Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hansol’s head hurts like a bitch. His body hurts. Jesus— he just hurts, like, all over. 

He groans, sucking air in through his nose. His first attempt to open his eyes is quickly thwarted by how bright it is. Like, so bright. It burns Hansol’s eyes, forcing them back closed. 

“Put the glasses on him!” someone hisses from above. 

“Chill out, I will!” 

Hansol groans again, but he doesn’t have the energy to flinch when warm hands slide over his temples, a pair of glasses settling onto his face. 

“Whattha fuck?” he manages— and this time when he opens his eyes, it’s a little more bearable. Shaded by the tinted lenses of sunglasses, he supposes. He brings his hands up to his face, his vision blurring in and out, finally focusing on the spot in the ceiling between the six heads huddled over him. Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seokmin, Junhui, Chan— He doesn’t get further than that, because his hands are pressing up into his hair. Or, his lack of hair, rather. “Where’s my hair?” 

“Alright, show’s over, everyone split,” Jeonghan’s voice orders from behind. And then, when no one moves, a more demanding, “Give him some fucking space.” 

Hansol’s friends scram. Soonyonug and Chan bump heads on their way out, Junhui’s deep laugh follows them away. Hansol knows they’ve gone, he hears the door close behind them, but he can still hear Seokmin saying, “He looked so much less dead than Minghao did,” and Junhui replying, “Minghao is anemic, that’s not his fault.”

Jeonghan’s face appears a moment later, hanging upside down, directly over Hansol. His wire-rimmed glasses slide down the bridge of his nose. “How do you feel?” 

“What happened to my hair?” Hansol asks. His throat feels so dry— like he hasn’t had a glass of water in weeks. He’s so, so thirsty, now that he thinks about it. 

“Had to shave it to make sure your skull fused properly. Sorry, it’ll grow back.” Jeonghan hums, he shuffles around so he’s at Hansol’s side instead of hanging over him. “That’s a fun one, by the way. I’ll have to note that down. Soonyoung’s first question was, Am I dead? Which was a lot less funny.”

Hansol’s hands drag over his buzzed head until Jeonghan pulls them away to stick a thermometer into his mouth. It beeps after only a few seconds. Jeonghan pulls it out and checks it. Nods. 

It’s pretty obvious what’s happening here. Hansol just didn’t think it would be him. 

He didn’t really want to be turned. He liked being human. He liked his human ailments, and his human friends, and aging. He always figured that it might be something he wanted more if Seungkwan were to do it first— but Seungkwan doesn’t even know vampires exist, and there’d be no reason for him to, barring some major accident. Hansol wouldn’t hesitate to call Jeonghan if Seungkwan got hurt— but Seungkwan wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He and Hansol were supposed to live their human lives out as humans together. Getting old.  

“You turned me,” Hansol says. That’s what’s happened. He’s sure. He lifts his thumb to his mouth anyway, pressing the pad into his canine. It doesn’t quite break the skin, but it’s sharp enough that it could.

Jeonghan pushes his glasses up. The lenses have no prescription, Jeonghan can see perfectly well, he just uses them to look smarter at work. He says they’re in style. “I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have to.”

“Did I die?”

“Not quite,” Jeonghan plucks the pen out from behind his ear, holding it between his teeth to uncap it. He picks up his notebook and scribbles something down. “It was close. Not as close as Channie, but close enough that we were worried. You’ve been out for about a month.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hansol pushes himself to sit, but gets so dizzy that he slumps back down right away. “I missed Return of the Jedi?”

“It’s currently June twelfth, so—”

“Fuck,” Hansol groans. “Oh, fuck my life.” 

“You almost died, Hansol!” Seungkwan butts in, exasperated in the way he gets when he’s been holding himself back from voicing his opinion.

That’s impossible, though. Seungkwan doesn’t know Jeonghan. He doesn’t know about this part of Hansol’s life— Hansol was so careful. 

“You almost died, and you left me waiting around for you to wake up for a month. I can’t believe the thing you’re most concerned about is your stupid Star War movie!”  

That definitely sounds like something Seungkwan would say. 

Hansol sits up again, this time with Jeonghan’s hand on his back to steady him. It’s only then that he realizes he’s in Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s basement, lying on the long wooden table they use to play Dungeons and Dragons. Wood paneled walls and green shag carpet. Hansol has spent enough time here that he should have recognized the ceiling— but he’s a little discombobulated. 

He blinks— eyes focusing— and there Seungkwan is, standing on the basement stairs. His fists are clenched at his sides, cheeks pink and hair wild like he’s just woken up from a deep sleep, wearing a t-shirt that Hansol knows to be Jeonghan’s. 

Hansol blinks again, and Seungkwan doesn’t disappear. He’s real. Seungkwan is here. 

Oh, shit. Seungkwan is here.

Seungkwan shouldn’t be here. Seungkwan doesn’t know about the vampire thing. He’s not supposed to know about the vampire thing. Hansol made sure that Seungkwan didn’t know about the vampire thing. Hansol was sworn to secrecy about the vampire thing— it was kind of killing him, actually. He doesn’t keep anything from Seungkwan. 

“Seungkwan, go easy on him, he’s still disoriented,” Jeonghan tuts.

Seungkwan huffs out a sharp breath, his eyes never leaving Hansol. He takes the final two steps down, his socked feet sinking into the carpet. “Do you know how much you worried me, Chwe Hansol? How long I sat here, not knowing if you’d wake up? It’s hard to sleep in a house full of people who never sleep!” Seungkwan says, emotion spilling into his tone. He sniffles a little bit, his eyes shining in the light. He swipes a hand over his cheek when one lone tear falls. “And I can’t take you seriously in those stupid sunglasses!” he cries, all choked up.

“Boo— I’m sorry—” Hansol doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for, but he hates when Seungkwan cries. Makes him feel like he’s been hit right between his ribs. His face twists up— he tries to take his sunglasses off, but the light burns his eyes again, sending a sharp pain through his head. “Ah,” he complains, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, Seungkwan has crossed the room, standing right in front of him.

“Careful,” Jeonghan warns, but he’s too late.

Seungkwan launches himself into Hansol’s chest, arms flung around him. Hansol huffs, nearly toppling off the table. Seungkwan doesn’t pay him any mind— he just tucks his face into Hansol’s neck, incredibly warm and soft, like he always is. 

Hansol takes in a deep breath, his nose in Seungkwan’s hair. Seungkwan smells… different. It’s not bad— not at all. It’s comforting. Like the bars of soap that he keeps in the bathroom, and the oranges he’s always peeling for lunch. An undercurrent of something warmer— livelier— that Hansol can’t quite place.

“I missed you,” Seungkwan murmurs, his lips brushing Hansol’s throat.

Hansol wraps him up tighter, turning his face into Seungkwan’s neck, a little dizzy on the smell of him. It’s all consuming, making Hansol’s stiff body drain of tension, little by little, every gulp of air he takes. “I didn’t know I was missing. Sorry.”

Really, Hansol can’t remember much at all. If he tries to reach back to his last memory, it’s all choppy and fuzzy. A hand here, Seungkwan’s smile there. That new Donna Summer song Seungkwan has been obsessed with— or… had been obsessed with. It’s been a month, so maybe he’s over it by now.

“Okay, let's not keep the newborn’s mouth right next to your jugular, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan says, forcibly removing Seungkwan’s limbs from Hansol, pulling him back out of Hansol’s orbit. Hansol feels noticably colder without Seungkwan’s body pressed against his. He watches helplessly as Jeonghan drags Seungkwan out of reach.

“I wasn’t going to bite him,” Hansol argues with a scowl.

“That’s what they all say. I literally saw you smelling him, Hansol.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he pulls Seungkwan back, depositing him into a chair. He points at Seungkwan. “You stay there until he’s had something to drink.”

Seungkwan shrinks like a scolded child, but he doesn’t argue. Hansol’s mood sours immediately. He crosses his arms. “I haven’t even had any blood yet.”

“Right,” Jeonghan nods. “And Seungkwan is not going to be your first. Sorry!” Jeonghan mutters something under his breath that sounds like these fucking kids. He rounds the bar a little ways away, feet shuffling on the carpet. The few beer bottles that Seungcheol keeps for guests clink together when he throws open the fridge. Jeonghan surveys the line of blood bags sitting on the top shelf, tapping his finger against his chin. “What do you think, Hansollie? Want to try AB negative, or O positive?”

“I don’t care. Not like it’ll make much of a difference,” Hansol scoffs.

“Oh, wow, he’s feisty when he’s thirsty— see that, Seungkwan? I told you he would be.” Jeonghan tosses his head back and cackles. He plucks a bag out of the fridge, opens a drawer for a straw.

The insinuation alone makes Hansol grumpier. He scowls, not letting up, even as Jeonghan shoves the blood bag into his hands. It’s cold, but not unbearable. He’s pretty sure no amount of cold could be unbearable to him now— his skin looks a little glassy. Too smooth. 

Jeonghan reaches over to cut the corner off the bag, popping the straw into the hole. “Bon appétit,” he says cheerfully.

Hansol looks down, grimacing. The bag squishes in his hands, liquid sloshing around in plastic. He glances up towards Seungkwan where he’s still frowning in his chair, eyes wet. 

"I don’t know about this,” Hansol says. His stomach turns at the look of it, but then he catches a whiff, and his mouth starts to water without his permission. He swallows thickly. This vampire shit is not for the weak.

“Just try it, Hansollie. It’ll make you feel better,” Seungkwan sighs, wiping his palms on his pants like he does when he’s nervous. “You still look half dead.”

“He’s right.” Jeonghan is back to scribbling on his notepad. "You look like shit.”

Hansol’s frown deepens. He brings the straw to his lips, affording Seungkwan one more glance before taking a long drink, nose wrinkled up and eyes squeezed shut. As if that could negate the knowledge that he’s sucking down human bodily fluid.

He’s seen his friends do it hundreds of times— never thought anything of it— never really thought about how it would taste. Or feel. 

Blood is thick. It’s rich. It tastes like the warm undercurrent he smelled on Seungkwan. Oh— fuck. Hansol groans out loud, already too out of his mind to be embarrassed about it. He’s fucking starving. His body aches for it. He pulls the straw out of the bag and tosses it to the side, bringing the plastic straight to his lips instead, chugging down the contents until the plastic is sucked dry.

When Hansol breathes afterwards, and his eyes focus again, Jeonghan is holding another bag out for him, bored look on his face. He’s already cut a hole in it. No straw this time. Hansol snatches it and tips it back. He can feel a drop running down his chin, but he’s too caught up in drinking to pause to clean it up. He can’t get enough— he needs more— Jeonghan provides. 

He finishes three bags before he’s had his fill, chest heaving, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth afterwards. It comes away with a streak of red. Hansol feels high. He wonders if getting high feels the same for vampires. He hopes so.

“Wow, that was…” Seungkwan blinks at him owlishly. “I mean, you really do look better already…” 

Hansol feels better. His body finally feels like it's in working order, the ache in his muscles dissolving, the thrumming in his head settling into background noise. His brain is sharp— like he’s just had a cup of coffee. 

Then Seungkwan gags, hand coming up to cover his mouth. His eyes pool with tears. “Sorry, Hansollie. It’s— I’m not used to it yet.”

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Seungkwan knows about all of this. The whole vampire thing. He’s been living here, probably. With a bunch of vampires. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Seungkwan wasn’t meant to get used to the smell of blood, or watching people drink it. 

“Are you— how did you—” Hansol’s tongue twists, trying to find the right question. “You— Vampires?” 

Seungkwan nods. He must understand, even though Hansol has failed to ask anything substantial. He’s Hansol’s best friend— of course he understands. 

Just as he opens his mouth, wincing a little bit, Jeonghan claps, says, “Nope. We’re not talking about it yet. Neither of you are ready. All you need to know is that you’re here. You’re a vampire. Seungkwannie is here, not a vampire. The other humans you were acquainted with think you’re dead.” 

Hansol goes to run his hand through his hair— but there’s no hair anymore. He frowns, puts his hand down. “Mingyu?” 

“Ah, well,” Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “So, Mingyu knows, too. But, that’s another story.” 

“Okay,” Hansol exhales. He’s not even sure if he needs to breathe anymore— but his body is just kind of doing it, so he doesn’t think too hard about it. “So, like, when will I be ready to learn how I died?” 

“You didn’t die,” Seungkwan snips. The tone of his voice is sharper than it was a few moments ago. Sensitive. 

“Sorry. When I got turned,” Hansol corrects. 

Jeonghan sends a worried, wayward glance in Seungkwan’s direction. “You need to get used to your new normal first. When it’s time, your body will remind you. That’s how it works.” 

Hansol nods wordlessly, his lips parted a little bit. He swallows, the last taste of blood lingering on his tongue. He takes in a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut, catching the scent of Seungkwan through the air. That’s definitely new. 

The stairs creak, heavy steps clomping down. Hansol knows it’s Seungcheol just by his gait. He had a bad leg when he was alive. When Jeonghan turned him— young and inexperienced— it didn’t set properly. 

“Hansol! Thank god you’re up. Luke and Leia are siblings and Darth Vader is their dad—” 

Hansol opens his eyes to glare, ripping Jeonghan’s pen from his hand and chucking it in the direction of Seungcheol’s head as hard as he can. Seungcheol ducks just in time, the pen sailing straight through the wall. 

“Choi Seungcheol, you are not to play with him like that while he’s learning to control his strength!” Jeonghan scolds. 

Hansol groans, flopping back on the table so harshly that it bounces under him, his skull clunking against the surface in a way that should hurt, but doesn’t anymore. “I fucking hate being a vampire.” 

“Get over it. There’s ten more of us around here. You’ll be fine,” Jeonghan reaches out just to flick Hansol on the center of his forehead. Then he throws his head back, rubbing at his temples as he lets out a moan of complaint. “Ah, shit. Over ten in a house is a coven. We’re going to have to send in our paperwork.” 

“I have to live with you?” Hansol squawks, propping himself up by his elbows. “What the hell, man?” 

Seungkwan refuses to meet Hansol’s eyes, but Jeonghan glares at him. It’s enough to shut Hansol up. 

He sighs, laying back down. 

“Also, Vader dies—” 

“Seungcheol!” 

𖤐

Hansol didn’t mean to make friends with a group of vampires— it just kind of happened. 

Chan was Hansol’s coworker at the arcade down the road from the laundromat a few years ago. They were pretty close. Chan would hang out with Hansol and Seungkwan frequently enough that they felt like a trio sometimes. 

Regardless— Chan had his own Seungkwan. A best friend that would hang around during their night shifts. Kwon Soonyoung. Hansol happened to walk in on Soonyoung drinking from Chan’s neck in the back one night shift. It was dramatic. Hansol put his hands up, and said “Woah—” because— duh— it felt way too intimate. Soonyoung pulled off of Chan, and said, “Aw, shit. Jeonghan is gonna kill me.”  

Hansol got dragged to Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s place that night. Big, old house on the outskirts of town— which feels really stereotypical, but, whatever. Jeonghan and Seungcheol did a good-cop bad-cop on him, and Hansol was sworn to secrecy. That same night, Hansol also happened to walk past Junhui and Seokmin getting ready to start a new D&D campaign, and he wasn’t about to pass the offer they so enthusiastically extended. 

That was about it. After that night, Hansol found himself at the Yoon-Choi residence at least three times a week after work. He told his best friend (Seungkwan) and his roommate (Mingyu) that he was playing D&D, which he was. He just happened to be doing it with vampires. 

It was chill. Seungkwan was a little jealous at first, but he’s never been super into nerdy shit, so he got over it when Hansol started talking about their campaigns. 

Hansol was happy. He really liked being a human. 

Damn. 

That’s one of the shitty things about being a vampire— the mourning. 

Hansol hasn’t really gotten into it yet. He’s actively avoiding it, actually. He’s trying to get used to everything before he deals with that. 

He’s part of a coven now. Whatever that means. (According to Jeonghan, it means that more than ten vampires are residing together at one address. Bureaucracy bullshit.) 

Even before the change in status, the coven was pretty well established. Hansol has been gathering bits and pieces since he started hanging out with everyone. Before Hansol, Chan and Soonyoung were the most recently turned— and Soonyoung was five years before Chan— all the way back in nineteen seventy five, so, it’s not like Jeonghan is siring newborns every year. He tries not to, actually— but his heart is bigger than his head, even though he pretends it’s not. 

Jeonghan was the first— obviously— but he won’t tell anyone how he was awoken (if Hansol is using fancy vampire terms), or by whom, and none of them bother asking anymore. Jeonghan is a doctor. Has been since the mid eighteen hundreds. It makes him annoying and full of himself (the big head comes in there). Seungcheol was one of his patients. Spanish flu, nineteen eighteen. Jeonghan’s first newborn after decades of promising himself he’d never curse anyone to the same existence as him. But Seungcheol is Seungcheol. Of course he was the beginning of the end for Jeonghan. That’s how they are. 

