Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Jungkook feels when he wakes up is, well, nothing. 

There’s no groggy sleepiness pulling at his consciousness, there’s no boneless feeling of utter comfort he gets in the mornings when he has to wake up but doesn’t want to. 

He just feels, well, nothing. 

Besides a strange dry parch in the back of his throat that burns like the scorching sands of a desert. But he gets like that some mornings, especially if he didn’t drink much water the night before. 

With a grumble, he rolls onto his side and stretches like a cat, loosening all his muscles after a nice dreamless sleep, a small smile pulling at his lips. He honestly can’t remember the last time he slept so soundly. 

Sighing softly, he gently works on opening his eyes, bracing himself for the harsh light of the morning sun that slithers through the cracks in his blinds. If Jungkook could have it his way, he’d sleep with his blinds wide open so that he could wake up bathed in warm, safe sunlight every morning.

But he doesn’t, because—

Wait, why does he sleep with his blinds closed again? There’s a very important reason as to why, but he can’t for the life of him think of it. It’s like the answer is on the tip of his tongue but he can never quite grasp at it.

Furrowing his brows, good mood somewhat ruined by his terrible memory, he blinks his eyes open to the morning, only to find that it’s still dark. 

Very dark.

Too dark. 

The yelp that tumbles its way out of his lips echoes so loudly in his ears it hurts . He whimpers, scrambling to sit up right, hands clasped over his sensitive ears. His breath falls heavily like a panic attack is about to explode within him. Yet with the anxiety creeping over his skin like the clawing of demon nails, his head remains clear. 

There’s no tell-tale dizziness, there’s no exhaustion, nor is there tightness in his chest.

But he can still feel the anxiety poison through his veins, freezing like ice.

He can’t feel his heartbeat, his skin feels cold, hard and smooth like the surface of a diamond; so terrifyingly alien that his eyes have blown to the size of saucers. 

His vision is so clear too, like he’s slipped on the world’s best pair of glasses and is finally seeing for the first time in all his 21 years. Even in the frightening darkness of the room he’s in, he can still see as clearly as if it were day. 

The room is small, pretty much empty, with nothing more than a dresser on the other side of the room from the single bed he’s sat on and a bedside table with nothing on it. There’s no light fixture in the ceiling, there’s no bedside lamp and the more he sees in the darkness the more fear crawls uncomfortably at the back of his neck. 

He’s shivering, almost like he’s cold, but it feels more like restless energy that he needs to get rid of. He wants to run, wants to scream, wants to move, but he’s utterly frozen in distress on the soft bed beneath him. 

Why can’t he remember what happened? He’s pretty certain this isn’t his room, there’s no window, there’s no way sunlight can come inside, and he needs the sun, he needs the light, the darkness is petrifying.

Rattling sounds fill his ears, the jostling of a door knob probably. The sound easily slips through the gaps in his fingers and rings so loudly in his ears it’s as though it’s being blasted through concert speakers around the room.

His head hurts, it pulsates and makes that scratching dryness in the back of his throat hurt even more and suddenly his finger nails are clawing at his neck. They’re so sharp, he can feel them trying to pierce through his skin, usually he keeps them trimmed because—

Because…

Oh god why doesn’t he remember? 

The door flies open, slamming against the wall with  a noise akin to an atom bomb exploding and Jungkook’s voice rings out in a shrill scream of utter terror. Someone stumbles through the doorway, tumbling over their own feet and Jungkook slams his eyes shut, voice echoing painfully through his skull, finger nails digging harshly into the skin of his neck. 

What the fuck should he do? What the fuck is happening? Where the fuck is he?

“Hey, hey,” he hears, a voice smooth and deep, pitched at such a calming tone that Jungkook feels his muscles relax against his will. Fingers wrap delicately around his wrists, pulling his hands from his neck and his scream warbles out on a whimper, heat scorching the back of his throat. 

“Look at me,” the voice asks, soft soft soft. 

Jungkook shakes his head, curling further in on himself, chin against his chest as he tries to make himself as small as possible. Maybe that way he can just, shrink himself out of existence. 

A chuckle, smooth like honey and rich like chocolate. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” there’s a promise laced in the man’s words that Jungkook craves to believe.

But again, he shakes his head vehemently. “It’s dark ,” he mumbles, his voice is still loud, bouncing through his ears enough to make him flinch “Too dark,” he whispers in a pitch that he tries so hard to make barely audible, but comes out as clear as a bell. “Loud, hurts .” 

There’s a gentle kind of cooing noise that has Jungkook whimpering again. “I know, I know,” the voice placates, there’s a dipping on the bed, a body hovering over him. “But look at me, I can make it better.” 

Jungkook’s unsure what possesses him to actually listen to this stranger’s command, perhaps it’s because he’s for some reason so very easily persuaded by the gentle lull of the deep voice, Jungkook eventually opens his eyes. 

A gasp pushes harshly through his lips, stings his lungs and burns that dryness at the back of his throat. His sight is met by a pair of eyes, blood red eyes , that seem to almost glow in the dark, or maybe that’s just the weird new high definition of his eyes playing tricks on his mind. 

Dimpled smile, thick lips pulled into a thin, gentle line, a softness around the red almond shaped eyes that screams safety, calmness. “That’s it,” the man says, encouragingly. “I’m not going to hurt you, no one’s going to hurt you.”

Something in the back of Jungkook’s mind disagrees, tells him that he has so much to fear and fear means something is going to hurt him eventually. But then his brain unhelpfully reminds him that he’s still sat in the dark and he whimpers, the noise sharp in his ears. 

There’s concern across the dimple faced stranger. “What’s wrong?” 

“Dark,” Jungkook supplies, his bottom lip quivers, his eyes snap shut again. “Dark, loud, what—”

With gentle hushing, the man slips himself onto the bed, pulling Jungkook into his lap and pushing his head into the crook of his neck. God , the scent that assaults Jungkook is so mouth-wateringly wonderful, like sea salt and petrichor, all things green and blue and natural and earthy and amazing . 

He takes a deep breath, nose rubbing against oddly smooth, hard skin, tickling against the stranger’s cold neck as if high on the scent and wanting to drown himself in it. There are long fingers carding through his hair, sharp finger nails scratching lightly at his scalp and Jungkook feels boneless, breath falling even. 

“Better?” the stranger asks, Jungkook can feel that deep smooth baritone echo against the side of his face. 

He nuzzles deeper against the cold skin, taking another sweet inhale of sea salt and petrichor that dilates his pupils in pure bliss. “You smell so good ,” Jungkook comments, his voice warbled with a whimper that he just can’t seem to shake. 

The man chuckles, it reverberates in his chest again. “I’ve never sired anyone before, but I’ve heard the sires’ scent is like a calming scent of home to the sired.” 

“Sure,” Jungkook agrees, not really understanding the majority of that sentence. But if it means he gets to stay cuddled up in this man’s arms feeling as though he’s high on heroin, then he’ll agree with anything. 

For a while, it’s quiet.

But it’s not exactly silent . 

Jungkook’s ears are acutely aware of the sound of his own breathing, of a drip drip drip that sounds oddly like water from a leaky tap and the soft mumbling of voices that must be coming from just beyond the door. 

The fingers in his hair never cease scratching at his scalp, the man’s other hand tickles gently up and down his spine and Jungkook feels like he’s just had a two hour massage that’s left him boneless. 

“I’m sure you have many questions,” the man says. His voice is so nice to hear, almost like a light in the darkness and Jungkook’s fingers claw into the fabric of the man’s shirt as if trying to hold the man’s warm voice in his hands. 

Questions .

Slowly, Jungkook opens his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the haze that’s settled over his brain from being cocooned in comfort. But the moment his vision is greeted with the terrifying darkness once again, his body folds in on itself and the gentle grip around him tightens protectively. 

“Hey, now, hey,” the man hushes. “You’re safe, it’s okay.”

Jungkook shakes his head, hiding his face right in the broad, hard chest of the man he’s currently sat in the lap of. “ Dark ,” he emphasises. 

It takes a moment for the man to reply, and his tone is highly confused. “Well of course,” he says. “It’s early evening.” 

Jungkook feels the ghosts of tears at the corners of his eyes, but no tears tumble down his cheeks and it leaves an empty hollowness in his chest. “I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t like the dark?” the man repeats, tender.  

Swallowing down a large lump of fear lodged at the back of his throat, Jungkook nods. Long arms cross over the small of his back, pulling Jungkook tighter into the chest he’s currently hiding in. He nuzzles against the powdery soft fabric of the man’s top, burrowing himself a home. 

“Jimin,” the man says, deep voice nothing but a whisper into the room.

Jimin?

Barely a second passes after the man calls for this, Jimin, when the door to the room is opened again. Jungkook doesn’t remember it ever being closed, but the squeaking of old hinges sends shivers down his spine like nails on a chalkboard. 

“I’ll get Yoongi to fix that,” a new voice explains, higher than the stranger Jungkook’s sat in the lap of. It’s sweet like honey and sugary goodness, kind and melodic. 

“Can you fetch a lamp?” the man asks quietly. 

There’s a pregnant pause and Jungkook kind of wishes he could see what’s going on over his head. But then he’d have to open his eyes to darkness and move away from the calming scent of nature that’s encased around this strange man like the best perfume in the world. 

There’s a thoughtful hum. “A lamp?” the second stranger— Jimin, repeats. There’s a twinkle of humour in his voice. “What makes you think we have one of those?” 

“Jin-hyung likes to collect human antiques and I’m certain a good half a dozen of his 1970s lava lamps still work.” 

Human antiques? 

Lava lamps?

Another hum. “Oh.” Jimin replies, tone barely amused. “Anything else?” 

“Food,” the man adds. “And maybe hurry?”

“Bossy,” Jimin giggles, gumdrop giggles that have Jungkook sighing out in contentment. The chide isn’t followed by an affirmative answer to the first man’s request, but the door closes with another shrill squeak of hinges and a gentle snap. 

The arms around him tighten, he’s pretty certain there are lips kissing tenderly into the crown of his head. “Just a few more moments, lamb,” the man whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

“W-why are you apologising?” Jungkook whispers into the fabric of the shirt against his face. Fingers tightening in their grip on the material too. 

A sigh. “You deserve to be apologised to, after everything that’s happened.” 

Wait, what?

“And what, exactly, happened?” Jungkook asks, his mouth feels funny. That burning in the back of his throat is now stinging his mouth and there’s so much saliva, he’s struggling to keep it from dribbling past his lips. 

“You—” the man begins, something like surprise mixed in his calm voice. “You don’t remember?” 

His tongue feels too big for his mouth, his teeth ache like he was socked in the jaw. He smacks his chops, licks his lips, his canines cut into his bottom lip and they’re so sharp , he feels blood in his mouth. “ Ouch, ” he whines. 

“Lamb?” the man calls, pulling Jungkook gently away from his chest. “What happened?” 

Jungkook still refuses to open his eyes, but he can taste the metallic sting of blood on his tongue and holy shit— did it always taste this good ? 

“I bit my lip.”

The man titters, cooing like a concerned caregiver and his thumb rests gently against Jungkook’s chin, pulling his mouth open. “That can happen, you’re not used to your fangs yet.” 

Fangs? 

The door squeaks open, Jungkook shudders wanting to burrow himself against the man’s chest again, but the grip on his chin is oddly strong keeping him in place. 

“For a man obsessed with Marie Kondo,” Jimin begins as a way of announcing his presence. “Jinnie-hyung sure does hoard a lot of shit.”  

The man Jungkook is sat on hums in agreement. “Can you plug it in by the bed?” 

“Is there a socket there?” Jimin asks. “Does the electricity even reach this far away from the den?” 

“Should,” the stranger says. Jungkook can feel a shrug to his shoulders, though, that seems somewhat unsure of his own words. 

But before Jungkook can give his two cents to the conversation that he’s utterly confused by, he feels a tongue lick across his bottom lip, and he shudders whole body. “Sorry about that,” the man whispers, lips ghosting so close to Jungkook’s own. 

Jungkook is suddenly very glad that his eyes are jammed tight shut, because he thinks he might just faint in sheer mortification. 

Another small lick flickers across his bottom lip. “Your cut is gone now.” 

Jungkook licks hesitantly across his own lip, sure enough there’s no more blood and he’s not sure whether he’s happy or sad by that. “B-but,” he stammers. “How?” The blood had tasted oddly nice, but then again, his stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of the scarlet red liquid. 

A flash of soft light flickers across his closed eyelids, warmth and all things good, and Jungkook’s face turns towards the brightness like a moth to the flame. 

“There,” Jimin says, and there’s a distinctive sound of hands slapping against each other as though getting rid of dust. It’s soft, though, almost muted in Jungkook’s ears and he’s thankful for it. “God, it’s so weird having something so bright in here.” 

Carefully, like a deer taking a step out onto the first snowfall of winter, Jungkook opens his eyes and sighs when his vision meets a yellow and orange lava lamp, still too cold for the liquid to make weird bubble shapes just yet. 

“Better?” the man asks, and his arms are now woven back around the small of Jungkook’s back. 

Jungkook nods, slowly. “A little.” 

“Not a fan of the dark.” Jimin muses, rather than asks.

Side eyeing the man Jungkook knows nothing of other than his name, he’s met with all things soft and round and cute . Honey blonde hair falling into eye smiles of the same startling blood red as the first man’s, plush peachy lips pulled into a pretty, soft smile and cheeks as squishable looking as mochi. 

His clothes are big, a black and white striped shirt that falls low on his shoulder and reveals his clavicle, sleeves hanging over his hands, hem falling to his mid-thigh—thick and muscular and very much lacking pants … 

He turns his gaze back to the man he’s sitting in the lap of. He’s met with pretty lavender hair, not as long as Jimin’s, buzzed a little short around his ears and nape of his neck and a grey sweater a little big on the man’s lanky frame. The circular collar is pulled down around his jugular from where Jungkook had been buried into his chest not too long ago.  

He swallows, feeling the tell-tale signs of mild embarrassment over being sat on such a handsome creature’s lap, but his face remains cool and blushless. 

The burning in the back of his throat kicks up a few gears, however, and the whine that escapes his lips is high pitched and painful. His nails dig at his throat again, unable to break the skin despite how hard he scratches.

The man grabs his wrists and pulls them away. “Don’t do that, lamb,” he admonishes.

Jungkook can feel drool sliding out the corners of his lips, desperate for something. Something particular but he can’t quite explain what. “Hurts,” he snivels. 

There’s a gentle pat to his head, the touch makes him jump and his eyes snap towards Jimin, standing much closer than he was moments ago. “You’re hungry,” he explains. 

“Hungry?” Jungkook repeats, but his stomach feels pretty full now that he thinks about it. 

The first man chuckles, and the sound snaps Jungkook’s attention back to him, feeling very much like a newborn baby unused to the sounds of life. “Perhaps, thirsty , would be a better word of choice.”

Jungkook hums his agreement. “Water would be good,” he stutters, dribbling down his chin, his canines scrape painfully against his bottom lip again, and the tang of metallic blood coats his tongue.  

It tastes good, but there’s a squeamish sickness in his stomach at the thought of blood .

Jimin giggles, fondly. “Messy baby,” he teases, using his long sleeve to wipe up the drool and blood coating Jungkook’s lips. 

“You were just as bad,” the man chuckles, reaching down to lick across Jungkook’s lip once more and close the wound. The full body shudder that runs down Jungkook’s spine is delicious. “He’s just getting used to his fangs that’s all.” 

There’s that word again. “Fangs?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down the drool before he speaks, unable to look the handsome stranger in the eye. 

“These,” he explains, the tip of his pointer finger tapping lightly against Jungkook’s canines, mouth held open by a thumb at his chin again. “They’re very sharp, it takes some getting used to.”

“Apparently,” Jimin begins, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. “It took Tae a good century to get used to his fangs.” There’s humour crinkling his eyes, laughter in his tone and his words are meant to be comforting in some weird way.

Jungkook just doesn’t seem to find this situation comforting in the slightest, however. 

He runs his tongue along his canines, almost licking the pad of the stranger’s finger but the digit retreats from his mouth swiftly. Sure enough, he finds long pointed fangs, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.   

His eyes blow wide, his fingers shake from where they’re still clung to the man’s grey top. “Wh-what is—”

Matching concern mar the two men’s faces, eyebrows knitting together and mouths drooping at the corners. “Do you not remember?” the deep pitch of the man Jungkook is sitting on asks. 

Jimin shoots confused looks between Jungkook and the man, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

Jungkook feels small, like the world is too big and too heavy for him and it’s crushing him. “Remember what?” 

“Oh, shit,” Jimin mutters, standing to his feet and taking a cautious step away from the bed.

Jungkook’s anxiety flares, eyes snapping between Jimin and the pretty stranger. “What do you mean ‘oh shit’?” he asks, a little hysterically. “What’s going on?” 

Hands cup Jungkook’s face, turning his attention back to the man he’s currently sat on, eyes locked with those blood red irises, hypnotizing and terrifying. “Lamb,” the man begins, voice as gentle and soft as a lullaby. “You were turned.” 

“Turned?” 

“Into a vampire.” There’s no awkwardness, no subtle ticks of humour across the pretty dimpled face that would make Jungkook think this is all some kind of joke. “By me, I’m your sire.”

Jungkook feels—well he doesn’t really know what he feels. There’s white noise in his ears and fog in his brain. “Right.” 

“He doesn’t believe you,” Jimin adds, a little unhelpfully. 

The man cupping Jungkook’s face seems to think so too, shooting Jimin a warning look before softening his gaze back on Jungkook again. 

He smiles, small quirks of his lips before speaking once more. “I know it’s very hard to believe, but it’s very true.”

“V-vampire,” Jungkook stammers. “Me? And You?” 

“Me too!” Jimin sing songs, Jungkook ignores him. 

“How?” 

The man sighs, there’s a solemn look to his features, a gentle sadness as he pushes Jungkook’s bangs from his forehead. “Maybe it would be better if you drank something first? You look a little peaky.” 

Before Jungkook can voice his disagreement, wanting to know what the hell is going on more than wanting to drink water, Jimin’s bell like twinkle of a laugh catches Jungkook’s attention and his head snaps towards the small, soft man. 

“I wasn’t sure on what your preference is,” he begins, fingers rummaging through a cooler on the floor by the bed that Jungkook hadn’t noticed before. “So, I brought O-neg cos universal donor and all that good stuff.” 

Now , Jungkook feels dizzy, because it sounds like Jimin is talking about blood, and blood is something Jungkook just knows he’s not going to be good with. He’s feeling terribly squeamish all of a sudden, was he always like this? The more he thinks about it, the less he remembers and hysteria creeps through his mind like a poisonous fog. 

His fears are realised, however, when Jimin pulls a blood bag from the cooler triumphantly and thrusts it towards Jungkook with a merry smile on his lips. “Here, drink up.” 

“Fuck,” Jungkook just manages to squeak before he passes out. 

____________

The next time he comes around, his mouth is dry, and Jungkook is very aware of the sharp fangs that have embedded themselves snuggly into his bottom lip. He stirs, feeling light behind his eyelids which calms him enough to open his eyes. 

“Try not to move too much,” the stranger’s voice orders gently. “You’re a little anaemic.” 

With a groan, Jungkook dislodges his fangs from his lip with a pathetic whine of pain. “Please don’t make me drink blood,” he begs in a timid voice, but tastes the metallic tang on his lips anyway. 

His head is tilted from resting on its side, to resting on its back so that he’s looking right up into the glowing red of the stranger’s eyes. His head is pillowed in the man’s lap, the two of them still resting on the bed. 

“Are you scared of blood too?” the man asks, somewhat amused but more so melancholy than anything. 

Jungkook blinks, wishing more than anything he could look away from the heavy red gaze he’s being pinned under. “I’m not sure. But right now, I know it makes me feel sick.” 

Fingers dance feather light against his forehead, pushing strands of hair away from his face. “A little delicate, are we lamb?” 

With a scrunch of his nose Jungkook makes a noise of disgust at the back of his throat. “I’m not delicate.” 

“Jimin fetched more lamps for you, is the room a more comfortable light?” the man asks, adoring smirk on his face, as though placating a small child. 

But instead of pouting over being treated patronisingly, Jungkook turns his attention to the warming dull yellow of the room. His eyes trail around the ten or so lava lamps scattered across the deep red carpet, some of greens and purples, some of reds and pinks, some of multiple hues of blue with silver glitter fluttering around the globs of liquid. 

Although it looks like a hippy den from the 60s that’s just missing some bean bag chairs and the strong scent of weed in the air, he has to admit the warming glow of comforting light makes him feel incredibly safe. 

Which, he’s not sure is a good thing or a bad thing considering he’s been informed of the fact that he’s in a den of vampires. He feels somewhat numbed to his fight or flight instincts right now, the smell of soft sea salt and petrichor and the gentle light are lulling him into a false sense of security. 

His head is tilted back to look at the man, whose face is far closer than Jungkook remembers it being and his breath hitches in his throat. The man’s lips press tenderly against Jungkook’s in a brief, chaste kiss, tongue lapping the blood up on his bottom lip. 

As the stranger pulls back, eyes burning into Jungkook, he feels as though he should be flushing profusely, yet his cheeks still feel cool. “Silly lamb,” the man whispers, voice full of peculiar affection. “Try to be a little conscious of your fangs, you may not bruise and cut as easily as before, but your fangs were made to piece through anything.” 

Jungkook has to swallow hard past the lump in his throat. “Who are you?” he asks, timidly, eyelashes fluttering at the close proximity. 

A tender kiss is place to his forehead that Jungkook can’t help but lean into, loving the feeling of being loved , almost as though he was starved of affection his whole life.

Was he? He furrows his brows; he really can’t remember. 

“My name is Namjoon,” the man introduces, finally, fingertips gently massaging the worry lines away from between Jungkook’s eyebrows. “You’re a little tense, lamb.”

“Jungkook,” he corrects, the innocent little nickname doing things to his heart. Or at least, it feels like it is, but Jungkook has come to notice that there’s no heartbeat in his chest, no pulsing of blood through his veins. 

It’s unnerving. 

Namjoon hums, something glittering in his blood red eyes. “Tell me, Jungkook-ah,” he begins, the endearment used around his name makes Jungkook feel soft and squishy. “Do you like banana milk?” 

Does he? “I-I’m not sure.”

This answer worries Namjoon, marring his pretty face. “What do you mean? You don’t remember?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “No,” he begins. “I remember little things, like my name, my age, but I can’t remember where I live, my job, my family—” Fear flares across his chest, squeezing it tight. “Oh god, my family! If I’m dead, do they know ?” 

“There, now,” Namjoon hushes softly, fingertips tickling gently at his temples and making Jungkook’s eyelashes flutter. “We can worry about that later, for now, we need to feed you and make sure you’re okay.” 

At the thought of blood, Jungkook’s stomach flips. “No blood.” 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon placates, his face looks pained. “But you need blood, you’ll die without it.” Jungkook whimpers, squirming. Namjoon easily manhandles him into a seated position, still cuddled up in Namjoon’s lap, side resting against the vampire’s hard chest. 

Vampire .

God, Namjoon is a vampire, Jungkook is a vampire.

What the hell kind of fucked up fairy-tale has he fallen into?  

Something is pushed carefully into his hands and Jungkook looks down to find a little carton of banana milk. “Drink,” Namjoon orders.

