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The first thing I noticed was the way Renjun held the blood bag like it had personally insulted him.

The second thing I noticed was that he was trying very hard not to look embarrassed about it.

He stood in the tiny emergency kitchen with his shoulders slightly hunched, light brown hair falling into his eyes, scarlet irises narrowed in concentration as he tried to bite into the sealed edge of the bag with his fangs. It was a ridiculous sight, if I was being honest. Not because he looked silly, exactly, but because he looked so determined to do something simple and failing so miserably at it that my chest tightened with something soft and helpless.

I made a sound before I could stop myself. Not a laugh. Not quite. More like a tiny, involuntary coo.

Renjun looked up immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, too quickly.

He squinted at me. “You’re doing that thing again.”

I leaned against the counter and folded my arms. “What thing?”

“That thing where you look at me like I’m a baby animal.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too obviously. “Maybe you are.”

“I am not.”

“You’re struggling with a blood bag.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It is a little bit the same thing.”

He glared at me, but there was no real heat in it. Not enough to hide the faint pink that had risen under his skin. He was still getting used to being a vampire. Still getting used to the fangs, the hunger, the strange new instincts, the way his body seemed to be changing in slow, uneven stages that none of us could fully predict.

Two years.

It had been two years since Haechan’s aunt’s stupid magic pot had turned Renjun into a vampire by accident.

Two years since Renjun had gone from being a human with a sharp tongue and a stubborn sense of justice to one of the illegal species the world liked to pretend didn’t deserve to exist.

Two years since I had watched him try to understand a life he never asked for.

And five years since I had known him at all.

I had known him before the change, when he was still human and still arguing with everyone about species rights like he had been born to do it. He had been one of the few humans I trusted easily, one of the few who didn’t look at me like I was a problem to be solved or a monster to be feared. He had listened when I spoke. He had defended people like me when it mattered. He had made me feel, in small and dangerous ways, that maybe I was not as alone as I had always believed.

Then he had become one of us.

Not by choice. Not by fate. By accident.

And I had never quite known what to do with the fact that I was secretly, selfishly relieved.

It was awful of me, I knew that. He had lost his human life. He had lost the future he had expected. He had been forced into hiding, into fear, into a body that would keep changing long after the rest of the world had decided he should already be settled.

But I had also wanted him near me for so long that the universe’s cruelty had felt, in one tiny corner of my heart, like a gift. A terrible, guilty gift.

I stepped closer and took the blood bag from his hands.

Renjun watched me suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“You always say that right before you do something annoying.”

I ignored that and twisted the seal open with one clean motion.

Renjun blinked. “Oh.”

“Mm-hm.”

He stared at the opened bag as if I had performed a miracle. “That was unfairly smooth.”

I gave him a small smile. “You were fighting it.”

“I was not fighting it.”

“You were absolutely fighting it.”

He snatched the bag back from me, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult. Then he bit into the opening and drank, still looking irritated with the world in general.

I watched him for a second too long. He noticed, of course. Renjun always noticed when I looked at him.

“What?” he asked, mouth still near the bag.

I panicked instantly. “You have something on your cheek.”

He froze. Then he lifted a hand and tried to wipe it away, but only smeared the blood a little further. I stepped closer before I could think better of it.

“Here,” I said softly.

He looked up at me, wary. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing it.”

Before he could protest, I leaned in and brushed my tongue over the corner of his cheek, catching the small streak of blood there. Just once. Quickly. Enough to make him stare at me in stunned silence.

I pulled back and, because my brain had apparently decided to abandon me entirely, said, “Yummy.”

Renjun’s face went blank. Then he made a disgusted noise. “You’re disgusting.”

I laughed, because I couldn’t help it. “You say that like you didn’t let me do it.”

“I did not let you do anything.”

“You didn’t stop me.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It is a little bit the same thing.”

He glared at me again, but I could see the way his ears had gone faintly pink. It made something warm and stupid bloom in my chest. I was still smiling when the shouting started outside.

At first it was just noise through the walls. A rough voice. Then another. Then the unmistakable sound of boots on the stairwell.

Renjun’s whole body changed.

He went still in that way vampires sometimes did when fear hit them too fast to process. His hand tightened around the blood bag. His eyes flicked toward the door, then the window, then back to me.

I listened. My hearing was better than most. Better than human, obviously, but also better than I liked sometimes. Right now it was a curse, because I could make out the low, clipped voices in the hall below us.

Not random strangers. Not neighbors. People with purpose.

I heard one of them say something about a report. Another mention the building. Another say the word illegal.

My stomach dropped. The law had changed recently. More openly cruel than before. Less pretending. Less hiding behind polite language. If someone suspected an illegal species was in a building, they could come in.