Jisoo was shortly after Seungcheol. He owned the speakeasy Jeonghan would go to after work. He told Jeonghan he didn’t want to die, so Jeonghan didn’t let him. And then Jihoon— originally one of Seungcheol’s friends. Seungcheol dragged him home, half dead, sometime around nineteen forty five, and insisted that Jeonghan teach him how to turn him. Jeonghan refused— he did it himself, instead. He refuses to let anyone else take the burden of siring the babies. It’s an emotional bond thing. He doesn’t think Seungcheol could handle it. To be fair, Seungcheol probably couldn’t. 

Seokmin was a nurse at a hospital Jeonghan worked at. Jeonghan’s favorite nurse. Wonwoo was married to a woman. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Junhui and Minghao were sometime in the sixties— they went together. Jeonghan swears he’ll never do two at once again. 

Soonyoung was with Chan when he got turned. Chan begged Jeonghan to do something— anything— without realizing what he was asking. Jeonghan took pity on Chan, because Chan has always been his weak spot. 

And then, Chan— just a couple years ago. Hansol’s night off. Some guy came in with a gun, tried to rob the arcade. Well, he did rob it. Chan didn’t make it out of that situation with his humanity intact.  

When Chan turned, it was awful. He was so close to dead by the time Soonyoung got to him that they weren’t sure it would take. Soonyoung’s first time turning anyone. And his last— he swears. Soonyoung cried for the entire three months Chan was knocked out, laying on the basement table, because none of them knew if he’d make it. Soonyoung barely left his side. The second Chan woke up, he kissed him. Got the shit bitten out of his lip— but, he kissed him. 

And now Hansol… can’t remember what happened to him. He knows that Seungkwan was there at some point, because Seungkwan is here now. He knows that his roommate, Mingyu, knows he’s not dead— but he doesn’t know why. He knows that his skull got crushed, which is why he has no hair. He knows that when he tries to remember, his brain goes all fuzzy and blank, and he can’t access any of it at all. It gives him a headache. 

Besides that, Hansol’s first week as a vampire is… fine. 

There’s some really annoying things, like, he has to keep his walkman ridiculously low because his hearing is so sensitive, and bright light makes him want to die, too, which is really inconvenient. But there’s also good parts, like, he doesn’t ever feel too hot or too cold, and he’s really fucking strong without having to work for it. 

There’s a lot of rules, too. Jeonghan imposed rules. Like, he’s not allowed to go out unless it’s dark— or, if he goes out during the day, he has to cover up to an extreme degree. Vampires sunburn too easily. Especially newborns. And Jeonghan has to be present for all of his meals for the first month he’s awake, which is just annoying because Jeonghan is a nagger. 

But, Jeonghan is in charge. 

Jeonghan says that Hansol has to move in, because everyone else thinks Hansol is dead, and all newborns are grounded for at least a year so they can be babysat. So, Hansol moves in. 

Honestly, the entirety of the coven that have moved in with Jeonghan and Seungcheol just never moved out after their babysitting period expired. (Except for Jisoo, but that’s because he prefers quiet, and he’s existed near Jeonghan and Seungcheol for the longest, which is probably a pain.)  

The house is big, and it’s not like they need beds. No one sleeps around here. Besides Seungkwan, now. 

Still, everyone has their own space. Seungcheol cleans out the attic for Hansol. Gives him a queen sized mattress, pushed up against the wall— mostly for Seungkwan. All of Hansol’s things were picked up from his old apartment, post-death and tossed in the corner. 

Seungkwan has tried his best to make the space more comfortable before Hansol woke up— but he was working with almost nothing. He pasted up Hansol’s Fleetwood Mac poster, but then he put his Barbara Streisand one right next to it— because, I had to have something to motivate me to keep going while you were passed out on some stranger’s table, Hansol! 

Hansol gets it. He does. He doesn’t really care what the room looks like, as long as Seungkwan is happy to spend time here too. Hansol can fit in anywhere, he’s more concerned with Seungkwan being comfortable. 

It’s not easy being the only human in a coven. Jeonghan seems to have pseudo-adopted Seungkwan in the month Hansol was unconscious. He worries, and fusses, and wipes jam from the corner of Seungkwan’s lips when he spills it there. Seungcheol keeps telling Hansol that Jeonghan has never had a human baby, so he’s just a little excited. Hansol would argue that Jeonghan deals with humans all day every day at work, so he shouldn’t be so infatuated with Hansol’s human, but, whatever. 

The fridge in the kitchen, usually packed to the brim with blood bags, now has a shelf for people food. The orange juice brand Seungkwan prefers, and every type of fruit and vegetable anyone could ever want. The once empty pantry now has PopTarts and Oreos on the shelves, and all that sugary cereal Seungkwan likes to eat. 

It feels kind of stupid to say that Hansol is jealous of Jeonghan monopolizing Sengkwan’s care and attention— but he is jealous. He was knocked out for a month, and the only reason Seungkwan was even here was to wait for him to wake up. It seems a little unfair that Jeonghan should get so much of Seungkwan’s attention now that Hansol is awake. He had all of it for thirty days. 

But, then, when Hansol can finally take off his sunglasses after the first week, and Seungkwan coos and reaches out to grab Hansol’s head in his hands, fingers pushing up into his short hair, and says, “Oh, Hansollie— I really missed your eyes,” Hansol gets over it. Seungkwan doesn’t ever tell Jeonghan he likes his eyes. He tells Hansol all the time. 

𖤐

Hansol and Seungkwan met by happenstance. Hansol transferred to the highschool in town his senior year after his mom kicked him out for doing drugs and flirting with homosexuality. 

It’s laughable, really. So what if Hansol got caught making out with a boy in his bed while a joint hung from his fingertips? That’s literally what life is about, as far as he’s concerned. He doesn’t even really remember what the conversation went like, because he’s pretty sure the weed was laced with something, so he was really fuzzy the whole time. But, the next day he was on a bus to his uncle’s place across the country, forcefully excommunicated. 

At his new school, Seungkwan was assigned to show him around the first day. President of Student Council duties, and all that. 

That very first time they met, Seungkwan said, “How come you moved a month into senior year? Did your dad get a new job?” and Hansol said, “Nah. Mom caught me in bed with a boy. Getting high. Now I’m here, living with my shit-for-brains uncle.” 

Hansol remembers, very specifically, how Seungkwan blushed. It was all consuming, all the way up to his ears. It made Hansol smile, and that made Seungkwan even more embarrassed. 

At the end of the tour, Seungkwan pulled Hansol into a corner, and said under his breath, “I like boys too, by the way. So, maybe you’ll feel less alone here.” 

Hansol didn’t tell Seungkwan that he’d not really felt alone at his old school. It didn’t feel relevant. Hansol feels alone at home— but that wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, despite home changing. Instead, Hansol said, “Rad,” and Seungkwan blushed again. 

That was about it for them. The start of a beautiful friendship. By the end of senior year, Hansol was crashing on Seungkwan’s couch, because his uncle was a major tool, and Seungkwan lived with his sister, and she’s always been pretty cool. 

On paper, Hansol and Seungkwan don’t really make sense. Seungkwan is energetic and outgoing. He’s good at sports, and he was on the Student Council. He’d never smoked until Hansol convinced him to try it, and he still doesn’t do it often. Hansol always has skinned elbows and knees, because he gets too confident when he’s on a skateboard, and he always listens to his music too loud. 

Hansol never thought to question the logistics. He and Seungkwan are best friends. They get along perfectly well. They spend most of their free time together, and they have since they were seventeen. They’re both into guys, but not each other, which is just kind of nice on a basic level, even though they both have many more queer friends now, as adults. 

Seungkwan didn’t technically live with Hansol before Hansol got turned, but he pretty much did. He’d been bouncing around a bit after breaking up with a long term boyfriend. Staying part time in one of his sister’s friend’s spare rooms because his sister moved away— but most of the time he’d end up in Hansol’s bed. By the time Hansol got home most nights, Seungkwan would be curled up on the left side of his mattress, fast asleep. When Hansol woke up in the morning, Seungkwan would be gone to his morning shift— usually leaving a scribbled note in his absence. 

Hansol was keeping all of the notes in his bedside table drawer. He wonders what happened to them— if they’re still there. He hopes Mingyu didn’t open it while he was getting Hansol’s things together. Mingyu loves to tease Hansol about Seungkwan— saying they’re so married. He just doesn’t get it. Mingyu’s friends are all people he went to some fancy University with. People with money operate differently than Seungkwan and Hansol do. Plus, most people don’t know what it’s like to have a best friend in the way that Seungkwan and Hansol are best friends. An unshakable, deep thing, so woven into both of them that it would be impossible to separate them from it. Hansol feels bad for anyone that doesn’t have it, to be honest. 

The other thing about being a vampire is that he has a metric shit ton of time to think about things like this. It’s driving him kind of crazy. 

On his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The Donkey Kong Game & Watch that Jeonghan bought Hansol after two nights of listening to him complain about how boring it is not being able to sleep is sitting on his stomach, tape fastened over the speaker because Seungkwan is a light sleeper. Hansol can hear the muffled sounds of his friends through the floorboards— plenty of them active downstairs— but Seungkwan has been having nightmares since Hansol woke up, and he can’t sleep well unless Hansol is next to him. A small price to pay in the grand scheme of things, to lay in bed while Seungkwan rests, Hansol thinks. 

So, Hansol has a lot of time to think while he’s not sleeping, but Seungkwan is. And then he has a lot of time to think while Seungkwan goes to work. And he has a lot of time to think in the spaces inbetween. It sucks. 

He exhales, moving his game to the floor so he can turn onto his side. He brings his knees up to get more comfortable, blinks a few times, trying to get the habit back. Jeonghan keeps telling him he should be practicing that. 

Seungkwan looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping dreamlessly. His cheeks smush up against his pillow, lips slightly parted, appearing much younger than he is. Soft breaths blow up his bangs a little bit. Hansol has to resist the urge to reach out and run his thumb over Seungkwan’s cheek— just to feel if it’s as soft as it looks. 

There’s a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains laying across Seungkwan’s face, catching the very slope of his jaw. 

Hansol holds his breath when Seungkwan moves in his sleep. His eyebrows pulling together, lips meeting in a frown. He doesn’t seem to be waking up— just dreaming. Hansol waits. He doesn’t dare interrupt unless Seungkwan is having a bad dream. Seungkwan is so tired lately. 

“Hansol—” Seungkwan murmurs. It’s so soft— if Hansol were human, he wouldn’t have caught it. “No— please—” Seungkwan continues, much more distressed. His leg kicks out. He releases a quiet whimper. 

Hansol reaches out and gently shakes his shoulder, fingers pressing into the soft cotton of Seungkwan’s shirt. “Hey, Seungkwan—” he urges, a frown pulling at his own mouth. 

Seungkwan whips away from him, crying out, and then he settles when Hansol touches him again. His eyes blink open, face screwed up. “What happened?” he murmurs, voice laced with sleep. 

Hansol’s heart doesn’t beat anymore— but he feels like it does right now. Seungkwan’s desperation makes his chest hurt. Hansol feels responsible for Seungkwan’s troubles. The situation. The bad dreams. “You were having a nightmare.” Hansol smooths the pad of his thumb over the wrinkle between Seungkwan’s brows, working it flat. 

Seungkwan grumbles, dropping his head back down to his pillow and scooching closer. Close enough to burrow into Hansol’s chest, all curled up and small. Hansol goes still at first, but relaxes naturally. He forces out a long breath. 

He knows now, that what he smells on Seungkwan is his blood. It’s almost electric. Hansol doesn’t have reference for other humans. He hasn’t been out yet. But, if they all smell as good as Seungkwan does, he’d understand why so many others have a hard time not sinking their teeth in. 

He understands why Chan was letting Soonyoung drink from him before he turned. He understands why Soonyoung would want to. The idea of it makes Hansol feel a little hot—

“You’re so cold,” Seungkwan complains, his voice muffled by Hansol’s shirt. 

Hansol tries to make room between them. He doesn’t want to ice Seungkwan out. He wishes he didn’t have to. Seungkwan feels so, so warm against him now— a space heater. Hansol can only imagine how Hansol feels to him. “I’m sorry,” Hansol says.

Seungkwan twists his fingers into Hansol’s shirt, yanking him back close. He peeks up at Hansol through his thick eyelashes, then squeezes his eyes shut again. “It’s okay. As long as you hold me. I care more about that.” 

Hansol nods, even though Seungkwan’s eyes are closed. He wraps his arm around Seungkwan, and pulls him tight. 

Another thing about being a vampire. Seungkwan only says things like that when he’s exhausted. Really, really tired. And now, Hansol has all night to think about it. 

All night— smelling Seungkwan’s blood thrumming under his skin. 

Hansol really needs to get out of the house before he starts going crazy. He doesn’t want to go feral on accident. That would be less than ideal. He’d definitely take a chunk out of Seungkwan’s neck trying to drink from him. He’d feel so bad about it, too. Or, maybe ferals don’t think about things like that. 

See? Too much time to think. 

𖤐

“You’re not going to go feral, Hansol,” Jeonghan drawls, sitting in his big, purple armchair. He looks over the tops of his glasses and his newspaper to meet Hansol’s eye. 

It’s the first time Hansol has been able to catch him alone— Seungkwan went out to pick up an extra weekend shift, leaving Hansol to rot all by himself at home. 

“I feel like I’m going to go feral,” he says. Insists, rather. 

“But I’m telling you you’re not,” Jeonghan looks back at his paper, folding it to flip the page. He lets out a long breath. “I’ve done this many times, Hansol.” 

Hansol hates when Jeonghan talks like that. Like he knows everything, and Hansol knows nothing. Even if it’s probably true— he could stand to explain it a bit more. Hansol is his equal now. He deserves to know! He doesn’t even have to be here. He’s an adult with free will. 

“I could just leave, you know,” he says, arms crossed. He feels kind of stupid as he says it— but then his rage flames back up when Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

Jeonghan sighs. He drops his newspaper to his lap, giving Hansol a pointed look. “Really? You’re in your terrible twos only a week in? God help me.” He snorts, folding up his paper and standing up, brushing past Hansol as he starts for the kitchen. 

“It’s not fair, Jeonghan!” Hansol argues, trailing at his heels. 

“Oh! We’ve hit the tweens already!” Jeonghan gives a little celebratory wave of his hands without turning around, and then shoves them in his pockets. 

“I hate you! I didn’t ask for this!” 

“Teens!” Jeonghan laughs. 

Hansol grits his teeth. He hangs in the doorway of the kitchen, cold tile under his feet. He wants to throw something at Jeonghan. Anything. Himself, maybe. 

Jeonghan throws open the fridge, picking a blood bag at random. He cuts off the corner, hands it to Hansol with raised eyebrows. “Eat. You’re hungry.” 

“I am not,” Hansol scowls, but he takes the bag from Jeonghan anyway, bringing it to his lips. 

He still drinks fast. It’s a little embarrassing when Seungkwan is around, because Seungkwan stares at him with big, disbelieving eyes the whole time. Jeonghan just sighs again, looking down at his watch as Hansol drinks. And, honestly, he was pretty thirsty, now that he’s got blood in his mouth. 

“Feel better?” Jeonghan smiles snidely at him when he finishes, stepping on the pedal to the garbage can to open the lid. Hansol drops the sucked-dry bag inside. 

“No,” he lies, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes again, smile intact. He leans against the counter afterwards, fixing Hansol with a parental stare like he so often does. “I know you didn’t ask for this, Hansollie, and I get that it’s hard right now. But, Seungkwan did ask for this. So, take that as you will.” 

As soon as he’s finished speaking, he turns to the sink to wash his hands, leaving Hansol to cope with the implication. 

“What?” Hansol asks, his tongue too big for his mouth. He stares at the back of Jeonghan’s head, holding onto the kitchen island to stop himself from stumbling. “What do you mean by that?” 

Jeonghan waves him off with one dripping hand. “Jisoo will be here to pick you up in thirty minutes. Please be ready to go. Sun protection on.” 

Hansol blinks. “Huh?” 

“You heard me.” 

“Yeah, I heard you, but you haven’t been explaining anything to me, so, maybe if I was afforded a basic level of communication, I wouldn’t have questions.” 

Jeonghan grins, drying his hands on the towel next to the sink. He claps his hands over Hansol’s shoulders afterwards. “Look at that! You’ve completed vampire puberty. Good job. Very mature.” He pats Hansol’s cheek with one still slightly-damp hand. He lets go of Hansol, and turns on his heel to walk away. 

“You still didn’t answer my questions!” 

All Hansol gets is a laugh in return. 

𖤐

Jisoo is sort of an enigma. Hansol hasn’t really met him for longer than a brief moment. Usually, Jisoo stops by the house to steal a couple of eggs, because he’s baking for his human boyfriend that none of them are allowed to meet, or he’s having some sort of closed door meeting with Jeonghan. 

The few times Hansol has seen Jisoo, he’s breezing through the room with good posture and a lazy smile. He’s really pretty in a very specific, delicate sort of way— Jeonghan always says that Jisoo is a man of the era he’s stuck in. Some sort of nineteen twenties glamor hanging to his aura, even now. 

