do laps in the pool three times a week. Right, man?”

“I just do that for fun,” Yejun says with a shrug. 

“And that’s why he’s still ripped. You gotta see exercise as a form of entertainment, you know.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Eunho whines, cheeks turning even redder. Bonggu wouldn’t have thought it possible. He’s been red as a fire truck ever since he poked his head into the apartment to see what all the screaming was about fifteen minutes ago. 

Not that Bonggu’s in any position to judge. He’s been in a perpetual state of mortification ever since he finally got off the floor and explained the situation as Hamin and Noah made a whole production out of re-wrapping his ankle. It doesn’t even need to be re-wrapped. If anything, having to lay down on the couch while explaining his thought processes over the past three days just left him feeling like he was in a psychiatrist’s office with one mortified and three very amused psychiatrists looming over him. 

Even Hamin was laughing, the traitor. He’s still laughing as he watches Noah subject Eunho’s stomach to another round of pokes. 

This isn’t the time to be laughing. Bonggu hasn’t gotten a single clear answer to any of his questions. 

“You killed someone last night!” Bonggu blurts out. 

That gets the laughter to stop. It’s replaced with four identical looks of incredulity. 

“Hamin,” Bonggu says, gripping onto Hamin’s wrist desperately. “Remember? You were there.”

Hamin’s face goes serious as he says, “Right. What’s up with all that? You guys gangsters or something?”

It’s definitely a possibility. All three of them are wearing all black. Bonggu shuffles closer to Hamin’s side. 

Yejun shifts his incredulous look to Eunho and asks, “Who’d you kill?”

“No one,” Eunho says, flush extending down his neck. “I just—crap, was I being that loud? I’m sorry.”

What kind of gangster blushes like that and apologizes for murdering someone too loudly? Bonggu shares a confused look with Hamin. At least he looks equally as lost. 

“I was playing a game,” Eunho mutters. “I’ll be quieter next time.”

“Oh, you’re playing League again?” Yejun asks as he reaches up to ruffle Eunho’s hair. “Didn’t I tell you to wear headphones?”

“I do wear headphones! It’s just—ugh, I’m sorry, okay?” Eunho squirms away from Yejun and looks at Bonggu with a grimace. “I really wasn’t killing anyone. If you heard me say something about vampires, it’s because I play Vladimir. I’m really sorry.”

“Huh,” Hamin says, nodding his head sagely. “So I guess you weren’t really all that wrong, hyung.”

It’s hard to find solace in that. Bonggu can’t help but feel a little stupid for not considering other possibilities first. In hindsight, it really doesn’t make sense that Eunho would be the only one screaming if he, Yejun, and Noah were actually murdering someone. Even if he didn’t possess telepathic communication, he’d probably want to keep it down, especially if he’s doing the murdering in a highly populated neighborhood. 

“Oh, you were definitely wrong,” Noah snorts. “I mean, no offense at all, but how’d you land on vampire before literally anything else?”

“His eyes are red,” Bonggu mumbles weakly. Not that he’s got any conviction in it. Eunho’s eyes are definitely amber. 

“My eyes are brown,” Eunho says, tilting his head in confusion. “Your eyes are pink.”

Bonggu’s eyes are brown. Sure, they look pretty light in the sun, but they’re definitely still brown. He’s going through way too much whiplash to make that correction right now. He just nods silently instead. 

“So you didn’t kill anyone and you don’t have red eyes,” Hamin says with a pleased grin. “Glad we cleared that up. Can you explain your teeth so Bonggu hyung doesn’t lose sleep over it tonight? Oh, and whatever that competition is that you were talking about? He’s been convincing himself you guys have some Volturi-style blood ritual thing going on.”

“My teeth? What’s wrong with my teeth?”

This feels like a humiliation ritual. The irony of the phrase is far from lost on Bonggu. He cringes against the corner of the couch and says, “Nothing at all. Hamin, shut up.”

“Are they really that bad?” Eunho mutters, bringing a hand up to his mouth. 

God, he looks so wrecked over it. Bonggu’s heart clenches at the sight. He can’t stop himself from saying, “Not at all. They’re cute.”

He regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He rubs his hands on his face and lets out a sigh.

“Flirt later, hyung,” Hamin says, giving him a pat on the back. “So what’s this competition?”

