Archive of Our Own ^beta

Here’s the problem:

Seungmin does not like the taste of donated blood.

It’s thick and metallic and warm in a way that he never is. It tastes like copper and pools in his mouth screaming that Seungmin is unnatural and wrong. He holds it in his cheeks when he has to drink, unwilling to swallow and fighting every one of his instincts. He knows he needs it to live and that it will give him the energy to keep waking up each day, but the thought of that sticky red fluid crawling down his throat makes him want to be sick. Holding it in his mouth, however, and letting it coat his taste buds and teeth like a cheap cough medicine makes him want to die. 

There’s no way to win.

Drinking bagged blood is just a means to an end. It is unpleasant and monstrous and Seungmin hates it.

But Minho’s blood wasn’t anything like that, the two times he’s had to drink it. Jeongin’s blood wasn’t anything like that, the one time he sank his fangs into the younger’s wrist.

No. Fuck. Their blood is far, far different from the awful bags he gets from the hospital now that the supply issues have been fixed.  

Seungmin can’t stop thinking about it. It’s sweet like the jellies the hunters like to keep around their agency compound. Seungmin has never had any of those treats—he can’t anymore—but from the way he can’t stop thinking about their blood, he thinks he may have developed a sweet tooth.

It makes him feel even more like the monster he is and he swears to himself that he will never drink from any of the hunters again. 

He won’t let himself be a monster.

Here’s the problem:

Tonight is his scheduled feeding. It’s a new thing, having all seven of the hunters pile into the room he shares with Minho to watch him drain a bag of blood. Seungmin is trusted to not attack any of the hunters, he is trusted to keep the compound safe when the hunters all leave for work, but he is not trusted to take care of himself.

So, once a day, the hunters bring their dinners from the kitchen and sprawl out on the floor of their bedroom. There are no more excuses, no ways for him to slip out unnoticed, no lies to keep his self-control on a tight tether. The hunters aren’t subtle about watching him, either. Changbin and Jeongin stare him down with such blatant, quiet relief it sometimes feels like he’s choking. 

He drinks enough to satisfy them, but only just, and all he can think about is how disgusting the blood is and how much he wishes he could drink directly from one of the hunters. 

He knows he is turning into exactly the monster he’s always feared he was. 

After he finishes, he hands the empty pouch to Minho to inspect and can barely meet his eyes. Several hours later, his skin still crawls with shame and guilt.

The compound is quiet at night, heavy with the kind of early morning stillness that signals the exhaustion of hunters who had a late night and have an early morning schedule. Seungmin should be asleep too, like the rest of the household is, but he’s wide awake, perched on the edge of his and Minho’s bed, staring at his hands, long, pale fingers entwined and tightening like he could squeeze away the hunger itching under his skin if he tries hard enough.

Maybe, he thinks bitterly to himself, he never should have agreed to stay here.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate Minho’s unwavering devotion and the blind acceptance of the hunters. Their stubborn refusal to let him go fills his chest with the kind of warmth he’s learned to crave since he died. Still, sometimes that warmth feels undeserved, like an inheritance he has no right to claim. He feels like an imposter, stealing moments of kindness.

He shouldn’t be here.

The bed creaks as Minho shifts and Seungmin looks up, locking eyes with Minho. His hunter’s hair is tousled with sleep and there’s a frown on his face when he realizes that Seungmin is still wide awake. It softens when he sees Seungmin, though his eyes are still shadowed from the night.

“Why’re you awake, baby vampire?” Minho asks, slurring his words and dragging himself up to sit beside Seungmin on the edge of the bed. He brings the blanket with him and wraps it around both of them.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Seungmin says softly. 

His voice sounds foreign to him. His hands tighten further, nails pressing crescents into his palms.

Minho sighs, grabbing Seungmin’s hands and pulling them apart so he can’t hurt himself any further. Seungmin doesn’t know why he bothers. He’s not alive enough to feel the pain anymore. 

“What’s bothering you, Minnie?”

It’s the wrong question. Or maybe it’s the right one, but Seungmin still doesn’t know how to answer. He tries to pull away, but Minho holds on, threading their fingers together, latching the vampire to his side.