But Jungkook’s face twists uncomfortably. “I—” 

Namjoon manoeuvres Jungkook’s hands towards his face, placing the edge of the straw against his lips. “Drink, lamb.” 

Resigned to his fate, feeling queasiness twist his stomach into knots, Jungkook takes a tentative sip. Blood coats across his tongue, cool and thick and it staunches the burning in the back of his throat when he swallows. 

Fuck it tastes so good .

He groans, sucking down the blood like a man parched and Namjoon has to swipe the carton away from his lips before Jungkook chokes down the liquid. “Slowly,” the elder chuckles. “You’ll get an upset stomach.” 

Jungkook nods, pulling the carton back towards his lips, eyes closing as he sucks down the blood, slower this time, savouring the taste on his tongue. 

“Good boy,” Namjoon praises, hands moving away from where they had been cupped over Jungkook’s own, in favour of wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist. “Now, do you remember your full name, Jungkook?” 

He nods, swallowing his mouthful of blood. “Jeon Jungkook, I’m 21.” 

With a thoughtful hum, Namjoon pecks a kiss to the crown of Jungkook’s head, like praising him for answering. “I’m certain we can find out who you are with this information, you didn’t have any identification on you when I found you.” 

Fear squeezes Jungkook’s chest again, heart practically folding in on itself. “ Found me ?” he whispers. 

The grip around him tightens. “Yes, I found you,” Namjoon explains. “Perhaps this maybe somewhat traumatic to relive, but I found you dying, Jungkook-ah, in the woods of the University campus.” 

Suddenly the blood isn’t as tasty as it originally was, and Jungkook’s hands fall to his lap, the carton of banana milk blood falling with him. “D-dying,” he repeats, his voice weak. 

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon sounds so pained. “I think, maybe, you came across some nomad vampires, they’re known to be incredibly vicious.” 

“S-so they drank my b-blood and then j-just left me to die?” Jungkook asks.

With a hum, Namjoon nods. “It’s barbaric, but it’s also the way our species can be, I’m sorry.” 

His hands shake around the banana milk blood, eyes glaring scornfully down at it. “It’s not your fault, I suppose.” 

“I was the one who turned you,” Namjoon explains further. “At the time, I did ask your consent, and you agreed, but now I wonder whether I have done the right thing.” Jungkook can feel Namjoon’s intense gaze on the side of his face. “You are so delicate.” 

Jungkook puffs his cheeks out, grip tightening on his banana milk blood. “I’m not delicate,” he reprimands again. “I’m pretty certain I have a gym membership, or did , I doubt I still have one if I’m dead.” 

“We prefer the term, living dead,” Namjoon chuckles. “We still exist, unlike the actual dead.”

Jungkook nods. “Makes sense,” he agrees. “But do you and the zombies fight over who gets to be referred to as the politically correct term of ‘living dead’?” 

“Zombie’s aren’t real, Kook-ah,” Namjoon chides teasingly.

With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook huffs and pulls his straw back to his lips, ignoring the red staining it. “Of course, how silly of me.” 

“Have you always been scared of the dark?” Namjoon asks, moving the conversation swiftly onwards. “And faint at the sight of blood?” 

Jungkook has to think about that for a moment. “Maybe? Possibly?” 

“What do you mean?” Namjoon is stroking his hands up and down Jungkook’s spine and it feels so good . 

He leans into the touch, squirming in Namjoon’s lap to get comfortable. “Well, when I woke up earlier I remember wishing I didn’t have to sleep with the blinds closed so there can be light in my room when I wake up. I have this niggling suspicion that I might have slept with the lights on b-before—” he swallows thickly.  “But I don’t know if my brain is just falsifying memories. But earlier, in the dark, that was incredibly terrifying, like if my heart was beating it would be fighting to escape my chest.”

Jungkook’s grip around the banana milk carton tightens. “And now that I think about it, even though it’s lighter in here, I still feel somewhat scared…”

“I see,” Namjoon comments dryly. “Do you think your fear has been heightened?” 

Jungkook taps the tip of his straw against his bottom lip in thought. “Yeah I suppose it could be,” he agrees. “It’s weird, I don’t like feeling so weak.” 

The arms surrounding him tighten, Namjoon’s nose nuzzles against the side of Jungkook’s face, tickling against the wisps of his chocolate brown hair every now and then. “I’m so, so sorry, Kook-ah,” Namjoon mutters, body rigid. 

Confusion and tenderness flare against each other across Jungkook’s chest. He pats carefully at Namjoon’s upper arm, placatingly. “It’s okay, it’s not like all this is your fault.” 

“You still deserve an apology,” Namjoon mumbles against his skin. “And even though it’s not from the people who did this to you, I hope my apology suffices. You never warranted this.” 

Jungkook isn’t sure what to say to that, his mind a little foggy, still slowly processing everything that’s happening to him.

So instead, he sips at his banana milk blood, and lets Namjoon cradle him gently against his chest.

Nothing else is said between them, a comfortable silence engulfing them as Jungkook drinks the blood empty, gurgling the dregs through his straw. The noise has Namjoon pulling away from him, taking the empty carton from Jungkook’s hand. 

“How do you feel?” he asks. “Better?” 

Jungkook isn’t sure whether he feels better when he wasn’t really feeling bad to begin with. The burning at the back of his throat is dulled, not gone, but not irritatingly in need of being quenched. “I think I feel, full?” Jungkook muses, tilting his head to one side. “And sleepy,” he always feels sleepy after he eats a big meal, though, that much he can remember. 

“Good,” Namjoon nods. “The time for sleeping comes later, there’s a few members in this nest and it would be good to meet them now, so you’re not startled by them later on.” 

Jungkook worries his bottom lip between his teeth, flinching when his fangs piece it. “More than just Jimin?” 

With an endeared chuckle, Namjoon’s fingers catch Jungkook’s chin and pull him in for another kiss. Even though Jungkook can see this one coming, he’s still not ready for it; eyes blown wide and startled squeak swallowed in the back of his throat. 

It’s quick, barely anything, the swipe of Namjoon’s tongue against his own bottom lip comes twice before he leans away. “Careful now,” he chides softly, before pulling out of Jungkook’s space completely, leaving nothing but the scent of the sea in his wake. “But yes, there are more than Jimin,” he explains. “They’re excited to meet you.” 

Swallowing thickly, Jungkook twists his fingers together nervously. “A-are they nice?” 

“I’d like to think so,” Namjoon muses. “Else I wouldn’t have settled with them.” 

Jungkook likes to think that Namjoon is the sweetest and softest vampire in the world, but he’s only met two, so his opinion isn’t very weighty in proof. But if Namjoon thinks the others in his, nest, are nice then Jungkook is very much inclined to believe him.   

He sighs, sagging against Namjoon’s chest. “Okay,” he agrees, and the next thing he knows Namjoon is standing by the bed, pulling Jungkook to his feet via a gentle tug at his hand. “Wait, wait!” Jungkook shrieks, pulling back against Namjoon’s strength. “We have to leave the room?” 

With a cock of his head, Namjoon nods. “Well, yes.” The tips of his lavender hair fall into his eyes. 

“They’re in the den.” 

Vehemently shaking his head, Jungkook worms his hand out of Namjoon’s and scoots his way closer to the lava lamp on his bedside table. He curls up small, hoping that the smaller he is the more likely the gods will take pity on him and let him vanish into thin air. 

Namjoon is back on the bed, hovering worriedly over him. “What’s the matter lamb?” 

Jungkook doesn’t tear  his eyes away from the lava lamp, watching the orange globs of goo rise and fall in the yellow liquid, calming, soothing. “Dark,” he mutters. 

It’s all the elder needs to hear to understand, pushing stray strands of Jungkook’s hair out of his eyes. “What if I brought them to you?” 

Thinking about it for just a moment, Jungkook sees nothing wrong with this plan and nods his consent. 

Namjoon chuckles, placing a kiss to the crown of Jungkook’s head. “I’ll return shortly,” he promises before swiftly slipping his way out the door.

The hinges don’t squeak painfully in Jungkook’s ears this time, it quietly opens and shuts with a soft thump . 

Jungkook feels calm looking at the lava lamp, but there’s a continuous edge of fear that’s dancing around him, as if at any moment something utterly terrifying is about to happen. Trepidation of the unknown has his hands shaking from where they’re wrapped around his shins, legs pulled tight against his chest. 

And through all his conflicting mess of fear and calm, he’s overwhelmed with exhaustion. He’s weak and wholly unlike himself. Maybe that’s because he’s a vampire now– a fucking vampire.  

Jesus . 

Though he doubts Jesus will save him now.

A shudder rattles its way down his spine and Jungkook instinctively huddles closer to the light. Why in the hell was he scared of the dark as a human? Something niggles in the back of his brain, telling him something trivial happened to him as a kid and the irrational fear just carried over with him into adulthood—but why has the fear amplified now that he’s the living dead.  

So many questions, so few answers. 

Jungkook feels nauseous.

Maybe this is all some strange dream? Maybe he’s high? 

He’s very accepting over the fact that he’s not human anymore, he thinks that if this were reality and not, in fact, a dream, then he would be freaking out to no ends. He buries his face under the high neck of his jumper and finds Namjoon’s lingering scent still clinging to the fabric.  

It’s like an aromatherapy candle, he can feel his muscles relax, his mind numbing, his worry depleting. God, that’s really not good. 

The door opens a few moments later, Jungkook’s eyes narrowing in on the figures that huddle in the dark doorway and a whimper flutters past his lips. Namjoon is back on the bed within a blink of an eye, cuddling Jungkook back up in his arms once more and hushing him gently. 

Jungkook is certain he was never this terrified of, well, everything, back when he was human. But the benefits of being so fragile are wonderful to say the least. Namjoon’s hugs are strong, warm, make him feel small and loved.

Wholly addicting.  

“Hey, Jungkookie,” Jimin greets, skipping into the room first and kneeling by the bed. Jungkook watches the inhuman smoothness of his movements as he glides to the bed, pretty twinkle in his eye as he smiles softly. “How do you feel? Did you drink?”

Jungkook nods once, twisting in Namjoon’s lap so his back is flush with the vampire’s chest. “Thank you, for the, eh, banana milk,” he says timidly. He’s not sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse that he can’t blush, but it’s incredibly weird feeling the tell-tale signs of embarrassment but not looking physically embarrassed. 

Jimin remains soft, reassuring. “You’re very welcome, I’m not a big fan of O-neg, it’s a little too generic, maybe next time we can try you with something else?” 

The thought of more blood, no matter how delicious his new vampire taste buds may have found it, makes his stomach churn. Perhaps there’s a look of disgust on his face, because a deep chuckle rings through his ears, almost as melodic as Jimin’s and Jungkook’s eyes flitter over to the sound. 

“Don’t mind Jiminie,” a voice as deep as the ocean says. The words come from a lanky boy in baggy mismatched clothes slumped over the slight shoulders of a guy considerably smaller than him. “He’s a bit of a snob when it comes to his meals,” the boy purrs. 

Jimin turns a loving yet irritated glare the boy’s way. “Tae-Tae, having a preference doesn’t make me a snob.” 

The small boy, with small almond eyes and raven black hair is dressed head to toe in black and rests his head against the taller boy’s shoulder, a smirk against his chapped lips. “Minnie, you would rather starve than drink O neg.” 

Out of all the vampires Jungkook has met so far, this little one looks the most stereotypically vampire like to him.

The squishy mochi cheeks of Jimin’s face puff out in indignation. “Why must you gang up on me?” 

“Because you’re the baby,” the taller boy – Tae-Tae teases. The way he holds the raven-haired boy against his chest is so tender, tight and loving and it leaves a lump wedged in Jungkook’s throat. 

Jimin twists to his feet effortlessly. “Not anymore,” he giggles and flutters his way over to the two in order to kiss them both on the cheeks. “Now I’m just your baby.” 

“That’s Taehyung,” Namjoon introduces, head gesturing towards the taller of the three. 

He’s ethereally pretty, like a sprite or one of those stupidly pretty elves from Lord Of The Rings , his eyes so large and sparkling in their scarlet hue that it looks like a red universe is hidden within his irises. His lashes are so long they kiss his cheeks every time he blinks, and his skin is faultless. A different kind of faultlessness to the vampire smoothness that Namjoon and Jimin hold – as though Taehyung’s skin was perfect as a human too.   

Namjoon’s lips are so close to his ear, it tingles shivers across his skin. “Yoongi is the one in his arms.” 

None of the three turn to acknowledge Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin too preoccupied nuzzling kisses to either side of Yoongi’s porcelain pale cheeks and making him flustered. 

Whereas Jimin is cute and soft, and Taehyung is inhumanly handsome, Yoongi is delicately pretty. He’s small both in height and build, Taehyung’s entire body eclipses him. But Yoongi’s skin is so pale it’s somewhat translucent; reminiscent of moonlight.

“Maybe we can restrain ourselves in front of the new addition to the family?” Yoongi says, he speaks softly, cautiously. As if he purposefully picks every word out in his head before he says it in order to keep his thoughts eloquent. His voice is also deep, but raspy unlike Taehyung’s smoothness.  

Reluctantly, both Taehyung and Jimin remove their lips from Yoongi’s face, but Jimin manages to wiggle himself between Yoongi’s folded arms in order to hug him from the front. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Yoongi greets, politely, voice welcomingly quiet. 

“Yoongi is the eldest in vampire years,” Namjoon explains. “He might have better answers than I to any questions you might have.” 

With a curt nod, Yoongi tilts his head to one side. “Namjoon-ah says you’re feeling scared, more so than when you were human?” 

Wordless, Jungkook nods his agreement, fingers carefully prising Namjoon’s apart from where they had been laced across Jungkook’s stomach. He plays with them absentmindedly, eyes flitting to the two remaining vampires that are hovering in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Yoongi adds, delicately. Jungkook vaguely wonders whether vampires are supposed to be this polite? How has fiction warped their image so much? 

“I have more lava lamps,” one of the vampires at the door announces, his voice a little louder than Jungkook’s new skittish personality would like. “If you would like it to be brighter.” 

Namjoon tangles his fingers with Jungkook and squeezes supportively. “That’s Seokjin, he’s the eldest in human years,” he offers.

“He also has all things human,” the last of the vampires chuckles, throwing his arms over Seokjin’s shoulders— broad shoulders Jungkook thinks belatedly. “So if you’re feeling a little nostalgic for your human life, likelihood is he’ll have something to help with that.” 

“Hoseok,” Namjoon supplies right into the shell of Jungkook’s ear and making him shudder. 

The final pair of vampires each hold a warming smile across their lips, the kind that makes Jungkook feel as though he’s made his elder siblings proud of him and in turn, he’s proud of himself. Not that he feels overtly proud of anything right now. 

Seokjin is a handsome man, broad and tall, mousey brown hair perfectly smoothed and styled as though he was preened by a salon this morning. His lips are a dark pink, invitingly teasing in a way that has Jungkook desperately wanting a taste. 

But something tells him kissing the lips of someone as beautiful and confidently standing as Seokjin would be like consuming forbidden fruit. The man is intimidating, despite his warming features, and his eyes whisper mischief that Jungkook isn’t sure he wants to find out about.  

Hoseok is bright, bright in his clothing choice which consists of whites and yellows; white baggy t shirt and tight tight jean shorts with a yellow bucket hat over startling post box red hair. His lips are heart shaped, soft and the smile on his lips throws his whole face into something bright—Jungkook is reminded of the sun and it makes his rigid muscles relax. 

The way he folds himself over Seokjin is sweet, loving and wholly possessive and not for the first time that night Jungkook feels himself flushing without actually flushing. 

“Thanks,” Jungkook mutters politely in reply. “But I don’t think I remember enough of my human life to be nostalgic about it.” 

Something like a cold wind freezes itself over the company of the room, and it leaves Jungkook feeling awkward—maybe he shouldn’t have said that. 

Yoongi furrows his brows, Namjoon curls protectively around Jungkook. “You don’t remember?” the dark-haired vampire asks. “What your human life was like?” 

“No,” Namjoon answers for him. “I think he might have suffered a concussion during his, attack.” 

Jungkook whimpers, and all red eyes in the room zone in on him, faces softening pityingly. God, he really hates being looked at like a fragile little thing, it doesn’t help that he’s currently incredibly spooked by anything and everything. 

Jimin untangles himself from Yoongi, sashaying over to Jungkook once more with his hands outstretched like a mother about to pick up a newborn. “Can I check your head, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly, voice laced with so much affection that it could rot Jungkook’s new vampire teeth to the core. 

A little begrudgingly, Jungkook leans his way out of Namjoon’s lap, sliding to the edge of the bed and letting Jimin’s hands card through his hair. The vampire’s plush lips pucker in thought, turning Jungkook’s head this way and that as he feels around his skull. 

“You healed nicely, but I can feel damage along your skull.” Jimin doesn’t sound overtly happy by this conclusion. “They really did a number on you.”

With an involuntary gasp, Jungkook flinches and jams his eyes shut. “Aren’t vampires supposed to magically heal once they’re turned or something?” he asks, his voice wavers.

“That depends,” Seokjin supplies, slipping across the room with that same weird grace to his step that Jimin has. He plops himself on the bed, the mattress dipping as he crosses his legs over each other. “On how badly you were hurt before you changed.” 

Taehyung nods a little too enthusiastically, and the action steals Jungkook’s attention. “I broke my arm before I was changed, literally two days before hand, so the bone is super fragile even now,” he explains, unwrapping his left arm from around Yoongi’s shoulders to dangle it limply in the air. 

“It’s probably why you don’t remember much,” Namjoon comments, lips ghosting across the shell of Jungkook’s ear. The even timbre of his voice melts his stiff limbs like chocolate in the microwave. “Your concussion came over with you when you changed.” 

Huffing, Jungkook folds his arms across his chest and Jimin’s hands slip from his hair. “Great,” he grumbles. “What else did I bring over with me? My acne?”  

There’s a look passed between Jimin and Yoongi, a dark quick meeting of blood red eyes that has shivers rippling down Jungkook’s spine. 

“Your skin looks pretty amazing if you ask me,” Hoseok chuckles, his smile is wide and reassuring despite the fact Jungkook feels anything but reassured. “And you’ll never have another pimple again, which in my humble opinion, is one of the highlights of Vampirism.” 

Just as quickly as the dark look between Yoongi and Jimin comes, it goes. A conversation of silent words pushed between them cut short, and Jungkook thinks he has a right to know because he’s 99.9% certain the look was about him. 

But there’s a heavy weight crushing on his chest and making his bottom lip quiver, fear coursing through his veins that keeps his words very much caged in the back of his mind like forbidden treasures. He can feel Namjoon’s arms, once loose in their hold around his waist, tighten and pull him back onto the elder vampire’s lap. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, voice silencing a debate between Seokjin and Hoseok over skin care routines being all they’re cracked up to be. 

Jungkook shivers, more from the feel of Namjoon’s breath tickling across his skin than anything else. “N-nothing,” he mumbles. 

Taehyung hums. “You don’t have to keep secrets from us,” he explains, his voice is as soft as a cloud and Jungkook would very much enjoy being sung to sleep by it. “We’re your family now.” 

Family .

Jungkook’s pretty certain he had a real family once; a human family. It unnerves him that he doesn’t remember, he’s not sure whether he wants to scream or cry over the situation he’s found himself in, but more than anything he feels so incredibly lost. 

Like he’s been placed into a new body, wiped clean of its past and told to make a new life. Nothing feels quite right , everything is just a little bit off and he’s not sure who he’s supposed to be now because he’s not even sure about who he was . 

Maybe the moment before he turned was an incredibly traumatic experience, so he should be thankful that he doesn’t remember it. Perhaps his family was abusive or neglectful or he just downright didn’t have any anymore which would mean not remembering them is a bit of a blessing. 

But the fact still remains that he doesn’t know for certain what his human life was like, nor does he know about the human connections he had. So, before he can count his strange human to vampire amnesia as a blessing or a curse, he would very much like to know from where it is he’s come from. 

“I don’t feel, right ,” Jungkook mutters, thinking his voice is only audible for the tall dimple faced vampire wrapped around him, but there are five sets of red eyes watching him pitifully that prove otherwise. 

Yoongi untangles himself from Taehyung, stepping softly over to the bed before ruffling a hand through Jungkook’s hair. His skin is so fragile looking up close; like glass. “That’s normal. Even if you don’t remember much about being human, your body remembers,” he explains, crouching down on the balls of his feet. 

Jimin’s fingers tangle lovingly through the elder vampire’s raven locks, stroking through in a steady rhythm. It’s almost as though Yoongi has his own gravitational pull that keeps Taehyung and Jimin within arms reach of him at all times. 

“You’re an upgrade of human Jungkook now, but your body will still echo with human mannerisms for a small while until you ease into your new skin,” Yoongi continues. Like a cat, he leans into Jimin’s touch and Jungkook notices that he does it without even realising. “For example, you don’t technically need to breathe anymore.”   

With a cock of his head, Jungkook’s eyes blow wide. “I-I don’t?”

The look on Yoongi’s face can only be described as fond: soft features and a soft smile. “No, you do not,” he says. “We only breathe to speak, but if you listen very carefully, you’ll find you’re the only one breathing even when you aren’t communicating.” 

Jungkook can’t hide his awe, he can feel his mouth held open in a perfect little O shape as he shuts his eyes and listens carefully to the sounds in the room. He can hear the faint drip drip drip of water again, creaking of metal: maybe old pipes? The lava lamps buzz with electricity, the noise running from the sockets in the wall all along the cable and through the light itself. 

He tries to push the little ticks of the room into the background noise they’re supposed to be and listens carefully to the six vampires around him. They’re incredibly still, not a single one of them shifts or fidgets where they’re stood or sat, there’s no thumping of heartbeats, no pulsing of blood, no soft little tuffs of breath… it’s just silent. 

Deathly silent. 

In fact, it’s wholly off putting to hear literal silence from six people when the quiet room they’re sat in makes far more noise than them. 

He scrunches his nose. “Weird,” he mumbles. “The silence is, weird .” 

God, he wishes he paid more attention in creative writing class. 

Did he even take a creative writing class? Probably not if the only adjective he can use to adequately describe something so profoundly life changing is weird . 

Namjoon chuckles. “Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.” 

Yoongi looks incredibly disgusted. “You steal that off a bumper sticker?” 

“Babe, that’s way too long for a bumper sticker,” Jimin chuckles, crouching down to press a giggling kiss to the corner of Yoongi’s cheek.

There’s a sigh from above Jungkook, deeply scorned in nature, and the warm breath fluffs along the top of his head. “It’s a quote from Helen Keller,” Namjoon explains, begrudgingly. 

“Do you remember everything Namjoonie-hyung?” Taehyung teases, the last to bound his way over to the bed, he folds himself over Yoongi’s back, crouching low to do so.

Their height difference is adorable, Jungkook has to admit.  

Namjoon scoffs, but he doesn’t answer the boy, hands finding Jungkook’s to idly play with his fingers. “Do you feel a little more relaxed, Jungkook-ah?” 

“Not really,” he replies, truthfully. “When I said I don’t feel myself, I meant, more in a characteristic sense rather than a vampire sense.”

Hoseok looks sad, it’s not a look that suits him. “I’m so sorry that this happened to you,” he apologises. “We’ll do our best to piece together your human life, it’s not as hard as it was back in the 1800s what with today’s technology and all.”