Search. Question. Detain.

And if they found us- 

I didn’t let myself finish the thought.

“We need to go,” I said.

Renjun’s eyes widened. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“This apartment is supposed to be safe.”

“It’s an emergency stop, not a safe house.”

The shouting outside got louder. I moved fast, grabbing my jacket from the chair and shoving the remaining blood bags into the inner pocket. Renjun was already looking toward the window, his breathing shallow.

He was scared.

I hated that. I hated it so much it made my hands shake with the urge to do something, anything, to make it stop.

“Look at me,” I said. He did. 

I kept my voice low and steady. “We’re leaving through the window. Can you do that?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He nodded, but I could see the fear in the set of his shoulders. Of course I could. He had only been a vampire for two years. Two years to learn how to survive as something the world had decided was illegal. Two years to learn how to hide the most obvious parts of himself. Two years to become careful in ways he had never needed to be before.

I had spent a century learning how to disappear. He had not.

I opened the window. Cold air rushed in. The voices in the hall were closer now.

“Go,” I said.

Renjun climbed first, hands shaking as he reached for the pipe outside the building. I followed him out, one hand on the frame, the other ready to catch him if he slipped.

Below us, the street was dark and wet from earlier rain. The city lights blurred in the glass. Somewhere far away, a siren wailed and then faded.

Then the apartment door opened. I heard it clearly. The sound snapped through me like a warning bell. 

I froze and signaled to Renjun to stop moving. He did, instantly, his body pressed tight against the wall. The fear in him was almost tangible now. I hated that too.

Not because he was weak. Never that. Because he was trying so hard to be brave and the world kept making him prove it.

I moved upward, careful and silent, until I was above him on the narrow ledge. Then I lowered myself just enough to hover close, my body shielding his from the open air.

Vampires could do that sometimes - steady themselves in the presence of someone familiar, someone whose scent they knew. It wasn’t magic exactly. More like instinct. Comfort. A reminder that you were not alone.

I smelled like blood and my cats, mostly. Renjun had once told me that was weirdly comforting, which I had pretended not to treasure. Now I let that scent settle around him. His shaking eased a little.

“Good,” I whispered. “You’re okay.”

He nodded once.

I listened again. The footsteps in the apartment moved slowly, then paused near the window. 

Too close. Too close.

I made a decision before fear could stop me.

“Renjun,” I breathed.

He looked up. I grabbed him. Then I threw him. Not down. Not far.

Just across the narrow gap to the neighboring window, where I had seen a light on earlier. He landed awkwardly but safely, catching the sill with both hands. I followed immediately, pushing off the ledge and slipping through after him.

We tumbled into a bathroom. For one horrible second I thought we had landed in another trap. Then I saw the bathtub. And the two men inside it.

One had black hair and fluffy puppy-like ears that twitched in alarm. The other had blond hair and blue eyes and the kind of expression that suggested we had interrupted something very private.

Their lips were swollen. Their faces were red. It took me a second to understand what I was looking at. Then it hit me.

Oh.

Oh.

They had been kissing.

Renjun was beside me, trembling again, and I immediately looked at him to make sure he was okay. He was, technically, but only just. His eyes were wide, his hands clenched at his sides.

The blond man lifted one finger to his lips.

Silence.

The black-haired one buried his face in the crook of the blond man’s neck, ears flattening in embarrassment.

I sat there, frozen, while my brain tried to catch up with my body. Then the blond man spoke.

“They’re gone,” he said calmly.

I blinked. “You know that?”

He nodded once. “I know.”

I stared at him.

He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just been caught in a bathtub with his boyfriend while two terrified vampires fell through the bathroom window.

“You should go outside the bathroom,” he added. “Jeno is shy. We can talk when we’re dry.”

The black-haired one made a small offended noise into his neck. The blond man smiled fondly.

I glanced at Renjun, who still looked like he might faint.

“Are you okay?” I asked him quietly.

He didn’t answer. Then, suddenly, he crouched forward and hugged me. Hard. His arms wrapped around my middle, his face pressed into my shoulder, and then he started crying. I went completely still. For one terrible second I thought I had done something wrong. That I had scared him more. That I had made everything worse.

Then I felt the way he was shaking, the way he clung to me like he had been holding himself together by force alone for too long. My arms came up around him automatically.

“Hey,” I murmured, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He made a broken sound against my shirt. I held him tighter.

The blond man in the bathtub cleared his throat politely, as if trying not to intrude on a moment that was clearly not his business. “I’m Chenle,” he said. “This is Jeno.”

Jeno lifted one hand in a tiny wave without looking up.

I nodded. “Jaemin.”

Renjun was still crying softly into my shoulder, and I had no idea what to do except keep holding him. So I did.