Despite that, Jisoo doesn’t bother walking to the door. He honks instead (not very well-mannered), leaving Hansol to scramble out the front door, down the front walk. Hansol feels stupid— hoodie over his head, tied tight around his chin, sunglasses on, one of Jeonghan’s fancy, silk scarves wrapped over his mouth. 

He almost takes his sunglasses off when he gets closer to Jisoo’s car. A cherry red, 83’ Porsche 944— Hansol’s pretty sure they only shipped a few thousand overseas— so he has no idea how Jisoo’s got one, but— 

“Holy shit,” he says, cranking open the door and sliding into the passenger seat. “Dude, how much did this thing cost?” 

Jisoo has wide rimmed sunglasses on. A baseball cap on his head, scarf hanging loosely below his mouth. His tan trench coat is fitted perfectly to his body— he probably got it tailored. Hansol doesn’t even know how that works. He pulls up his sunglasses just to shoot Hansol a glare. “That’s very rude, Hansol. Were you raised in a barn?” he asks primly, dropping his glasses back to his nose before shoving his foot down on the clutch. 

“Nah, I wasn’t really raised, honestly,” Hansol says. He runs his finger along the smooth black interior of the door. “My shithead father was a car guy, though. Just happened to keep up.” 

“Hm,” Jisoo hums. 

He doesn’t waste more time loitering, gunning for one of the backroads out of Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s property as soon as Hansol is settled. Hansol never drives this way, but that’s expected when he doesn’t know where the fuck he’s being taken. 

There’s no music playing in Jisoo’s car, which is only vaguely off putting. Hansol doesn’t have his license, but Chan and Seungkwan do, and they’re both always blasting something. Now, sitting in Jisoo’s passenger’s, it kind of feels like Hansol is going to church with his grandparents. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, watching Jisoo’s hand on the gear shift. 

“God, Jeonghan, leave me to do all the fuckin’ legwork—” Jisoo hisses to himself under his breath. He leans back, one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the window. He tips his head in Hansol’s direction for longer than he should while driving, but Hansol isn’t particularly worried, considering they’re both super-beings. “We’re going to my place. Doing a test run on the whole human thing.” 

“Oh, I’m actually fine with humans— Seungkwan lives at the house with me.” 

Jisoo gives Hansol an all too knowing smile. “He doesn’t count.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, he just doesn’t.” Jisoo snips. He says it in a way that ends the conversation. A shut-out. 

Hansol knows better than to push. He’s a little afraid of Jisoo, honestly. He’s just as scary as Jeonghan, but a lot less familiar to Hansol. Hansol doesn’t know exactly how to get under Jisoo’s skin yet. Doesn’t know how far he can take things. 

“The car was, like, way too much, by the way,” Jisoo says eventually. “But, I felt like I deserved it for my eightieth birthday.” 

“No, yeah, that makes sense,” Hansol nods. “Wow! Eighty. Good for you.” 

Jisoo’s lips quirk up, a tiny win for Hansol. It’s enough for Hansol to relax. 

The drive is all of five minutes, anyway. Jisoo practically lives around the corner— a bit further into the woods— a bit more out of town. It’s a tiny house on top of a hill with a winding driveway up. 

Hansol closes the car behind him and shoves his hands in his pockets, waiting for Jisoo to take the lead. Jisoo nods him towards the back door, stops shy of the steps up to the entrance. 

“Go ahead,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. Hansol doesn’t trust him, but Jeonghan does, so Hansol kind of has to trust him. 

“Uh,” Hansol grabs the stair railing, glancing at the door. “Me first?” 

Jisoo nods. 

“Alright,” Hansol laughs awkwardly. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on— but that might be something he needs to get used to. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, pushing into the door when he reaches the top, spitting out straight into the kitchen. It’s tiled floor to ceiling, baby pink. Kind of gaudy, but who is Hansol to judge? 

Footsteps creak over the floor, and a body appears in the doorway across the room. It takes Hansol’s eyes a second to adjust through his sunglasses, but he’d know the shape of the frame anywhere. 

“Holy shit,” Hansol says, pushing his glasses up on his head. “Mingyu?” 

Mingyu is across the room in a few seconds flat, crushing Hansol into a hug. “Oh my god, Hansol— you fucking idiot—” 

Hansol huffs out a laugh, using the little air left in his lungs. On his next breath in, he almost gags. The smell is putrid— thick on Mingyu’s skin— his blood almost smells sour. 

“No offense, man, but you smell really fucking bad,” Hansol groans, shoving Mingyu away from him. “Are you, like, dying? You should see a doctor.” 

“Good!” Jisoo laughs sharply, his shoulder knocking against Hansol’s when he walks by. He goes straight to Mingyu, one hand landing on the center of Mingyu’s chest. Mingyu’s arm snakes around his waist naturally. “He smells like that to you because he’s mine.” 

Hansol’s mouth forms an O, his eyes scan over the two of them. Mingyu’s hand at Jisoo’s waist, Jisoo’s hand on Mingyu’s chest— “Ohhh,” he nods, everything shifting into place. “Human boyfriend— Mingyu— got it. Damn.” Hansol scratches his head, running his hand over his hair. “Right on.” Hansol purses his lips, giving Mingyu a lame thumbs up. 

Mingyu smiles sheepishly, the tops of his ears going red. 

“Okay, go sit in the other room, please,” Jisoo pats Mingyu’s chest. He smiles sweetly at Mingyu— much more friendly than he’s been with Hansol this entire time. “We’re babysitting for an hour or two, and then I’m taking him home.” 

Mingyu nods, leaning down to peck Jisoo’s cheek before waving Hansol into the house. He takes a sharp right to a sitting room— the sheer curtains mitigating the worst of the sun. Hansol sits next to him on a loveseat, Mingyu folding one leg up to look at him, worry painted on his face. Hansol doesn’t know how much Mingyu knows. Not that Hansol knows much, anyway. He’s kind of still getting over the fact that Mingyu is here at all. That Mingyu has been connected to Hansol’s friend group for at least a while. He can’t remember when Jisoo’s mysterious boyfriend started getting mentioned— but it wasn’t too recently. There’s also the vaguest memory of Mingyu talking about someone right before Hansol died— but it hurts if he thinks too hard. 

“How’s Seungkwannie?” Mingyu asks, pulling Hansol out of his thought spiral. 

“Oh, he’s good. Yeah. He’s staying with me, obviously— But, he’s good now… that I’m awake… I think?” Hansol frowns. “I mean— have you not been seeing him? Or…” 

“I haven’t seen him since you woke up, obviously— and only a couple of times before that. He was a mess beforehand,” Mingyu’s face falls with the droop of his shoulders. “Like, really, I’ve never seen him that way, Hansol. It was heartbreaking.” 

“Mingyu, watch it,” Jisoo shouts from the other room. The hearing strength thing is so hard to get used to— especially when there’s other vampires around, too. 

Hansol winces, then scowls, his hands flexing in his lap. He glances back towards the doorway, leaning a little closer to Mingyu. “I still don’t really know what happened— was he… with me?” 

“I heard that! Keep your mouth shut, Kim Mingyu!” 

Mingyu gives Hansol a pathetic, apologetic look. “Sorry, Sollie. I’m not supposed to tell. But, I’m just glad that he’s doing better with you awake.” 

“Sure,” Hansol picks at a hangnail on his thumb. He chews on his bottom lip. “Jeonghan said something about how Seungkwan wanted me to be turned— do you—” 

“Chwe Hansol,” Jisoo scolds, much louder this time, hanging in the doorway like a ghost. “Jeonghan told me you’re ill-behaved, but I didn’t believe him. You always seemed so polite when I came over.” 

“Curiosity is one of the building blocks of education,” Hansol says tonelessly. He’s not easy to bother, but he’s rapidly becoming annoyed that he keeps getting quashed before he can make any real progress. Mingyu is so easy to draw things out of— but not with a ghoul hanging over his shoulder telling him to shut up. 

“Is that right?” Jisoo cocks his head. “I wouldn’t know. I never went to school. Let’s keep the conversation to things besides your awakening, hm?” With one flourish of his finger, he’s stalking off again, Mingyu staring after him with a lovestruck expression. 

Hansol is about to tease him when he catches sight of a mark on Mingyu’s throat. Two small red dots. If Hansol weren’t so attuned to his surroundings now, he’d probably have missed them. He didn’t tend to need to stare at Mingyu much in his day to day before. 

“Woah,” Hansol says, reaching out to poke at the spot. “Does he drink from you?” 

Mingyu jumps when Hansol touches his skin, his hand clapping over the side of his neck. “Well— obviously,” Mingyu whines, shrinking in on himself like he does when he’s embarrassed. He’s a big man— it always looks ridiculous. He can’t keep the smile off his face, though. 

“And he doesn’t kill you?” 

“No, no— it’s instinctual. He’ll always be able to stop before— y’know…” 

Hansol nods, his eyebrows knitted together. “Does it feel good?” 

“Hansol—” Mingyu hides his face in his hands. Hansol will take that as a yes. His eyes drop down to Mingyu’s neck again, the bite marks. 

“Oh,” Hansol grins. “Is it, like, a sex thing?” 

Jisoo laughs from the other side of the house. Mingyu groans, leaning his body weight against the back of the sofa. When he moves, Hansol catches another whiff of him— and this time he does gag. 

“Oh my god, seriously, you smell so rancid— sorry— is that going to go away?” 

Mingyu groans again, louder this time. He flops back against the armrest. “God, Jisoo— why did you invite him over?” 

“We had to make sure he wouldn’t kill you on accident!” 

“What?” Mingyu calls back, his face screwing up. “Was that an option?” 

Hansol hears Jisoo sigh from the other side of the house. He hears Jisoo’s footsteps before his head appears in the door again. 

“Yes. Newborns are very volatile. Some of them have violent reactions to humans in the first month— but Hansol was demanding to be let out of the house— so you’re our test subject to make sure he can be.” 

“Yo—” Hansol complains, but Mingyu overpowers him with sparkly eyes and a sharp gasp. “If Hansol tries to kill me, will you turn me?” 

Jisoo shoots Mingyu a deadly glare. “Mingyu,” he warns. 

Mingyu launches across the couch to grab Hansol’s wrists, holding him tightly. “Please try to kill me, Hansol— I can take it! Promise!” 

Hansol catches Jisoo’s wrathful stare out of the corner of his eye. He pries Mingyu’s hands off of him, putting some space between them. “Your boyfriend scares the shit out of me, man. Sorry.” 

Jisoo grins. Mingyu pouts. Hansol gags— again— from the smell of him. 

“Sorry— it’s like wet dog,” Hansol swallows around the foul taste in his mouth. 

𖤐

“Do all humans smell that bad?” Hansol asks Wonwoo later, while they’re parked on the basement sofa playing Seungcheol’s Atari. 

Jisoo dropped Hansol off a while ago, but Hansol has nothing much to do until Seungkwan gets home from work. Jeonghan got called into the hospital— Seungcheol is out back working on his latest phase (woodworking)— and everyone else is otherwise occupied, or refusing to give Hansol attention. 

“How bad?” Wonwoo asks, jerking the joystick to the right, just barely saving himself from losing. 

“Like, so fucking bad, man,” Hansol scoffs. “It was overwhelming. Like, Jisoo said it’s because he’s been claimed, or whatever, but it felt worse than that. Like, just disgusting.” 

“Huh,” Wonwoo says. He glances over at Hansol for a second, his forehead all creased up. Hansol doesn’t think much of it. Wonwoo just makes faces like that, sometimes. 

“I don’t know. God, I kinda feel like I can still taste it. Ew. I don’t know how Jisoo does it.” 

“Love, I guess,” Wonwoo says. 

Hansol hums in agreement. “Love is crazy, man.” 

The door slams upstairs, and Hansol’s body reacts for him. He drops his controller on the ground— already on his feet. He ignores Wonwoo yelling at him, telling him that he can’t forfeit this late in the game— launching himself up the stairs. 

Seungkwan is only halfway through taking his shoes off when Hansol gets to him. 

“Oh, Sollie— hi— oof—” 

Hansol wraps himself around Seungkwan right in the foyer, shoving his face into the crook of Seungkwan’s neck, taking in deep breaths, trying to clear his sinuses from the lingering scent of Mingyu. Seungkwan goes stiff for a second, but then relaxes, his arms finding Hansol’s back, completing his side of Hansol’s aggressive hug. 

The relief is instant. Seungkwan— with his oranges and handsoap— the punchy side-note of his blood under his skin— sweet and tempting. Hansol opens his mouth on his next inhale, his breath sticky on Seungkwan’s skin, trying to breathe deeper. 

“Hansol—” Seungkwan says, giggling nervously. His fingers curl into Hansol’s shirt, but he doesn’t try to push him away. “What are you doing?” 

“You smell so much better than Mingyu,” Hansol murmurs— the shortest explanation he can think of. 

Seungkwan laughs again, a bit breathier this time. He tilts his head to the side, just enough to give Hansol more room to explore. Hansol’s lips brush his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut, resisting the urge to drag his teeth over the softest part of Seungkwan’s neck— how easy it would be to puncture— to drink from him. 

Oh, god. Hansol stands up, putting some space between them with a jerky movement. Seungkwan is blushing, his face bright red. He looks at Hansol with wide eyes, questioning. 

“Sorry,” Hansol croaks, still a little dizzy from the smell of Seungkwan. “Mingyu smelled so bad. I was dying for you to get back so I could fix it. I felt off.” 

“He smelled that bad?” 

“Yeah. It was horrible. You smell great, though, so—” Hansol lifts his hand in Seungkwan’s direction. He has no idea why this feels so awkward. It’s Seungkwan— but— then again, Hansol was just fighting off the urge to sink his teeth into Seungkwan’s neck. An act that might be inherently sexual? He doesn’t really know yet— he didn’t get a clear answer from Mingyu or Jisoo.

“Why are you guys standing here like you’re waiting to leave for an awkward prom date?” Jihoon snorts, walking through the hall sucking blood out of a cup (he doesn’t believe in drinking straight from the bag). He eyes them warily. 

“We actually went to prom together,” Seungkwan says. 

“As friends,” Hansol clarifies, for no real reason. Seungkwan looks at him funnily, but doesn’t say anything. 

“O–kay…” Jihoon blinks. “Neat. I’m leaving.” 

“Bye!” Seungkwan chirps, raising his hand in a wave that Jihoon does not see because his back is already turned.  Seungkwan waits until Jihoon is gone to turn around and whisper, “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“No, he’s just like that. Everyone likes you, Boo.”

Seungkwan frowns, “I don’t know…”

“He’s right!” Jihoon shouts from wherever he’s gone off to.

“God damn it. I’m never going to get used to that super-hearing thing,” Seungkwan complains, shuffling forward to tuck himself under Hansol’s arm. It feels right. Hansol feels better than he has all day. He can’t smell Mingyu at all.

𖤐

It’s almost midnight, a few days later, when Jeonghan pulls Seungkwan and Hansol into the kitchen to make an announcement.

“Congratulations!” Jeonghan says. He waves frantically at Seungcheol until Seungcheol pops a party popper. Seungkwan jumps. Hansol stares. Little bits of confetti flutter to the kitchen floor. Jeonghan claps and grins. It’s a pretty pathetic display, honestly. “You didn’t kill Mingyu, so we’re allowing you to go out with a babysitter!”

“Uh,” Hansol looks over at Seungkwan to see if he has any reaction, but he just smiles encouragingly. “Who’s going to babysit me?”

“Glad you asked!” Jeonghan grins. Hansol doesn’t like that sort of smile on him. It’s conniving. “Soonyoung and Chan are already in the car. Please leave.”

“Are they really qualified—” Hansol starts.

“It’s date night,” Jeonghan cuts him off. “So, unless you want to hear what Seungcheol is going to do to me with your very, very sharp, crystal clear newborn hearing, I suggest you go get in Chan’s car.”

So, Hansol gets in Chan’s car. He listens to Soonyoung prattle on about whatever comic books he’s been reading lately, and smiles when Seungkwan reaches out to poke his thigh.

The old diner on the edge of town is just as it was a couple months ago. Not that much time has passed. Chan still parks in the very back spot so they can get high before they go in. He still pulls out two joints, and lights them both while they’re in Soonyoung’s mouth, because they’re gross like that.

Hansol almost groans when he takes his first hit. It’s been too fucking long. Seungkwan only takes a couple of hits before bowing out. He gets a much nastier after effect than Hansol does. Makes him groggy. His sweet spot is pleasantly giggly. He’s perfectly pleasantly giggly when they leave the car and tumble into the restaurant and make for their favorite booth. There’s only a couple others here, given the hour. Every time they move too suddenly, Hansol’s annoyingly sharp sense of smell reminds him how bad most humans smell, but he’s high enough to ignore it for now.

“Wow! This is just like old times! How long has it been since we did this?” Chan puts his elbows on the table, eyes sparkling, looking back and forth between Hansol and Seungkwan across from him.

“Years, at least,” Soonyoung replies, leaning his head on Chan’s shoulder and sighing dreamily. “I love double date night.”