There’s a pit in Jungkook’s stomach. “I’m scared.” 

“I’ll bring you more lamps,” Seokjin promises. “I can’t guarantee they all work, but I also have a little collection of candles if that’s the case.”

He nods, thankful that he was saved by kind vampires at least. “How often do I need to, to drink the blood?” 

“You’ll be ravenous to begin with,” Yoongi explains, gently. Jungkook’s not sure whether he appreciates the honestly rather than the explanation being sugar coated. “Your mouth will be dry more often than not, so you’ll need to drink more within your first few months as a vampire. The thirst will settle after that.” 

Jungkook swallows thickly. “Will I have to k-kill people?” he whispers, body tensing.

Namjoon is there to hush him, nose nuzzling against his temple to get him to relax. “No, we have endless supplies of blood bags.” 

“I work at the hospital three times a month,” Jimin explains further. “I’m a nurse.” 

“Do you also have an endless supply of banana milk cartons?” Jungkook asks meekly. 

Hoseok cocks his head to one side. “Vampires can’t eat normal food, Kookie.” 

He shakes his head. “I gathered,” he says. “But I was thinking more along the lines of out of sight out of mind?”

“Blood makes him queasy,” Jimin supplies and Hoseok makes a loud noise of understanding, nodding his head thoughtfully. 

“We’ll do whatever we can to make you feel comfortable,” Namjoon promises, the surety in his words leave no room for second guessing. 

There’s not much else Jungkook can really do other than assure himself that he’s in good hands, in caring hands. So, he nods, mutters his agreement and lets a long sigh past his lips. 

Taehyung’s head cocks to one side, lips twisting in thought. “You’re taking this very well,” he comments. “Most vampires were given a choice when they were turned, you were just forced into this new life, I was expecting more tears, more cursing of the fates.” 

Jungkook shrugs half heartedly. “I don’t remember enough of being human in order to curse the fates.” 

“Do you not at least feel wronged?” Taehyung probes once more. 

But Jungkook shakes his head. “Maybe, if I knew more about, well, everything. But right now; this weird new vampire body, this room and the six of you is all I know.” He laughs, dry and humourless. “Ironic seeing as I don’t really know anything about vampires, this place nor the six of you either.” 

At this Taehyung perks up, smile so wide across his face it reminds Jungkook of a puppy. “We can give you a tour!”

He flinches at the loudness of Taehyung’s voice, retreating back against Namjoon’s chest protectively.

Yoongi chuckles, raspy and breathy. “Maybe when Jungkook’s feeling a little more secure?” he offers gently. “I bet you want to sleep some, right, Jungkook-ah?” 

Jungkook nods, not sure whether he could actually sleep, not with the way his thoughts bounce and tumble around his mind, muddled in confusion. But he feels somewhat heavy, like he’s run a marathon and needs to gather his strength again. 

He nods softly, letting all the tension rush from his muscles so he can collapse like a ragdoll against Namjoon’s hard chest. There are understanding looks from the five vampires around the bed, each one slowly pulling themselves to their feet and away from the bed. 

Jimin lingers just a little, looking like he’s debating what his next move should be. Before Jungkook can ask what’s wrong, the vampire bends over the bed to plant a gentle kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. “Sleep well, Kookie,” he says with a brilliant smile. “You’ll feel better tomorrow. Each day you wake up in fact, you’ll feel just a little better than the day before.” 

His words are nice, a comfort that Jungkook bottles up in his chest like a source of warmth. “Thanks, Jiminie-hyung,” he replies, feeling as though there should be a red flush across his cheeks, but he can’t feel the heat of his blush at all still. 

“Always,” Jimin winks before he skips over to the door. Yoongi and Taehyung are waiting hand in hand for him, tender looks across their faces as they watch Jimin. Yoongi stretches out his hand for the younger to take and Jimin giggles, leading the three of them out the room. 

It’s quiet for a beat of a minute. Well, as quiet as it can be now that Jungkook’s new vampire hearing hears everything . His eyelids droop, feeling a warm contentment in Namjoon’s lap that he doesn’t want to lose, even if it means he gets to crawl into bed and sleep. 

Namjoon’s hands carefully card through Jungkook’s hair, his touch so soothing, so soft that the edges of sleep tug impatiently at Jungkook’s conscious. “Sleep, Jungkook-ah,” the elder vampire whispers against his ear. 

With a whine, Jungkook shuffles a little in Namjoon’s lap like a petulant child. “But I—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupts, a sweet chuckle lilting his voice. “Just sleep.”

And so, Jungkook does. 

____________ 

It hurts.

He’s not sure what it is that hurts, but fuck it burns like fire across his skin, prickling blisters in its wake that Jungkook wants to itch. He can feel sweat cling at his temples, drip down his back uncomfortably, and his throat feels raw and ragged almost like he’s been screaming. 

Cold hands cup his jaw, cool lips press against his forehead and Jungkook whimpers, hands blindly reaching for more of the comforting touch.

“Kook-ah.” A familiar voice, a comforting voice. “You need to open your eyes, look at me.” 

Jungkook wants to, he does. “Can’t,” he whimpers in a dry scratched voice. “Dark, hungry —” His fingertips press against a hard chest, claw themselves through warm fabric as he shivers in fear, shivers in pain. “Hurts, hurts .” 

Hushing, gentle like the breeze across the ocean. “I know, lamb, I know,” the voice says, Jungkook has enough mental capacity to remember that the voice belongs to Namjoon. “But you need to open your eyes so I can feed you.” 

If he could cry, Jungkook is fairly certain he would be bawling his eyes out right now. “I can’t please, don’t make me.” 

A flicker of light, a flicker of warmth, dances across his eyelids and Jungkook’s head turns towards it. There are hands rubbing soothingly and encouragingly up and down his spine, tickling over each vertebrate as though easing him into moving again. 

“There,” Namjoon says, tone gentle. “The light is on, can you open your eyes for me, lamb?” 

Gingerly, Jungkook nods, scrunching his eyes tight shut and deciding it’s probably best to just fling them open in one go—like ripping off a band aid. The lava lamp on the bedside table throws the corner of the room at the head of the bed into a warm glow of yellow and orange light and Jungkook sighs as though he’s stepped into a warm bath. 

His body is shivering, every time he swallows it burns his throat and when he runs his tongue across his dry lips, he finds his fangs have practically torn them to shreds. He rolls onto his side, feeling the warmth of the light on his back and the warmth of Namjoon’s chest in front of him— safe safe safe. 

“First things first,” Namjoon says. “Food.” His arms are cocooned around Jungkook, but the vampire effortlessly slips them out without jostling the younger much, and props Jungkook to rest a little higher up the plethora of pillows on the bed. 

Jungkook groans, smashing his face against the pillow, stomach flipping in both nerves and nausea. “Please, don’t make me.”

Namjoon leans over him, grabbing something up off the floor before he settles besides Jungkook with a pitiful smile on his lips. “Sorry.”

Spying the banana milk for a few moments, Jungkook feels the burning in his throat flare angrily and he has to bite down on his already destroyed bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering. It takes Namjoon placing the carton his hands again and feeding the straw to Jungkook’s mouth to get the little vampire to drink. 

It’s like magic, the way that first sip of blood feels. It’s like ice cream on a hot day, cooling the burning and turning his muscles to goo, utterly, wholly addicting. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks, guzzling the liquid down like a man starved, grip tight around the container. 

All too quickly, Namjoon pulls it away from him, a fond smile across his lips as Jungkook whines in protest. “Slowly, now, slowly,” the elder chides before placing the straw back in Jungkook’s mouth. “You don’t want to make yourself sick.” 

It occurs to Jungkook that if he were holding the actual blood bag, the speed in which he drinks wouldn’t matter as he’d be sick either way. But he doesn’t say that out loud, he’s too busy enjoying the blood and pretending it’s anything but. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Namjoon asks worriedly. 

Jungkook shrugs. “If I did, I don’t remember,” he says, honestly. “It felt like I was burning.” 

“That’s the thirst.” 

He takes another small mouthful of blood. “It’s not, you’re lying.” 

The calculatedly blank expression on Namjoon’s face is cold, the coldest Jungkook has ever seen him. “The burning in your throat is completely a result of your thirst,” Namjoon explains. 

“My nightmare wasn’t a result of my thirst though, was it?” By the dark sharpness to Namjoon’s scarlet eyes, Jungkook has clearly hit the nail on the head. 

But instead of continuing the conversation, Namjoon simply takes the carton from Jungkook’s hands and swipes the pad of his thumb lightly over Jungkook’s sliced bottom lip. “Maybe we should give you something to chew on.” 

Jungkook pouts, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not a baby.” 

“Oh, but you are,” Namjoon coos unhelpfully. “You’re only a week old, it’s adorable.” 

There’s a snarky remark on the tip of Jungkook’s tongue, but it’s stolen from his lungs when Namjoon presses his lips against his own. 

It’s not the first kiss Jungkook has received from the vampire, but it feels as though it could be, the shock and confusion that bubbles through his veins has a startled noise squeaking in the back of his throat. 

Unlike the previous pecks, in which Namjoon had done so with the soul intent at healing Jungkook’s nibbled bottom lip, this feels a little bit more like an actual kiss and Jungkook is just glad he can’t blush beetroot red anymore. 

Namjoon’s tongue slides across his bottom lip, pushes bravely into Jungkook’s mouth and the younger finds his lips moulding easily against the vampire’s. It’s quick and heated, Namjoon pulling away with a contented hum far sooner than the younger wants, staring down at a very breathless looking Jungkook with mild satisfaction. 

It’s all a little ironic considering Yoongi did tell him he doesn’t need to breathe anymore.

That means they can kiss without any limitations.

There’s red smeared across Namjoon’s own lips, messy over his mouth like he tried his hand at applying lipstick for the first time. An unwarranted growl rattles at the back of Jungkook’s throat, he tangles his fingers through Namjoon’s lavender locks and pulls the vampire’s face towards him again. 

He’s not sure what in gods name (or maybe it’s Lucifer’s name now) that possesses him to do so, but Jungkook finds himself whimpering like a dog in heat as he laps up the blood smeared across Namjoon’s lips. He can’t even call it a kiss, not really, not when Jungkook can’t seem to make up his mind between licking across the seam of the vampire’s lips or licking into his mouth in search of more blood. 

Namjoon’s hands settle against his waist, fingers soothing circles into the jut of his hip. “Lamb,” he mutters against Jungkook’s lips. “You’re spilling your food.”

Jungkook’s head snaps down to the space between them on the bed, the banana milk is turned on its side and the little droplets of blood caught in the mouth of the straw drop slowly onto the sheets. Groaning, stomach twisting uncomfortable, Jungkook turns away from it all, body leaning over the side of the bed and retching. 

In an instant, hands are smoothing along his back again, Namjoon hovering over him and pushing his hair from his face. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures between Jungkook’s dry heaves and whimpers. 

God, he really is pathetic. 

By the time he no longer feels the need to try and throw up nothing , Namjoon has cleared away the banana milk and blood stain as best he can from the sheets so the two of them can curl up on the mattress once more. 

Jungkook feels so weak, heavy with exhaustion and sleep and a little bit of self-loathing over the fact he’s probably the worst vampire in existence. 

“It’ll take time to get used to things, that’s all,” Namjoon says, hands back at Jungkook’s hips and rubbing soothing circles there. 

Jungkook shrugs, pushing himself closer into Namjoon’s space. “I’m a bad vampire.” 

“Not bad,” the elder contradicts. “A baby.” 

Why on earth do vampires have to feel the mortifying effects of embarrassment if they can’t very well be affected by it anymore? 

They lay in silence for a while, the dripping of water, the buzzing of electricity the only things giving life to the room. “What time is it?” Jungkook asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut again. 

A kiss against his forehead. “A little after midday.” 

“Oh.” 

He feels Namjoon carefully reach over Jungkook towards the bedside table and Jungkook stiffens. “No, s’dark,” he slurs through his sleep, fingers tight in their grasp around Namjoon’s shirt. 

It feels as though Namjoon maybe debating as to whether he should turn the light off anyway, but eventually he settles against the bed with the thing still illuminating the room. “You really are delicate aren’t you.” 

Jungkook scoffs, eyes sealed shut. “There are monsters in the dark, hyung,” he mumbles, he’s pretty sure he’s somewhat joking, but the words flare a little anxiety across his chest. 

“We’re the monsters in the dark, lamb,” he hears Namjoon say, but his voice sounds so far away. “Nothing should scare us.” 

Then why am I like this? 

____________

Chapter Text

The next morning, or well, evening, comes to find Jungkook fluttering his eyes awake to an empty bed. The lava lamp is still on, the gentle glow of the globs of orange cast a soft light around the room and the fear and anxiety that had been poisoning Jungkook’s veins is pleasantly missing.

Lack of Namjoon, however, is considerably less pleasant. 

Banana milk is sat on the floor by the bed with an elegantly written post-it note stuck to the side of it.

‘Drink me’ it reads, as if Jungkook had woken in Wonderland rather than a vampire nest. 

But, regardless, after a good long stretch out of all his muscles, Jungkook reaches down and shoves the straw into his mouth before his brain even has time to comprehend that he’s sucking on blood.

He swings his legs off the side of the bed, keeping the momentum as he drinks and lets the balls of his feet scrape lightly across the wooden flooring. He takes in the room again, eyes spying more details now that he’s a little calmer and a little more coherent.

The walls are painted an off cream, smooth and with only a few cracks around the door frame and along the wall where the handle of the door connects once it’s opened. He can smell fresh paint, maybe a couple months old, but the floor looks weathered and old. There are a few nails twisted up from the floorboards at different angles, safety hazards if Jungkook has ever seen them. But it doesn’t take long before his eyes spy a large roll of cream carpet huddled behind the dresser.

Clearly the vampires are in the process of redecorating, of which Jungkook thinks is actually kind of nice for all its normality.

Well as normal as a room without any windows can be, that is. Jungkook is starting to wonder whether the den is underground.

He must have been thirstier than he realised as soon the straw is slurping up the last dregs of the blood and Jungkook lets out a long sigh of contentment, patting his full stomach as he places the carton back on the floor. It’s only then he notices that the clothes he’s dressed in are most definitely not his.

They’re a little big for his slight frame, but more in the sense that the garments have been worn and stretched over time rather than them being a larger size. The collar of the black T falls low on his neck, the fabric of the short sleeves could very well wrap around Jungkook’s arm twice and the grey sweats are cinched together at his waist with the drawstrings as tight as they can go. Yet they still feel loose.

His feet are bare, and although he can feel a cold breeze wafting its way under the door frame, Jungkook doesn’t feel cold.

His feet are always cold, so this is incredibly weird for him to deal with.

But then he smiles, small and triumphant. “My feet are always cold,” he mutters to himself, like it’s the best news in the world, and wiggles his toes in success.

The door opens, slowly and without a single squeak from its hinges and Jungkook smiles as he sees Namjoon’s larger, lankier frame in the doorway. “Everything alright in here?” the elder vampire asks.

Jungkook nods, excitedly. “My feet are always cold.”

Namjoon merely furrows his brow and looks down at Jungkook’s feet, little toes wiggling in happiness. “They shouldn’t be,” he says. “Not now anyway.”

“No,” Jungkook moans like a petulant child. “Back then, before this.” His smile widens. “I remember that my feet used to always be cold.”

It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to realise what Jungkook is getting at, and a gentle smile framed by moon crater deep dimples spreads across his face. “Hey, that’s great.” Jungkook feels his smile stretch Cheshire cat big. “Do you think you’re ready to leave the room?”

His legs stop bouncing. “Leave the room?” he repeats, eyes spying the dark and menacing hallway that awaits just behind Namjoon.

 The elder vampire nods. “We’ll go slow.”

“Dark,” Jungkook murmurs, pulling his knees against his chest.

Even with a better control over his new vampire sight, Namjoon’s movements are still fast to Jungkook as he makes his way across the room. He watches the elder vampire tumble a little on his long legs in the middle of the room, but Namjoon catches himself before he falls.

He kneels in front Jungkook on the floor, long fingers brushing across Jungkook’s jaw to cup his cheek. “I think your fear of the dark will disappear over time,” Namjoon comforts. “But the best way to overcome it is to face it head on.”

Jungkook swallows. “Alright,” he scoffs a little bitterly. “Say the roles were reversed, would you be willing to fling yourself into the darkness knowing that it scares you?”

“Touché,” Namjoon chuckles. “But I’ll be with you.”

“Doesn’t help much when I can’t see you.”

“You’re a whiny baby,” Namjoon coos, pushing Jungkook’s chocolate hair from his face.

Huffing, Jungkook lets his legs fall over the side of the bed again just so he can fold his arms across his chest. “I keep telling you, I’m not a baby.”

“Alright, lamb, you’re not a baby,” Namjoon placates easily, he looks good between Jungkook’s legs and the thought has Jungkook practically choking on his own saliva. “Will you come say good morning to everyone if you hold my hand the whole way there?”

Jungkook thinks about it. “Maybe,” he finally says. “You won’t let go?”

WIth a chuckle and a look of pure adoration of his face, Namjoon promises. “No, I won’t let go.”

With another thoughtful look around the safety of the little room lit up by the lava lamp, Jungkook lets a sigh slip through his lips, resigning himself to his fate. He stretches out his hand for Namjoon to take, the elder vampire tangling their fingers together and tugging Jungkook from the bed.

“One step at a time,” he promises, before easing Jungkook over to the door.

However, one step at a time ultimately consists of Jungkook squeaking with every step further into the darkness they take. It doesn’t help the situation that Jungkook jams his eyes shut to get away from the dark and ultimately just sees more darkness. He practically flattens himself against Namjoon’s side the whole journey to the den, Jungkook completely unaware of the direction they’re heading because his body is too rigid with unnecessary fright.

“We made it,” Namjoon’s voice comes after what feels like an eternity in the dark. “You okay, lamb?” The pathetic little whine that Jungkook replies with is enough of an answer, and Namjoon squeezes the younger’s hand. “You did so well.”

Jungkook wants to counter the compliment and moan about how he actually did really terribly, about how he’s still as much a failure of a vampire this morning as he was last night, but he’s biting down on his tongue to keep himself from erupting into tearless sobs.

The door to the den squeaks subtly when it opens, no way near as bad as the door to Jungkook’s room had done the night before, but it could definitely use some oiling. He feels the light across his face before he sees it dancing behind his eyelids. The comfort of light in the dark has his eyes snapping open immediately so he can tumble into the well-lit room.

There must be hundreds of candles scattered across the large den, their flames flickering in the cool draft like golden dancers in the night. It’s not as bright as the lava lamps are, and the open flames cast larger more terrifying shadows across the walls, but it chases away the majority of the darkness so that Jungkook doesn’t feel as jittery.

Five pairs of red eyes watch him as he staggers right to the middle of the room, in which a low glass coffee table has a good 7 candles huddled together, and plops himself on the floor next to them.

“Good morning,” Seokjin greets in a sing-song voice. “Still a little apprehensive of the dark?”

Jungkook nods, eyes watching the flames as they dance, feeling a bit like an act in a freak show.

Come see the little vampire who’s scared of the dark.

“Did you eat?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook nods.

“Did you lose your voice while you slept?” Taehyung teases.

Jungkook bows his head further. “Sorry.”

Namjoon plonks himself down on the floor next to him, shoulders touching. “Don’t be sorry, take your time.”

“I don’t want to sound rude,” Jungkook hurriedly explains. “I guess I’m a little shy? And a little terrified of my own shadow? It’s a bad mix.”  

Yoongi hums from across the room, Jungkook doesn’t bother to look up from his lap. “The more comfortable you get the less scared you’ll feel.”

Something about that doesn’t sit right with Jungkook. “I don’t really feel much different from last night.”

“Your fear hasn’t subsided a little bit?” Namjoon asks, gently.

Jungkook shrugs. “Not really, no.” In fact, he’s pretty certain it’s gotten worse considering he just took a long walk down a dark corridor and sent his nerves into overdrive.

He can just about see out of the corner of his eye, a look shared between Namjoon and someone on the other side of the room, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, stronger than the burn for blood. “What are you not telling me?” he asks, voice weak and timid. There’s no answer, and he has to force himself to look up from his lap and stare down the vampires in the room.

Besides the glass coffee table is a plush looking couch, large enough for five people to sit on comfortably and not be squished. Beyond that, the other vampires of the nest are sat around what Jungkook assumes is a dining table, but his view is obscured by the tall back of the couch.

No one is looking in his direction, everyone seemingly interested in small things around the room and it’s more  than a little suspicious.

Puffing out his cheeks, Jungkook folds his arms across his chest. “Is there something you’re keeping from me?”

Again, there’s no answer and if there wasn’t the fear of a dark corridor between the den and his room, Jungkook would have stormed out of here by now.

Namjoon’s hand rests carefully on his shoulder, giving one small reassuring squeeze. “We’re not sure whether it’s anything to be worried about just yet.”

“I would still like to know,” Jungkook counters immediately, snatching his gaze away from the other vampires at the table to glare at Namjoon. His glare doesn’t feel all that intimidating, however, because there’s an affectionate smile trying to push its way across Namjoon’s lips.

A chair scrapes across the floor, Jungkook looks over to the sound and finds Yoongi making his way over. “When a vampire is turned, something peculiar happens to their emotions,” he begins, as though he’s a grandpa about to divulge into an old fairy-tale for his grandkids.

He plops himself on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he leans a little closer to Jungkook. “Well, not all of our emotions, just one in particular, the last thing you felt before you died. We call it our Echo.”

Jungkook swallows thickly, that’s the first time anyone has referred to the act of becoming a vampire as dying . Vaguely, Jungkook knew that’s what it was, and he knew that he was dead now , but he still wasn’t completely to terms with the notion.

“That last emotion you feel is amplified along with all your other senses, so not only will you hear better, see clearer and smell a thousand more things than you did as a human, but you’ll have this Echo of an emotion from your human life that will be felt ten times stronger than you’ve ever felt it before.” Jimin is sat besides Yoongi on the couch now, their knees touching, Jimin’s hand resting on Yoongi’s thigh.

Jungkook’s mouth twists in thought. “Well then, wouldn’t people just be excited or nervous? Namjoon-hyung said that you have to have consent before you turn someone…” his voice trails off at the dark look in Yoongi’s eye.

The elder vampire nods curtly. “Ideally speaking, yes, most people would feel some kind of anxiousness or excitement at the prospect of being a vampire, but not everyone. It depends on the situation.”

Jimin nods. “Maybe it would help if I told you about myself a little more?” he offers, and Jungkook hums in agreement. “I was turned about 30 years ago, so I’m still a relatively new vampire,” he explains. “I met Tae and Yoongi one night, and well—” there’s an awkward cough from Yoongi, Jimin giggles and nuzzles his face into the side of the man’s face, kissing along his temple.

It’s interesting to see a vampire riddled with embarrassment but still have smooth pale cheeks, at least Jungkook isn’t the only one who does that.

“We had a fun night, let's put it that way,” Taehyung chuckles from across the room.

Yoongi groans and Jimin picks himself up to sit in the elder’s lap, wrapping the man’s arms around his waist, back flush against Yoongi’s chest. The move has Yoongi hiding his face against Jimin’s back in embarrassment and Taehyung laughing louder.  

“Anyway,” Jimin starts again. “We became a thing the three of us—”

“If you couldn’t already tell,” Seokjin snickers from across the room.  