“You should be asleep,” Minho insists, and Seungmin hates that he’s speaking like that, calm and patient like he’s trying to soothe a frightened animal. Maybe that is what Seungmin is to him. An animal. “Let me help.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Seungmin says sharply, pulling his hand free. “You shouldn’t have to help, hyung.”

Minho’s brow furrows and the deep shadows of the night make him look angry. 

“Seungmin, what’s this about?”

Seungmin swallows hard, the hunger clawing in his throat sharper, rawer. He’s always restrained, always holding back, always protecting them all from this part of himself. No one needs to know just how wrong he is.

“It’s–” Seungmin hesitates, biting his lip. “You’re a hunter. I’m just a vampire.”

Minho’s mouth is set in a hard line. 

“Seungmin, don’t do this again.”

“I’m doing this because it’s true,” Seungmin states plainly.

“Seungmin,” Minho says. “I want to understand what’s going on inside you when you refuse to let anyone in.”

Seungmin huffs and looks away. It’s for Minho’s own good. If no one knows about the evil, horrible thing that curls inside his chest, they won’t hate him. He can still keep his family.

“I can’t–” Minho continues, searching for the right words. “I don’t know what it’s like, living this way. But I’m trying.”

Seungmin’s squeezes his eyes shut. He feels every instinct screaming at him to run away, to free Minho from this burden, from himself, from a monster. 

“I don’t want you to try. I don’t want any of you to have to take care of me.”

Minho grabs Seungmin’s shoulders, turning the vampire to face him. 

“If that’s how you feel, that’s okay. But don’t make decisions for me. I want to do this, but I can’t if you shut me out. Don’t shut us out, Minnie. We know you and we want you.”

The fight drains from Seungmin. He’s tired and it’s late and he lets Minho pull him close, his warmth chasing away the chill that has settled over Seungmin ever since his turning.

“Don’t push me away,” Minho repeats, resting his chin on Seungmin’s shoulder. “I need you here.”

For a moment, Seungmin just lets himself lean into Minho’s touch. In the silence, he listens to the steady thrum of Minho’s heartbeat, the proof that he’s something real and solid.

Seungmin presses his forehead into Minho’s chest. 

“I just don’t know if I deserve it. If I’m really worth it.”

“I don’t care if you believe it yet, silly vampire. But I’m here. We all are.”

Seungmin’s shoulders shudder as he nods, but he can’t find it within himself to respond.

He doesn’t believe it—Minho is right—and he’s not sure if he ever will, but for right now, it’s enough.

Here’s the problem:

Seungmin gets left alone at the compound often. It’s a hazard of the work of the hunters that they’re called to work at odd hours throughout both the night and the day and it isn’t like they can bring a vampire along with them on their calls. 

Seungmin doesn’t love it, being alone in the massive compound so frequently, and he can tell that Minho clearly hates it. 

One night, as the hunters prepare for patrol, Minho lingers by the door to their bedroom, hesitant. He always does this, telling Seungmin to be safe and that they’ll be back before Seungmin can wake up. It feels different tonight, however. Minho looks nervous in a way he rarely does and Seungmin wonders how rough the hunt they’re being sent on is going to be tonight.

He wants to ask what they’re doing, but Minho doesn’t like talking about the more brutal hunts he goes on. Seungmin thinks it’s from some deep-seated guilt that he’s killing vampires, but Seungmin doesn’t hold a grudge. He’d kill himself too, if the hunters would let him.

It’s only natural.

“We’ll be back before sunrise,” Minho promises, pressing a kiss to Seungmin’s shoulder blade.

Seungmin nods, like he always does, and watches the hunters leave, the compound falling into silence, cold and empty and silent. It’s like the hunters have taken all the warmth, leaving only the emptiness that seems to radiate from Seungmin.

But that silence doesn’t last.

As he’s about to go to bed, there’s a creak outside the compound. For a moment, he thinks that his hunters have come back early and he brightens, hurrying to the door, ready to greet them when they pile tiredly through the door like they’ve done every time before. 

This time, however, a group of strangers burst through the door, their eyes glinting with something colder and far more dangerous than anything he’s seen from his own hunters. They surround him in an instant and Seungmin’s mind blanks.