It’s not actually a double date. Hansol and Seungkwan have made that clear many, many times, but Soonyoung still insists on calling it that. By now, it’s easier to just ignore him. And Chan.

“It’s been like, two months. We went out a week before I died,” Hansol snorts.

“But not to the diner. Seungkwan would have found us out,” Chan stabs his finger into the table, like he’s making a point. 

Seungkwan giggles. He widens his legs just enough that his thigh presses against Hansol’s. Hansol can’t tell if it’s on purpose or accident, but he’s high, and he feels good, so he doesn’t think too hard about it.

“Crazy update since last time we took you here, Hansol,” Soonyoung ignores Hansol’s correction of his timeline, as expected. “The new waitress wants Chan so bad, she gives us free fries.”

“Does she not care that you two are disgusting?” Seungkwan laughs, his cheeks pink. The tip of his nose, too. He looks so good in pink, Hansol thinks. He looks good in a lot of colors— but pink suits him especially well. The flush of blood under his skin. Hansol leans a little closer so he’s only smelling Seungkwan, and not the guy a few tables behind them that smells like rotting fruit and bad breath. 

“I think she likes it, honestly,” Soonyoung says, his hand drifting dangerously up Chan’s chest, openly feeling him up. “More people should learn from her.”

“God, you two are so embarrassing,” Hansol drapes his arm over the back of the bench, his thumb brushing against Seungkwan’s bicep on the other side. He catches another note of something foul from the bar. Another human. “Okay, really, do you guys not smell the humans? Like, they all smell so bad.” 

“Dude, you’re so fucking high,” Chan laughs. 

“All humans smell good. They smell like food, but, like, different kinds of food—” Soonyoung starts, holding his hand in front of him like he’s prophetizing. Then he stops. His eyes go wide. “Oh, fuck. Oh my god, dude. I always forget until after we’re here that we can’t even eat the free french fries we earned. Oh fuck.” 

The waitress appears right at that moment, a big, pretty smile on her face directed exclusively at Chan. Chan smiles back, his eyelids drooping. “Can we get some—” 

“Fries to go,” she finishes for him. “Mhm. Just like always. I’ve got you covered, darling.” Then she winks one heavily mascara-ed eye, flipping her permed hair over her shoulder before flitting away. 

“Now what?” Seungkwan asks. He frowns slightly, a tiny wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “This is no fun when I’m the only one that can eat.” 

“The arcade is around the corner?” Chan suggests, shooting Seungkwan finger guns. 

“Have you just been throwing out all the fries you order?” Hansol blinks. The idea of it is horrifying to him. The fact that he can’t eat fries anymore is horrifying to him. 

“Nah, sometimes Chan tries to eat them anyway and then he yaks,” Soonyoung shakes his head fondly. “Most of the time we give them to whoever we run into that’s hungry.” 

Hansol directs his attention to Chan. “Is it worth it to eat them for the taste even if you throw up afterwards?” 

“Hansol!” Seungkwan scolds. 

“Yeah, kind of.” Chan grins. 

“Channie!” Soonyoung scolds. 

𖤐

Hansol stands in the center of two long rows of arcade machines, his hands hanging lamely at his sides, tinny sound effects overwhelming his senses, and neon lights hurting his eyes. 

A human shoves by him, scoffing when Hansol doesn’t move. They smell like burning hair, so Hansol isn’t too concerned about upsetting them. It’s a little bit surreal to be back here. He hasn’t stepped foot in the arcade since he quit— right after Chan got shot. It was a show of solidarity, mostly. And, more importantly, Seungkwan was worried about Hansol working somewhere so dangerous. Even if Hansol told him that no criminal would hit the same spot twice, he still saw how Seungkwan bit his lip raw over it. So, Hansol quit. He got a job at the movie theatre instead. He had a job at the movie theatre when he got turned. 

Huh. He hasn’t even thought about what happened afterwards. They must think he died.

Hansol wonders if he died at work, too. Maybe the same guy that got Chan a couple of years back decided to come out of retirement. Maybe he got Hansol in the stomach. Or the back. There’s no way to know, because vampire skin heals over any imperfection. The scar Hansol had on the back of his hand— two jagged lines from where his cat scratched him as a kid— gone. Hansol kind of misses them. He misses things he never thought he would. Feeling warm. The sun. The stupid scar on his hand. 

Another human brushes past Hansol with a nasty glare. Rotting fish. A particularly unpleasant one. Hansol frowns. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Seungkwan is there, fingers wrapped around Hansol’s arm to pull him out of the way. He doesn’t stop until they’re tucked away near the front. The girl sitting behind the counter has headphones on, completely oblivious to them. Hansol almost wants to tell her to be careful— that she won’t be as lucky as Chan if she’s hurt. She’d just die. In this shitty arcade. It would be a bad way to go. 

“I’m just—”

“Aw, look. My blood spot is still here!” Chan says, him and Soonyoung finally tearing themselves away from Space Invaders. Shitty game. Hansol hates it, but Soonyoung and Chan were always obsessed. Chan points towards the floor, just to the right of Hansol’s feet. 

Sure enough, the funky-patterned purple and green carpet is soaked through with a dark mar of brownish-red. The shapes on the design do a good amount of legwork to disguise it, but it’s pretty obvious once it’s caught the eye. Hansol wonders if there’s a blood stain wherever he died. If Seungkwan would know where it is. If he’d take him there.

“It makes me feel sick, Chan,” Soonyoung frowns, tugging at Chan’s arm. “I know you can joke about it, but I was the one that had to find you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Chan twists his mouth down into a pout, batting his eyelashes for good measure. “But, I’m so glad you did!”

That gets Soonyoung to lighten up a bit. He smiles when Chan gets close enough to kiss— Hansol looks away before their lips meet. 

Seungkwan doesn’t move, though. He stares, openly, his eyes shiny, reflecting flashing lights. He seems a little nervous, fidgeting, playing with his own fingers, hands tangled in front of him. 

Hansol knocks into him, shoulder to shoulder. Just enough to catch Seungkwan’s attention. He snaps out of his staring, turning his face towards Hansol. 

“D’ya think they fixed the door?” Hansol asks under his breath. 

Seungkwan grins. He looks soft in the pink glow of the arcade machines. He’s always looked so good in pink. “No. Definitely not.” 

He unfurls his hand enough for Hansol to fill in the gaps. Giggles when Hansol turns over his shoulder to give him an exaggerated shush motion. 

They used to do this all the time. Whenever Seungkwan would come visit on Hansol’s shifts, and Chan was there to cover. Hansol would say, “I’m taking my break,” and Chan would roll his eyes and wave Hansol off, completely amused. Hansol and Seungkwan would sneak down the hall with the bathrooms, straight to the end where the old door to the roof was all jacked up. It never locks right, and the alarm is broken. Straight up to the roof, sitting at the edge of the building, feet dangling over the alley, staring down the main strip. 

Sometimes they’d smoke, but most of the time they’d just sit. Talk about their days. Seungkwan was always tired after his day shift. He’d lean against Hansol, and Hansol would keep him warm. 

It’s a little different now. Not the most important parts— the roof, the legs, the head on Hansol’s shoulder— but now Seungkwan is the one that’s warm. He shivers, but Hansol can’t help him. Hansol puts his hand on Seungkwan’s thigh anyway, squeezing just above his knee. A pathetic, small show of support. 

Seungkwan wiggles his arm under Hansol’s, his fingers tracing the line of Hansol’s thumb against his leg. He hums to himself. Hansol doesn’t ask— its the type of hum Seungkwan makes when he’s going to say whatever he’s thinking soon after. A preliminary break in the silence. 

Sure enough, Seungkwan speaks a few moments later, “I kind of miss the scar on your hand. It was charming.” 

Hansol huffs out a laugh, turning his hand slightly, just so the portion where his scar used to be is more visible. “I was just thinking about that. Didn’t know you’d remember something like that.” 

“Of course I would,” Seungkwan murmurs. 

The tip of his finger runs over the exact line of where the scar should be. Then the second. Hansol’s throat goes tight for no good reason. Like he’s nervous, even though he doesn’t feel it. He takes a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his teeth at the smell of Seungkwan. 

“Wouldn’t you notice if I lost the scar on my foot?” Seungkwan asks. He picks up his head to look at Hansol with an agonizingly adorable wrinkle of his nose. 

Hansol smiles. His eyes move to Seungkwan’s feet, dangling next to his against brick. Right at Seungkwan’s ankle, he has a scar. Something from when he was a baby. It grew with him. Hansol probably would notice if it were gone. It’s charming. 

“Yeah, I think I would.” 

Seungkwan nods approvingly, setting his head back down and hugging Hansol’s arm closer. He hums again, just like before. This time it’s a little bit quieter. Shy. 

Hansol waits patiently. 

“What happens when I get old?” Seungkwan asks, nearly a whisper. He shivers again when Hansol shifts beneath him, and Hansol goes still, trying to make it better. 

“What?” he asks, his throat constricting again. 

“You know— when I get old,” Seungkwan sits up. He clings to Hansol’s arm like he’ll fall off the side of the Earth if he doesn’t. A strong-handed hold. The moon reflects in his eyes, even as far away as it is. He looks sad, Hansol thinks. “You’ll stay young forever, but I’ll get old. It’s just… I keep thinking about it.” 

“Oh.” Hansol’s breath goes uneven. His hand flexes at Seungkwan’s thigh. He frowns. Swallows. 

The smell of Seungkwan settles over him like a cloud. Oranges. Handsoap. Blood. Everything Hansol needs to stay sane, lately. He’s kind of dependent on it, actually. Taking it for granted. It’s just that he always assumed— he thought that he and Seungkwan would figure it out. There wouldn’t be a reason for Seungkwan to get old. Unless he wanted to. 

Maybe he wants to. Seungkwan is a romantic. He wants to get married, even though it’s illegal. He wants to have a quaint little ceremony in his sister’s backyard. He wants to get married, and have a family, maybe. Seungkwan probably wants to grow old with someone. Hansol knows all of these things. He figured he’d be there for all of it— but not quite like this. He thought he’d grow old with Seungkwan too. 

He kind of assumed that Seungkwan would be turned sooner or later, he guesses. He didn’t think about it too hard, but his brain was moving in that direction automatically. Just a natural thing. He didn’t think about the possibility of Seungkwan growing old without him. 

The grief of it is too much to bear when he tries to think about it. His head starts going heavy, sections of his thoughts blanking out. It’s the same feeling as trying to remember how he died. It all shuts down. 

“I guess I just kind of assumed…” Hansol says. His tongue feels too big in his mouth. “Like…” he gets choked up. “Nevermind.” 

Seungkwan shakes his arm. He frowns deeply, his eyebrows pulling together. “What?” 

Hansol can never ignore that look. Never when Seungkwan is sad. He laughs, but it comes out too tight. “That I’d turn you. When you’re ready.” 

“Oh,” Seungkwan blinks. His face relaxes, going neutral. Unreadable. Blank. 

“Yeah, but, that sounds kind of crazy now that I say it.” Hansol winces at his own voice. He sounds desperate. He is, but he doesn’t usually project it so openly. 

Seungkwan doesn’t seem to mind too much. He slides his hand down Hansol’s arm, right until their fingers can slot together. “You’d do that for me?”

“I mean…” Another laugh. Hansol winces again. “Yeah. Obviously. I don’t want to live without you, Boo.” 

“I didn’t know.” 

“How could you not know?” 

A loud bang sounds from behind them, followed closely by a shout of, “Who’s up here?” 

“Oh shit,” Hansol shoves himself to his feet, helping Seungkwan up behind him. The way they’re positioned, they’re right behind the door. It’s strategic— because every once in a while the old man that owns the place will realize someone’s snuck up, and he’ll come make it a problem. 

Seungkwan grins, eyes alight when he gets to his feet— he presses his hand over his mouth to stop from laughing, darting for the fire escape, Hansol hot on his heels. 

Just before Hansol’s head drops down over the edge, the old man yells, “Hey!” 

They don’t stop until they’re well down the street. Around a corner. Out of breath and laughing. 

“Just like old times,” Hansol drawls, a poor imitation of Chan. 

“Shut up,” Seungkwan chides, whacking his shoulder. 

And just like that, everything feels okay again. 

𖤐

The last thing Hansol remembers about his pre-vampire life is sitting at the kitchen table with Seungkwan, peeling oranges for him. 

Seungkwan doesn’t like to peel oranges right before he goes to work. The rind gets stuck under his fingernails, and he feels dirty for the rest of the day. He says his coworker complains about the smell, too, which makes him self-conscious. 

It’s not a big deal. Hansol doesn’t mind. 

Seungkwan just rewound his tape of the new Donna Summer song he’s been obsessed with, the opening bars starting over. Hansol will probably be sick of it soon, but Seungkwan just bought the tape yesterday, so it’s still pretty new. It’s a good song, anyway. 

The front door bangs open, Mingyu almost tripping over himself as he toes off his shoes. He was out all night— Hansol didn’t ask. He doesn’t really care, honestly. Mingyu does what he wants. 

“Hey, so,” Mingyu comes to stand in front of them at the table, rapidly shifting his weight from one foot to another, too excited to keep his body still. “I kinda have something to tell you guys.” 

Hansol drops a piece of orange peel on the table. He looks up at Mingyu expectantly.

Mingyu swivels his head between the two of them. “I’m kind of seeing someone.” 

Seungkwan does his part by letting out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. He even pretends to fall back in his chair. “Oh my god! No way!” 

“Yeah,” Mingyu nods, grinning. “I know. And it’s serious. I love him.” 

Hansol snorts. Mingyu says that about everyone he dates. It’s kind of sweet— but also kind of naïve. Still, Hansol is in a good mood today. “Good for you, man.” Another bit of orange peel hits the table. “Happy for you.” 

“I want you guys to meet him.” 

Seungkwan gasps again, but this time it’s genuine. Mingyu always falls in love, but he never lets Hansol and Seungkwan meet his boyfriends. 

Hansol raises his eyebrows, nodding, impressed. “Good for you, man. Proud of you!” 

Mingyu bounces on his feet, overeager. “I’m working at the bar this week— you guys should come by on Wednesday. He’ll be there. You’ll love him, I promise.” 

Seungkwan glances over at Hansol, bringing his chin to his chest, a silent plea. Seungkwan loves things like this. Loves a reason to go out. 

“Yeah, okay. We’ll be there,” Hansol nods. He peels off the last piece of the orange peel and promptly turns to put it on top of Seungkwan’s head. Seungkwan squeals and flicks it off. Hansol laughs. 

“You two are so married.” Mingyu rolls his eyes, turning to walk away. 

Hansol scoffs once Mingyu is out of sight. “He’s so annoying.” 

Seungkwan blinks, his eyes shinier than usual, not that Hansol is keeping track. He peels apart one slice of his orange and sticks it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “You don’t want to grow old with me, Chwe Hansol?” 

“I never said that.” 

“You did.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You did,” Seungkwan insists, poking Hansol harshly in the arm. Honestly, Hansol doesn’t know what Seungkwan’s coworker is on about, the oranges smell great on him. Always. Hansol kind of loves it. 

Hansol rolls his eyes. “You’re twisting my words to make me feel bad and say I’d marry you.” 

“Is it working?” Seungkwan grins prettily, batting his eyelashes. 

That’s where it cuts out. Hansol’s memory goes all fuzzy and blank. It hurts to think about it more than that.

Damn. 

He grabs his Donkey Kong Game & Watch off the floor next to the bed, making sure not to move his arm that Seungkwan is cuddling against, sound asleep, sunshine warm. 

Chapter Text

Hansol has been doing a lot of moping lately. He’s bored. He’s still on probation— he can’t go out without someone to watch him— and Jeonghan has now implemented a separate rule that Hansol can’t go out with anyone that isn’t Seungkwan if he’s going to be in public. Ar least until they figure out why Hansol’s nose is all fucked up.

It’s not even like Hansol couldn’t go with Seungkwan to work. Seungkwan got a gig at Jeonghan’s friend’s antique shop, because he got fired from the video store he used to work at when he missed a month of shifts after Hansol died. 

Jeonghan’s friends are also vampires. The coven that lives on the other side of town. All women— a nice balance to the sausage fest they have going on over here. Seungkwan seems to like his job— that’s all that matters. 

But, he won’t take Hansol with, because he says Hansol will get bored, and distract him, and he can’t be distracted all day, Hansol! 

So, Hansol mopes. 

Seokmin and Junhui corner Hansol while he’s moping around sometime in the middle of the week. They speak in hushed voices, much too low for anyone to hear but a vampire, even at the close distance. 

“We’re starting a new campaign,” Seokmin says, swinging his head over his shoulder to look behind him, like he’s going to get caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Soonyoung isn’t invited,” Junhui tacks on. 

And, now Hansol gets it. Soonyoung loves to play D&D with them, but whenever he does, he just creates a character that sucks at everything but charisma and then tries to fuck everyone to get what he wants. It makes the game unbearable. 

Hansol nods a bit overenthusiastically, because, duh. He’s been desperate to think about something other than his existence for the hours that Seungkwan is out of the house. 