Jimin continues as if there was no interruption. “And eventually it got to a point where we were falling in love and my two boyfriends didn’t age and could only come around after sundown, and they sat me down and explained that for this to continue I would need to change.”

Taehyung has flopped himself over the back of the couch at this point, coy smile on his lips. “Minnie cried for a good hour thinking we meant he had to change his physical appearance or personality because we didn’t think he was good enough for us .”

Jimin pouts, wriggling in Yoongi’s lap. “I’m sensitive.”

“We know, baby,” Taehyung placates, placing a kiss to the top of Jimin’s head. Jungkook can just about see shy little Yoongi pressing reassuring kisses along Jimin’s spine too. 

“When I calmed down enough to realise that they meant I needed to change into a vampire, I was very quick to say yes,” Jimin adds. “And in my last moments of being human I remember thinking about how much I love my two idiot vampire boyfriends, and when I woke up with the new vampire bod, that love was like a heavy ache in my chest that I just couldn’t get rid of.”

“They fucked like rabbits for days !” Hoseok exclaims woefully from the table.

All three vampires on the couch look a little mortified at the remark, and Jungkook has never wanted the ground to swallow him whole in all his life. He can feel Namjoon shaking in silent chuckles beside him, and Jungkook reaches out to tangle their hands together.

“Long story short,” Jimin chimes in, hands on his cheeks as if they’re actually flushing. “My Echo is love and it’s jacked up to a terrifying degree and now I cry when I see puppies and kittens.”

Taehyung nods. “True,” he says. “Took us three hours to calm him down after we watched Coco.”

“Dude, that’s such a sad film, I can relate,” Jungkook adds sympathetically.

Jimin beams at him, leaning forward in Yoongi’s lap to cup Jungkook’s face and kiss his forehead.

“It’s also why Jimin is very touchy feely with us,” Namjoon explains, shifting just a little closer to Jungkook.

He nods, letting Jimin kiss the tip of his nose for good measure before pulling back. “So, one singular amplified emotion,” he states, a little robotically. “What’s that got to do with me being scared of—”

The den is silent.

Jungkook can’t even hear the little ticks of the room echoing through his ears, the stiffness and the inhuman quiet from the vampires unnerves him.

“Oh,” he mutters, gaze falling to his lap again.  

Fingers caress under his jaw, pulling his gaze up to look Namjoon directly in the eye. “You don’t remember what happened and so we can’t be sure, but—”

“It’s very likely, isn’t it?” Jungkook finishes, feeling his mouth go dry, his stomach twists uncomfortably like the blade of a knife is stabbing its way agonisingly slowly through his gut. “My Echo is fear.”

Namjoon just looks at him for a moment, face pulling into a grave expression before he nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook grumbles, bitterness twisting his chin out of Namjoon’s hands. “You keep saying that, it doesn’t help.”

Yoongi huffs. “There’s no need to be mean, kid.”

Jungkook scowls at him and Taehyung’s arms snake around the smaller vampire’s shoulders. “He’s cursing the fates, babe,” he explains. “Let him be.”

The now very persistent stabbing in Jungkook’s gut is inflamed by his spite and fear towards the whole situation. “So, am I going to be scared of everything all the time?” he demands, bile rising at the back of his throat.

Hoseok slips himself onto the couch on the other side of Jimin. “Not all the time, you can learn to control it, not let it get the best of you.”

He feels sick. “But in the meantime, I'm going to be this little cowering, shrivelled, lame excuse of a vampire who had his life and his personality stolen?”

Namjoon flinches and Jungkook is very certain the elder vampire wants to apologise again, but he holds the sorry back.

Yoongi, on the other hand, narrows his eyes, as sharp as razors. “Don’t blame Namjoon, he offered you salvation and you took it.”

“Salvation I shouldn’t have even needed in the first place,” Jungkook snaps back, his whole body is shaking, his stomach feels like it’s gurgling. “How is any of this fair ?”

“It’s not,” Hoseok agrees easily, face looking as equally tormented as Jungkook feels. “But it’ll get better.”

He feels sick.

Feels every fear and worry crashing through his system like a tsunami in a storm, his hands feel clammy, is that possible? Can vampires feel clammy? Or is that all in his mind? 

God his stomach hurts . 

Hurts like a blender is chewing up his insides and he winces, feeling a sudden wave of nausea crashing through him. “D-don’t give me bright sides..” he whimpers. “There’s no b-bright side.”

God he just feels so sick .

There’s bile collecting in the back of his throat, the churning in his stomach suddenly pushes its way up his throat and burns as it goes.   

And then Jungkook’s sudden nausea has him clutching his stomach and groaning in equal parts frustration and pain. Jimin slips from the couch to kneel in front of Jungkook, hands rubbing circles into back. “Kookie, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

He doesn’t want to tell them it hurts, doesn’t want to appear weaker than he already is, but god he feels so sick .

“Shit,” Hoseok curses, leaping from the couch and sending a few pillows to the floor. “Love, grab a bowl.”

“Here,” Seokjin says, handing something to Hoseok which is then slipped into Jungkook’s hands. Just in time too, because suddenly that nauseous feeling bubbles up his throat uncomfortably and he retches.

He sobs, broken and confused, tearless and frustrated, eyes jammed shut as he feels the contents of his stomach empty into the bowl, actual vomit as opposed to his dry heaving the night before and it rattles his nerves thin.

Jimin and Namjoon rub gentle, reassuring hands up and down his spine. “There, there, it’s okay,” Jimin says softly. “Get it all out.”

“You ate too fast this morning,” Namjoon explains, but Jungkook is too busy hurling violently and trying his best to keep himself from having a full-blown melt down.

Eventually, he stops, throat burning and hands shaking around the bowl. His bottom lip is wet, and he shivers in disgust, wishing more than anything that this is all just some bad dream that he can wake up from soon.

Fingers push his bangs from his face. “Keep your eyes shut, sweetie,” Jimin says. “Do you think you’re finished?”

Jungkook nods, sobbing when he swallows around the irritating burning in his throat. “It’s okay,” Namjoon soothes.

But it’s not, it’s really, really not.

“I think I might pass out,” Jungkook mumbles, his words slur.

Arms wrap around him, pulling him tight against a hard chest. “Okay,” Namjoon says, ready.

Something cool wipes across his mouth and the bowl is taken from his hands, he feels so heavy, so exhausted. “I hate this.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon mutters, his lips are at his temple, pressing gently into heated skin and it has Jungkook going boneless, enjoying the comfort of just being held. “That’s fair.”

The younger groans, his stomach still churns unpleasantly, and he just wants to crawl up somewhere and hope he disappears.

“You should get some sleep,” Namjoon offers softly. “We can talk more when you wake up.”

Jungkook grunts, snuggling against Namjoon again. “Will things be better when I wake up?”

No one answers him.

_____________

There are faces, blurred and marred as though they’re being seen through tears.

Screams, raw and ragged, pleas for help gurgling as the voice chokes.

Red red red.

And then a gasp.

His eyes open to the dimly lit den, the candles have burned way down their wicks and if Jungkook had a working heart it would be jack hammering in his chest by now. There’s no one holding him, no one running soothing hands up and down his spine, no one whispering sweet calm words into his ear and it’s cold .

Jungkook curls into himself, a tight coil of his body, as small as he can make himself and he hides his face into the plush velvet cushion of the couch he’s been rested on. He wants to cry, he wants to scream and wail and just let out all the sadness that’s suddenly just too much to bear.

“If you wallow in your sadness and fear, you’ll let it consume you and then there’ll be no hope for you,” a voice scolds, but it’s soft, understanding and pitying.

Cracking his eye open just a little, Jungkook spies a long, broad shouldered vampire slumped in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. Seokjin’s mousey brown hair has been pushed back by a deep blue bandana, oversized pink hoodie swallowing up the majority of his torso and his legs are clad in tight black jeans that are slung over the armrest.

Jungkook rolls over onto his back to look at the pretty mould crested ceilings, swirling around a large chandelier that is 100% for decoration considering there are no lightbulbs in it. “I was murdered by some hungry vampires and the experience was so traumatic that my brain forgot it and now my echo is being scared of everything , including my own shadow. So, excuse me while I sit here and wallow in self-pity for just a little bit.”

With a hum, Seokjin’s eyes roll over to look at the door to the den, bored. “Yeah, but are you going to let that define you for the rest of your eternity?”

Silence.

“No,” Jungkook mutters, the word is incredibly soft, but he refuses to let the bad hand he’s been dealt define everything he is now.

Seokjin smiles, plush lips a pretty dark rouge and his eyes crinkle just a little. “Good. That’s, good.”

The two lapse into a pleasant silence. Jungkook can hear muttered murmurs of the other vampires scattered about the nest, talking amongst themselves. He can hear different pitches; different rhythms, and he wonders whether he can pick out which murmur is who if he listens really really hard. 

There must be a pitch of concentration on his face because Seokjin laughs. “Can you hear them well?”

The younger shrugs, uncurling himself from his little ball. “I can hear talking, but that’s about it, nothing clear.”

“With practice it’ll get easier,” the elder explains. “It helps if you know the layout of the area you’re in, you should let Hoseok give you a tour, he’s been remodelling and is dying to show the place off.”

Nodding politely, Jungkook turns to look at the candles on the table. “Why don’t you use electric lights?”

“Don’t really need them when you see just as clearly in the dark than the day.” Seokjin shrugs, a smile on his lips. “Jimin is scolding Yoongi.”

The burning in the back of his throat is a little more annoying than it should be and Jungkook registers that he’s probably hungry. “Why?”

Blood red eyes, glimmering in the flickering of the candle flame roll lazily over to look at him. “You’ll find out later,” he replies, cryptically. “Namjoon’s not here, he left with Taehyung to see if anyone has filed a missing person report for you.”

“Oh.” Jungkook shudders full body and pushes himself to sit upright. “What if no one has?” he asks, quietly.

“There are other ways to find a person,” Seokjin reassures, body not once moving from his comfortable position across the armchair. “Maybe you shouldn’t wander around the den alone for a few days.”

Scrunching his nose and narrowing his eyes sceptically, Jungkook pouts. “Why?”

But Seokjin simply waves a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s not like we have bodies hiding in conspicuous places,” he giggles, the noise somewhat creepy and Jungkook feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “But none of the lights work in any of the rooms, it will take Yoongi a few days to fix them.”

“You’re kind of very intimidating,” Jungkook mumbles, words tumbling out of his mouth before he has a chance to think about what he’s saying.

The older vampire nods, mischief across his face. “I know,” he agrees, easily. “It’s because of my rugged good looks.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Namjoon is hot and he’s not nearly as intimidating as you.”

There’s a smirk tugging at one corner of Seokjin’s lips, arms folded about his chest. It’s suddenly as though Jungkook is the best entertainment the elder vampire has seen in years, his entire attention narrowing down on the smaller.

“You think Namjoon is ruggedly good looking, do you?” he finally says, after eyeing up Jungkook with a meticulously sharp eye. 

“I think the phrase I used was hot,” Jungkook corrects, feet twisting nervously into the floor and hands squished between his thighs. The carpet in the den is cream and thick and plush and feels amazing to the touch. “But yeah, how could anyone not?” he adds on a quiet breath.

There’s a small pause, the distant heated voices of Jimin and Yoongi the only thing that can be heard in the quiet.

Then Seokjin hums, eyes dancing with even more mischief than before. He swings his legs over the arm of the chair to lean forward in his seat, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “Interesting.”

Wincing, Jungkook curls in on himself a little more, embarrassment flooding his veins. “That interesting sounds suspicious,” he says, brow furrowed.

Seokjin laughs, squeaky like new shoes across freshly waxed floors. “You’re very adorable, I’m glad you said yes to Namjoon.”

Jungkook’s bottom lip wobbles, he catches it between his teeth, fangs digging sharply into the flesh. Seokjin cocks his head to one side, eyes watching the way Jungkook’s teeth tear at his lip.

The elder titters. “Be gentle with yourself.”

But Jungkook can taste blood on his tongue and lets out a petulant little whine that sounds like a frustrated child.

Seokjin crosses the room quickly, long elegant fingers curling around Jungkook’s chin to inspect his sliced lip. “Nothing a little blood won’t heal,” he smiles, softly, before releasing Jungkook’s face and walking away.

The younger watches the vampire leave, walking through an ornate dark wooden arch behind the long dining table that must lead to a kitchen of some kind. He waits, happy to sit in the dimming of the candle light rather than venture into the shadowy darkness Seokjin has wandered into.

It’s not long until he’s re-joined by the elder vampire, banana milk in hand. He places it carefully between Jungkook’s fingers before sitting besides him on the couch. “Drink slowly ,” he orders, pushing the younger’s hands towards his lips.

The burning in the back of Jungkook’s throat flares painfully, as if excited to finally be quenched and it’s enough to have Jungkook sucking down the foul red liquid.

With an intense look, like a hawk stalking its prey, Seokjin watches Jungkook drink, fingers touching the backs of Jungkook’s hand every now and then to get him to stop.

“There now,” he smiles softly when Jungkook is about half way through his meal. “Your lips are looking much better.”

The younger swallows thickly. “So, blood can heal me?” Seokjin nods, encouraging Jungkook to drink more, but the younger lowers the banana milk to his lap. “Is it the only thing?”

It looks as though Seokjin is pondering the question for a moment. “Has our Namjoon been giving you kisses, Jungkookie?” The smugness across the man’s face makes Jungkook’s entire stomach swoop and if he could flush, he’d be red right down to his chest by now. Clearly not answering immediately is enough of an answer Seokjin needs before he’s cackling. “What a dirty old man!”

Jungkook huffs, placing the carton on the table. “He’s not a dirty old man, he’s just helping me and—”

“A cradle snatcher ,” Seokjin hisses through his glee.

“Stop that,” Jungkook whines, wriggling in his seat and almost spilling blood over the couch.

The door to the den creaks open, Jungkook’s face snapping towards it in horror.

Jimin is standing with a small smile on his lips, hands on his hips and Yoongi cowering a little behind him. “Everything alright in here?” he asks, like a concerned parent.

Jungkook nods, jumping from the couch like he’s just been burnt. Thankfully the banana milk doesn’t spill.

There’s a softness about Jimin’s features, mochi cheeks squishing his eyes into crescents as he smiles gently Jungkook’s way. How on earth this little bundle of sunshine could scold anyone harshly, let alone Yoongi who Jungkook thinks walks very much to the beat of his own drum, is astounding.

But the droop to Yoongi’s shoulders and the way his eyes nervously shift from Jungkook’s face to the floor has the little vampire thinking that perhaps Jimin did a number on Yoongi.

A gentle glide of fingers through his hair has his gaze snapping from Yoongi back to Jimin. “There’s no need to be so skittish, this is your home now as much as it is ours, we’re not going to scold you,” Jimin explains.

The touch reminds Jungkook of something motherly and it’s equal parts comforting and equal parts lonesome. Did he have a mother? Will she cry when she sees what became of him?

“Did you drink slowly?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook nods as the touch leaves his head.

Seokjin stands and takes the banana milk from his hands. “Jimin, would you mind helping me in the kitchen?”

There’s a slight pause in which Jimin and Seokjin share unspoken words through a shared glance. Jungkook feels awkward, even more so than usual considering it doesn’t take much of a genius to figure out the heated stares are because of him.

Finally, Jimin relents, stepping away from Jungkook and turning to plant a chaste kiss on Yoongi’s lips. “Holla if you need anything.”

Yoongi scoffs, fond smile on his lips. “Holla is an awful word, don’t use it again.”

Jimin salutes playfully before following the eldest vampire out of the den.

Jungkook can barely hear the two of them move, gliding across the floor like wind over the rocks of cliffs. They don’t speak once they’ve left the room, or if they do it’s in muted voices so that Jungkook can’t pick them up.

But the silence, the ambient awkward silence they leave in their wake has both Yoongi and Jungkook shuffling nervously. Jungkook’s eyes stay glued to the floor, not once looking up at the elder before him and if his heart could beat it would be rabbiting in his chest.

He feels, unsure? Uncertain? And that makes him nervous. Something about the way in which Yoongi reacted to him earlier has Jungkook thinking that perhaps the elder doesn’t like him all that much.

It feels like an eternity before there’s a sound, a sigh pushed begrudgingly past Yoongi’s lips, hand nervously running along the back of his neck. “You feeling better?” he asks, voice soft and deep like a murmur.

Nodding, Jungkook wrings his fingers together in front of him.

Satisfied enough with the younger’s answer, Yoongi drops his hand from his neck. “There’s something I want to show you, that okay?”

“Do I have to leave the room?” Into the dark?

Twisting his lips into a thin line, Yoongi nods. “But I have a flashlight?” he offers, and the sentiment is sweet albeit not wholly convincing.

Stepping just a little closer to Jungkook, Yoongi offers a flat lined smile and places the heavy-duty flashlight in his hands. Where on earth the vampire had been hiding it is beyond Jungkook, but he’s thankful.

“Don’t worry kid, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

____________

Yoongi, for all his cold and quiet demeanor, is actually one of the softest people Jungkook thinks he’s ever met. The entire journey through the dark twists and turns of the house has Jungkook clinging to the oversized white T-shirt that hangs on Yoongi’s lithe frame. His eyes are scrunched shut, resisting the urge to hide his face in the crook of the elder vampire’s neck, and although he can feel himself trembling, Yoongi doesn’t say a word.

But he does subtly pull Jungkook closer, fingers brushing against each other as though a silent reminder that Yoongi is there and he’ll be fine.

It feels like an eternity of walking, though that could very well be because every second in the horrifying darkness feels like hours to Jungkook. But eventually Yoongi stops them.

“There’s some steps here,” he says. “You might need to open your eyes to walk up them.”

His stomach swoops like it needs to be sick, and instead of facing his fear like the adult he’s pretty certain he is, Jungkook shakes his head.

For a moment, Yoongi says nothing, and Jungkook’s grip in his shirt tightens. But then a sigh is pushed passed the elder’s lips and an arm wraps its way around Jungkook’s waist. Gasping at the sudden touch, Yoongi’s grip on his hip tightens and the next thing Jungkook knows he’s being lifted off the floor and easily carried up the stairs.

When they reach the top, Jungkook is placed delicately on his feet and his legs wobble a little like a newborn deer. “Did I go too quickly?” Yoongi asks, tone flat.

Jungkook shakes his head, fingernails tearing holes into Yoongi’s shirt. “I’m okay,” he promises.

There’s a grunt of understanding before Jungkook can hear a heavy metal door being swung open on old creaking hinges. The cold of the night air tickles daintily across his skin and makes him shiver. He can smell everything, the refreshing green of trees and the rich scent of the earth. Petrichor fills his nostrils when he takes a deep inhale of the fresh air, he can hear the distant sound of traffic, not heavy considering the lateness of the hour and ever so faintly he can hear the sizzling of meat and smell it faintly on the backs of the winds, twisted up with the petrichor.

“Smells good,” he comments, softly.

Yoongi chuckles. “We’re pretty far out of the town centre, but there’s a few late-night street food trucks in the area,” he explains. “I’ve never eaten most of the stuff they sell, but Jimin says everything is really delicious.”

“Lamb skewers are good,” Jungkook babbles, feeling Yoongi lead him further out into the night.

“They are?” the elder probes, stopping them a good ten feet from the door.

Jungkook hums. “I used to get them as a late-night snack if I had been studying late in the library—” he pauses, feels Yoongi smiling beside him despite the fact his eyes are still closed and can’t help but mirror the smile himself.

He remembered something else.

Neither of them comments on the realisation, Yoongi dropping to sit on the floor and pulling Jungkook with him. There’s a blanket laid out on the ground, soft against Jungkook’s hands and he fists that instead of Yoongi’s shirt just to give the elder vampire a break. “Where are we?” he asks, eyes still refusing to open.

“The roof,” Yoongi answers. “You’ll know when you can open your eyes.” The comment is a little confusing and has Jungkook cocking his head to one side. The action must look a little ridiculous as Yoongi scoffs out a raspy laugh. “Trust me.”

And so, with no other real choice, Jungkook trusts the closed off vampire and sits with his hands twisting the blanket into wrinkles below them and his feet swaying from side to side. They sit in silence, the ambience of the evening the only thing coming to Jungkook’s ears, but it’s faint, distant, like he’s too far away and too young to really hone in on the sounds.

So right now, it fizzes and hisses like white noise from a TV, but Jungkook is able to tune it out and listen to the sound of his breathing instead. Breathing he doesn’t really need to do, but continues to do so for comfort.

Eventually his patience wears a little thin. But just before Jungkook can ask what the hell they’re doing out here, and why he can’t be back in the den where the candles are, he feels a cool pale light flash across his eyelids.

It’s not warm like the sun or the flame of a candle, but it’s just as bright and Jungkook finds his eyelashes fluttering open and his anxiety subsiding just a little. When his pupils adjust to the new light, his mouth drops open into a little O of surprise, as hanging heavy and full in the inky black of the night sky above them, is the large silvery moon.

“Beautiful, right?” Yoongi comments, but all Jungkook can do is nod.

He can remember looking at the moon, but for fleeting moments in the night before his life pulled him away into more pressing matters. Not that he remembers what the hustle and bustle of his everyday life was like, but he does remember how consuming it was.

Was the moon always this big? Always this bright?

Honestly, he can’t remember.

It feels as though Jungkook could just reach out and touch it .

“I don’t think I ever stopped to look at the moon properly before,” Jungkook mutters, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin atop them.

Yoongi hums. “I like to watch it all the time. Even when I was human, I watched the moon more than the path ahead.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks, thinking that might be a little too intrusive a question only after he’s asked it.

But the question doesn’t seem to bother Yoongi, who leans back on his hands and turns his face fully to the bright moon, eyelids slipping closed. He looks in peace, tranquil and content and Jungkook envies that just a little.

“The moon is lonely,” Yoongi supplies, dark mouth pouting through his explanation. “As am I, and I always used to think that if at least I was watching the moon who always watched us, then it could feel comfort, even if it’s something small.”

Jungkook turns his face back to the moon, eyes tracing the dark spots and twinkles of craters that decorates its surface. “You’re lonely?” he mutters, quietly so that maybe Yoongi won’t actually hear him.

But being a vampire means the both of them hear everything and anything, there’s no hiding. “That’s my echo,” says Yoongi. “When I lived a human life, I lived it alone. No family, no friends, each day growing more and more lonely. And then my sire came along and offered me a chance at eternal life.” He scoffs and Jungkook turns to watch the elder’s face.

His eyes scrunch as if remembering the story he’s telling so easily, his lips twisted into a grimace and his hands clutch at the grey blanket beneath them instead of Jungkook.

“I remember that I wasn’t all that bothered by eternal life, but this was the first person to invest themselves with me and I didn’t want to lose that.”

Jungkook feels something heavy lodge in the pit of his stomach and claws rip at his silent chest.

“But when I woke up, after giving my human life away, I was, as I always had been: alone.”

Jungkook shuffles a little closer to his hyung, only a few inches of space between them, but Yoongi still doesn’t open his eyes, bathing in the light of the moon as though it’s the force he needs to live.

What’s blood to moonlight?

“My sire left before I woke up,” Yoongi adds, in case it wasn’t obvious. “And for centuries I wandered the earth, with nothing but the moon as company. Then, Taehyung found me.” Yoongi swallows, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Innocent Taehyung, who saw a suspicious looking man laying in the grass at midnight and instead of running for the hills, joined him to star gaze.”