"Well, isn’t this a sight?" one of them sneers, stepping closer with a twisted smile, poking Seungmin’s side with a stake. "A vampire living in a hunter compound, pretending to be something he’s not."

Seungmin flinches at the words. They’re mean and they confirm every fear that’s haunted him since he first woke up with fangs.

“You shouldn’t be here, vampire,” another one says, his voice low and dripping with disgust. “You shouldn’t get to pretend you’re human, not when you’re anything but.”

Another one steps closer to Seungmin and levels a stake at the vampire’s chest.

“Left all alone, little vampire? Your hunters made it all too easy for us.”

The words hit their mark. Seungmin knows he could fight, but as he looks at these hunters—true hunters who view him as nothing more than the monster he actually is—his heart sinks and he remembers every warm, metallic drop he’s taken from his friends. They’re right. 

He doesn’t belong here.

So he doesn’t struggle. He lets them grab him. He lets them drag him outside. He lets them secure restraints around his wrists and ignores the sting of pain.

They dump him in a car and he’s taken to some dark, desolate building on the outskirts of town, far away from any help. The air is cold, and the room they throw him into is colder, reeking of stale blood and rot. One of the hunters shoves him to the floor, laughing as Seungmin stumbles and crashes onto the ground.

“You’re nothing but a parasite,” one of them hisses, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. “Living off those stupid, so-called hunters who took you in. Did you think you were one of them?”

Seungmin stays silent. He hates how true their words feel, how easily they’ve confirmed every fear he’s ever had.

Seungmin closes his eyes when they start hitting him. They don’t hold back and the pain seems almost endless, as they methodologically and systematically strip away any semblance of belonging he’d ever allowed himself to believe in.

When they finally leave him alone, locked away in the dark, he curls up on the cold floor, shaking and numb. He feels a little bit like a hollow shell.

When Seungmin wakes up, he’s still alone, but now he’s bound to a chair, ropes digging into his wrists and his head throbs. His mouth is dry, his body aches, and his throat hums with a familiar hunger. He hadn’t eaten last night, what with all the chaos of the hunters leaving for work, and he’s thirsty.

The weeks of intentionally starving himself had done their damage. He’s weaker than he should be, more fragile, and he needs to eat fairly regularly now. When he doesn’t, his body gives out faster. 

He can feel that familiar weakness now, but it is the least of his worries.

The room around him is dark, with cement walls slick with grime. The worst part isn’t the room, however; it’s the silence. The kind of silence that prickles along his skin, amplifying every drip, every creak, every muted scrape of footsteps he can barely hear beyond the walls. He listens, straining his ears with his heightened senses, but he’s so exhausted and hungry he can’t hear anything.

Hours pass—at least he thinks it’s hours—and eventually, a group of hunters file into the room, faceless, masked. Seungmin’s heart races, but he forces his face into a blank, unaffected expression, willing himself to show no weakness.

“Comfortable?” One hunter’s voice cuts through the silence, mocking.

Seungmin doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what these hunters want, but he’s not about to play their games.

A hand grabs his neck, jerking his head to the side, and he meets a pair of cold, unyielding eyes. 

“Living with humans now, huh? Do they know you’re a monster?”

Seungmin’s gaze remains steady, but his heart pounds. This isn’t a warning; it’s a punishment.

“You don’t belong with hunters,” the voice continues. “You’re not human anymore, and you never will be again. Hunters don’t live with vampires.”

Seungmin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact, even as the words break something deep inside him.

“Your hunters are idiots and you’re nothing more than a monster,” the hunter spits, releasing him with a shove that sends a fresh spike of pain through his head. “And we’re going to remind them what you really are.”

He slams Seungmin’s head back hard enough that something cracks and everything goes dark.

Here’s the problem:

Seungmin has been in whatever forgotten basement he’s been deposited in long enough that he’s lost track of time. 

He’s being kept in near-total darkness, deprived of any sense of day or night. His only indication of the passage of time is the thirst that claws at him, sharp and unyielding. Seungmin is scared of it.

The hunters who took him don’t talk to him, and he doesn’t talk to them. Instead, they just watch as he wears down from exhaustion and thirst. He’s all too familiar with the process of starving now. His energy fades, his muscles ache, and he hurts. 