They rope in Minghao and Wonwoo, and get Jihoon to DM, because he refuses to put on a show while he’s playing, but he’ll happily do it when he’s in control. (He’s lame.) It’s going well. Hansol hasn’t laughed so much since he woke up, he’s pretty sure. He hasn’t felt so much like himself since he woke up. 

He can almost pretend nothing has changed at all. After this, he’ll get in Chan’s car and let Chan take him home. He’ll curl up in his bed next to Seungkwan, and Seungkwan will ask, How was the dungeon? And Hansol will say Good. The dragon was better. And then he’ll wrap around Seungkwan’s back when he’s on the very edge of sleep, because the apartment is always cold, and Seungkwan is warm. He won’t be able to feel his toes, and he’ll love it, because he forgets what it feels like already, and it kind of sucks, honestly. So much sensation gained with his awakening, but so much lost, too. 

Hansol can only imagine what it would be like if he had more people to hold onto. If he gave a shit about his parents, or if he had siblings. A group of friends that weren’t already undead. Friends that were married— kids— literally anything else. 

There’s only two options, immortality or mortality. Hansol didn’t get to choose— but he doesn’t really have anything to hang onto otherwise. Cold toes, maybe. 

But, like, if Hansol had Seungkwan— but Seungkwan were married to someone else. Committed. To another human. Unwilling to give up on that aspect of himself. Then, what? Hansol would have to watch Seungkwan grow old. Hanging out with a fifty year old man while he’s perpetually twenty seven. Watching Seungkwan’s body betray him in old age. Watching him die. Attending the funeral. 

Hansol went to his grandparents' funerals when he was young. He doesn’t remember much, save for wearing a stuffy suit. He hasn’t had anyone he cares about dying lately. In this new reality, if he cares about anyone too much, there’s an unfortunate necessity that he watches them die eventually. No game of who will go first. Hansol will always be here— alive— as people around him go. 

He understands why Soonyoung turned Chan. He understands why Chan begged Jeonghan to turn Soonyoung. They’re best friends. Hansol would do the same if Seungkwan were to get in an accident right now. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell Jeonghan to pull the trigger. The idea that Soonyoung had to find Chan laying there, on the brink of death— and make that decision in a split second— Hansol’s stomach turns. His eyes burn. 

Turning someone as they’re dying because you love them isn’t fair. It’s selfish. Incredibly so. It’s also why all of them are here. Together. Jeonghan loved Seungcheol. He loved Jisoo too, but in a different way. And Seungcheol loved Jihoon. On and on and on. All of them were loved, and that’s why all of them are here. Forever stuck in the reality that they won’t be able to escape. 

Such a prickly thing. The tradeoff between being loved so much that someone couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go, and the selfish nature of someone else cursing you to life without real permission. Endless life. It’s impossible to explain the nuances of vampirism and immortality when someone is dying. 

Hansol didn’t want to be turned. He liked being human. Now that he has been, he— selfishly— wants to ask Seungkwan to fall with him. It’s maddening. He feels mad. 

Upstairs, the door shuts. Seungkwan getting home from work. Junhui has just finished doing an impressive rendition of a song and dance to convince a bridge troll to allow him passage— and it’s just like old times, as long as Hansol lets it be. He’s fine with letting it be for now. He’s already dealing with so much. 

“Seungkwan is home,” Jihoon says. He looks directly at Hansol when he asks, “Should we loop him in?” As if Hansol is the purveyor of Seungkwan’s doings. 

Hansol shrugs. “He might be down. We can ask. He’s never played before.” 

“He can’t be worse than Soonyoung,” Seokmin snorts. “Oh my god, wait— Seungkwan totally has the vibe of a theatre kid. Was he in theatre in school?” 

“Nah— school didn’t offer it.” 

“Damned shame,” Seokmin clicks his tongue, shaking his head solemnly. “He’d have been— oh my god.” Halfway through talking, Seokmin goes rigid. He tenses up, hand flying over his mouth and nose. 

The floor creaks, and then the stairs when Seungkwan starts coming down. 

“What?” Junhui asks, and then he goes next. He gags, toppling out of his chair in a dramatically impressive fashion. 

Hansol doesn’t understand what’s going on until he feels it too. Or, smells it, rather. Garlic. It’s on the air. A sharp, punchy scent. It makes his muscles stiffen, like he’s been shot through with adrenaline, his head spinning, nausea rolling through his stomach. He plasters his hand over his mouth, pinching his nose.

“Holy fuck,” Minghao coughs. 

“Hey guys!” Seungkwan grins, steps bouncy. 

When Seungkwan’s foot hits the basement floor, Seokmin starts pretending he’s dying. Jihoon reaches over to hit him, but he stops when he gets another whiff. It’s natural— a vampiric instinct— impossible to avoid. Seungkwan must have had something on his way home. He likes to stop at that street vendor sometimes— they always use a lot of garlic in their food. 

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan’s face falls. “What’s wrong?” 

Hansol chokes when he uncovers his mouth. He feels bad when Seungkwan’s eyebrows pull together in concern. “Garlic—” Hansol manages to say. 

“Oh my god, that’s not a myth?” Seungkwan squeaks. He claps his hand over his mouth, turning around and scrambling up the stairs. 

They can all hear him climbing all the way up. To the second floor. Then the woosh of the tap and the vigorous scrubbing of his toothbrush. Minghao has managed to pry open the cellar window, a bit of fresh air getting in. 

“A vampire's constitution is so fragile,” Junhui says sagely, picking himself up off the floor and setting himself back into his chair. He lets out one of his deep bellowing laughs. “Despite the whole immortality thing, of course.” 

“Naturally,” Seokmin agrees. 

“The garlic still isn’t as bad as most humans,” Hansol mutters, crossing his arms, body finally relaxing. 

Minghao turns to glare at him from where he’s hanging off the windowsill. “Why do you keep saying that? Humans are supposed to smell good. They’re food.” 

“Well they don’t! Seungkwan is the only one I’ve met so far that smells good.” 

Four pairs of eyes lock onto him at once, no one blinking. 

“What?” Hansol asks, his lip curling under their scrutiny. 

“I’m sorry! I brushed my teeth, like, five times— I hope it’s better now—” Seungkwan announces, stomping back downstairs. 

No one falls over or gags. He must have done a good enough job. 

“Seungkwan, do you wanna play?” Hansol asks, ignoring the stares of the others, still boring into him. “We can add you to our party next time we rest.” 

“Oh,” Seungkwan wanders over, a little bit shy. “I don’t know how to play.” 

“It’s okay,” Hansol smiles encouragingly, his hand finding Seungkwan’s back when he gets close enough. “Neither does Minghao.” 

“Hey.” 

𖤐

Hansol can’t see himself in the mirror.

It’s a pesky vampire thing. Particularly annoying at first, but it was easy enough to get used to. He can only imagine that it would be much harder for Mingyu to get used to, if he were turned. He loves to place every hair on his head so achingly perfectly every morning, it takes him an hour to get ready. 

There’s a workaround to the mirror thing, of course. They’re not working with nothing. But, it’s a stupid workaround that’s inconvenient and horrible. 

“Take another picture of me, I think I fixed it,” Soonyoung says, pointing to his head where his hair is definitely messier than it was before. 

Wonwoo blinks at him, camera hanging lamely in his hands. “You didn’t.”

“Come on, Wonu, just take the picture,” Soonyoung whines. 

Wonwoo does, but he presses the button right when Soonyoung has his mouth open, still complaining. 

“Aw, what the fuck, man!” Soonyoung cries. 

The picture feeds out of the bottom of the camera. A Polaroid that Wonwoo protects like it’s his baby. They could really use another, because Soonyoung is always wanting to see how he looks before he goes out, and Wonwoo is always missing in action, doing whatever the hell he does all day. Hansol’s pretty sure he just walks around the woods, but, whatever. Chan has a theory that he’s got a girlfriend at the coven across town, but Hansol thought they were all lesbians. 

Soonyoung cradles the photo in his hands until it develops. The second he gets a glimpse of the picture, he screeches, jumping up to chase Wonwoo. Wonwoo hands off his camera to Minghao— the only other person he ever allows to touch it— and bolts. 

Seungkwan laughs from where he’s tucked under Hansol’s arm on the sofa. Both of them are shoved into the corner, because Jihoon and Seokmin and Chan were sharing with them, but they’ve since disappeared. Seungkwan is warm, and he’s half in Hansol’s lap— his legs thrown over Hansol’s thighs— and neither of them felt the need to move when they were afforded more space. Hansol mindlessly brushes some hair from Seungkwan’s face, watching his eyes shimmer, smile following Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s path around the room. 

There’s a click. A flash. Hansol looks over to see Minghao lowering the camera from his face, grinning. “Cute,” he says. 

Hansol gives him a funny look. Minghao winks. 

Seungkwan must not notice. He’s still laughing at Soonyoung, his head thrown back against Hansol’s shoulder. Minghao takes the picture between his fingers, shaking it lightly. He waits until it develops. Smiles smugly. Stands up and drops it in Hansol’s lap on his way out of the room. Hansol snatches it up before Seungkwan can get his hands on it. He slides it into his pocket. 

“Seungkwan,” he says, patting Seungkwan’s thigh. “Lemme’ up. I’m thirsty.” 

“Mm,” Seungkwan hums, lifting his legs up. He instinctively curls into Soonyoung when Soonyoung finally comes to rest, sitting on the cushion next to Seungkwan. Hansol is glad that there’s someone else for Seungkwan to share his warmth with in his absence. As long as it’s Soonyoung. Soonyoung is harmless. He has Chan. 

Hansol hops to his feet, toes digging into the carpet. He feels a little jumpy as he follows Minghao’s path upstairs. Hands in his pockets, fingers feeling the edge of the polaroid sitting there. 

He finds Minghao in the kitchen, cracking open a bag of blood and pouring it into a wine glass. It’s something he and Jisoo do when they’re feeling particularly obnoxious. We miss the luxury of feeling classy, Hansol, they told him once, when he caught them drinking blood from Jeonghan’s china on the roof. Hansol didn’t say anything about how he knows Minghao died at one of those sex and drug filled music festivals that was definitely not classy. He let them have their fun.

“Oh, Hansol. Here, I’ll pour you some. You like A positive, right?” 

Hansol nods wordlessly. He’s not actually thirsty, he’s just trying to figure out why everyone keeps looking at him like they know something he doesn’t. It’s getting annoying. This morning, when Hansol gagged over the smell of Mingyu on Jisoo’s skin and immediately buried his face in Seungkwan’s hair, Seokmin looked at Hansol like he was a dog about to be put down. Like he knew something. 

Minghao finishes his pour cleanly. He tosses the waste in the trash, sliding Hansol’s glass to him and raising his own for a cheers. Hansol grimaces as he gives it. 

He waits until after his first drink to ask. Just to make sure he’s not actually feeling antsy because he’s hungry. He’s still not very good at telling when he’s hungry— he’s learning. But, no. He stays just as antsy after drinking. 

“What the hell was all that about?” he asks, a bit of a bite to his tone. 

Minghao cocks his head. “What?” 

“You know,” Hansol says, waving his hand in front of him. “The picture. The winking. The staring at me like you’re in on something I’m not.” 

“Did you look at the picture, Hansol?” Minghao asks, his nose scrunching up like something’s funny. 

Hansol scowls. He shoves his hand in his pocket and smacks the paper down on the counter. Both he and Minghao hunch over to look at it. It’s nothing crazy. Hansol and Seungkwan, exactly how they were sitting. Seungkwan mid-laugh, practically glowing off the shiny surface of the polaroid, and Hansol looking at him. The flower to his sun, or something like that. 

“You don’t get it?” Minghao asks, leading. He wants Hansol to know. He’s implying Hansol should know. 

“Get what?” Hansol blinks, taking his eyes off the photograph. “I know what Seungkwan and I look like. I had the ability to use a mirror up until May, I’m very advanced for my kind.” 

Minghao reaches out to smack him. Hansol scoffs. 

“You’re in love with him,” Minghao says. He takes a long sip of his blood afterwards, eyebrows raised pointedly. 

“I’m not in love with him,” Hansol scoffs again, his eyebrows pulling together. “Like, I love him, but not like that. It’s Seungkwan.”  

“Hansol,” Minghao says. Then again, with more feeling, “Hansol.” 

“Minghao,” Hansol mimics. 

“You look at him like he has the world in his hands, Hansol. It’s really fucking sweet. If my teeth weren’t made of bone, I’d get a cavity.” 

“Everyone’s teeth are made of bone.” 

“Okay, but that’s not the point— the point is that I’m a vampire, so I can’t get cavities—” 

“Congratulations.” 

Minghao hits him again. He tips his head back to down the remainder of blood in his glass. When he finishes, there's a light sheen of red hanging on his lips. He always looks nice like that, Hansol thinks. “Have you ever been in love, Hansol?” 

“Uh,” Hansol taps his fingers on the countertop, setting down his drink. He makes soft chuffing noises through his teeth as he thinks. 

There was that girl in highschool. She was, like, his first love, whatever the fuck that means. It wasn’t anything more than sweet. Nothing to last. And then there was the guy Hansol got caught with. He was cool, but it wasn’t love. The closest Hansol got was his boyfriend a few years ago. The reason Hansol was drawn to him in the first place was because he reminded him of Seungkwan— and Seungkwan was away for the summer with his sister. It was fun, and Hansol thought maybe it could turn into love— but it never really got there. 

“Doubt it,” Hansol finishes. 

Minghao squints at him. He gets closer. Steps around the kitchen island and stands right in Hansol’s face. “Are you sure about that?” 

“God, yes, weirdo.” Hansol shoves him away by his shoulders, putting a little too much strength into it. Minghao stumbles. 

“You’re going to feel so stupid when you realize,” Minghao giggles. He picks up Hansol’s wine glass and downs the rest of that, too. Hansol doesn’t need it, anyway, his stomach feels all twisted up. 

“Have you never had a best friend?” Hansol asks, almost accusatory. 

Minghao tips his chin down, looking at Hansol through his eyelashes. “Junhui is my best friend,” he says pointedly. 

Hansol has been aware of Minghao and Junhui for a long time. The way they swirl around each other. It’s not incredibly obvious. Nothing like Jeonghan and Seungcheol, who are always touching each other. Minghao and Junhui move in opposites, a perfect compliment. Hansol has never seen them kiss, but he can tell, just by the way they talk with just their eyes that they know each other much more intimately than that. The most he catches is a soft tangle of fingers, or a hand lingering. A sweet smile. 

It’s funny, in a way. Hansol always thought relationships had to be loud. Soonyoung and Chan tonguing each other on every surface, or Jeonghan’s insistence on using pet names to make Seungcheol blush. Minghao and Junhui share their love in a much quieter way. It’s nice. Hansol thinks, if he were to be party to love, he’d want it to be more like that. Maybe somewhere in between. He likes holding hands, for example. He doesn’t really like people in his personal space, unless it’s Seungkwan— but that’s at least some sort of measure that if he likes someone enough, he can suck it up. 

“How did you and Junhui die?” Hansol blurts, forcing himself out of his thoughts. 

Minghao pushes his tongue into his cheek, studying Hansol carefully. He takes a deep breath. “Not that it’s any of your business. But, let’s just say that I went first, and Junhui came after me. He tried to, anyway.” 

“He tried to save you?” 

“Did a shit job at it,” Minghao snorts. “But, yeah. He tried.” 

“That’s…” Hansol trails off. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. “Kind of… romantic?” 

“Yeah, sure felt that way when I couldn’t breathe and I knew he was going to die too,” Minghao deadpans. 

“Well.” 

Minghao shrugs. “But, that’s love, I guess.” He gives Hansol a deceptively sweet smile. “Think about it, Hansol.” He picks up the polaroid and slides it back into Hansol’s pocket before disappearing down the hall, towards his and Junhui’s bedroom. Hansol frowns after him, still a little nauseous. 

The stairs creak. Hansol knows the sound of Seungkwan’s gait. He turns to greet Seungkwan as he walks into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and sleepy. 

“Hi, Boo,” he breathes, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. 

“‘M tired,” Seungkwan says. 

“Alright, let’s go to bed.” Hansol extends his arm and Seungkwan comes, fitting underneath it, just as Hansol wanted him to. He fits nicely there, Hansol thinks. Well, Hansol knows. He knows a lot about Boo Seungkwan. 

He knows that Seungkwan brushes his teeth very thoroughly, every night and every morning. That he switches between wearing one of Hansol’s old t-shirts and one of Jeonghan’s old t-shirts to bed these days. That he doesn’t wear socks to sleep, but he insists on shoving his icy cold toes into Hansol’s shins. 

None of that changes tonight. Of course it doesn’t. Seungkwan is steady. A constant presence in Hansol’s life. 

When Hansol gives the photo to Seungkwan— after they’re both already sitting in bed— Seungkwan smiles so wide, and so prettily that Hansol’s dead heart jumps. That’s what it feels like, anyway. 

“We look so happy,” Seungkwan whispers, tracing the edge of the photo with his finger.