Clearly, Jungkook is a very empathetic soul as his own lips quirk in a small smile that mirrors Yoongi’s and the sadness of the story is suddenly squashed down by relief.  

“Which, as you’ll come to learn, is so very Taehyung like,” Yoongi continues. “He talked my ear off, even when I didn’t reply and when it was time to part ways, he made me promise to meet him again in this exact spot the following night. I didn’t think he would show up, to be honest, after countless years of being let down by humanity and vampires alike, my hope was diminished. But I thought, seeing as I had nothing better to do, I would go.”

Jungkook swallows, feeling as though he’s listening to a story of soulmates. “And he was there,” he mutters.

Yoongi opens one eye to gage Jungkook’s expression, closing it again when he sees nothing to worry about and his smile extends further across his face. “And he was there. With blankets and wine and bread, and a story about Orion he couldn’t wait to tell me and started shouting at me when he spotted me down the street.” A nostalgic chuckle. “Wonder and inquisitiveness, that’s what Taehyung is made of. I’m fairly certain I fell in love with him first, but I had no knowledge or experience of love. But Taehyung taught me, he became a vampire to stay with me, he held my hand for centuries after and showed me what it’s like to love, to not be alone.”

Yoongi pauses, body so still that if Jungkook didn’t know any better he’d think the vampire had fallen asleep.

“Without Taehyung, I would have never found my family,” he explains. “And after knowing what it’s like to be without them, I never want to lose them. I want them to always be happy, always be safe and loved. Namjoon may have brought us all together, but I’m the one that will fight tooth and nail to stay together.”

Jungkook nods, understanding. “I’m sorry.”

In a move that’s far too inhumanly fast, Yoongi is sat upright, hands resting in his lap and eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook. The gaze is heavy and makes Jungkook feel small, but it’s not mean, nor with bad intentions.

It’s apologetic.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” the elder explains, tone not to be argued with. “You’re scared and alone and I’ve been in your shoes.  Maybe not in the same situation, but emotionally, I’ve been where you are now, and I should have been more empathetic towards you. I just—” he sighs, scrunching his eyes shut again. “When my family is somewhat threatened I just—"

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he reassures. “I wouldn’t really want to deal with a pathetic excuse of a … thing like me.” He scoffs a little bitterly.

For a moment there’s quiet and then Yoongi reaches out and tangles his fingers through Jungkook’s own. The sudden touch snaps the younger’s attention away from the moon and back to the elder, whose cheeks are puffed out in annoyance, looking a little like a hamster hiding food in his cheeks.

“You’re not a pathetic excuse of a thing. You’re Jungkook and whether you know who you are or not doesn’t change the fact you are what you are.” Yoongi squeezes his hand. “You can be a vampire that’s scared of the dark, that faints at the sight of blood, who gives a fuck. You’re still you.”  

“I don’t like what I am.”

“Then be the you that you do like.”

“Easier said than done.”

Yoongi chuckles. “True,” he agrees, easily. “But you’re my family now, Jungkook, and you’re not alone, never alone.”

There’s a flicker of warmth in his silent chest, hope that maybe this isn’t all dire and dark of a situation as he initially thought. What was it Jimin said? Each day he’ll wake up and feel a little bit better than the last.

That sounds nice.

“Thank you, Yoongi-hyung,” he mumbles, smiling shyly up at the elder.

Yoongi grunts, satisfied with the outcome of their little talk. “Anytime, kid,” he nods, turning back to bask in the light of the moon.

Their hands stay entwined, and Jungkook find his whole body tingle in warmth at the connection.

“Namjoon, he—” Yoongi begins, not turning to look at Jungkook. “He cares, a lot , about everything and anything. Whether it’s small things like Seokjin-hyung freaking out and accidentally killing a spider that snuck into the den, or saving a kid who wasn’t given a choice to live, he cares.”

Jungkook swallows thickly, the burning in the back of his throat stings, but it’s content, like a slowly dying log fire on a winter evening.

“I should apologise,” Jungkook whispers. “I didn’t mean to lash out at him, he’s been very sweet to me. It just got...a little too much.”

Nodding in easy understanding, Yoongi gives Jungkook’s hand another tight squeeze. “You don’t need to apologise; you have a right to be upset. But, just remind him that you don’t blame him for this, unless you do, that is.”

Jungkook shakes his head viciously. “No!” he explains, a little too loudly than he anticipated, and it causes the both of them to flinch. “I mean, I could never blame him. He’s been so sweet to me.”

With a teasing scoff, Yoongi leans back on his spare hand and settles Jungkook with a knowing raise of his eyebrow. “A little too sweet, I hear.”

This is another one of those instances where if Jungkook could flush, he would be red from the tip of his ears to the tip of his toes. “I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbles, averting his eyes to the floor and pushing his legs out to lay flat in front of him.

Clearly, Yoongi is unconvinced, but he doesn’t push anything. “Namjoon cares,” he adds. “He cares too much, empathetic to a fault.” He sighs, shutting his eyes to the light of the moon again. “Don’t take advantage of that.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to speak the words for Yoongi to know that he would never, ever do something like that. Instead he squeezes the large hand of his hyung and turns his face back to the moon.

It’s not as warm as the sun, nor the candles in the den.

But for Jungkook, it’s soothing. Like hearing the crashing of waves against the sand, like hearing the chirping of birds on a cool spring day.

It’s the light in the darkness he really needed.

___________

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

But when he opens his eyes it’s to the faint yellow glow of the lava lamps from his room and fingers tickling gently through his hair. It’s the first time since becoming a vampire in which Jungkook hasn’t woken up drowned in anxiety.

His head is pillowed on someone’s lap, long toned legs hidden behind soft jeans and Jungkook thinks they’re far more comfortable than any old pillow.

Sighing, he nuzzles a little closer to the person coddling him, body heavy and light all at the same time in a feeling that’s wholly intoxicating.

“Feels good,” he mumbles, head leaning into the fingers scratching lightly at his scalp.

There’s a soft chuckle. “I’m glad, lamb,” says Namjoon, voice so soft it feels somewhat distant.

Jungkook hums, practically purrs. “If you feel like doing this everyday I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Alright,” Namjoon agrees easily. “How do you feel? I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up earlier.”

In utter content and comfort, Jungkook lets another sigh past his lips. Namjoon and the night air around his new home smell so similar. An earthy nature scent, woody and gentle in a way that makes Jungkook feel almost boneless.

“You smell so, so , good,” Jungkook purrs, nuzzling his nose against Namjoon’s thigh.

The fingers in Jungkook’s hair stop scratching at his scalp and start carefully stroking through the brown strands. “I do, huh?”

“Fuck yes ,” Jungkook practically groans. “Can I eat you instead of blood?”

“I’m not for eating, lamb,” there’s amusement laced through Namjoon’s deep baritone. “But speaking of, I need you to sit up and eat. It’s a little after dawn and you haven’t eaten in hours.”

Whining like a petulant child, Jungkook buries his face further into Namjoon’s thigh. “Don’t wanna,” he complains.

But Namjoon is clearly not in an arguing mood, easily manhandling Jungkook into an upright position beside him. He smiles sweetly at Jungkook, reaching over to the bedside table for the carton of banana milk that sits next to the lava lamp.

Feeling a little heady, Jungkook huffs and crawls back into Namjoon’s lap, not wanting to upset the elder by laying back down. He wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck and rests his head against his broad chest.

Smooth and hard, but with the softest tiddies that rival that of his thighs.

“Open wide for me, lamb,” Namjoon orders, and Jungkook does as he’s told, fangs protruding and tongue searching for the straw to his dinner. He gulps the blood down slowly, moaning a little as the warm liquid coats his tongue and slides down his throat.

It’s only then he remembers the thirst, flaring at the back of his throat and forcing him to drink a little more glutinously.

“Ah, ah,” tutters Namjoon, pulling the straw away from Jungkook’s mouth and placing the banana milk carton on the floor.

Pouting, Jungkook whines again. “ Hungry .”

Nodding in empathy, Namjoon reaches out to gather the drops of blood that have collected at the corners of Jungkook’s mouth with his thumb.  “I know, I know,” he placates, pushing his thumb past Jungkook’s lips so the young vampire can suckle the blood off the digit.

With a satisfied hum, Jungkook thinks that blood tastes even better when it’s fed to him by Namjoon. His stomach doesn’t feel queasy in the slightest.  

When Namjoon removes his thumb, Jungkook chases after it with his tongue and in the process snags his bottom lip with his fangs. He winces, feeling blood pool across his lip, but Namjoon looks at him fondly.

“Such a baby vampire,” he comments, carefully wrapping his fingers around Jungkook’s chin and pulling his face up so Namjoon can inspect his bitten lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were doing this on purpose.”

Jungkook whines, shuffles awkwardly on Namjoon’s lap as he feels embarrassment claw at the back of his neck. “Seokjin told me that blood can heal my lips.”

If Namjoon is surprised at the little tidbit Jungkook had learnt in his absence, he doesn’t let it show across his face. Instead, there’s a somewhat mischievous glint to his scarlet eyes, corners of his plush lips smirking upwards and revealing those beautiful dimples. “Oh? He did, did he?”

Nodding, Jungkook’s fingers tangle themselves with the hairs at the back of Namjoon’s neck, scrambling for purchase as the heady scent of his sire totally encompasses his senses and makes him feel high. “Y-yeah,” he mutters, eyelashes fluttering and head twisting so he can nuzzle his nose against Namjoon’s palm rather than have his fingers around his chin.

It’s odd, how warm Namjoon feels even though there’s no blood pumping through his veins. Everything about this vampire feels like comfort and safety to Jungkook and it’s heady in the best way.

“Then is this just a ploy to get more blood, baby?”

Baby . Not baby vampire but baby .

Jungkook thinks he could float right into the atmosphere he feels so giddy and light right now. He can’t stop the smile pulling at the corners of his lips and the happy warmth in his chest. “Nope,” he sing songs.

“Then, why do you keep biting your precious lip, lamb?”

Jungkook hums, lips smearing red across Namjoon’s palm just so he can lick it off, shuddering at the irony sweet taste. “I don’t mean to,” he promises, kitten licks against his sire’s palm turning into soft kisses.

Namjoon hums, letting Jungkook do with him as he wills. “Really?”

Nodding imploringly, embarrassment curling in his gut, Jungkook locks eyes with Namjoon, looks as sweet and innocent as he can muster. He honestly doesn’t mean to keep biting his lip, but he’s a little ashamed to admit he likes the kisses he gets when he does.

Namjoon looks unconvinced, reaching round for the banana milk carton. “Then, let’s heal that pretty lip of yours, shall we?” He offers out the straw for Jungkook to take, but the younger shakes his head, shying away from the blood. The look on Namjoon’s face is triumphant. “What do you want then, Jungkookie?”

“What I always get,” Jungkook responds in a bold move, voice wavering on embarrassment.

“Alright,” Namjoon agrees easily, leaning forward and slotting their lips together.

Tenderly he slides his tongue over the cuts in Jungkook’s bottom lip, tastes the blood on the younger’s tongue and steals the breath from Jungkook’s lungs. Not like he needs to breathe; he could stop right this second and push his tongue into Namjoon’s mouth and kiss until the sun sets.

But as always, just as quickly as the kiss begins, it ends and Namjoon pulls back with wide eyes, sparkling with adoration and care that one would show a newborn bunny.

It makes Jungkook feel— something .   

Something he’s not sure he’s ready to accept just yet.

“It’s getting late, lamb, you should sleep more,” Namjoon offers, slipping the straw from the banana milk blood between his lips once more, and encouraging Jungkook to drink slowly. “Newborns need all the rest they can get, especially newborns with concussions.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, letting the straw fall from his blood-stained lips. “But I’m not tired,” he complains like a petulant child, slipping closer to Namjoon’s chest and nuzzling against his neck. “And you smell so good .”

“So I’ve heard,” Namjoon teases. “I think you might be a little drunk, lamb.”

“Thought vamps can’t drink alcohol,” Jungkook slurs, Namjoon’s scent is the strongest at his neck, and he can’t help himself but to nibble ever so slightly at his hyung’s neck, wanting more and more of that wonderfully earthy scent to engulf him.

Namjoon pulls him lightly away from his neck. “Now, now, lamb, watch those fangs.”

“I can kiss it better,” Jungkook whimpers, trying to bury himself in Namjoon’s neck once more.

Chuckling, Namjoon lets Jungkook bury his face back in his neck, arms wrapping securely around the younger. “I always watched the way Jimin and Taehyung clung to Yoongi as though he was their very source of life. But I never knew just how desperate for their sire’s scent they are, just how crazy it makes them. They’re good at hiding it.”

Jungkook hums, not really understanding but enjoying the tickling scent of earth.

“s’good,” Jungkook slurs once more, sighing in such content and letting his body sag like a rag doll in Namjoon’s hold.

“I bet,” the elder comments. “Sires smell like the best thing in the world to their sired. It can calm them, make them giddy and drunk.”

“Is it bad?” Jungkook mutters softly.

Namjoon thinks about that for a moment, the quiet ambience of the room stinging in Jungkook’s vampire ears and making him bury his nose closer to Namjoon’s scent gland. “I suppose not,” the elder finally decides. “But it’s best not to get too attached to it.”

“Why?” Jungkook whines. “I never want to stop smelling you.”

“But you don’t want to be dependant on me, Jungkookie,” Namjoon explains softly, timid almost, and there’s a pang of guilt in Jungkook’s gut that stings through the high.

Another pause fills the room, more silence that isn’t quiet, the dripping of the water from the tap in the kitchen ringing like an ancient gong in his head. He makes a mental note to scold anyone who doesn’t shut the thing off properly. The noise drives him mad .

“I wouldn’t mind being dependant on you, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook finally says, voice the smallest it’s ever been. “You’re sweet, and caring and you saved me. You keep saving me.”

“Jungkook, no I—”

“Gave me a chance to escape death,” Jungkook interrupts. “I can’t remember right now if I’ve even thanked you for that. But thank you, god , thank you. Thank you for finding me alone and dying and offering me comfort. You’re wonderful Namjoonie-hyung.”

Silence, thick silence that comes about from heavy thought and shock.

But then the arms around Jungkook’s slight waist tighten and hold him tighter against the hardness of Namjoon’s chest. “You’re drunk, lamb.”

Humming, Jungkook sighs. “Maybe,” he agrees, then giggles a little feeling as light as a cloud and wanting nothing more than to just drift away. “I’ll tell you again in the morning.”

“Go to sleep, Jungkookie.”

“Okay, Namjoonie-hyung.”

Chapter Text

The room is bathed in that sweet warm glow of the orange lava lamp and yet Jungkook finds that the bed is cold, again .

Gently, he opens his eyes, vision easily adjusting to the peculiar lighting of the room and he finds that the bed is considerably less empty than he would like it to be.

Note: it is considerably less filled with Namjoon than he would like it to be.

Which, Jungkook thinks, that if this starts to become a habit, waking up alone and considerably less wrapped in the arms of a gentle vampire giant, then he’s going to take himself into the room of one of his other hyungs and snuggle them all night long instead.

It doesn’t matter that Namjoon smells the best and gives the best hugs, Jungkook wants to wake up being a little spoon god damn it! Is that too much to ask for?

But before he can whine aloud in protest and roll himself out of bed in search for his sire, he feels large hands cup the side of his face and long delicate fingers tickling over the apples of his cheeks. “Good morning,” Namjoon greets and his voice is rough with sleep.

Jungkook swallows thickly at the sight of Namjoon with bed head; tousled in the best way. And he feels a breath he doesn’t need catch in the back of his throat at the sleepy droop to Namjoon’s scarlet eyes, which has him, not for the first time since his immortality began, thanking whoever’s listening that he can’t blush.

But then the moment is ruined by the tell-tale burning of thirst stinging the back of his throat, scorching like the pits of hell, and he lets a sharp hiss pass through his teeth.

“Hungry?” the elder asks and Jungkook nods. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

But Jungkook doesn’t want Namjoon to leave; he wants cuddles. And considering he didn’t get to wake up to cuddles he wants double now. His hand reaches for Namjoon’s cotton soft grey sleep shirt and he tangles his fingers in the hem. “No,” he whispers, his own voice echoing with sleep.

With a cock of his head, Namjoon rubs the sleep from his eyes and licks his dry lips. “No?” he asks, highly confused. “What do you mean, no?”

Leaning on his elbows, Jungkook’s eyes peer down at the old battered wooden floor and finds a pillow and a blanket laid messily right at the foot of the bed. Guilt twists in his gut. Namjoon probably has his own room he could have slept in, but the compassionate vampire gave up being comfortable to be close to Jungkook just in case he needed him.

It’s only then that Jungkook realises this whole situation could have turned out incredibly, impossibly worse .

“You slept on the floor?” Jungkook asks, twisting his face into his pillow and feeling mortification burning through his body. “Wasn’t it uncomfortable?” he adds, half of his face smashed into the plush pillow.

“Not particularly,” Namjoon shrugs, affection threaded across his face as he gazes a little starry eyed down at Jungkook. “I can sleep anywhere.”

Sorting through the raging thoughts in his mind, half of which is just a mess of incoherent squeals as a result of Namjoon’s heavily adoring gaze, Jungkook huffs and hides his entire face into the plush of his pillow. “B-but you could have slept with me,” he hurriedly explains into the fabric, words muffled.

But Namjoon is quick to answer, a sweet chuckle in his voice. “You were a little too drunk on me last night. I thought it best you had a breather.”

Logically that makes sense, Jungkook vaguely remembers just how loopy he was last night and is more than a little thankful that his head has cleared from the clouds this morning, or well evening .

He hums, turning out of his little hiding place in the pillow in order to drink in the sight of his handsome sire. “I’ve never done heroin,” he begins, voice a little wistful as he remembers the feeling of drowning in the smell of sea spray and petrichor. “But I’m pretty sure that’s what it feels like.”

Scoffing lightly, Namjoon ruffles Jungkook’s dark locks. “There’s a Twilight quote in there somewhere, I just know it,” he taunts, standing to his feet. “I promise I’ll be back quickly, okay?”

Jungkook is beginning to realise that when Namjoon makes promises, he laces as much conviction and reassurance through his words, even for mundane things like promising to return to Jungkook quickly. There’s a hint in his eyes that has Jungkook wondering whether the compassionate vampire would very well end his eternity if he were to ever break a promise.  

“You can eat in here this morning,” the elder continues as Jungkook’s mind clouds with everything Namjoon . “The others are having breakfast together and they’re a little less …” he mulls the next word over in his head, a cocky smirk playing across his lips. “Conservative, when it comes to their dining experience.”

Jungkook can only imagine the spread across the large ornate dining table he had seen yesterday, brain running mad with images of the silverwear stained with blood and his new hyung’s faces smudged with red stains; eyes dilated.

He shivers, and Namjoon chuckles. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” he reassures. “They tend to just drink straight from the blood bag. Jimin does use a straw, however, because he’s dainty like that.”

Scoffing at the image of Jimin holding a blood bag with a plastic straw stuck in the top and pinkie finger raised delicately, Jungkook sighs and settles back into the pillows. “I can wait,” he mumbles.

Namjoon presses a kiss to Jungkook’s exposed forehead, chapped lips brushing gently against his cool skin. “Good, lamb,” the elder praises before he silently and swiftly slips out of the room.

It takes a great deal of effort for Jungkook to focus on the sound of the door closing.

Namjoon moves like a ghost through the world, as do the rest of the vampires Jungkook has come to live with. But considering his hearing should be exceptional now, Jungkook has come to realise he’d need to fine-tune it a little more; like a new piano.

Because currently he can hear everything.

The ticking of several clocks, their sounds of varying softness which indicates they’re scattered about the nest with no rhyme or reason. He can hear the ever-present dripping of the tap in the kitchen that is slowly setting his nerves on edge.

The lull of talk amongst the other inhabitants of the nest sounds like the humming of bees happily going about their work. The creaking and settling of the nest sounds like a strong wind billowing through winter trees and rustling their old branches.

There’s just so much, so much humming of so many different sounds, some of which are so new Jungkook isn’t even sure what they are, and it drives him mad. He needs to fine-tune all his senses really, but his hearing especially, so that he can filter out all the insignificant background noise and focus on the noises that matter.

Like the opening and closing of doors that announce the presence of eerily silent vampires, for example. Because just as Jungkook is shutting his eyes and trying his hardest to push all noise that isn’t coming from inside his room out of his mind, he feels a presence hovering over him, a shadow cast over his face and blocking the gentle calming glow of the lava lamp.

“Good morning, Jungkookie,” a deep baritone greets and Jungkook is ashamed to admit that he lets out a squeak of pure horror, vampire abilities utterly failing him.

He practically jumps out of his skin, sliding back from the edge of the bed and cowering against the wall. He feels like a kitten that’s been spooked by a sudden noise; his eyes are wide and dilated, his breath is streaming heavily past his lips and he feels a little dizzy at the sudden movements so soon after he woke up.

Jungkook tries very hard to try and say something, try and push the myriad of thoughts bubbling around his head past his lips. But all he can do is open and close his mouth like a fish out of water whilst staring holes right into an ever-smiling Taehyung; who stands somewhat smugly at the edge of Jungkook’s bed.  

Trying very hard not to let the giggle that’s forcing its way up his throat spill past his lips, Taehyung bites on his bottom lip and folds his hands behind his back. “Sorry,” he apologises, but the mirth in his eyes contradicts his regret. “Usually the people in this house know I’m coming.”

The sudden movements and the fear coursing through his veins has the burning in the back of this through heighten, stoked by his Echo and his weakness until Jungkook is scrunching his face up to swallow past the burning.

But Jungkook’s fear subsides just a little, and he pushes it out of his chest until it just clings to his skin like humidity in summer. “I-it’s okay,” he lies, voice so incredibly small, pushing through the pain of hunger.

“It’s not,” Taehyung counters, easily slipping himself onto the bed and pulling Jungkook flush against his chest. He hooks a long leg over Jungkook, adjusts the younger’s head so it’s nuzzled against Taehyung’s thick throat and then lets out a content sigh. “I will snuggle you to make you feel better.”

Knowing there’s no way he can protest, not that Jungkook really wants too, he lets himself go somewhat boneless in Taehyung’s grasp and mentally counts to ten in order to calm his irrational fear. It’s a pleasant surprise to find that the somewhat meditating calm of counting curbs the edge of his fear and extinguishes the burning hunger in the back of his throat until it’s a little more bearable, a little more manageable.

Are all newborn vampire’s this good at controlling their thirst?

“Feel better?” Taehyung asks after a moment’s pause, and his voice reverberates in his chest so that Jungkook can feel it against his cheek.

“A little,” the younger says, getting more comfortable in Taehyung’s grip. “I dunno why,” he begins, trying really hard to laugh off his inability to vampire. “But I just didn’t hear you come in.”

Taehyung hums, clearly not buying what Jungkook is selling. “Right now, it sounds a bit like white noise and a theme park all rolled together doesn’t it?” he asks, gently, voice like a calling in a dream. “And your head can’t comprehend it, because it’s quiet, there’s no one around so there should be no sounds. And yet, annoyingly, everything makes noise and it’s so loud and sometimes it hurts and sometimes it drives you mad .”