He wants to be hopeful, to imagine his hunters are staging a grand rescue mission, but doubt gnaws at him, a sort of creeping fear that he can’t shake. What if they aren’t coming? What if they’ve left him here, deciding he’s too much trouble to keep around?

The thought hits him like a blow, worse than any caused by the hunters that took him. What if Minho and the others looked at each other that night when they came home to an empty compound, tired and wary, and agreed to just let him fade out of their memories? What if they finally realized he’s not worth the risk, that keeping a vampire was too dangerous? Maybe they’ve finally decided he’s more a monster than a friend.

He tries to shake off the thought, tries to convince himself that Minho wouldn’t abandon him, that none of them would. But as time drags on, and no one comes, that fear grows stronger, harder to ignore.

Maybe, he thinks bitterly, this is what he deserves. 

He remembers each pang of hunger he felt when surrounded by his friends, the way their blood called to him. He’s ashamed of it, terrified of the satisfaction he found in drinking. Maybe this is the universe’s way of showing him he doesn’t belong among them—he’s a vampire, a creature that feeds off others, not a human, not someone who can be loved. He’s alone, and for all he knows, no one is coming to get him. 

He’s a vampire. He’s dangerous. And he doesn’t belong.

One day, however, the routine changes. The hunters barge into his room and drag him into a new one. This room is somehow colder and dimmer and more hopeless than the last, and he shudders with hunger and pain as the door slams shut behind him.

Seungmin takes a minute to catch his breath and when he lifts his gaze, his stomach drops.

In the corner of the room, another figure huddles, chained and trembling, a flicker of red visible in his eyes as he turns to face Seungmin. He’s old, older than Seungmin—but Seungmin still recognizes the desperate hunger of a newly turned vampire that has yet to taste blood.

The realization settles over Seungmin, chilling him to the core. They brought him here as bait, a weak, starving vampire meant to be fed to this fledgling, left to die in a final, humiliating display of his weakness.

They won’t even give him the dignity of a quick death.

The fledgling’s eyes lock onto him, and Seungmin sees the primal hunger in the other vampire’s gaze.

When the vampire lunges at Seungmin, he doesn’t even try to fight it. There is no one coming for him. He is a monster meant to be forgotten, drained dry to a husk in a desolate basement. He doesn’t have much blood left in his system, but he prays whatever he has will be enough to satisfy the vampire. 

He doesn’t want to be torn up as well.

He wants to die in peace.

The fledgling sinks his fangs in and the pain is sharp, but Seungmin clenches his jaw, steadying himself as the vampire drinks, his hands shaking as he clings to Seungmin like a lifeline.

Seungmin’s vision dims, his pulse slowing, his body weakening with each passing second, his strength draining away.

The fledgling finally pulls away, breathless, his eyes wide and horrified as he realizes what he’s done. 

“I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s alright,” Seungmin whispers, his voice barely a breath. He can feel the darkness closing in, his vision blurring, but he manages a faint smile, using the last of his strength to lift his hand and rest it on the fledgling’s shoulder. “You did what you had to. You’re okay.”

The man stares at him, but Seungmin’s body falters, slumping as he sinks to the ground, exhaustion and thirst finally overpowering him. He hears the faint sound of footsteps, distant, echoing, and a door creaking open.

The fledgling at his side is gone in a second, flying out of the room with the kind of vampire speed Seungmin had never bothered to master. 

Too late now to even think about trying it, he muses to himself, collapsing further onto the ground.

He doesn’t have the strength to lift his head, but he hopes it isn’t the hunters. He’s already as good as dead. What more could they want from him? 

It is hunters, Seungmin recognizes faintly, but not the ones he thought. The voices he hears are familiar, panicked, and filled with a desperate urgency that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Seungmin!” Minho’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and clear.

He tries to respond, tries to lift his head, to show them he’s here, but his body refuses to move. 

As the world fades around him, he feels the faintest brush of Minho’s hand on his face, cutting through the fog clouding his mind.

“Kim Seungmin, stay with me!”