“We are happy, aren’t we?” Hansol asks, suddenly nervous. He has to swallow down the wetness in his mouth. “I mean. I’m happy. I guess you don’t have to be, if you’re not. But, I hope you are—” 

Seungkwan’s hand clamps over Hansol’s mouth. He bites his bottom lip, amused, and says, “Hansollie, hush. I am happy. Of course I am. We are. But it’s just nice to see it captured, too. A memory we can touch.” 

Hansol nods, eyes wide. Seungkwan lowers his hand, his fingers landing on Hansol’s forearm. The lightest touch. Hansol swears he can feel Seungkwan’s blood pumping under his skin when he touches Seungkwan back. Subtle, but there. 

“What did people do before cameras?” Seungkwan asks, smile lifting up one corner of his lips. 

“We can ask Jeonghan. Motherfucker is old as the Earth. Father time.” 

Seungkwan giggles. He chews at his lip afterwards, eyes a little shiny in the soft glow of the moon. If Hansol could paint… 

He can’t. But, it’s sights like this that make him wish he could. Or, maybe he should get a camera of his own, but he’s afraid he’d just be telling Seungkwan ‘don’t move’ all the time. He’d get greedy. Seungkwan wouldn’t be able to move for long stretches without being stopped to be captured. Really, someone should invent a camera that’s smaller. That could go in his pocket, and be taken everywhere easily. Shots in rapid succession— not missing anything. Damn. 

“You’re so funny, Hansol,” Seungkwan says. He reaches out and pokes Hansol’s cheek once before laying down in bed, curling up on his side. He props the photo up on his makeshift nightstand— a wooden box Junhui was keeping some of his comics in, but gave up for Seungkwan. 

“Funny how?” Hansol lays down next to him, cheek to pillow, staring at Seungkwan’s side profile. 

Seungkwan turns his head further, still smiling. “You just… I don’t know. I’d love to live in your brain for a day.” 

“No you wouldn’t,” Hansol says automatically. 

That would be horribly embarrassing if Seungkwan were let in. He’d see all the mess, all the trains and spirals and the hundreds of questions, ideas, fears, and everything else. He’d see exactly how much Hansol wants to drink from him. God, it’s getting so bad. Hansol’s mouth waters when Seungkwan is close enough. It’s getting harder to resist, even though Hansol has no right. Every other human smells awful. Seungkwan smells better every day. 

“I just like to understand you, Hansollie.” 

Hansol swallows again. “I don’t think I understand myself.” 

Seungkwan hums in question, but his eyes have begun to droop. He’s losing the fight against his mortality. Exhaustion. Hansol can’t do much but smile. It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Hansol swears if he had a working heart, it would be fluttering. 

“Goodnight, Seungkwannie,” he murmurs. Seungkwan’s breathing evens. His face goes soft. He hasn’t been having nightmares lately. Hansol watches him to make sure. 

𖤐

“It’s time to have the talk,” Jeonghan says, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, hands folded primly in front of him on top of the kitchen table. His mouth is pressed together in a neat line. Seungcheol sits next to him, posturing almost the same way, but with a slightly more awkward expression. 

This is very similar to the night Hansol came over for the first time, actually. Good cop Seungcheol, bad cop Jeonghan. They’re scarily good at it. 

Hansol looks between them carefully. Seungcheol almost winces when Hansol meets his eye. 

Oh. He gets it now. 

“Like, the sex talk? My mom beat you to the punch ten years ago, and she was already too late—”

“No, Hansol, the vampire sex talk,” Jeonghan interjects, maintaining his stern air. 

“What, does my dick not work now? I’m pretty sure it does. Sure feels like it does.” 

“Have you been using it?” Seungcheol hisses, leaning forward a bit in what Hansol can only describe as morbid curiosity. “Are you sneaking around on Seungkwan?” 

“What? No. Not like that—” Hansol’s face scrunches up. “And me and Seungkwan aren’t… like that. Just, y’know… masturbation is normal, Seungcheol.” 

Jeonghan snorts and then plays it off as a cough when Seungcheol whips around to glare at him. Seungcheol focuses back in on the goal almost immediately. Hansol is sure that if he could, he’d be blushing. 

“Listen, Hansol,” Seungcheol levels, maintaining his soft edge. The bit of good that Jeonghan will certainly sweep away next time he speaks. “If you’re going to drink from Seu— anyone, you need to be careful.” 

“You really shouldn’t be drinking from anyone,” Jeonghan interrupts. “It’s not smart. Not when you’re so young.” 

“Soonyoung did it,” Hansol blurts, just because he can. He likes to do that to Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan doesn’t flinch. Damn. “When has Soonyoung ever been a good role model to you?” 

Hansol shrugs. 

“Let’s stay on topic!” Seungcheol begs. “Hansol— blood drinking is intimate.” 

“Draining someone’s life force tends to be,” Hansol mutters. 

“It doesn’t have to be sexual— but it is a lot of the time. It is if you drink from certain places—” Seungcheol powers on, shooting Hansol an annoyed look. “Or, even if you’re doing it intentionally. It’s a biological thing more than anything else. You release a sort of venom into the blood when you bite—” 

The reality of the conversation dawns on Hansol then. Vampire sex talk. Chan and Soonyoung getting caught. Hansol’s face screws up. “Ew, does that mean I walked in on Soonyoung and Chan banging that night I learned about vampires?” 

Seungcheol frowns sympathetically. “Was it the neck?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” Seungcheol nods. 

“Gross. What the hell.” Hansol scowls, crossing his arms. “They’re such freaks.” 

“Okay, Hansol. Back on track, please,” Jeonghan taps on the table. “You can’t drink from anyone, it’s going to be dangerous. Listen to me. Are you listening?” He taps harder, frowning. “Neck is always sexual. If you’re having sex, it’s always sexual. If you’re too into it, you’re going to drain him and kill him. Get it? Don’t be stupid.” 

Hansol rolls his eyes slightly. This is a lot more combative than the sex talk he got when he was sixteen. And a lot more pointed. Like Jeonghan thinks Hansol is gearing up to fuck someone tomorrow. “I don’t even want to drink from anyone. Everyone smells terrible except for Seungkwan.” 

It’s only a half-lie. The half, of course, being that he has no interest in drinking from anyone. He has a lot of interest in drinking from Seungkwan, actually. It’s driving him a little crazy. When Seungkwan rolled over in his sleep last night and flung his leg across Hansol’s hips, burying his face in Hansol’s neck. Hansol’s mouth was dangerously close to his throat. He smelled so good— but it wasn’t sexual. It’s not lusty, or charged, and Hansol isn’t getting boners thinking about drinking Seungkwan’s blood. He just wants to do it. He thinks it would taste really fucking good. 

“That’s… kind of something we wanted to bring up,” Seungcheol sighs. He looks nervously to Jeonghan, where he’s still frowning. 

Jeonghan brings his fingers to his temples, rolling them over the skin like he’s got a headache coming on. “We think you’re bonded to Seungkwan, Hansol.” 

 Hansol blinks. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“God, the mouth on you,” Jeonghan breathes. “They raise kids these days with no manners.” 

“It means you have a connection to Seungkwan specifically,” Seungcheol fills in. His hand has moved to Jeonghan’s back, rubbing lazy circles between his shoulders, as if Jeonghan is the one that needs comforting here. Hansol could laugh. “You two had such a strong emotional connection as humans, that now that one of you is a vampire, you’re sort of… tethered. That’s probably why everyone else smells foul.” 

“It’s very rare,” Jeonghan says. “It usually only happens with long-term romantic partners. It’s dangerous. It makes vampires do stupid things. You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you, Hansol?” He cocks his head in a threatening manner.

“What he means is that we don’t really know what happens if you drink from anyone else. We haven’t ever seen this in action, and we don’t want anything to happen to you. If you drink from another human it could hurt you or Seungkwan, we’re not exactly sure.” Seungcheol laughs tightly, failing to diffuse any tension. “It’s intense either way. It can make you more emotional and more unstable— obviously, because you’re connected to him—”

“I think you’ve got it wrong,” Hansol interrupts. He shakes his head. “Seungkwan and I aren’t like that. We’re best friends, not, like, soulmates.” 

Jeonghan looks at him like he’s stupid. “Hansol.” 

“What?” Hansol can feel his face pulling down into a sour frown. “It doesn’t even make sense. I drink blood all the time that isn’t his, and I’m fine.” 

Seungcheol’s eyebrows knit together. “But that’s not from a body, Sollie. It’s much more intimate to drink from someone than to drink something that’s stale.” 

“I just don’t see what you’re so worried about either way.” Hansol’s mouth feels dry. He could use a drink right now, actually. 

“What we’re trying to say is that if you drink from Seungkwan in a sexual way, it might become really intense, and if you drink from anyone else in a sexual way, it could kill you.” 

“Wow,” Hansol says blandly. “Stellar options I have here. I love being a vampire. Thanks, guys. I love being doomed to be a vampire virgin forever.” 

“You can have normal sex with anyone you want!” Seungcheol overcorrects, ending up a little too cheerful. “Yay!” 

“So, you brought me here to tell me how to have vampire sex, and then to ban me from having it?” 

Jeonghan scoffs. “Don’t be a brat. We’re doing our due diligence as parents.” 

“You gave Soonyoung the sex talk and he still sucked on Chan.” 

“This isn’t about Soonyoung!” Jeonghan throws his hands up in frustration. 

“Just—” Seungcheol winces at his own voice. “Just be careful, Hansol. Listen to your body, okay? And you should still use protection, because we really don’t know what will happen if you— god forbid— get anyone pregnant—” 

“Oh my god, okay!” Hansol slaps his hands over his ears. “I get it! I will not drink from anyone that smells bad and I won’t get anyone pregnant. Fine. Stop talking, now.” He pushes his chair back, getting to his feet in one motion. 

No one tries to stop him when he flees, Seungcheol only says, “I think that went well!” in a muttered breath that Hansol catches with his super-hearing. 

𖤐

“Do you think we existed in any past lives together?” 

Hansol blinks, but his eyes feel a little gummy. He’s high. Laying on the roof, side by side with Seungkwan, his brain operating on a delay. 

He didn’t mean for Seungkwan to find him. He came up here alone. He wanted time to think after this week. After Minghao’s speech in the kitchen, and then Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s speech in the kitchen. Damn. Everything happens in the kitchen— what’s that about? 

“Huh?” he says intelligently, whatever words Seungkwan had spoken already dissipating into the balmy, summer air. Lost. 

Hansol thinks Seungkwan looks striking in moonlight. He thinks so every night, but it feels particularly relevant now— a cloudless night, the moon full in the sky. And Seungkwan has just dyed his hair blonde. Bleached it in the sink with Soonyoung’s help. It’s a little dry, but it makes him look particularly otherworldly. Ethereal. 

Seungkwan giggles. He isn’t high, he’s just keeping Hansol company. Hansol is high enough for both of them. Seungkwan smells really fucking good, too. 

“I asked if you think we existed in past lives together,” Seungkwan repeats, quieter this time. Shy at having to say it again, if Hansol had to guess. 

“I dunno if I believe in that kind of thing, honestly,” Hansol says. Then he feels like he’s made a mistake when Seungkwan’s face falls a little bit. Seungkwan turns his head away, so Hansol can only see the curve of his cheek. Moonlit skin. “I mean— Do you want us to? We can, if you want us to.” He knows his correction is sloppy, but it’s too late now. He’s high. 

Seungkwan’s mouth curls up on the end closer to Hansol. He finally looks back. “I just think… What if Jeonghan knew us? Back in our past life?” he asks.

“What? You think we worked in a meat factory, or somethin’? Like in that book.” 

“I think the Jungle was a bit after Jeonghan’s time,” Seungkwan’s smile widens. He reaches out to nudge Hansol’s arm. Warm. He’s very warm. Hansol scoots closer to try to soak it up. “Wow, look at you, I knew you paid attention in lit class.” 

“So, in our past life, we met at the factory, or whatever,” Hansol lets out a rattling breath. His left side is warm everywhere Seungkwan touches him. The cold isn’t uncomfortable for him, but he just— prefers to feel like this. Something different. It feels important. “How would we meet Jeonghan? He’s always at the hospital.” 

“Maybe I got my finger cut off. That can happen, you know.” 

“Or, maybe I did.” 

“True, you’re probably more reckless with the machines,” Seungkwan agrees. His hand moves, his knuckles brushing against Hansol’s. He hesitates there— like he’s unsure. Hansol makes the decision for both of them— lacing their fingers together. Seungkwan smiles at that. He’s still acting shy. Hansol has no idea why. 

“Jeonghan probably called me stupid. Sewed my finger back on. And then you sat by my bedside as it healed,” Hansol finishes their story. Wraps it up with a nice bow. No death, or dying, or an end to their being together. No vampires.  

Past lives seem unbelievable, because Hansol knows how quickly this one could have come to an end. He knows that he’s going to exist forever now that it didn’t. It’s too much to comprehend. The one life is more than enough. But, if Seungkwan wants to dream, they can dream. Hansol can always entertain Seungkwan’s dreams. 

“Well,” Seungkwan says quietly. “I’m glad we met in this life.” 

Hansol squeezes his hand, and gives him the strongest smile he can muster— which isn’t saying much, because his entire body kind of feels like jelly. All sleepy and relaxed. If he tried to get up right now, he’d probably topple off the roof. He’d survive it, obviously, but it would be super lame. He could crush his skull in again. His hair is finally growing out a little bit. Apparently, vampire hair takes forever to grow. Annoying. If he fell, he’d have to have it shaved all over again. 

Maybe he fell the first time. God. Hansol wishes he could just— remember. His thoughts keep funneling down into wondering. Thinking. He wants to know what Mingyu meant when he said he’s never seen Seungkwan like that. Hansol wants to know how badly he fucked up, so he can fix it, if he needs to. 

“Seungkwan—” he asks, voice all dry and scratchy. “How did I die?” 

Seungkwan stiffens. Visibly. Physically, in Hansol’s hand. His face crosses with something unwell. He nearly shrinks. “I’m not allowed to tell you, Hansollie,” he whispers, blinking too much, like there’s tears to come. 

“I’m sorry,” Hansol says. He’s sloppy again. Messing things up. He figured, maybe, that Seungkwan would tell him— but now Seungkwan is sad— and Hansol feels sick with guilt. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Seungkwan frowns. His eyes shine in the moonlight along with his cheeks. Hansol still thinks it’s beautiful, but he just wishes he hadn’t put it there. “Jeonghan says you’ll remember eventually. And, I want to talk about it when you do— but I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed.” He winces like something hurts. Like he was the one to get his skull crushed in, and he’s just thinking about it now. He swallows. There’s a long few seconds of nothing but the crickets on the breeze, and then Seungkwan tacks on, almost like an afterthought, “It was so horrible, Hansol.” 

It so clearly hurts Seungkwan to think about. Hansol doesn’t think, he just tugs Seungkwan closer, over the scratchy roof shingles, gathering him into his arms. Seungkwan doesn’t cry until his face is buried in Hansol’s shoulder. It’s quiet, and peaceful. His fingers curl tightly into Hansol’s shirt, and Hansol runs a hand up and down his back as he whispers apologies into his hair. 

A while later, when Hansol’s high has worn off, and Seungkwan is falling asleep, cheek still pressed to Hansol’s chest, his tears dried, Hansol takes them to bed. 

For the first time in weeks, Seungkwan has nightmares. 

𖤐

Seungkwan really, really likes going on picnics. It’s one of his favorite things. Hansol would hate to interfere with one of Seungkwan’s favorite things just because he’s got a horrible affliction to sunburn. Also, he’s still trying to make up for the other night when he made Seungkwan cry. 

He hasn’t made Seungkwan cry in years. Not since highschool, when he made a poorly timed joke on a bad day, and Seungkwan’s tears started seeping out of him like a leaky faucet. That time surprised them both. Seungkwan started laughing, like he didn’t know why he was crying. Hansol took him on a picnic after that, too. It seemed to do the trick. 

Hansol doesn’t have much up his sleeve. But, he knows that picnics make Seungkwan happy. 

This time, he went out of his way to ask Mingyu to cook for them, because Mingyu is a lot better at that sort of thing. Hansol helped Mingyu make food— by helped, he means he sat on the counter with tissues stuffed up his nose while Mingyu did all the work— and then he asked Soonyoung to borrow that big, stupid hat of his so that he can be extra careful of the sun.

The sunhat is all floppy and wide-brimmed, and Hansol feels sort of dumb wearing it, but Seungkwan gasped when he saw, and clapped, and that made Hansol feel better. Seungkwan was really excited to go on a picnic at all, really. He brightened all the way up. He gave Mingyu a kiss on the cheek, and Hansol a kiss on the cheek. He blushed afterwards, and hurried out the door, leaving Hansol to follow behind. 

So, Hansol goes on a picnic on the hottest day of summer wearing a sunhat and gloves. Long sleeves. Long pants. Seungkwan smeared sunscreen over his cheeks before they got out of the car, and Hansol is pretty sure there’s still white streaks there, because every so often, Seungkwan will reach out and rub his thumb over the spot, trying to blend it in. 