Bonggu keeps his face hidden from view as he listens to Yejun explain that he and the others are not, in fact, part of a Volturi-style blood ritual. Turns out, it’s more like a battle of the bands for Hanyang’s vocal performance majors. Noah thought it would give them a leg up in the competition if they incorporated some choreography into their performance. But, as Noah colorfully explains, he came to find that both Yejun and Eunho are not quite as good at dancing as they are at singing.

“Yejun moves like a senior citizen, but Eunho’s, like, a genuine hazard to the people around him,” he says. “He stomped on my foot so many times last night, he nearly broke my pinky toe. Honestly, we need to stop rehearsing in these costumes. It’s just making this whole thing more life-threatening than it needs to be.”

“We need to get used to the boots,” Yejun says.

So the clothes are just costumes. It all kind of makes sense, in hindsight. They’re all wearing the same leather jacket right now.

Bonggu feels like a massive idiot. It’s a good thing he’s already hiding his face, because it’s impossible to contain his grimace as the pieces all fall into place. 

“Then we at least need to stop performing in the living room,” Noah sighs. “There isn’t enough space.”

“Where else are we supposed to do it?”

“We own a dance studio,” Hamin offers up. “You can practice there after classes if you want. And we can help you with your choreo. Right, hyung?”

“Guh,” Bonggu mumbles into his hands.

Hamin ruffles his hair and says, “Perfect! So everything all worked out in the end. Isn’t that great?”

It feels far from great. Bonggu’s never been this embarrassed a day in his life. He still can’t quite bring himself to look at Eunho. 

“And now that you know Eunho’s not gonna kill you, you guys can finally go on that date!” Hamin says brightly, tugging at Bonggu’s hair. “What do you think about that, hyung?”

This must be what hell is like. Bonggu peeks through the cracks in his fingers to glare at Hamin.

“That’s the spirit! You guys should exchange numbers or something.”

Bonggu risks taking his hands off his face to look at Eunho. He’s currently got his face smushed against the coffee table. There’s something kind of endearing about it. 

And guilt-inducing. In hindsight, Eunho definitely asked him out at least twice. He kind of forgot about the beer thing from the first time they interacted. 

Bonggu should do something to make up for that. He’s totally going to cover dinner when they go out. 

“Wanna give me your phone?” he asks.

And then Eunho lifts his head. There’s something very endearing about the red circle on his forehead. He must’ve been lying like that for a pretty long time. 

It seems like maybe they’ve got a few things in common. Hopefully more than just getting embarrassed easily. Something they can talk about on their date, Bonggu supposes.

“Sure,” Eunho says, a smile creeping onto his lips as he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. 

Bonggu grins when he gets a look at Eunho’s homescreen. It’s him and Noah sitting on the rim of a bathtub with bleached-covered towels on their shoulders and foils in their hair. It looks like they do, at least, have one other thing in common—they both dyed their hair the second they finished their enlistment. 

“Perv,” Hamin snorts, leaning over to stare at Eunho’s phone screen. 

Bonggu flushes and quickly opens up Eunho’s contacts. It’s not like he was even looking at Eunho’s bare chest in that picture. 

The damage is already done though. Hamin shoots Eunho an excited grin and asks, “Did you know he’s obsessed with your abs? That day you made him jump out his window, he was like, ‘oh my god, this guy’s so sexy, I wanna—”

“You jumped out your window?!”

Eunho looks horrified at the thought. At least that means he didn’t register the other things Hamin was saying, Bonggu supposes. He swallows back the embarrassment and says, “I’ll tell you about it on our date.”

They’ll definitely have a lot to talk about. Hopefully it won’t just be all the humiliating things Bonggu’s done over the course of the past week. Though, if that does end up being the case, he’s got no one to blame but himself. Jumping out his window was, objectively, a very stupid thing to do. If Eunho laughs at him for it, whatever. At least he’d be laughing. 

Bonggu lets the thought keep him from spiralling as he hands Eunho his phone back. He certainly wouldn’t mind hearing Eunho’s laugh again. He’s got a very cute laugh. 

And a cute smile, too. Bonggu can’t help but stare at the way it makes his puppy teeth poke into his lower lip when he asks, “Can I take you out tomorrow? I know you gotta wake up early, so we can get dinner near your studio after work. I can take you right home after.”

The mental image of Eunho driving him around on his motorcycle infiltrates Bonggu’s brain. He’s well aware by now that it’s a completely organic thought, just like all the others. 

There’s no use spiraling over that now. He just smiles and says, “Works for me.”