He tries to hold onto Minho’s voice, clinging to the familiar warmth, the certainty that Minho is here, that he’s safe. But his body is exhausted, worn beyond its limits, and his vision flickers. Minho’s face is barely a blur in front of him, and he feels himself slipping, his consciousness fading.

It isn’t a bad sight to die to, at least.

Here’s the problem:

Seungmin wakes up.

He blinks, his vision adjusting to the dim light, and he realizes he’s in his own room, soft blankets cocooning him, the faint sounds of conversation drifting in from beyond the door.

His throat is dry, his body weak, but he’s alive. Somehow, he made it back.

The door creaks open, and Minho steps in, his eyes widening when he sees Seungmin awake. Relief washes over his face, the tension easing from his shoulders as he moves closer, pulling a chair up to Seungmin’s bedside.

“Hey, baby vampire. You’re awake,” Minho says, his voice soft, a hint of disbelief lacing his words.

Seungmin manages a faint nod, his gaze meeting Minho’s, and he can see the worry etched into every line of Minho’s face.

“Hyung,” he whispers, his voice rough.

Minho reaches out, his hand shaking, but gentle, as he runs it through Seungmin’s hair. 

“You scared the hell out of us, you know that?” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin apologizes, the words catching in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Minho’s grip tightens and he sinks down to sit in the bed next to Seungmin. 

“Don’t apologize. This wasn’t your fault,” his voice is firm. “Those hunters had no right and they have been dealt with.”

“Why,” Seungmin coughs, his voice giving out halfway through his question. He clears his throat and tries again. “Why am I not dead?”

“All of us have been giving you our blood,” Minho replies, his voice steady. “Each one of us, a little bit each day. You were starving, and we didn’t want to see you suffering. It’s better for you to drink fresh blood.”

Seungmin freezes, the words sinking in with a terrifying clarity. His heart pounds, a rush of shame flooding him as he stares at Minho.

“All of you? Why would you do that?”

“Because we care about you,” Minho says like it’s the simplest answer in the world.

It’s too much. He’s been drinking their blood, the thing that’s haunted him, and he didn’t even know. Panic claws up his throat, and he pulls away, a fractured gasp escaping him.

“Hey, hey,” Minho says, wrapping his arms around Seungmin and trying to calm him down. “Why are you freaking out? It’s no big deal.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, his voice rising and raw and edged with desperation. “Minho, I hate bagged blood. I hate how stale it tastes and how it never feels like enough. But yours and the others’ blood is different. It’s good and I like it too much and I–” his voice breaks. “And that makes me a monster. I want it, Minho. I want it so badly. And I can’t stop myself from wanting.”

Minho watches him, his expression flat, and for a moment, Seungmin’s fear spirals. He braces himself for the look of horror, for Minho to recoil, but Minho doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tightens his arms around Seungmin, grounding him with steady, constant warmth.

“Why does wanting make you a monster?” Minho asks quietly, urging Seungmin to look at him. “You’re not awful for feeling this, silly vampire. You’re not some mindless creature who’s just hungry for blood. You’re you. You care about us. You care so deeply it hurts. How could that ever make you a monster?”

Seungmin pulls his hands free, running them through his hair, his voice rising. 

“Because I want and I want and I never stop! I can’t control it, Minho. I’m always afraid that one day I’ll give in, that I’ll hurt one of you, and I’ll be exactly what those hunters said I am—a parasite and a monster. I feel like I’m drowning in it, and no matter how hard I try to suppress it, it’s always there. I don’t deserve this kindness and I don’t deserve to be around any of you.”

Minho moves closer, his voice gentle but fierce. 

“You are wrong, Kim Seungmin. Wanting doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you alive. You don’t hurt us. You don’t use us. You’re here, with us, because we chose you just as much as you chose to stay with us. Seungmin, you’re family. None of us have ever thought of you as a monster. We’re here because we want you here and we love you.”

The words settle over Seungmin. He looks up, meeting Minho’s eyes, and for the first time, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he belongs.

“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to stop,” Minho says. “Just let us help you. Let yourself be a little selfish, for once.”

Seungmin nods, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and for the first time in a very long time, he actually feels a sense of belonging.

He’s home, even if he can’t believe it sometimes, even if it doesn’t feel real.

He is home. And he is loved.