After a while, when I was focused on Renjun, Chenle and Jeno got out of the bathtub and disappeared into the bedroom to put on clothes. By the time they came back, they looked much more like people who had not been caught mid-kiss in a bathroom by two illegal species.

Chenle wore a loose sweater and sweatpants, his blond hair still damp. Jeno had on a dark t-shirt and shorts, his ears twitching whenever Chenle got too close, which was often. 

Chenle introduced himself properly again, then asked if we wanted dinner. 

I should have said no. I should have thanked them and left.

Instead I looked at Renjun, who was still pale and shaken, and I heard myself say yes.

Jeno cooked while Chenle set the table, and somehow the whole apartment began to feel less like a stranger’s place and more like a temporary shelter. Warm light. Soft voices. The smell of food. The kind of ordinary domesticity that made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t name.

When we sat down, the conversation came slowly at first.

Jeno was a werewolf, which explained the ears and the way he moved with quiet, coiled strength. Chenle was human. They were together, openly affectionate in a way that made me both envious and comforted.

Jeno was technically semi-illegal, since werewolves were only fully legal if they had an owner or were employed by government forces. The law was absurd. Everyone knew it. But Jeno seemed to have made peace with existing in the cracks of it.

Chenle, meanwhile, had the kind of calm confidence that made people trust him before they knew why. 

I explained what had happened. The apartment. The shouting. The new law. The fear of being found.

Chenle listened without interrupting, his expression growing more serious with every sentence. When I finished, he nodded once. “You can stay here tonight.”

I blinked. “You don’t even know us.”

Chenle shrugged. “You look exhausted. Also, Renjun looks like he might cry again if I say no.”

Renjun, who had been quietly picking at the edge of his sleeve, muttered, “I heard that.”

Chenle smiled. “Good.”

Jeno leaned into Chenle’s side so naturally it looked like breathing. He was broad-shouldered and strong, but beside Chenle he seemed almost shy, almost soft. It was a strange and lovely contrast.

Renjun eventually told them how he had become a vampire. He kept it brief at first, but Chenle and Jeno listened so carefully that the words kept coming. The wrong magic pot. Haechan’s witch aunt. The shock. The fear. The way his life had split into before and after in a single stupid accident.

When he said, “If not for Jaemin, I would probably be dead by now,” I felt my entire face go hot. I looked down at my bloody plate.

Chenle’s gaze flicked to me, then away, as if he understood immediately that this was not a moment to tease. Renjun, however, kept talking.

He said I had helped him. That I had stayed. That I had made the transition less terrifying.

I wanted to disappear into the floor. Instead I sat there, quietly stunned by the warmth blooming in my chest.

Maybe there was a chance. Maybe not a big one. Maybe not even a sensible one. But maybe Renjun saw me as more than the awkward vampire who opened his blood bags and got him out of dangerous buildings.

Maybe.

Dinner stretched into conversation.

We talked about the law, about hiding, about the ridiculousness of a world that could look at someone like Jeno and decide he needed permission to exist. Chenle was thoughtful and angry in equal measure. Jeno was quieter, but when he spoke it was with a dry humor that made Renjun smile for the first time that night.

And when Renjun smiled, really smiled, I felt something in me settle. 

After a while Chenle offered us the couch. We accepted.

The apartment was small but comfortable, and by the time the lights were off and the city had gone quiet outside the windows, I thought I was alone.

Renjun was asleep on the couch behind me, or so I assumed. He slept more than I did these days, especially at night, when his body seemed to be shifting in ways neither of us fully understood yet. Sometimes he was more vampire than human. Sometimes he was restless. Sometimes he woke hungry and angry and confused.

Tonight, I thought he was out.

I stood by the window and looked at the moon. It hung over the city like a pale coin, distant and indifferent. I hummed softly to myself, some old tune I couldn’t even remember learning. My reflection in the glass looked tired. Older than I felt. Younger than I had any right to be after a century of surviving.

I wondered, not for the first time, what kind of life I could build if I stopped moving from place to place. 

A home. A real one. Somewhere safe. Somewhere with my cats, maybe. Somewhere with a kitchen that wasn’t temporary. Somewhere where I could stop listening for footsteps in the hall every time someone raised their voice. Somewhere like Chenle and Jeno had, even if only for one night.

I heard a small sound behind me. I turned.

Renjun was standing there, wrapped in a blanket, hair messy from sleep, eyes dimmer than usual but still red in the moonlight.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked softly.

He shrugged. “One of those nights.”

I nodded. “More vampire than human?”

He gave me a tired look. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry.”

He came closer, and I noticed he was still holding himself carefully, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to take up space.

I hated that.