They’ve set up on a checkered blanket at the top of a hill at a nature preserve a ways away from the house. It’s a place they used to come to smoke. It looks nicer in the day. Shin-high grass and wildflowers dotted throughout. A pretty, open space, but no one has any reason to come by. They’re too far off the footpath for that. 

Seungkwan tucks into his Mingyu-made sandwich, chipper and excited, humming in satisfaction after every bite. Hansol can’t see him as well as he wants to. Soonyoung’s stupid hat keeps drooping. He can’t even eat anything, either. They didn’t want to bring blood bags out, just in case anyone happened to look in their picnic basket. Kind of hard to explain that one away. 

“He said, wow, you’re like a vampire, can you turn into a bat? And I said, that’s actually highly offensive— and, Hansol, are you even listening to me?” Seungkwan tsks. 

He reaches across to adjust Hansol’s hat. As soon as he pulls the brim up, it droops again. Seungkwan giggles, and Hansol frowns.

“What? Why do you look like you’re wilting,” Seungkwan coos. “My little sunflower that can’t get any sun.” 

Hansol’s frown deepens at that. He makes a long noise of complaint, “Nnnnnggh.”  

“Oh, my poor baby.” Seungkwan tilts his head, sun catching the tones in his hair. He looks like a dried up dandelion in the daylight, his blonde hair floating up a little bit in the breeze. His mouth tips down, still fiddling with Hansol’s hat. Hansol lets him, ignoring the way the heat makes Seungkwan’s scent roll off his skin. 

“‘M fine,” Hansol grumbles. He swallows back his spit, ignoring the urge to tip his nose into Seungkwan’s wrist to breathe from the source. 

Seungkwan looks at him funny for a second. His fingers linger at Hansol’s jawline before dropping. “Are you hungry? You must be, right? You haven’t eaten since last night…” 

Yes, Hansol’s brain screams. “No, I’m alright,” Hansol says. 

“I think—” Seungkwan’s lips purse, twisting to one side. His eyebrows straighten, all serious. He meets Hansol’s eye with a sort of determination. “You should eat too.”

Hansol shakes his head. He doesn’t want to ruin Seungkwan’s picnic by making him go all the way home to get blood— that would suck. Seungkwan was having such a good time. “Ah. It’s okay, Boo, I’m fine.” 

“No, I mean…” Seungkwan doesn’t waiver, his face screwed up. He extends his arm the inner side to the sky, fingers clenched in a fist. “I know you want to. Or, your body does… right?” 

The noise Hansol makes is flat out embarrassing. Somewhere between a wheeze, groan, and sob. He can feel his eyebrows meeting, words failing him. Seungkwan doesn’t flinch. He scoots a bit closer, his knuckles brushing Hansol’s stomach, arm hanging between them. Hansol blinks, then again. Seungkwan can’t know how much he wants this. There’s no way. Hansol has been so careful— he’s never said anything. But, Seungkwan knows him too well. Maybe it was always a lost cause. 

Seungkwan’s lips quirk up. “C’mon, Hansollie. I asked Seungcheol if it’s okay.” 

“Not Jeonghan?” Hansol chokes out, throat raw. 

“No, obviously not. He’s such a stickler. I knew Seungcheol would be honest, even with his puppy-dog eyes.” 

Hansol lets out a strangled laugh. He licks his lips, eyes dropping down to Seungkwan’s arm. His fingers curl around Seungkwan’s forearm, just to hold him still. He runs the pad of his thumb over the inside of Seungkwan’s wrist. His mouth pools with spit. Oh, fuck. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathes, his eyes glued to where Seungkwan’s veins show through his skin. Thin, delicate skin right where his pulse point is. It would be so easy.

“You won’t hurt me,” Seungkwan says. He scoots even closer, his knees pressing against Hansol’s. His forehead is close to knocking against the brim of Hansol’s hat. He ducks under it just to meet Hansol’s eyes fully. “I trust you.” 

“Seungkwan—” 

Seungkwan extends his fingers, bumping into Hansol’s chest this time. Hansol almost shivers at the contact, despite not being able to feel cold anymore. “You want to, right? I can feel it sometimes. When you’re smelling me. I can just tell.” 

Oh. Well. That’s kind of embarrassing. Hansol makes another pathetic noise, high in the back of his throat. 

“C’mon,” Seungkwan urges. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much. I want it too. I like keeping you healthy.” And then, a little quieter, “And, Seungcheol said it’ll feel nice for me, too. It won’t hurt.” 

Hansol’s will quickly wanes. It was one thing when it was all in his head. When the only thing he was fighting against was his own will. He’s been fighting off his own desires his entire life. But, this. This. Seungkwan offering himself up— encouraging it. Asking to be had in the way Hansol so badly wants him— there was never any chance of Hansol resisting that.

“Just— like— hit me if it’s too much,” Hansol breathes. He’s already lifting Seungkwan’s arm to his lips, eyes shifting up to find Seungkwan nodding reassuringly. 

“I will.” 

Lips meet skin, and Hansol’s mind goes blissfully blank. Just the smell of Seungkwan this close gets him there. He parts his mouth on a shaky exhale, his eyes falling shut— his tongue makes contact first. Just a taste. Seungkwan is slightly salty from sweat. It’s good— but it’s not… enough. 

Seungkwan gasps when Hansol’s teeth sink into his skin, Hansol looks up, worried— but everything happens at once. Seungkwan relaxes, letting out a long, pleased sigh just as blood hits Hansol’s tongue. It’s unlike anything Hansol’s ever had before. Warm, flowing freely, tasting so specifically Seungkwan that it makes him feel a little dizzy. His free hand gropes helplessly, finally finding a place on Seungkwan’s thigh, mindlessly massaging the flesh just under the line of Seungkwan’s shorts as he drinks. 

Hansol can feel it from his head straight down to his feet. Hot fire burning through him. It’s a whole body experience. He takes his time, suckling from Seungkwan slowly to draw it out longer. His body does know. It knows exactly what he wants. For this feeling to last forever— or, as long as Seungkwan can handle it. 

Seungkwan’s fingers reach out, cupping Hansol’s cheek, his hand all crooked up to make it work. Hansol hums against his skin, and Seungkwan laughs, but it comes out all breathy and loose. Like he’s gotten a really good massage— or maybe like he’s just been thoroughly kissed. Completely placated. Willing. 

“God— It really does feel nice, Hansol,” he says, in that same tone. 

Hansol squeezes his thigh, just to let Seungkwan know he’s listening. He can taste orange in the blood. It’s strange. It’s not a flavor any food should be. It’s not like the bagged blood, either. It has something so unique to it. Hansol drinks— feeling his body recharge every swallow. It’s so much more than a blood bag. 

No one else has ever tasted this. Hansol doesn't want them to. Knowing Seungkwan inside and out— that’s something just for him, now. He’s feeding from Seungkwan— becoming one with him in this new way— and, oh, shit, he’s getting a little blood drunk, isn’t he?

He unclenches his jaw slowly. When he pulls away from Seungkwan’s arm, a thick string of pinkish-spit comes with him. Seungkwan watches, wide-eyed, awed. Giggles when Hansol wipes it away with a shaky hand. 

“How do I taste?” Seungkwan asks. He’s joking— Hansol can see it so clearly on his face— but Hansol doesn’t feel like it should be a joke. 

Like nothing else I’ve ever had, is what he wants to say. Deadly serious. Like the highest quality meal from the best restaurant in the world— okay, that’s a little too cannibalistic. Is Hansol a cannibal, technically? 

“You—” Hansol has to swallow down the remaining spit in his mouth. He savors the last bits of Seungkwan on his tongue. He’s feeling greedy. He can still smell Seungkwan— a cloud of Seungkwan hanging around his head. “Really good, Boo. Thank you.” 

Seungkwan beams. His dandelion flower hair floats around him. So happy. His cheeks are pink, indicating that Hansol hasn’t sucked him too dry. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Hansol nods. “Of course. The best I’ve ever had.” 

“Stop.” Seungkwan swats at him, rolling his eyes with a little giggle. “You’re just flattering me.” 

“Why would I need to do that? I’m just telling the truth. I always tell you the truth.” 

Seungkwan’s blush deepens. Hansol’s thumb runs over his wrist again, right where the two tooth marks have already closed up, just light-pink spots now. A memory of Hansol on Seungkwan’s skin. The idea shouldn’t make Hansol feel proud— but it does. Maybe he’s still a little blood drunk. 

“We should have picnics more often,” Seungkwan says, almost shy. He keeps getting shy with Hansol for no good reason. Hansol could never think poorly of him. 

“Anything you want, Seungkwan,” Hansol says. And he means it. 

If Seungkwan tipped his head to the side, right now, and asked Hansol to drink from his neck. If Seungkwan asked, and Hansol explained the whole sex thing, and Seungkwan still wanted it— Hansol would do it. No questions asked. 

Seungkwan tastes really fucking good. That’s all.

“I want Mingyu to make me another one of these sandwiches,” Seungkwan says, shaking out of Hansol’s grip and picking up his sandwich to take a big bite. He smiles, cheeks all full of food. 

“I’m sure we can make that happen.” 

Seungkwan hums, completely satisfied with himself, and Hansol thinks, for the first time in a while, that everything will be okay. 

𖤐

Hansol has been bored all day. 

Seungkwan left for work this morning, and Hansol was still in bed, because he had nothing better to do. When he got up, he spent some time playing Atari with Wonwoo, then he went outside to kick around a ball with Soonyoung and Chan— because it was cloudy. And then it started downpouring, so they came in. That’s when Hansol started pacing around the house. 

Jeonghan was home, because he’s been working night shifts lately, and every time Hansol passed him, he let out a long, strained exhale, before he finally got fed up enough to say, “For the love of god, Hansol, please get out of this house before I kill you.” 

Hansol glared at him, and said, “I brought you into this world, I can take you out! That’s what you sound like.” 

“Go pick Seungkwan up from work,” Jeonghan said, his stare unflinching. “You could use the air. You smell.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I'm giving you permission to leave my house. So, get out of it.”

So Hansol left, huffing and annoyed, and started the long trek down to the side of town where the antique shop is at, clouds still thick in the sky, ground still wet, but no rain to be seen by then. 

There’s not really any reason to pick Seungkwan up. Seungkwan has a car. He drives to work. Hansol can’t drive. He can walk, though, and he’s got vampire super strength and lack of fatigue that he’s not really doing anything with. So, he walks down to pick Seungkwan up.

Half the walk, Hansol is just kind of annoyed at Jeonghan, because Jeonghan is annoying. He’s done nothing but make rules for the past few months Hansol has been a vampire, and then act annoyed that Hansol is bored because he’s following all the rules. It’s stupid. Being a vampire is kind of stupid, though. 

Worse, Hansol keeps having soft twinges against his skull, like the hint of a memory. Just a corner, or a flash. The beginnings of remembering what the hell happened to him. Right there, but never quite reachable. It’s making him more irritable. He’s angrier at Jeonghan than he should be. More restless. 

The second half of the walk is spent talking himself down off the ledge. Breathing. Reasoning through whatever the fuck is wrong with him so he’s in an okay mood by the time he reaches Seungkwan. 

He was doing well, actually. He feels more like himself when he emerges from the alley between two buildings, spitting him out right across the street from the shop. He looks both ways, because he didn’t want to get hit by a car— but a massive truck is barrelling down the street— and by the time it passes, Seungkwan is outside the store, locking up. But, he’s not alone. There’s a tall, lanky guy there with him. Bright smile, hands in his pockets. They’re laughing. Together. 

Hansol’s feet stick to the curb. He watches, wordlessly, because Seungkwan hasn’t noticed him yet. The guy says something, and Seungkwan giggles, and reaches over to smack his shoulder. They clearly know each other. Hansol’s stomach twists. 

The other guy rolls back and forth on his feet, giving Seungkwan one last grin before turning and walking off. Seungkwan is left blushing and smiling. He finishes locking the doors, and then turns. His face goes from bashful to surprised, eyebrows raised, head cocking. Then, he smiles again. He looks both ways before hurrying across the street. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, a little breathless, when he gets to Hansol. 

Hansol shrugs. “Bored at home. Who was that?”

“Oh, you saw that?” Seungkwan laughs nervously. He ducks his head. “That’s Soobin. He comes in sometimes while I’m working.”

Soobin. Hansol grimaces on accident. “What did he want?”

“Nothing,” Seungkwan says, but he’s still blushing, and he refuses to meet Hansol’s eye. It’s very clearly not nothing. 

“Are you sure?” Hansol blinks. His back stiffens. Nervous for no good reason. 

Seungkwan rubs the back of his neck. He giggles. Tugs on the hem of Hansol’s sleeve mindlessly. “Well…” 

“Hm?” Hansol blinks again. 

“He kind of…” Seungkwan chews on his lip, looking up at Hansol again, searching. “He kind of asked me out?” 

“Oh.” Hansol’s stomach drops. He doesn’t really have blood anymore— not like that— but he feels like it’s going cold, anyway. Must be the breeze. “Well, did you say yes?” 

Seungkwan shrugs. It’s a non answer. “I didn’t say yes or no— so he left me with his number.” He brings up his hand, a slip of paper held between his index and middle finger. Hansol catches sight of a little scribbled heart on it, right after the numbers. 

“Oh,” Hansol says again. A broken record. His mouth feels dry. He’s a little nauseous, actually. 

“What do you…” Seungkwan fidgets nervously. He folds his arms across his chest, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Like, what do you think about that?” he asks, voice tipping up precariously high. 

Hansol shoves his hands into his pockets a bit too forcefully. “What do I think? Why would I think anything?” 

“I don’t know. I—” Seungkwan starts, but then his forehead scrunches up. He shakes his head. “Well… nevermind, I guess.” 

That cold-blood feeling washes over Hansol again. He feels like he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know why that keeps happening, but he hates it. 

“You should go,” he says, patching up his mistake. 

Seungkwan’s eyebrows shoot up. He blinks. Twice. “You think so?” 

“Yeah. Why not?” Hansol nods, trying to convince both of them. Seungkwan has been so tethered to Hansol since he woke up. He’s been spending all of his time at work or home. Hansol is on Jeonghan induced house arrest, and Seungkwan shouldn’t be bound to the same. He should go out with someone if he wants to, and Hansol shouldn’t get in the way of that— even if the idea of it makes Hansol feel like… bad… It's just because he’s a little selfish, and he likes Seungkwan’s attention. Best friend stuff. 

“I dunno,” Seungkwan stares at his feet. He kicks out to tap his toe against Hansol’s. “It’s been a while, I guess.” 

“You’ve been too busy taking care of me.” 

Seungkwan’s head snaps back up, lips pressed in a tight line. “It’s not a chore, Hansol. I like being with you.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not the same, is it? As… going out with— him.” Hansol lifts his hand lazily in the direction Soobin walked away. “It’s— we’re not…” 

“Right. I get it, Hansol,” Seungkwan says curtly. He seems unhappy, and Hansol’s stomach rolls over, and over, and over. “I’ll go on the date. It will be good for me, probably,” he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. He sounds a little annoyed. “Let’s go. My car is this way.” 

And just like that, Seungkwan is stomping off down the sidewalk, leaving Hansol to trail behind like a lost puppy. 

It’s tense all the way back to Seungkwan’s car. Quiet. And then on the drive home, Seungkwan’s tapes playing softly over the hum of the tires on the road. 

Hansol doesn’t bother saying anything, because every time he opens his mouth, he somehow ends up screwing something up. 

He’s been irritated all afternoon, and now he’s irritated again. He’s grumpy. That’s what Junhui keeps saying, anyway. 

He slouches a bit as he follows Seungkwan inside. Seungkwan doesn’t even look back when they make it in, kicking their shoes off in the entryway. He just hurries off, acting like he needs space. Hansol knows how that feels. 

Hansol finds himself in the kitchen, staring at a shelf of blood bags, unable to decide. 

Why is he so grumpy lately? Is that why he keeps fucking everything up? 

The awkward conversation with Seungkwan grates on him. He keeps replaying it in his head. He feels uncomfortable about it for no good reason— and not just because Seungkwan is clearly upset with him. He hates it. He doesn’t like feeling this off with Seungkwan. He feels like they’re so close to meeting in the middle lately, but he keeps fucking up just before they stick in place. It’s awful.

He sucks down three blood bags, and he’s still grumpy afterwards. 

Somewhere between bag one and two, Jihoon joined him, sitting at the table, watching him carefully, half-amused. When Hansol groans afterwards (still grumpy) and chucks his trash into the garbage can, Jihoon laughs. He says, “Wow, that was great. What’s got you all fucked up?” 

Hansol’s lip curls. He’s about to say something smart when the sharp sound of the buttons on the phone drift down from upstairs, followed by a shrill ringing. Jihoon tips his head in the direction of the noise to eavesdrop. 

From here, they only catch a bit of it. Seungkwan saying, “Yeah— I thought about it. I’d love to go out with you.” 