Jungkook nods imploringly. “Yeah, that’s—that’s exactly—h-how’d you—”

“I may have said yes to being a vampire very easily, and I may have been turned a very long time ago, but I struggled a lot with the change,” Taehyung explains.

Jungkook likes his voice. It’s smooth like butter, his tone reminiscent of lullabies and calming words of encouragement before doing something nerve wracking. “Really?” he asks, glad he’s not the only one struggling.

With another deep hum, Taehyung threads his hands through Jungkook’s brown locks and aimlessly starts rubbing the strands between his fingers. “God, sometimes I slip up with control even now and that craze of sounds and smells, and madness just consumes me and I feel like my head could explode.”

“I’m guessing it just takes time and practice until you can tune out the things you don’t want to hear,” Jungkook sighs. “Like the fucking tap in the kitchen.”

Taehyung chuckles, the strands of Jungkook’s hair are now being rubbed between Taehyung’s palms and making them go a little matted. “That’s Hoseokkie-hyung, he’s really forgetful. No matter how many times I tell him to turn the damn thing off properly he still forgets.” Jungkook can hear a giggle echoing down the hallway, high like the twinkling of a bell and his head snaps subtly towards it, and there’s something somewhat cat like in his mannerisms.

Taehyung sighs, deeply and content. “That’s Jiminie,” he explains, eyes closing almost as if to hear the twinkling giggle better.

Settling back against Taehyung’s hold, Jungkook furrows his brow. “I can hear that very clearly and I wasn’t necessarily trying to hear it,” Jungkook mumbles quietly, as if not wanting to overshadow the pretty ring of Jimin’s giggle. “But you opening and closing the door to my bed room didn’t even register…”

“That’s because Jimin is loud and I was quiet,” Taehyung explains. “Did you not take physics in school?”

Kicking at the elder’s ankles, Jungkook huffs. “What I meant is that Jimin’s giggle is coming all the way from the den, but the door to the bedroom is five feet or so away from me. So, explain the physics in that smart ass.”

 “You’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be, huh, lamb ?” Taehyung teases and Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know much about the inner workings of Vampire hearing and sight, it’s different for everyone.”

“How long did it take you to get a handle on your vampire abilities?” Jungkook asks, fingers tracing the swirls on Taehyung’s clothes. He’s wearing a deep purple shirt, baggy on his lithe frame, the material a soft silk and adorned in a navy-blue peacock feather design. His trousers are suede, caramel in colour and flare so wide at the ends that they probably consume Taehyung’s feet.

The elder vampire mulls over Jungkook’s question for a while before shrugging. “Really, I don’t think I’ll ever have complete control over it like the others. They can tune in and out to the world like it’s second nature. But because of my echo, it’s hard for me to keep focused.”

Oh.

“Your echo?”

“Inquisitiveness, curiosity, wonder,” explains Taehyung, as if reading off the tag line for the latest Hollywood blockbuster movie. “I am easily fascinated by everything and I have a passion for exploring and learning more about the world.” He continues, chest rising and falling rhythmically with his words. “Or so I was told when I was little,” he adds. “People thought it was cute then. But once I got older people thought it was annoying and childlike,” he sighs, sounding somewhat pained, but out of the corner of his eyes Jungkook can see that Taehyung is still smiling.

It takes a certain kind of strength to smile through painful memories.

“Yoongi thought it was cute, however, and years later when we met Jimin he also thought it was cute and they’re all the opinions that matter to me,” he nods confidently, and Jungkook is glad that Taehyung isn’t the type to care what strangers think. “But I’ve been thinking, which isn’t really new but still, I’ve been thinking, that maybe you and I aren’t so different.”

There’s a furrow to Jungkook’s brow and he swallows down the urge to worry his bottom lip. The sting of thirst flares like the fiery pits of hell and Jungkook immediately regrets provoking the vampire beast. “What do you mean?” he asks, mouth dry.

“Well, our echoes are different, but I think perhaps they affect our ability to control our senses in a similar way,” Taehyung explains. “Fear is good at numbing you whilst still being highly on edge and alert, whereas being so inquisitive means I can’t sit still long enough to push the unnecessary stuff out of my brain. Essentially, our Echoes are stopping us from being like the other vampire kids at school,” Taehyung adds, chuckling at his own comment.

By now, Jungkook can feel that his hair has been twisted into all sorts of directions and he probably looks very much like Einstein. But he doesn’t stop Taehyung from rubbing the strands together; the tactile comfort, even though weird, is very reassuringly nice.

“So, my thinking lead me to the conclusion that maybe we can help each other?” Taehyung offers. “I like to meditate because it’s calming and helps organise your mind. And, maybe, if you’re feeling up to it, you can join me?”

Jungkook stiffens in Taehyung’s hold, worry clawing at his heart. He’s what, a few days old? And already his new vampire family are telling him that he’s not right and he needs help . Which, Jungkook knows deep down that he does, but it’s not the best thing to hear when your whole two days as a vampire have been spent realising that you’re not really cut out for being a vampire.

It would be nice if he could be good at just one thing in this new life and new body of his. Something niggles at the back of his head, like a worm with a vicious tongue telling him that being bad at everything isn’t something he’s used to.

Taehyung removes his hands from Jungkook’s hair and squishes the youngers cheeks together. “You’re thinking too hard about this,” he explains. “You don’t have to meditate with me, you know what’s best for you, after all. And you’re still a baby so maybe you’d benefit from trying your own thing for a few days before you decide whether you do or do not want my help.”

“It’s not that it’s—”

Taehyung squishes Jungkook’s cheeks tighter and cutting off the younger’s next words. “You’re not a bad vampire. The best thing about being a vampire is that there’s no predetermined norm that everyone gets held standard to like when you were human. That’s the whole reason for our Echoes, they make us different. They can be our weakness and they can also be our strength, but you’re no worse nor more amazing than any other vampire out there.”

The elder lets go of Jungkook’s cheeks gently, rubbing his thumb over the swell of them in reassurance and the soft action has Jungkook’s embarrassment flaring full force.

But there’s a more pressing matter at hand than his crippling shyness. Jungkook can feel saliva gather in his mouth, the burn in the back of his throat tickling like he’s swallowed a whole tablespoon of chilli powder and enjoyed the taste so much it’s making him salivate.

He tries his best to push past it, wanting to stay in the moment rather than ruining it with bloodthirst. “How does being scared of everything make me better?” he inquires, trying hard to keep his drool in his mouth, focusing on swallowing only when he has too.

“I dunno,” Taehyung shrugs, hands moving from Jungkook’s cheeks to his chin, raising it from the crook of Taehyung’s neck to look him in the eye. “But I’m excited for you to show me how it is,” he adds, with an enthusiastic twinkle in his dark red eyes.

Jungkook swallows, unable to stop himself with his head in this position and renders the little vampire unable to continue to ignore his hunger. He whimpers like a kicked puppy and the noise pinches worry at Taehyung’s brows.

“Namjoon had to head into the cellar for the B blood, Jimin drank the last of it for breakfast,” the elder vampire explains, slipping his thumb past Jungkook’s dry, chapped lips to graze the pad across his diamond sharp fangs. “He’s taking a while, huh?” Taehyung sympathises, voice cooing as though he’s talking to a baby animal rather than a 21 year old vampire.

Jungkook’s eyes blow as wide as saucers as he tastes metallic on his tongue, just a little, a speckling of blood that barely coats his tongue: but god, it’s good.

Perhaps he looks a little more terrified than euphoric at the blood in his mouth, because Taehyung hushes him gently and sticks his thumb a little further into Jungkook’s mouth. “Suck,” he demands rather than asks, and honestly at this point Jungkook thinks he’s more hungry than sane.

He suckles greedily on Taehyung’s thumb, drawing out mere dribbles of blood from the vampire, but it’s enough to stifle the ever-burning sensation at the back of his throat for just a moment.

“It’s not really good to drink the blood of another vampire, but I just ate, and you look starved, so a little won’t be too bad,” Taehyung explains, chuckling lowly at the questioning cock to Jungkook’s head whilst he licks imploringly at the little wound on Taehyung’s thumb. Being extra careful of his fangs. “This is practically cannibalism, Kookie,” the elder teases. “Did you even go to school?”

At the dig, Jungkook pushes Taehyung’s thumb from his mouth and crawls on the bed until he’s sat upright, arms folded across his chest. “Everyone has to go to school,” he contradicts.

Taehyung shrugs, slipping up the pillows and resting his arms above his head, as though posing for an oil painting portrait. “Doesn’t mean you were necessarily good at it.”

Kicking the elder in the shin, Jungkook pulls his lips into a hard, flat line. “Excuse you, I am suffering from amnesia, how can you be making fun of me right now?” 

“Honestly, it’s not difficult,” Taehyung shoots back, crossing his ankles over each other. “But speaking of amnesia, Joonie-hyung and I went to the police station last night, did he tell you about it?”

That has Jungkook’s body going slack, a cold shiver clawing at the back of his neck. “Seokjin mentioned it,” he shrugs. “But Namjoon-hyung hasn’t said anything—"

Humming, Taehyung swings his legs off the side of the bed. “You were pretty sleepy when we came back yesterday,” he says. “He’ll probably tell you after breakfast, but don’t worry, it’s all good stuff.”

There’s a glimmer of hope, flickering small and uncertain within Jungkook’s chest. But it feels wrong, feels like a bull in a china shop and Jungkook doesn’t want to believe in it. “How can anything right now be good stuff?” he scoffs, folding his arms across his chest, head knocking back against the wall behind him.

And there it is, that sympathetic look that Jungkook is growing a little tired of seeing, painted thickly across Taehyung’s beautiful face.

But before Jungkook can tell Taehyung to stop, the elder reaches out and ruffles a hand through his hair. “Anything can be good stuff if you let it be.” He winks, pushing himself up onto his feet. “I left you a change of clothes in the dresser,” he adds.

Jungkook looks down at the misshapen and large clothes that he’s been dressed in for three days now and lets out a little chuckle. “So these clothes are yours, are they?”

Humming whilst running a hand through his hair, Taehyung about turns towards the door and slowly makes his way to it. As if purposefully moving in a way that Jungkook can understand, can comprehend. “They sure are, how they fit?”

“A little big?”

“I like them big,” he winks once more, chuckling loudly and the implication that Jungkook is fairly certain would have the tips of his ears red if he were Human.

When Taehyung leaves this time, Jungkook can hear the door open, can hear the latch echo painfully through his sensitive ears and he grits his teeth to stop himself from crumpling from the sound. He can be stronger than that.

“Think about that meditation thing, okay?” Taehyung adds.

Jungkook nods, pulling his knees up to his chest so he can rest his chin on them, letting a long sigh past his lips.

“All yours,” Taehyung’s silky deep voice announces, slipping out the door only for Namjoon to slip inside in his place.

There’s a banana milk carton in his hands, lips licking up a few specs of blood that have subtly collected at the corner of his plush lips. Honestly, if Jungkook’s eyesight weren’t vampire good, he wouldn’t even notice it, but he does and his stomach churns.

The door shuts silently behind Namjoon, the elder hovering somewhat awkwardly by it. “Meditation?” he asks, softly.

Jungkook nods, swallowing around the burning thirst that’s rearing its ugly head once more, almost as though his body is reaching for the blood that’s so close yet so far . He reaches out for Namjoon, making grabby motions for his breakfast.  

There’s a somewhat affectionate smile dancing across Namjoon’s plum coloured lips, feet gliding silently over the wood floor, thankfully keeping his balance this time; banana milk blood outstretched. Jungkook takes the meal gratefully, straw slipping past his lips as he sips carefully. The bed dips besides him and Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the mattress, back leaning against the wall and scarlet eyes watching Jungkook drink carefully.

“Are you going to meditate with Tae?” his sire asks, long fingers tickling up and down his own leg in what Jungkook assumes is some kind of nervous tick. Or perhaps Namjoon doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, and it’s just a way to get rid of restless energy.

If it’s one thing Jungkook has learned in his last few days as a vampire; it’s that there’s a lot of energy bubbling through his system and very little ways for him to release it. Other than crying or worrying, that is.

He shakes his head from side to side, removing the straw from his mouth and thoroughly licking the remains of his breakfast from his lips. “I dunno,” he says. “I don’t really know much of anything right now and I think I’d like to sort my head out before other stuff happens.”

Namjoon chuckles, reaching out with his thumb to swipe a speck of blood Jungkook had missed from his lips. He licks the scarlet off the pad of his thumb before Jungkook can really see it. “Stuff, huh?” he asks, teasing smirk on his lips. “What stuff?”

There’s a hint of irritation prickling at the back of his neck. “I would very much like to know who I was before I find out who I’m going to be.”

“Eloquent,” Namjoon hums, pushing the drink back towards Jungkook’s mouth. “I can understand you must be frustrated.”

That’s an understatement , Jungkook thinks, but swallows the thought down with another mouthful of blood.

“We’re making some headway with finding out who you were,” Namjoon explains. “But in the meantime, if you have any questions, either I or the others would be very happy to answer them.”

Jungkook nods, thankful that he woke up surrounded by such understanding … beings.

He finishes the last of his meal, straw gurgling up the dregs of blood and then stretches out to place the container on the bedside table. “Thank you,” he whispers, settling back on the bed next to Namjoon, nuzzling his forehead against the elder’s shoulder. “I really appreciate all you’re doing for me, even if I don’t really show it.”

“Hey now, I think you’ve been taking this pretty well, considering, well, everything,” Namjoon stammers a little, fingers dancing across the blankets in order to trap Jungkook’s hand with his own.

For a while, the two just sit there, side by side, Jungkook resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, and there’s a tranquil peace between them that is entirely relieving.

Jungkook feels like a spring that’s been coiled tighter and tighter in on itself until it’s practically ready to snap. But in this moment, the tension escapes his muscles, bleeds from his tight frame like steam from a kettle and leaves him with an overwhelming sense of calm.

There are so many questions that need answering, so many things he needs to learn, so many bridges to conquer and hurdles to jump. But right now, in this moment, with Namjoon’s thumb rubbing reassuring circles into the back of his hand: Jungkook doesn’t feel nearly as worried about his uncertain past and future as he had this morning.

He takes a deep breath, smelling thick sea salt and petrichor and wonders faintly if maybe this is what a false sense of security feels like. Wonders if maybe Namjoon’s scent is making him think that things aren’t all doom and gloom when really, they are .

But then he takes another inhale of that rich, earthy smell that clings to Namjoon, delectably sweet, and his worry evaporates into thin air.

“Taehyung-hyung said—” Jungkook begins on a timidly quiet breath, debating whether it’s worth breaking the calm cocoon they’re wrapped in to discuss more important matters. They do have all eternity ahead of them, perhaps Jungkook can afford to take things slow, sniff the flowers as he goes.

Namjoon hums, gently nudging Jungkook to continue. “Yes?”

He sighs. “Taehyung said that you and he found something when you went to the police station?”

“Ahh, yes,” says Namjoon, rooting in the pocket of his sweatpants and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “We didn’t actually need to ask anything because this was pinned up in the front window of the police station.”

He hands the paper over, nudging Jungkook off of his shoulder subtly and the further away his nose is from Namjoon’s scent the clearer his mind goes. The fog lifting just enough for him to realise the weight of the paper in his hand, and Jungkook takes a few steadying breaths before reading it.

Missing Person

Jeon Jungkook, 21.

Brown hair, brown eyes, 175cm.

Last seen leaving the University grounds around 9pm.

If you or anyone you know has any information on Jungkook’s whereabouts

please contact the police immediately.

Your cooperation in this matter would be greatly appreciated. 

“What does this mean?” Jungkook whispers, his hands shake with pent up worry, anxiety poisoning his body and making his mouth dry. His fear overshadows Namjoon’s calming scent and it’s like he’s smashed his head on the dashboard of a car that’s broke far too suddenly. “Someone is looking for me?” he gasps, and suddenly, there’s something else mixing with his fear that has his anxiety on edge – that flicker of timid hope.

Namjoon hums, shuffling closer to Jungkook, their shoulders brushing gently together, but the elder purposefully doesn’t move any closer. “Precisely that,” he nods. “We didn’t think it best to ask whom it was that filed the missing person report. It’s a little dangerous for us to show such interest with an official case and risk exposing ourselves,” Namjoon scoffs out a laugh. “That’s a subject matter that humans aren’t ready to handle right now. But this is still a very good lead.”

Jungkook nods, taking another look over the photograph printed on the flyer. It’s clearly from a bigger picture, the other people he was with cropped out so as not to cause confusion, but the picture is still flattering if a little pixelated. He’s dressed in a large green parka coat, with his brown hair styled pretty much the same as it is now – without Taehyung’s hair twisting – which leads Jungkook to think the photo is relatively recent.

The smile across his face is wide, it makes his nose scrunch like a bunny, and crinkles around his almond eyes that twinkle, even through the grainy picture, with carefree happiness.    

The Jungkook in this picture is who he was.

Can he be like that again?

Probably not.

With swift fingers, Jungkook folds the paper up and pushes it across the bed, as far away from him as he can. Something about it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Lamb?” Namjoon asks, not missing anything. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook retorts a little too quickly. He hopes Namjoon drops it and just lets Jungkook dwell on his conflicting emotions and endless fear by himself.

But he should know better by now than to think he has the burden to handle his demons alone.

Namjoon scoops the younger into his arms, picking Jungkook up like a rag doll and sitting him securely in his lap, fingers tracing over the curves and dips of the young, pouting vampire’s face. “Today, what would you like to do?” he asks, placing a little kiss to the end of Jungkook’s nose that makes him shiver. “We can do anything; all you have to do is ask me.”

Jungkook sighs, letting the bad thoughts linger towards the back of his mind as that intoxicating scent fills his nostrils once more.

It’s a little muskier today, Jungkook notices, clinging to Namjoon thickly, almost as though he’s purposefully made the scent stronger just to make Jungkook go extra soft in his hold. “Anything?” he asks, eyes closing softly as he focuses on the feather light touch of Namjoon’s long fingers dancing across his skin.

“Anything,” Namjoon whispers, lips suddenly right against Jungkook’s ear and it makes him jump.

Lips press gently against a spot behind Jungkook’s ear that has him squirming. “Your wish,” one more kiss and Jungkook’s strength gives up, collapsing right against Namjoon’s chest, nose burrowing against the elder’s scent gland as he nuzzles himself a home there. “Is my command,” Namjoon finishes, a chuckle in his voice as he kisses the top of Jungkook’s fluffy hair.

Letting a soft sigh past his lips that tickles against Namjoon’s neck, Jungkook gives in to the comfort, sinking into it as though falling through the ocean towards the seabed.

“Cuddle with me.”

“Of course.”

__________

It’s two hours later when Jungkook awakes from his morning nap, and he finds, happily, that this time Namjoon hasn’t snuck out of his bed to sleep alone. The elder vampire’s mouth is open, mere inches from Jungkook’s face, no breath falling from his lips, no steady rise and fall to his chest and the sight brings shivers up Jungkook’s spine.

This is, he supposes, the norm now.

They’re the undead; the fact that Jungkook still breathes is just a habit he can’t quit. So watching Namjoon sleeping very much like the dead , shouldn’t freak Jungkook out so much.

But fuck, does it freak Jungkook out.

He has to slam his eyes shut, take a deep breath and hold it in his lungs whilst he mentally counts to ten. Lets the breath pass slowly through his teeth and pushes out the tension and anxiety in his muscles.

Get it together, he’s fine.

As if sensing Jungkook’s distress, Namjoon wriggles a little closer to him on the bed, nose scrunching so adorably it has Jungkook wriggling on the bed like a school kid gushing over their first crush.

He wants nothing more than to reach out and kiss that little button nose of his, or maybe boop it with his finger? But he has to remind himself that that would be incredibly weird and just because Jungkook enjoys all the gentle touches from Namjoon doesn’t mean it works the other way.

He feels his face crumple in worry, crumple in thought, eyes burning holes right through Namjoon’s skin.

“Lamb,” Namjoon’s sleep laced voice whispers into the ambient silence of the room. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters. “You can go back to sleep.” He wriggles a little in Namjoon’s grip, thinking that maybe splashing cold water across his face will help clear his mind just a little. But the arms around him tighten, and pull Jungkook carefully back against the soft bed.

Namjoon sighs, eyes still shut as though talking in his sleep. “Don’t apologise,” he says. “Tell me what you were thinking, maybe I can help?”

Cringing internally at how goddamn awkward a being he is, Jungkook hides his head in the pillow. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Namjoon’s arms tighten around him in a grip that suggests Jungkook won’t be getting out of this without wholly embarrassing himself.

So Jungkook decides that if he can’t cower away like he wants to, he might as well face the music like the man baby he is. And so, as quietly as he can muster, he whispers his thoughts into the pillow.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant dripping of the kitchen tap that sends Jungkook’s nerves into overdrive.

And then Namjoon laughs, a little too loud for the quiet and it has Jungkook practically jumping out of this skin.

“You want to kiss my nose?” Namjoon stutters between chuckles, eyes wide and sparkling.

God, Jungkook’s cheeks could very well be a brilliant red by now if he were human. “Or, you know, boop it,” he adds, as if that makes the whole weird situation any better. “You have a very adorable nose; this isn’t my fault!” he whines.

“Ahh, I see,” Namjoon scoffs, laughter dying slowly, but his face is still painted in glee and mirth that makes Jungkook equal parts light and equal parts mortified. “Then, I shall take full responsibility for my adorable nose, and subsequently let you kiss and or boop it,” he says with a gentle shrug to his shoulders. “Whatever a boop is.”

Jungkook furrows his brow. “Look Mr. Vampire,” he begins, puffing out his cheeks. “You might be centuries old, but you live in this world and have no excuse in not knowing the current slang.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon apologises, a teasing twinkling in his scarlet eyes. “Your confidence is beautiful, might I add.”

Oh, oh god.

Is there any way that the ground could just swallow Jungkook whole? Let him rot in the dirt with the worms and maggots so he can escape this utter train wreck of embarrassment coursing through his system. He slaps his hands over his face, as if that trick alone will render him invisible and he can make his great escape.

“I’m glad we’re getting to see it,” Namjoon adds, long fingers tangling through Jungkook’s own and pulling them gently away from his face. “Your echo doesn’t make you, never forget that,” he adds, placing a small peck to the tip of Jungkook’s nose.

For a moment, it feels as though the entire world stops spinning, as if gravity rescinds its hold on Jungkook and makes him feel all floaty. There’s nothing but white noise in his head, nothing but silence on his lips and a warmth in his chest that hurts.

But god, does it hurt in the best way possible.

“Hey,” Namjoon whispers, face mere inches from Jungkook’s. “I kissed your nose, now you have to kiss mine.” There’s a childish pout on his plush lips, dimples taunting and enticing Jungkook to lean forward and plant his lips on the tip of that sweet button nose that has caused all this unnecessary embarrassment.

When Jungkook doesn’t move, Namjoon huffs and pulls away from the younger, folding his arms across his chest like he’s 5 years old instead of 5 centuries. “Fine, I’ll just lay here and pout till I get what I want then.”

Jungkook’s mouth quirks in a small smile. “Will you, now?”

“Yes,” Namjoon huffs, turning his face away from Jungkook.

Honestly? Who is Jungkook to deny such a cute vampire what he wants – even if it leaves butterflies dancing dangerously in his stomach?