I reached into my jacket and pulled out one of the emergency blood bags.

“Want this?”

He looked at it, then shook his head. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“We don’t know if we’ll need to stop somewhere else.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Then we save it.”

I smiled a little. “You’re practical.”

“I’m hungry, not stupid.”

That made me laugh quietly.

We stood together in silence for a while, looking out at the city. Then Renjun said, very suddenly, “This law is ridiculous.”

I glanced at him. “Yes.”

“It’s cruel.”

“Yes.”

“It makes no sense.”

“I know.”

He was quiet for a moment, and I thought that was the end of it. Then he turned to me, eyes bright with something fierce and wounded.

“You never told me how hard it was for you.”

I blinked. “What?”

He frowned. “You never said anything. Not really. You always act like everything is fine.”

I stared at him, startled by the heat in his voice. “I didn’t want to burden you,” I said carefully.

Renjun looked offended on my behalf, which was somehow even more confusing. “Burden me?”

“You had enough to deal with.”

“So did you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

He stepped closer, his blanket slipping a little from one shoulder. “I always knew you were private,” he said, voice softer now but no less intense. “But you shouldn’t have been alone in it.”

My throat tightened. I looked away first.

“I thought we weren’t that close,” I admitted.

Renjun stared at me like I had just said the sky was green. “What?”

“I mean-” I rubbed the back of my neck. “We were friendly. But I didn’t want to assume. You had your own life. Your own people. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

His expression changed, anger giving way to disbelief.

“We were close,” he said.

I blinked.

He looked genuinely upset now. “We were. I just didn’t want to bother you because I thought you wanted to keep to yourself.”

I stared at him. Then, very quietly, “I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

That seemed to stop him.

I swallowed. “I thought you were being polite. I thought maybe you didn’t want me around too much.”

Renjun’s face softened in a way that made my chest ache.

“You idiot,” he said, but there was no real bite in it.

I let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Probably.”

He shook his head, then looked down at his hands. “It hurts,” he said quietly. “Seeing how much vampires suffer. It’s not just about me. It’s about you too. About all of you. And you just… carry it.”

I didn’t know what to do with that. No one had ever said it to me like that before. Not with anger. Not with pity. With care. My eyes burned unexpectedly.

Renjun’s own expression crumpled a little, as if he had only just realized how much he meant what he was saying. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly, though my voice came out rough. “You just-” I exhaled. “You touched something.”

He looked at me, worried now.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I reached out and cupped his cheek. He went still.

“You’re kind,” I said softly. “You know that?”

His eyes widened a little. I smiled, small and shaky. “And I’m really touched.”

Renjun looked like he didn’t know what to do with that, which was adorable and unfair. Then, in the quiet that followed, he asked the question that changed everything.

“Do you think,” he said slowly, “we could settle down like them one day?”

I stared at him.

He looked embarrassed immediately, as if he regretted speaking the thought aloud, but he didn’t take it back.

“I mean,” he rushed on, “not exactly like them. Just, something like that. A place. A home.”

My heart was beating so hard I could hear it. He looked up at me, and there was something vulnerable in his face that made me want to hold him forever.

“I want that,” he said. “With someone.”

I understood him instantly.

Not just a home. Not just safety. A life shared. A future. Together.

My face felt warm, though vampires weren’t supposed to blush the way humans did. I was pretty sure I was failing at hiding it. 

Renjun noticed anyway. He smiled, tiny and shy and hopeful.

I took a breath. Then I said the simplest thing I could manage.

“I like you.”

His eyes widened. Then he laughed under his breath, soft and disbelieving. “I know.”

I blinked. “You do?”

“Yes,” he said, and now he was smiling properly, the kind of smile that made him look younger and brighter and unbearably dear. “I like you too.”

I stared at him. He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the faint sweetness of blood and soap and the blanket he had wrapped around himself.

“I want to take care of you too,” he said quietly. “Not just have you take care of me.”

Something in me went very still. Then very warm. Then very peaceful. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Renjun looked at me with that same soft, stubborn sincerity he had always had, the one that had made me admire him long before I had any right to hope for more.

And in that moment, standing by the window with the moon outside and the city below and the future still uncertain, I believed him. I believed that maybe we could build something.

Maybe not tonight. Maybe not easily. But someday.

A place like Chenle and Jeno’s. A place where we could stop running. A place where Renjun could be more vampire than human without fear. A place where I could stop pretending I didn’t want him. A place where he could stay.

I smiled at him, small and real.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” I said.

Renjun’s expression softened so completely it almost hurt to look at him.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He leaned in, resting his forehead lightly against my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around him without hesitation. Outside, the moon kept shining.

Inside, for the first time in a very long time, I felt like I might actually have a future.