“Fine,” he whispers, leaning over the elder and placing a quick chaste kiss to the man’s nose that has Namjoon giggling in pure innocent glee.

Of which is so, incredibly, painfully endearing and Jungkook groans like he’s been kicked in the gut.

“Now give me a boop!” Namjoon orders, turning his face to Jungkook, eyes fluttering closed as he waits expectantly.

Jungkook takes a deep, soothing breath, shy smile dancing across his lips. “Demanding,” he mutters, fingers shaking as they reach out to tap Namjoon affectionately on the nose.

But the moment is unfortunately ruined by the opening of the door and a very miffed looking Seokjin standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and hair pushed back from his face.

Jungkook snatches his hand back like he’s been burned, and Namjoon shoots the eldest a nasty glare from the bed. “Do you know how to knock, hyung?”

“Jungkook, just the sweet little baby I was looking for!” Seokjin sing songs, ignoring Namjoon’s comment entirely. “How are you at video games? I am tired of the disrespect in this house and need a better opponent.”

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, leaning up to rest on his elbows. “Video games?”

“Just say no,” Namjoon warns, rolling over so that his face squishes against Jungkook’s side and his arm flops over his waist.

Seokjin titters, arms unfolding to rest his palms on his hips. “I’d hate to play the hyung card, so just come and play with me, okay, Jungkookie?” There’s a dangerous gleam to Seokjin’s eye that has a shiver running down Jungkook’s spine. “Yoongi won’t have the place working with electricity until tomorrow, so get Namjoon to carry you to the den,” he says, waving his hand as he turns.

Namjoon grumbles into Jungkook’s side, the sound of his voice tickling against his skin. Seokjin takes one more look over his shoulder and there’s a sly fox-like smile on his lips. “And if you don’t want to be caught doing, whatever it is you were doing , might I suggest locking the door?” he adds, like a father scolding his teenage child.

And then he leaves, taking any ounce of confidence Jungkook had managed to accumulate over the course of the morning, and leaving him consumed by embarrassment.

____________

The person looking back at Jungkook in the mirror is terrifying.

Because that’s him, without a doubt. He can move his hand up to scratch his chin and the action is copied in the reflection.

But that’s not him, not according to his mind, not according to his heart; both of which are screaming in unfiltered fear.

This Jungkook looking back at him is not the Jungkook in the missing person’s picture at all.

There’s something alien, something cold about the person staring back at him and it has a large pit forming in the depth of his belly.

There’s a pale tint to his skin, sickly almost, and somewhat translucent in a way that reminds him of a plant that’s been denied sunlight for too long. He can see his pale blue veins so clearly as they spiderweb across his arms; almost as though his skin is made of glass.

No, not glass, because physically he’s no longer that fragile.

His hair looks as though it’s just been freshly washed, soft and fluffy to the touch, not a single greasy hair even after he ran his fingers through the matted strands Taehyung had created. It gleams like it’s the healthiest it’s ever been, it parts in the middle of his forehead and it’s curly like a new born baby sporting their very adorable baby curls.

His hands seem slimmer, bony even, and his nails are far longer than he usually keeps them, and he immediately bites them smaller, nipping at the skin around the nail beds with his fangs and making them bleed.

But he doesn’t care. 

Tearing his eyes away from the scarlet red of his hands he finds that his lips are dark and chapped, as if starved for water, for hydration. They’re stained a little from the blood on his fingers, and Jungkook has to swallow down a wave of nausea at the sight. But beneath the blood, his lips are dark, a rouge so unlike the healthy pink tint they were in the missing persons photo.

He licks at his lips, ignoring the churning in his stomach as he does, eyes shut tightly until he’s certain every last drop of blood has been removed. His tongue runs along the sharp of his new fangs, and as Jungkook opens his eyes to look at them the sight brings a shiver down his spine.

They’re longer than he imagined, nestled where his canine teeth used to be, longer than his oversized bunny teeth and they bring a sharp, frightening edge to his appearance. A warning, glistening under the glow of the lava lamps; a warning of death and blood and pain.

His arms wrap around himself, as though trying to keep himself together, as though trying to stop himself from falling apart into tiny pieces on the old hardwood floors. The blood around his nail beds stain the new clothes Taehyung had leant him; the oversized white top streaked in red around the middle whilst the hem falls down to his knees and keeps the grey sweatpants clean.

But that’s not important, not when he finally wrangles enough courage to look himself in the eye and see two large crimson red ones staring back at him. They’re darker than Namjoon’s scarlet tint; they’re bloodier. They don’t sparkle like Taehyung’s do, there’s no light nor hope in them; just red. Endless red like a sea of blood.

It’s like everything he was has been stamped out of him until he’s nothing but a husk, nothing but a walking puppet of a young boy who used to live .

Now he’s a monster, a monster in the dark.   

“Jungkook?” Namjoon calls, head popping round the door of the room. He’s been placing some lava lamps in the hallway so that Jungkook’s walk over to the den isn’t so traumatic for him.

But Namjoon’s voice feels distant, feels so far away that Jungkook can’t reach out for it. He’s sinking, sinking into a dark bottomless pit and his stomach flips uncomfortably.

He wants to say something, reassure his sire that he’s okay but his brain is wailing, screaming that everything is very much not okay, and he doesn’t know what to do. His words die on his tongue, sizzle like steam and his throat closes as though someone is strangling him.

And then he gurgles, gurgles a mixture of a sob and a scream and finds his knees collapsing under neither him.

But he never falls, never hits the hard ground beneath him, because arms catch him before he crashes and pulls him carefully from the bottomless pit. 

Pulls him back to the surface, back to a reality that Jungkook doesn’t want to face.

“Lamb, lamb,” Namjoon hushes, pulling Jungkook into his lap, kissing tenderly against his face to calm him down. His voice doesn’t sound so far away, but there’s some kind of noise muffling it in Jungkook’s ears.

It takes a few moments for Jungkook to realise the noise is coming from him.

He’s screaming, wailing like a woman who’s just lost her child, fingernails clawing at his face as though he’s wearing a mask and under it he’ll find the human face he’s lost. Namjoon’s lips press against each cut Jungkook’s nails make, licking the wounds closed as he tries to  still the younger on his lap.

But Jungkook is filled with so much fear that he needs to run, run so fast that maybe it will project him back into last week when he was human, when he was alive .

But logically he knows that can't happen, and a malicious voice poisons the back of his mind and reminds him over and over again that he’s not human, not anymore.

He’s dead.

He screams, choking on the sounds that rip through his throat, his eyes are dry and the lack of tears terrifies him even more, nails reaching to claw out his eyes but the action is stopped by Namjoon.

Sweet, caring Namjoon who grips the younger’s wrists a little tighter than he normally would. Who pushes Jungkook onto the floor a little roughly until his back hits the wood and his wrists are pinned besides his head.

But that doesn’t stop the screams, it doesn’t stop the sobs that break apart on Jungkook’s tongue and leave him feeling vulnerable, weak and so so afraid.

Namjoon’s mouth moves quickly across Jungkook’s face, licking closed every open wound caused by the clawing of his face, tenderly kisses the corner of his eyes as if trying to kiss away the ghost of tears that should be gathered there.

He cages Jungkook against the floor, a heavy present weight that grounds Jungkook in the moment, brings his screaming down into wanton wails, into heart-breaking sobs, legs kicking at the floor below, unable to move, unable to think, unable to grieve.

“Lamb,” Namjoon’s voice tickles at his ear, lips brushing against the lobe, teeth nipping gently at the sensitive skin just below. “You need to calm down for me.”

Can’t.

“I need you to focus on what you can feel, right now in this moment, can you feel me? Can you feel the floor beneath you? Can you feel my hands around your wrists?”

Jungkook’s throat hurts, but not in a way he’s grown accustomed to. It feels bruised, like someone took sandpaper and scratched at it. He feels so tired, his head spins, his vision blurs in colours like an artisan’s paint pallet.

And still he wails, sobs into the shadowy dark of the room, the light of the single lava lamp on the other side of the room brings no comfort anymore.   

Namjoon nips at his neck again, a little harder this time but not enough to draw blood. “Do you feel that, nod if you can feel that.”

Jungkook tries, he really does, but there’s fog clouding through his mind, numbing his senses, panic erupting through him like a volcano and he needs to run, needs to be anywhere that’s not here.

He thrashes in Namjoon’s hold, adrenaline coursing through him, screams erupting from his lips again, but he can’t move, pinned under Namjoon like a rabbit trapped by a fox.

“Stop, lamb,” Namjoon coos, demands in such a soft voice that it sounds more like a plea than a request. Lips trail kisses down his jaw, to the corners of his lips and Jungkook tries to focus on the touch, ground himself to the feeling of Namjoon.

The weight of his sire is heavy, pinning him to the floor like prey ready for slaughter. But he tries to feel the weight, feel himself push into the floor, feel the cold of the wood against his back.

He needs an anchor.

Namjoon pulls away from his face, fingers so tight around Jungkook’s wrists that it’s pinching his skin painfully. But the sharp discomfort is something else that brings Jungkook down from his hysteria.

It’s something he can feel right now in this moment. Something that reminds him he’s here . 

He catches the sadness in Namjoon’s scarlet eyes, the worry and the empathy mixing together like a cocktail of pain and Jungkook gasps.

Gasps like he’s just broken the surface of the water after swimming too long, gasps like he’s just been pulled back from falling off the edge of a very high cliff.

He gasps at the end of a broken scream, eyes blown wide, lips dry and cracked, throat throbbing in pain, ripped to shreds by agony.

“I’m dead,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

“I’m sorry,” is all Namjoon has in reply, and his apology only makes Jungkook feel worse.

The panic dies with his sire’s apologies as overwhelming sadness crashes through him like a tidal wave. It spreads through his veins like poison, reduces his body weak, arms and legs limp and useless.

Then he breaks into sobs.

Cries out into the ambient silence of the room, pushing out tears that won’t fall from his eyes as he breaks into a thousand pieces.

And all the while, Namjoon is there to pick up every fragment and carefully mend it back together. He releases his hold on Jungkook’s wrists, feeling how the tension evaporates from his body and he goes boneless beneath him.

He brings Jungkook’s bloodied fingers to his lips, sucks each digit into his mouth and thoroughly licks the scarlet red of blood from his skin. When he finishes with the first hand, he rests it gently atop Jungkook’s chest before diligently going about cleaning his other hand.

He speaks not one word, utters not one calming coo or soft shh to Jungkook, who continues to cry no tears and lets his brain disintegrate into mush.

Instead of waiting for comforting words, Jungkook focuses his mind on the weight of his hand on his chest, feels it rise and fall with his useless breaths, tumbling a little too quickly from his mouth as his sobs echo a little softer than before. 

When both his hands rest on his chest, Jungkook feels long fingers push the strands of his chocolate brown hair from his face, nails scratching at his scalp, warm lips pressed against his forehead.

“I need you to calm down,” Namjoon says once more, his voice is the clearest it’s been since Jungkook fell. It rings in confidence, it’s deep and soothing and Jungkook wants to cling to it like a lifeline. “Can you do that for me?” he asks.

Can he?

He wants to, so badly does he want to calm down. He feels like a car that’s lost control on a wet road and is dangerously skidding towards the edge of the cliff. He wants to calm down, but he knows all that’s waiting for him when he does is an immortality that he’s uncertain he can face.

All that’s waiting for him is a life he never chose, and all that he left behind he forgot.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon calls, a slight snap to his voice that has the younger vampire’s eyes blowing wide in shock over the sound, as though pulled roughly from the brink of darkness. It’s not enough to stop Jungkook’s sobs, however, his face is crumpled in such pain and misery that it hurts hurts hurts.

But Namjoon’s face is calm, reassuring. “Close your eyes, focus on what you can feel,” he says, fingertips brushing over Jungkook’s eyelids so that the younger has no choice but to obey. “Focus on me, listen to me, okay?”

If he could nod, he would. If he could bring any kind of rationality to himself Jungkook would answer Namjoon.  

But that’s just not the case.

He’s slowly slipping into madness and the only thing that’s keeping him from tipping over the edge is Namjoon.

“You don’t have to answer me,” he whispers and Jungkook can just about hear him over his own crying. “Just focus on what you feel and what you hear.”

There’s a finger tracing patterns over Jungkook’s face, as though gathering those ghost tears from his cheeks and gently cleaning them away. It’s soothing, focusing on the motion of Namjoon’s finger and listening to the deep timber of his voice.

“Yes, you’re dead, Jungkook,” Namjoon says, his voice sudden, and the whimper that rattles from his mouth pierces through his ears, louder than his sobs. Namjoon hushes him, fingers pushing the strands of his hair from his face again, nails tickling across his scalp and forehead. “The night I found you, you were dying. Your life as a human was over, I’m sorry, so, so, sorry, but this is who you are now.”

The crying subsides to whimpers like Jungkook has been punched in the gut. He jams his eyes tightly shut, not wanting to listen to what Namjoon is saying.

“But this doesn’t mean your life is over,” he adds, voice a calming breeze on a warm day; gentle, tender, consistent. “You can’t go into the sunlight; you can’t eat normal food or drink normal things, and you’re no longer as fragile as you once were.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, it stutters and rattles in his empty chest.

Namjoon sighs, fingers trailing down Jungkook’s temples and back to his cheeks. “You’re still you, you just had an upgrade. You may not know who you were, and I know that must confuse you a lot, but you haven’t changed mentally. You look different, but a person can look very different with a simple hair colour change.”

If he could, Jungkook would scoff and laugh at the comment, but his head hurts as it spins. Galaxies and stars swirling out of control behind his eyelids. 

At least he’s no longer crying, hiccupping through unnecessary breaths instead.

“And just think of all the things you’ll see now; think of all the things you’ll do. The world is quite literally your oyster and you can make of it what you will,” Namjoon whispers, voice like a lullaby on a restless night. “What happened to you doesn’t get to define you, you get to define you. I’m sorry you lost what you were, but I don’t think it’s really gone, not forever, not at all. Because whatever you chose to be, that’s what you are.”

Slowly, Jungkook opens his eyes, catches Namjoon’s gaze and searches through those scarlet irises looking for any sign that Namjoon is lying, that he’s hiding something from him. That he’s only saying things he thinks Jungkook wishes to hear in order to placate the hysterical vampire baby so he doesn’t scream the whole nest down.

Yet, there’s nothing but reassurance in his eyes, nothing but promises and hope written across his face and it makes Jungkook’s chest hollow.

“I’m dead,” he croaks.

Namjoon nods. “Yes, you are.”

His head feels heavy, everything about him feels heavy as his head flops to the side, eyes closing softly. There’s a moment's silence between them before Namjoon scoops Jungkook into his arms and tucks him back into the bed.

“Maybe you should sleep some more, lamb,” he whispers, another gentle kiss placed to the middle of his forehead. “It might make you feel better.”

“Seokjin-hyung—”

“Will understand.”

Wincing, Jungkook pulls the thick duvet around himself like a protective cocoon until only his head is poking out the top. “They heard.”

Nodding, Namjoon sits carefully on the edge of the mattress. “Jimin is outside the door.”

“Why?”

“He’s worried,” Namjoon explains. “Everyone is, but Jimin a little more than most, as you can probably understand.”

God, Jungkook feels so awful.

He feels like dead weight that needs to be thrown overboard. All he’s done since he woke up in his immortality is bring a melancholy to the people that saved him. He’s useless, worthless he’s—

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, worry soaked through his words. “I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon says, turning to the small vampire in the doorway. Jungkook can see the concern etched into every feature of Jimin’s face, his plush pink lips down turned, his almond eyes blown wide and a crease burned deeply between his brows.

Jimin lets out a little gasp, small and sharp. “Oh, baby, ” he whispers before he’s storming across the room with his inhuman speed and flinging himself over Jungkook. The younger grunts as Jimin holds no strength back, flopping right over Jungkook and hugging him as tightly as he can even though there’s a thick duvet between them.

Namjoon doesn’t move, fingers mere inches from Jungkook’s duvet cocoon form, his closeness the anchor that Jungkook greatly needs. The anchor that he’ll continue to tie himself to.

Jimin kisses across Jungkook’s face, the tactile comfort also reassuring, but a different kind of reassuring. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jimin presses each apology into his skin, and Jungkook can tell he’s trying really hard to keep his own sobs at bay.

“Why do you worry?” Jungkook asks, to no one in particular.

Jimin stops in his ministrations, eyes as wide as the moon as they take in every inch of Jungkook’s face, confusion pulling down at the corners of his lips. Like he can’t quite believe Jungkook would ask something like that, like he can’t quite understand why he would ask something like that.

“Why?” he repeats, eyebrows pinched. “Because we love you, that’s why,” Jimin finally explains, but Jungkook has a hard time believing his words.

And maybe it shows on his face, because quickly, inhumanly quickly, Jimin snaps his face to Namjoon, hands cupping the sides of Jungkook’s face so the younger knows that he’s still there. “Isn’t that right, Namjoon-hyung, we care because we love him.”

Without missing a beat, Namjoon hums, eyes so incredibly soft as they wash over Jungkook’s face, crumpled with sadness. “Of course,” he adds, fingers scratching through Jungkook’s scalp again and the touch is electric, warm and soothing all at the same time.

“See!” Jimin exclaims, as if desperate for Jungkook to feel and comprehend their love for him.

But Jungkook is struggling to comprehend why the world is so cruel and a notion like love is utterly lost on him right now. Especially when he feels utterly drowned in the upsurge of melancholy that has rendered him numb.

“I want—” he begins, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the rest of Jungkook’s words.

But that’s the thing, Jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t know anything anymore.

He’s dead, his human life is over, and he never got to mourn it.

So he simply buries his face under the duvet and turns away from the vampires that so kindly took him into their home.

Chapter Text

Jungkook isn’t sure how long he stays curled up in bed, it’s hard to tell when you have no natural light filtering into the room, after all. 

It’s even harder to tell whether it’s day or night when Jungkook doesn’t really feel anything other than lethargic. It’s as though he’s been zapped by a laser that sucked the energy out of him and made his muscles weak. 

Sometimes he’s alone, huddled under the stuffy blankets as though trapped in a shower stall in the middle of a muggy August. The air is so hot, so thick that it burns his throat as he breathes roughly through his nose, but being able to breathe – even if he doesn’t necessarily need to – keeps him from falling again. 

Right now, he’s balancing on a tightrope, the thin string wobbling dangerously below his feet and Jungkook just knows that at any moment a large gust of wind is going to push him into the abyss that looms below him. 

When he’s alone in his room, the glow of the lava lamps is barely visible through the thick of his duvet, and Jungkook fees like at any moment he could just wake up and this will all be some horrible, horrible, nightmare. He’s not sure what he’s going to wake up and find, he’s not sure what’s waiting for him outside of the dream; but he’ll be the Jungkook that he’s lost, and frankly, that’s all he wants to be right now. 

But more often than not, Jungkook doesn’t find himself laying in the safety of his blankets alone. Usually either Jimin or Namjoon sit with him, whispering encouraging words to him or tales of the world beyond the door to his bedroom. 

Jungkook doesn’t feel like he deserves their kindness.Doesn’t think he’s worthy of it considering he’s done nothing but be ungrateful.

Those trains of thoughts lead to dark areas of his mind, where there isn’t even a flickering of hopeful light, and poisonous words murmur cruel intentions that knock Jungkook’s self confidence even lower than it already was. 

He really just hates what he is now, hates it with a fiery vengeance. 

It’s hard to pinpoint what it is exactly he’s feeling besides a deep sense of self-loathing, but every time Jimin leaves, he’ll place a kiss atop the duvet where he thinks Jungkook’s head is and whisper a gentle: “we love you,” before slipping soundlessly out the door. And that just has guilt rising in the back of his throat like acidic bile. 

“Lamb,” Namjoon says, voice is suddenly so close that it has Jungkook startling in his cocoon of safety. “I’m sorry, lamb,” he apologises, the bed dipping where the elder sits. “But I need you to eat something, it’s been—” a pause, heavy and filled to the brim with worry. “Well, it’s been a while.” 

Jungkook shakes his head, burying himself deeper into the blankets.

There’s a heavy-set sigh, exasperated in a way that fuels the flames of Jungkook’s guilt. “I know you’re sad, and I bet it’s incredibly hard for you to get out of bed right now, but if you don’t eat anything it won’t help you feel better.”

How is Namjoon so blind to the problem at hand here? Jungkook is sad because he’s a vampire, he’s sad because his life was stolen from him and he’s sad because he’s scared of his food, scared of his shadow, scared of his new existence. 

Blood, even carefully concealed in a banana milk carton, won’t make him feel better. 

“I will not hesitate to force you to eat, lamb,” Namjoon warns, a sharpness to his voice that slices through Jungkook’s already fragile heart. “I saved you for a reason, I will not sit by and watch you die.” 

“I’m already dead,” Jungkook snaps back, the words pushing past his lips unbidden and unfiltered. He winces at his own anger, shuffling further into the blankets and wishing he could just disappear. 

The silence in the air is heavy, thick and taunting, hotter than the stuffiness of the blankets. Jungkook hates it, hates the fact that he can still hear the den moving with life. It makes his nerves stand on edge, unable to filter them away so as to better hear Namjoon besides him. 

Because right now Jungkook can’t feel his sire -- he’s nothing more than a ghostly presence that Jungkook assumes is just rattling with disappointment. 

He supposes he could peek out of the covers and see the look on Namjoon’s face, but he debates whether seeing the saddened droop to the heavily compassionate man would be worse than not knowing.  

But then the bed dips as Namjoon gets off and Jungkook suppresses the whimper that threatens to warble out of his lungs. “I’ll leave it here, by the lamp,” Namjoon murmurs, voice so soft, so distant and void of the usual emotive tone that Jungkook has come to know.  “Please, please, drink it,” his plea is heart-breaking, Jungkook wants to cry again. “If not for you, then for Jimin, for the others, for me.” 

Fuck.

Jungkook doesn’t hear the door close, he doesn’t wait long either before he bursts into hiccupping, dry sobs again. The guilt, the hate, the confusion and the torment are just too much for him. With shaking hands, he reaches out of the banana milk, careful not to spill the blood as he pulls it under the blankets with him and sips slowly. 

He cries through his meal and then cries himself to sleep, empty carton of blood still clutched in his hands. 

____________

This time when he wakes up, there are arms wrapped around him, blanket thrown haphazardly over his head rather than tangled around him so whoever is sharing the bed with him can fit snugly under it too. 

With a groan, neck feeling a little stiff at the weird angle he’s been laying in, he carefully opens his eyes and startles at the two scarlet orbs gazing back at him. The face beside him is so close, closer than Jungkook feels comfortable with, but before he has a chance to slither away, he feels the arms around him tighten. 

“No escaping,” Hoseok whispers, as if uttering an important secret that the rest of the nest cannot know about. “It’s Hobi and Kookie time.” 

Awkwardness clings to the back of Jungkook’s neck as he sinks further down the bed in an attempt to escape once more. 

But that technique doesn’t hinder Hoseok, who is just a tad quicker than Jungkook and manages to manoeuvre the younger back up the bed and against his chest in a tight hug. “Now, now, Jungkookie, is that anyway to treat your hyung?” 

Jungkook knows it’s not, but right now he’s not in any condition to deal with anyone, let alone treat them the way he should. 

“It’s been 4 days,” Hoseok explains unhelpfully. In the dull light under the covers, his hair looks darker, a brown tinted slightly red as opposed to the startling post box red Jungkook knows it to be. 

His face is so smooth -- Jungkook hasn’t had much of a chance to get to know Hoseok, but his skin still appears to be sun kissed even after all these years in the dark. There is a somewhat caramel tint to his translucent diamond smoothness that has something heavy dragging in Jungkook’s gut. 

Clearly, Hoseok is dissatisfied with the fact Jungkook isn’t really listening to him, so he carefully smacks his hands over the younger’s cheeks and squishes them together “Four whole days, Jungkookie,” he repeats, holding eye contact so intently that Jungkook feels all sorts of intimidated. It doesn’t help that the smile on the elder vampire’s face is so big, as though he has some grand scheme ready to put into action. 

Jungkook says nothing, blinking slowly into the scarlet eyes that are still a little too close for comfort. 

“We need to change that,” Hoseok adds, kicking his legs out and ultimately shedding the duvet off of both of them. 

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide. “No,” he gasps, reaching for the duvet once more. 

But Hoseok catches his hands, cooing at him gently. “Sorry, but I’m not as placating as the others and I’m sick of seeing everyone in this house so damn sad,” he explains, gently pulling Jungkook to a seated position. “So, we’re going on a walk and I’m not the type to listen to no’s.” 

Jungkook shivers, arms reaching out for the duvet and wrapping it around himself again anyway. He feels heavy, like a stone stuck at the bottom of a lake. “I’m not in the mood, Hoseok-hyung.”

“I know,” the elder adds without missing a beat, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. “That’s why I’m not giving you a choice.”

There’s nausea bubbling in his gut, bile in the back of his throat. “Please,” he whispers. “I just want to be alone.” There’s a vulnerability to his voice and he hates it, makes him cringe and makes him feel so stupidly weak. He’s already the worst vampire in existence, why does he need to make things worse for himself.

He pulls the duvet tighter around himself, as though at any minute his body could crumble, and this is the best way to keep him together. His face is down-turned, the empty carton of banana milk from his last meal rests by his right knee, the straw bent and squished beyond salvation. 

Then he feels delicately long fingers tickle under his chin and lift his head. Hoseok stands at the edge of the bed, all cheeriness and bright smiles vanished, a pinch of concern at his brow, a downturn of empathy at his lips.

It’s wrong.

Snatching his jaw out of the elder’s grip, Jungkook hunkers down into the duvet, mouth hidden from view. “Don’t pity me,” he mutters a little too venomously. 

“It’s hard not to,” Hoseok explains with a long sigh. “When you’re pitying yourself so much.” 

Snapping a glare towards the elder, Jungkook grumbles a weak: “I am not!”

But Hoseok doesn’t believe him for one second, hands rest on his hips, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Oh, but you are, little baby,” he scoffs. “You pity yourself because bad things happened to you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Jungkook snaps, defensively. 

With a shrug, Hoseok juts out his right hip and sighs. “Nothing,” he explains, almost bored. “But understand you have no right to tell others not to pity you when you, yourself, do the same. That’s called double standards.” 

Jungkook can feel his mouth open and close like a fish, lost for words, yet his brain filled with too many words all at the same time. 

“Look,” Hoseok begins again, defensive stance evaporating as his arms flop to his sides. “Right at this very moment, you have literally nothing to lose in coming with me. So why you not entertain me for just a little while, and then you can come right back here and start the rest of your immortality wallowing in self-pity.”

Neither of those options sound all that good to Jungkook if he’s being completely honest with himself. Indecisiveness plagues his brain, make it spin like a merry-go-round.

Hoseok steps out of Jungkook’s line of sight, fingers pointing to the crack under the door. “Look,” he says and Jungkook does as he’s told. 

At first, he’s unsure what he should be looking at, eyebrows pinched in concentration. But then, like a moth to the flame, he spots it. The welcoming warm glow of light creeping under the gap in the bottom of the door and trying its best to chase the shadows away despite how small it’s reach is. 

Like a magnet, Jungkook pulls himself from the bed, duvet around his shoulders like a cape, and gingerly he totters over to the door. Hoseok watches him from the bed, not uttering one word and Jungkook can feel a tingle in his fingers. The doorknob is a bronze circular thing that sticks a little when it’s turned, but Jungkook is quick to twist it, quick to pull the door open and let the light of the hallway fall upon his face. 

He sighs like a child who’s come into the warmth after a long day playing in the winter’s snow. He feels his chest lighten as though the light has burned away all the spiderwebs that had caged it. It may only be a single lightbulb without a lamp shade, but it brings more comfort to Jungkook than anything else. 

“Yoongi-hyung spent a whole two days straight rewiring the entire den and calling electricians to check if everything is safe,” Hoseok explains from the other side of the room. 

There’s that guilt pooling in the very pit of his stomach once more. “Why?” Jungkook croaks on a dry throat. 

“Because,” Hoseok begins, skipping his way to the door and slipping his hand under the duvet to find Jungkook’s. He tangles their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly tight. “We love you, and when you hurt, we hurt.” 

“You don’t even know me,” comes Jungkook’s weak response. 

Hoseok squeezes him once more. “No, we don’t. To be honest, no one knows you, not even yourself.” Jungkook winces, and Hoseok pushes himself just a little closer to the younger’s side. “But that’s no reason to stop searching.” 

Oh.

Jungkook hadn’t even thought of it like that.

“Come on,” Hoseok goads, tugging Jungkook towards the right corridor. “I know you don’t need someone to hold your hand through the den anymore, but I like holding hands.”

____________

This is the first time Jungkook has seen the nest properly. It’s probably been little over a week since he’s moved in here, and yet Jungkook knows nothing more than the main den, his bedroom and the rooftop. 

Though if you were to ask him how to get to any of those areas of the nest, he would be unable to direct you. 

But now, in the warm yellow glow of the new light bulbs, Jungkook’s fear towards this terrifyingly dark new place has completely gone. In fact, there’s not an ounce of fear flaring through his veins for the first time in what feels like forever, and Jungkook thinks he could almost smile at how light he feels. 

He thinks he does when he’s tugged left around the corner and brought face to face with a large and ridiculously extravagant oil painting of Seokjin. It’s probably about Jungkook’s height, mounted on the wall in an ornate golden flame, decoratively carved with filigree and flowers.

The painter has caught the eldest likeness impeccably, even through their own stylisation, but Jungkook is more than a little fascinated with the way the hanbok has been painted. It’s so incredibly realistic that Jungkook resists the urge to drag his fingers across it as they passed just to make sure it’s really paint. 

Making a mental note to ask Seokjin about the odd painting later, Jungkook turns his head back in the direction of which they’re going and finds that there’s not a single patch of darkness awaiting them. The corridor extends onwards almost endlessly, but the light never dies and the tenseness in his shoulders eases. 

Now that he’s more relaxed, Jungkook can feel the softness of the cream carpet bellow his bare feet. It’s plush, clearly brand new, and it tickles his toes in the best way. He can just imagine curling up in the corner with a book and sinking into the comfort of the carpet, not even needing to bother with pillows. 

Hoseok guides them left down another corridor, and Jungkook takes a moment to marvel at the European design of the place. It looks nothing like he expected a vampire nest to look; there’s not a single dark colour anywhere, everything decorated in creams, whites and yellows that remind Jungkook of an Italian villa. 

There are no windows, for obvious reasons, to which Jungkook thinks is a little bit of a shame because the moment the sun cast its glow on the cream walls, he knows the whole hallway would come alive in light and brilliance. 

The doors are of a pale, almost-white wood that Jungkook doesn’t know the name of, and there are so many of them leading off into different rooms like a maze. He entertains the idea that maybe one of the doors opens to different dimensions, like the entrance to Howl’s moving castle. 

With each corridor Hoseok takes them down, Jungkook is met with a different design decorating the walls. Sometimes it’s interesting artwork, oftentimes just paintings, but every now and then there’s a sculpture of an animal or busk of a person that reminds Jungkook of ancient Greek artefacts. 

But his favourite corridors are the ones that are littered with pictures in mismatched frames, all of the 6 vampires through various stages or their lives, in various moments in history. Their smiles never falter, their happiness, their peace and contentment evident in each frame and Jungkook wants nothing more than to feel that too. 

Wants to be comfortable with who he is, even if who he is repulses him.

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, ears craning to hear the bustling of the others in the nest but coming up short. 

Hoseok hums in thought. “A little after 9,” he explains, and Jungkook wonders if it’s too early a time for the others to wake up. “Don’t worry, we’re not disturbing anyone.” 

It feels like the two of them have been weaving their way through this maze of a house for an eternity when Hoseok finally stops in front of a door at the end of a rather short corridor. There are no pictures lining these walls, no artwork or sculptures. But there are small mahogany tables, the legs intricately carved in patterns Jungkook can’t figure out very well unless he stops to admire them closely. 

Atop the tables are ornate cornflower blue vases, all exactly the same in size and shape but each with a different flower painted around its stomach. The vases are empty, but Jungkook can smell water whenever he passes one and wonders if they’re usually adorned with real flowers or plants. 

Distracted by  his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice when Hoseok slips his hand free until he goes to squeeze the elders palm and finds himself clutching at air. 

Hoseok smiles softly, pretty pink lips curved contagiously. “There’s no light in the staircase, so wait here for a moment, okay?”

Thankful Hoseok isn’t pulling him back into the dark, Jungkook nods and shrinks a little further into his duvet, winces when Hoseok opens the door to darkness. 

He listens to the elder’s steps as he swiftly climbs the stairs and can just about hear the subtle slap of bare feet against hard wood. Jungkook’s brow furrows, head cocked to one side as he pears a little uneasily into the darkness of the staircase beyond the door. 

“Okay,” Hoseok finally calls, clearly at the top of the stairs. “Brace yourself.” 

Jungkook’s confusion doubles. “For wha—” he begins, but his words are cut short by the opening of another door that releases a light so incredibly blinding that Jungkook finds himself covering his face with his hands. 

It’s warm.

Not the same kind of warmth Jungkook has grown accustomed too by being near artificial light. It doesn’t warm his chest and chase away his fear, it feels warm. Warmth dances across his skin, tickles over his face and pulls his lips into a grateful smile. 

It’s like he’s being bathed in sunlight. 

Breath catching in his throat, his fingers tingle, his body aches. Aches like a man starved of warmth in the midst of a brutally cold winter. 

“Is this real?” he whispers, utters on the back of a breath that makes his spine tingle. 

Hoseok laughs, the sound so unbearably contagious that it pulls the corners of Jungkook’s lips into a deeper smile. “Are you coming upstairs?” 

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice, body drawn to the light like a flower turning it’s face to the sun. He practically runs up the stairs, stumbles over his feet and stubs his toe on the edge of the top step like a newborn deer trying to handle its first steps. 

There’s a muffled laugh from Hoseok at his clumsiness, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s hungry for the warmth of the room at the top of the stairs, greedy for the light that feels so welcoming and so right that his fear and worry has been chased right out of his mind. 

It takes a little while for his vampire eyes to adjust, somewhat burned by the intensity of this new light that Jungkook has to rub the soreness from them, duvet long forgotten as it pillows around his feet. 

But when his eyes do adjust, boy, does the sight just steal the unnecessary breath from his lungs. 

Everything is green, as far as his eye can see -- green foliage and a rainbow of flowers and thick browns of old trees cover the space. It must be a green house, right on the top floor of the nest, and boy it’s not small, Jungkook is certain of that. 

He can hear water flowing, the trickling of a stream, the gushing of a small waterfall. He can hear birds chirping, the buzzing of crickets and cicadas, the rustling of wind through grass. It’s like he’s stepped outside into a fresh summers day, and yet -- he hasn’t burnt to a crisp or gone up in flames. 

Eventually, he can’t keep his eyes away from the light source anymore, face greedily seeking  it out until his eyes spy what looks to be a blue sky above him, with not a cloud in sight. The light comes from a bright source that Jungkook can’t directly look at, but that just makes him feel even more content, even safer than he had when Hoseok had first opened the door.

Whatever the hell kind of artificial light that’s been installed above them is incredible, mind boggling really, because if Jungkook didn’t know any better, he’d think he were really standing under the sun. 

Jungkook assumes the ceiling is painted to look like windows showing a glimpse of the sky and he wonders if the same artist who painted Seokjin’s portrait painted the incredible likeness of the sky too. He wouldn’t mind having the same kind of mural on the ceiling of his own room, if that’s the case. 

“Like it?” Hoseok asks, suddenly a lot closer than he was before. But this time it doesn’t make Jungkook jump, in fact he somewhat expected it, felt like the elder had already inched closer even though he hadn’t been paying attention. 

Amazing what his new vampire powers can do without the hindrance of his echo. 

Jungkook sighs, leaning heavily against his hyung’s arm, as though the light is making him boneless. “Like would be an understatement,” he mumbles, dumb smile across his face. 

Hoseok chuckles, arm sliding around the younger’s shoulders and pulling him in for a warm side hug. “We’re not so different, you and I,” he says, gently guiding Jungkook further into the warm room. “I think every vampire misses the sun, misses its comfort and its support. But I, more so than the others, crave it even after all these years.” 

“Understandable,” Jungkook hums. If Hoseok wasn’t holding him up he’s certain he would just melt into the floor like a puddle of goo. Or a happy kitten who found a beam of sunlight to sleep in. “It’s safe.” 

“And the dark isn’t safe to you?” Hoseok asks, pushing Jungkook into a seat that the younger hadn’t even realised they had reached. He opens his eyes to find a low glass table before him with two cartons of banana milk, pretty floral plates adorned with scones and cakes like an English tea party, and it takes Jungkook a few moments to realise that they’re fake. 

He sits on his hands, feeling the plush velvety cushion of the seat, leaning back against the grey wicker of the garden chair and letting the light just soak into his pasty skin. He doesn’t answer Hoseok, doesn’t think his question really needs an answer.  

And Hoseok doesn’t push it, sitting in the seat opposite him and letting out a long sigh. Like someone who’s been working nonstop for 8 hours straight and has only just been able to sit down. “We call this the sunroom,” Hoseok says. 

Jungkook snorts out a soft laugh. “Fitting.”

“I’m the only one who really spends time up here,” he adds. “It drains the others, makes them very lethargic, Yoongi even once mentioned it made him feel weak.” 

“Odd,” Jungkook hums, cocking his head to one side. “Because I feel plenty refreshed.”

The smile on Hoseok’s face is almost as blinding as the light above them. It brightens his features, radiates a contagious happiness that has Jungkook smiling in return even though he doesn’t feel like he has all that much to smile about. 

That brings his mood crashing down around him, his lips pulling down at the edges and his head hangs on his shoulders. The light and warmth of the room had been such a good distraction.

“Talk,” Hoseok demands in a gentle voice, pushing the banana milk carton towards Jungkook encouragingly. “And drink,” he adds, waiting until Jungkook slips his hand out from under his thigh and reaches for the drink himself. 

Jungkook takes a tentative sip, not really noticing the tickle of thirst at the back of his throat until it’s teased with a little drop of blood. Then it burns with the force of a thousand suns and Jungkook takes another large sip in order to appease it just slightly. 

He has to fight with his inner demon vampire to pull the straw away from his mouth and not gorge himself on the drink. All the while Hoseok watches him, studies him and waits patiently for Jungkook’s next words.

But the younger doesn’t really know what he should talk about.

He doesn’t think he wants to even talk about it. 

A deep sigh echoes through his ears and Hoseok flops back dramatically in his chair. “Do you know what the nest has been like over the past four days?” he asks, rhetorically. “A fucking misery, that’s what.” He flails his hands about dramatically, like a debutant retelling the latest gossip amongst the town. “Yoongi has had this mantra of ‘if the den has electricity, maybe Jungkook-ah will feel better’. Seokjin has been so antsy and blames it on the chi being bad and keeps rearranging the den and the bedrooms to adhere to proper Feng Shui guidelines. Taehyung has been wondering if he pushed you too much and it caused you to get upset.”

Guilt raises its ugly head once more, simmering like a pool of lava in Jungkook’s gut, bubbling up to erupt just make him feel so incredibly awful. “Jimin, poor Jiminie, has bitten his lips blood raw in worry, he thinks you don’t love him, don’t love any of us and he’s worried if he’s not doing enough to make you feel welcomed.” 

“Please,” Jungkook whimpers, fingers clawing at his shirt that he could very well rip to shreds. He feels sick. 

“And don’t get me started on Namjoon,” Hoseok huffs, though there’s no malice in his voice, no worry nor taunting. It’s purposefully blank, and Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel about that. He just knows that with every word the elder shares with him, the guilt churns his stomach like a tempest. “But do you know what’s the worst out of all this?”

Jungkook doesn’t think he wants to know, but he’s certain Hoseok won’t let him go without hearing it.

“There’s this scared boy wrapped up in his room mourning the loss of a life he doesn’t even know about and none of us have really helped all that well,” Hoseok says, voice quiet and Jungkook snaps his head up in confusion. 

He opens his mouth, closes it and swallows thickly before opening his mouth again. “Wha—”

But Hoseok raises a hand to silence him. “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” he apologises, and the sweet happy curves to his face suddenly age in worry and it feels so wrong to see. “We were trying too hard to get you used to your new life that we didn’t stop to think of what you’ve lost.”

“B-but—” Jungkook protests. “Namjoon and Taehyung went to the police station and—”

“And brought you back a missing persons flyer, showed you a picture of what you looked like before you even saw an image of what you look like now,” Hoseok interrupts. “Talk about a traumatic experience.” 

Jungkook winces at the joke. “They’re trying, you’re all trying and I’m just being ungrateful and—”

“If the next word uttered out of your mouth, Jeon Jungkook, implies that you’re selfish then I will beat you up with your own hands.” Hoseok snips and Jungkook snaps his mouth shut like a mouse trap. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. You’re lost and confused, and we haven’t really gone about your healing process in the right way. This is new for us too, but that’s no excuse.” He shakes his head roughly and slaps his cheeks a little too harshly for Jungkook’s comfort. “We’re your guardians, your family, your support, and we failed you, Jungkookie, and I’m so sorry.”

Honestly, Jungkook is a little lost for words. He never in his wildest dreams expected this sudden turn of events and he’s not sure how he should deal with this. 

Hoseok sighs, standing to his feet and rounding the little glass coffee table. He grabs the banana milk, sinking to his knees in front of Jungkook and placing the straw against his lips. A silent demand for him to drink. “For a while there, I was wondering what on earth it was you were suddenly so upset over. And then it hit me, around about the end of the third day of melancholy when Namjoon casually mentioned that you were grieving.”

Jungkook sucks gingerly on his meal, nodding a little at the elder’s words. “He told me—” he begins around his mouth full, blood slipping past his lips like he’s a child. 

Hoseok chuckles gently, swiping at the escaping blood with his thumb and sucking it clean before Jungkook even notices it. “Messy pup,” he coos. “Go slow.” 

Nodding and swallowing down his mouthful, Jungkook starts again. “Namjoon-hyung told me it doesn’t matter that I don’t know who I was because whoever I chose to be is who I am.” 

With a hum, Hoseok places the straw back against the younger’s lips. “He’s right, to an extent.” Jungkook cocks his head in wonder but Hoseok simply smiles reassuringly. “You can be whoever you want to be. Nothing gets to define you unless you let it. But,” he pauses, weighing his words before he speaks them. “Not knowing who you were is clearly affecting you, Jungkookie, and that’s okay. It’s natural to want to know, it’s okay to need to know. We just didn’t notice how much it was affecting you.” 

Jungkook’s face crumples in worry, letting the straw drop from his mouth. “I don’t like what I am,” he whispers his secret so carefully, as though merely speaking the words could burn him. “The Jungkook looking back at me in the mirror the other day, that wasn’t me, that wasn’t the Jungkook in the missing persons flyer.” 

“It is,” Hoseok promises. “The person that you are now and the person that you once were are still the same being. You just look a little different, that’s all. And I’m sure if you learned more about yourself, you’ll find old memories opening like flowers in the spring and you’ll start to feel more and more comfortable in your own skin.”

The small flickering of hope in Jungkook’s chest is back, almost as warm as the artificial light above his head. He wants more than anything to believe Hoseok’s words, to cling to them like a life raft and let them carry him to safety.

“But how can you be sure?” Jungkook mutters, voice dry and cracked. 

Hoseok cackles a little maniacally, far too loud in the soft atmosphere the two had created around them. The sudden noise makes Jungkook jump in his seat. 

But the elder doesn’t seem to notice, placing the banana milk on the table and reaching for something he must have been stashed away under it. It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to find what he’s looking for; pulling a dark grey laptop out and placing it on top of the glass table with the utmost care.     

He opens the lid, the machine whirring to life after being asleep, and the screen flickers from black to white, revealing the Google home page. Leaning closer to the screen, Jungkook can see two words already typed into the search bar, just ready and waiting for him to press enter. 

Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t say for certain that knowing who you were will help you feel more comfortable in your own skin,” Hoseok explains, standing to his feet. “But like I said before, what do you have to lose?” 

There’s anticipation clawing at Jungkook’s skin like a hungry demon, uncertainty and worry coursing through his veins, his hands shaking as they reach for the laptop. 

With just a press of a button, Jungkook could find out everything he needs to know about himself. He could fill the emptiness in his chest with years’ worth of a life he used to live.

Or he could find nothing and feel his no longer beating heart shatter into a million pieces. 

Lips press a tender kiss to the top of Jungkook’s head, gentle and encouraging, and it fills him with enough courage to move forward. “Don’t stay up too late, Kookie,” Hoseok adds, fiddling with his hair until it falls a little tamer around his face. “Baby vampires need all the sleep they can get in their first few weeks.”

Jungkook furrows his brow, stealing his eyes away from the computer to shoot Hoseok an inquisitive look. “What do you mean? I thought you said it’s only 10?”

“I did,” Hoseok chuckles. “It’s 10am,” he clarifies. “Too late for baby vampires to be awake.” 

Something in Jungkook’s head is just not clicking; like two puzzle pieces glaring angrily at each other, knowing that they fit together but not understanding how. He glances up at the ceiling again, really takes in the window mural painted into the ceiling and admires the way the paint seems to shimmer like the reflective surface of a glass pain would…

 “The thickness of those windows cost the majority of all our fortunes combined, but honestly?” Hoseok sighs. “It’s worth it if we get to feel even a little bit of the sun that we’re cursed to live without.” 

Then it clicks. “B-but, wait, how—” Jungkook stutters, thoughts jumbling together faster than his mouth can work. 

With another contagious giggle, Hoseok taps Jungkook’s shoulder in reassurance. “Take away the UV rays of the sun with special tempered glass that costs more than your wildest dreams can think of, and even vampires can enjoy the sunlight in small doses,” he explains, and Jungkook struggles to really comprehend what he’s hearing. “It won’t harm you, but try not to stay in here too long, okay?”

Jungkook nods dumbly, mouth dry.

Another kiss is placed to his forehead before Hoseok skips his way out of the sunroom. As Jungkook watches the elder leave, he feels the warmth of the actual sun on his skin and an overwhelming sense of calm washes through him like a low evening tide. He feels his lips upturn, and finds he feels really truly at peace for the first time in days and is unable to contain the giddiness that floods his veins. 

He giggles, feeling like a silly school kid.

Then he turns back to the computer screen, takes a deep calming breath, and presses enter.