“Ohhh,” Jihoon nods, all too knowingly. “Got it.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hansol snaps. 

Jihoon just laughs again. Shaking his head this time. He gets up, pushing his chair in behind him. Leaves without saying another word. 

“Friday would be perfect!” He hears Seungkwan say. Then a laugh. A flirty laugh.

Hansol throws open the fridge to grab another blood bag but stops himself at the last moment. He’s not even hungry. He’s just trying to replace the taste of Seungkwan on his tongue, and it’s not working. Every drink he’s had since Seungkwan’s wrist hasn’t been even half as satisfying. He’s doomed. 

Maybe he should ask to drink from Seungkwan before he goes on his date. Maybe he’ll do it in a really obvious place. Let Soobin know that Seungkwan has a vampire best friend that has first dibs. Two birds, one stone. Hansol gets his only satisfying meal, and he also can stop worrying about this clown Seungkwan is going out with. 

God, he sounds crazy. He puts his hand to his forehead, but he doesn’t feel feverish. He feels cold. Dead. He is both of those things. Soobin isn’t. Seungkwan isn’t. 

Hansol feels grumpy for the rest of the evening for no good reason at all. Being a vampire sucks. 

𖤐

“Maybe after your nerd movie we can go out for ice cream, I’ve been craving it lately,” Seungkwan grins. He’s got a bounce in his step today— brought on by the first warm day of the year. It’s come early— May is pretty early— Hansol can’t quit smiling about it.

The very end of spring. Hansol’s life kind of fucking rules right now, honestly. It’s nice out, and Seungkwan’s hand is on his arm, keeping him close as they walk downtown to meet Mingyu at the club he’s bartending at these days— they’re supposed to meet his boyfriend for the first time. Exciting stuff . 

It was Seungkwan’s idea to play hooky tonight. They both called off work. Allegedly, they’re both very sick. They went out for a walk instead of torturing themselves. It’s the first warm day, and the first warm night.

“ Maybe we can start a tradition,” Seungkwan said earlier, his fingers warm against Hansol’s bicep. “Skipping work on the first nice day and hanging out together instead.”

And Hansol had said, “ We hang out together all the time, anyway.”

Seungkwan smacked him, and Hansol laughed, letting the warmth of the sun seep through to his bones. Seungkwan started humming that new Donna Summer song he’s so obsessed with, and Hansol let the warmth of that seep through him, too.

And now the sun is mostly set. Just a tinge of orange on the horizon, neon lights from storefronts buzzing to life, casting pretty glows onto the sidewalk. Seungkwan will pull Hansol to a window every once in a while to point out something he wants— or something he doesn’t want— he walks this road on his way to work every day, he knows it well. Hansol is just happy to be here.

“Hello, Earth to space cadet,” Seungkwan sings, poking Hansol’s cheek. “I said I’ll come to the Star War movie with you.”

“Oh, shit,” Hansol laughs, thoughts finding his body again. He keeps zoning out today— just a lot to think about. He hasn’t thought about shit in a while. Not as it relates to Seungkwan, at least.

They come to a stop to wait for the light to change. Hansol smiles, and Seungkwan’s face is shaded pink from the window of the video store on the corner, right across from the bar.

“You’ll really go with me?” Hansol asks, reaching up to brush Seungkwan’s bangs out of his eyes. They’re getting too long. He should get them cut, but he probably won’t.

Seungkwan leans into the touch, just the slightest bit. Enough that Hansol can feel it. His fingers linger at Seungkwan’s cheek, just until he comes to his senses and drops his hand back to his side. He has a lot of shit to think about, probably. First warm day— first warm night— has his best friend always been this pretty? These are all tomorrow thoughts.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says, a little lower than before. Shy, almost. He lowers his eyes, and Hansol wants to grab his chin and tip it back up. “I like seeing you happy. You’re going to be so happy after seeing that movie, I’m sure.”

A smile creeps over Hansol’s face. He reaches out and grabs Seungkwan’s hand. Just folding their fingers together, leading him towards the crosswalk. “I would love that, Boo. And, yeah, ice cream sounds good.” 

“Good,” Seungkwan says. He’s smiling too. “It’s a date, then.” 

“It’s a date.” Hansol squeezes his hand. Something to think about tomorrow, probably. He’s still a little high from the joint he and Seungkwan shared a couple hours ago, and he feels so good. So happy. First warm night of the year, and all. 

He steps into the street, Seungkwan just behind him. 

Hansol always wondered what it would be like to die. He thought it would be quick. Painless. He assumed that the slow motion thing was an exaggeration. He was really hoping he wouldn’t have to find out, honestly. He didn’t plan on finding out. 

It happens fast, but it feels like a lifetime. There’s a truck— headlights off, and it’s going pretty damn quick. Hansol’s brain does most of the work for him, his body falling in line. He turns around and shoves Seungkwan out of the way, their fingertips brushing as Seungkwan falls over. Then Hansol gets hit— and it hurts. 

He thinks he’s in the air for a bit. He thinks someone is screaming, but his ears are ringing too severely once he hits the ground, and his mouth feels sort of wet. And, god, it hurts so bad. He’s hot, and wet, and he can’t breathe right. It’s the worst thing he’s ever felt. His vision is doubled. He’s choking on nothing, and his mouth tastes like blood. Fuck. 

Every second drips by. It slides off the edge of the clock, molasses on a spoon. He doesn’t know how long it is before Seungkwan shows up. He only knows it’s Seungkwan by his voice— though, he sounds different than usual. He’s crying, Hansol thinks. He’s grabbing Hansol’s face, and someone is pulling him away. 

“Boo?” Hansol tries. He doesn’t know if it makes it out. The dying thing, it makes it hard to tell. 

“He can’t— You can’t let him—” Seungkwan is begging. Pleading. “Mingyu— what do we do?” 

“There’s a way,” Mingyu, then. “Jisoo—”

“No, Mingyu—” Someone Hansol doesn’t recognize. Or, maybe he does, but it’s not coming to him right now. He’s too busy dying. 

“Anything. Please. Anything, you can’t let him die. He can’t die, Mingyu. I can’t take it.” Seungkwan.

“If you won’t do it, I’ll call someone who will.” Mingyu. Mingyu sounds so mad. 

“He won’t last that long— fuck. Mingyu—” Stranger. 

“Do it, Jisoo.” 

“Hansol, I’m so sorry. You have to stay awake— Don’t leave me—” Seungkwan. 

“Boo—” Hansol tries again, but he’s getting tired. Too tired. He wishes he could feel his hands. Wishes he had enough of himself left to comfort Seungkwan. To tell him everything he wants. He can’t even remember what there is to say, though. 

It’s spotty, then. In and out. Hansol’s body being jostled around. 

“Sorry about this, Hansol.” Jisoo? Like— the one that comes by Jeonghan’s sometimes? But that doesn’t make sense…

The last thing Hansol remembers is a sharp pain in his arm— the one he thought he lost feeling of. 

It hurts, just like the rest of it did. 

Hansol opens his eyes. He sits straight up, twisting his neck over to where Jeonghan is sitting at the table playing solitaire. He’d set himself up there after Hansol started feeling sick and laid down on the couch. Just to be safe, Jeonghan said. Hansol didn’t understand what he meant. Now he does. Memory sickness. 

“Oh my god,” Hansol says, sucking in a sharp breath. His ears ring. He feels dizzy. “I’m not even yours. I’m Jisoo’s.” 

Jeonghan grimaces, pulling off his glasses and setting them on the table. “You got there. Told you you would.” 

Hansol swallows down air. He’s breathing too heavily for someone that doesn’t really need to breathe. “Seungkwan and I had a date.” 

“Oh?” Jeonghan raises his eyebrows. “Well, that’s information Seungkwan did not share with me.” 

“Oh my god,” Hansol continues, staring down at his lap, his vision spotting out. “I think I’m in love with him.” 

Jeonghan laughs. “That’s not new information.” 

Hansol’s stomach turns. “I'm going to be sick.” 

“Garbage can is already there.” 

Nothing even comes out. There’s nothing at all in him. Hansol’s body purges itself of whatever fucked up energy he’s holding onto anyway. He retches, and shakes, hanging over the bin Jeonghan left on the floor next to him, and when he’s done, Jeonghan is standing over the couch, a tiny frown on his face. 

“Feel better?” he asks. 

“No.”

Chapter Text

Hansol hasn’t told Seungkwan that he remembered.

The night it happened, Seungkwan was asleep by the time Hansol got to bed. Still upset with Hansol (at least now Hansol knows why). And then, the next day was Friday. The day of Seungkwan’s date. It didn’t feel fair to Seungkwan to tell him the day of his date. Hansol has been selfish enough, he thinks. Drinking from Seungkwan, and hoarding him, and loving him without even knowing so. 

It’s kind of killing him. Like, he’s already dead, but it’s killing him. 

He feels sick all day, watching Seungkwan get ready. Soobin is taking him to the roller rink. Hansol finds that incredibly lame, but Seungkwan seems happy about it. 

All day, Hansol feels the weight of the world crushing him. It hangs over him like a black cloud. A horrible, awful, terrible thing. His fingers keep twitching, He can’t quit frowning. His brain keeps replaying the five minutes before he died. The way Seungkwan looked at him— so hopeful— and then the sound of his screams. 

“I don’t have to go if you’re feeling sick, Hansol,” Seungkwan says, putting his hand to Hansol’s head as if that will tell him something about Hansol’s condition. It’s the first sliver of worry Seungkwan has given to Hansol over the past few days. Since they had their little argument— if it could even be called that. 

Hansol so badly wants to sink his claws into it and hang on for dear life. Tell Seungkwan exactly what’s wrong. But he can’t. He cares too much about Seungkwan being happy for that. He gives a weak smile. “It’s okay, Boo. Some of the blood Jeonghan brought home was… bad. Just have a stomach ache.” 

Seungkwan frowns. “Well, you could have some of mine if you want. If that will help.” 

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes— Hansol’s body begs. It’s begging him to say yes. To make sure Soobin can see it. Possessive. Hansol grits his teeth. Shakes his head. “It’s okay. I just have to wait it out. You should go get ready.” 

“If you’re sure,” Seungkwan says. He finally removes his hand from Hansol’s space, taking his scent with him. Hansol only feels a little dizzy at the loss. 

“I’m sure,” Hansol says with what he hopes is a reassuring nod. 

And Seungkwan goes. To get ready for his date with someone else. 

Hansol feels so stupid. He just needs more time to think. He never got to properly think about it. He died before he could. He needs to come to terms with the fact that this is real before he brings it up. It’s not fair to Seungkwan if he jumps the gun on something like that. 

He’s kind of spiraling. 

He sits in Jeonghan’s big armchair, melting into the fabric, right up until Seungkwan hurries down the stairs, all ready to go. He looks beautiful. He’s wearing his nicest clothes. Trying to impress. The blue of the shirt compliments his hair. He stops in front of Hansol, hands flexing nervously at his sides. 

“How do I look?” 

Hansol takes a second to drink Seungkwan in, head to toe. “Perfect,” he says. It’s a little too sincere. 

Seungkwan blushes, chest to ears. He doesn’t say anything else. He just nods, and then he’s gone in a flurry of movement. Leaving Hansol behind to deal with the mess he’s made. 

Fuck. Hansol closes his eyes and lets out a low groan. He stops counting how long it’s been after ten minutes. Seungkwan and Soobin are long gone. It’s a waste of time to count. Everything Hansol does is a waste of time nowadays. 

He doesn’t bother to open his eyes when he hears footsteps. He doesn’t care. 

“Uh,” Jihoon says. “I think someone’s here for you.” 

Hansol frowns. He pries open one eye. “What does that mean?” 

Jihoon points out the window, cup of blood in his hand. He seems unbothered. “I think he’s been here for a bit. I don’t know.” 

“Who is it?” Hansol asks as he’s getting up. He doesn’t feel like wasting more time when Jihoon gives him nothing answers. He stomps over, flicking back the curtain with two fingers. Sure enough, in the middle of the driveway— leaning against the hood of his car and smoking a cigarette— is Jisoo. Sunglasses on, completely unbothered. 

Hansol groans. He shuffles over to put his shoes on, stepping onto the porch. “What do you want?” he calls. 

Jisoo tips his head up lazily. He tosses his cigarette into the gravel at his feet. Steps on it. “C’mon Hansol, let's go.” 

“No.” Hansol laughs incredulously. 

“Get in the car,” Jisoo says, more pointedly. Stern. “Jeonghan is going to make you do it sooner or later. Let’s get it over with.” 

Anger bubbles up in Hansol’s chest. He feels stuck. He hates being forced to do things. That’s why he fucking hates being a vampire so much. It’s just people forcing him to do things all the time. Or stopping him from doing things. It sucks. 

He lets out a long breath. Gives in. Jisoo is already starting his car when Hansol slides into the passenger seat. 

Hansol hates Jisoo’s car now. He hates Jisoo, too, just because he can. The idiot that cursed him to this existence, just because his boyfriend told him to. And fuck Mingyu too, by the way. 

“Did you know that your boyfriend can’t ride a bike? Does that bother you at all?” Hansol asks, just because he has nothing else left in him to give. The best burn he can offer, and it’s really subpar. It’s true— but it’s not Hansol’s best work as far as insults go.  

Jisoo snorts. He peels out of the driveway, much faster than he should. Not like Hansol cares much. 

“You know, I didn’t even want this car,” Jisoo says, one hand on the wheel in a frustratingly casual manner. His stupid, expensive car that he doesn’t even want, apparently. Maybe Hansol is such a bitch because Jisoo turned him, and Jisoo is so annoying. So stoic. Eugh. “I had to get rid of my old one because of an ex.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“I had a nineteen seventy five Corvette. Cherry red, just like this one. God, I loved that thing,” Jisoo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Of course, this asshole I dated had to write a song about it. Ruined the whole thing for me, you know? Don’t ever date musicians, Hansol.” 

Hansol lays his forehead against the window, enjoying the feeling of his skull knocking against glass every bump in the road. Jisoo doesn’t bother him the rest of the drive. He just hums along to the radio, tapping his fingers on the wheel. 

They end up at the lookout point. An old lot that doesn’t have any use but for people to come park and fool around. There’s no one up here right now. Just about sunset. The sky is glowing pink. Hansol can only think about how pretty Seungkwan would look in the light. Maybe Soobin is seeing just that, right now. 

Jisoo pulls up to the edge. Puts on his parking brake. He gets out and sits on the hood of his car, glancing back at Hansol through the windshield expectantly. 

Hansol sighs, but pulls himself up. He doesn’t like feeling like this, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He sits down next to Jisoo, hands tucked under his armpits. Jisoo lights another cigarette, holding out his pack to offer Hansol one. Hansol shakes his head. Seungkwan hates the smell. 

“So, how much do you remember?” Jisoo asks, smoke drifting off his lips, into the air. “Your head was kind of all crushed in, so I don’t really know how much of it you were able to catch.” 

“I heard Mingyu tell you to do it,” Hansol says. “I heard you give in.” 

“Oh, good,” Jisoo smiles sweetly. Saccharine. “Then you also heard Seungkwan ask first.” 

“He didn’t know what he was asking for.” 

“He did, though. He knew he didn’t want you to die. He’d have taken anything. You have to know that.” 

Hansol stares down at his shoes, flat on the grass below the bumper of Jisoo’s car, lips pressed in a tight line.  

“Listen, I get that you’re mad, Hansol. That’s fine. Everyone’s mad at first. Especially after they remember.” Jisoo taps the ash off his cigarette. A bit falls on the hood of his car, and Hansol winces, but Jisoo doesn’t seem too concerned. He didn’t even want this car. What a waste. “But, you have to think of the alternative. Do you think it would have been better if you died? If you died for him? Do you think he would have survived that? Honestly?” 

Bile creeps up Hansol’s throat. He turns and spits in the grass, trying to offset some of the bitterness on his tongue. It doesn’t work. 

If he had died. Died protecting Seungkwan. Sure, he wouldn’t have to deal with all of this, but then Seungkwan would have to live without him. The guilt of it. The weight. 

If Hansol were in that position, and it were Seungkwan— Hansol doesn’t think he’d have survived. He certainly wouldn’t have survived in any meaningful way. He would have lost part of himself. Irreparable. 

“I don’t know anything anymore,” Hansol mutters. He feels like crying, somehow. He barely ever cries, but this feels… horrible. 

Jisoo takes another drag of his cigarette. He looks so classy doing that, too, somehow. 

He doesn’t even look at Hansol when he speaks, “Look, Hansol— love is about sacrifice. It’s also incredibly selfish a lot of the time. It’s a paradox. It’s fucking stupid.” Jisoo rolls his eyes, like he’s fed up he even has to talk about this. “You sacrificed yourself for him. He took the chance to be selfish and ask for you back. Mingyu was selfish when you died, too, and asked me for something I said I’d never do. I sacrificed that for him, because I love him. It goes on and on. You have to accept it. Being like this is a product of love more than it is anything else.” 

“Yeah, I get that part,” Hansol says. His anger has simmered to a manageable level, but he’s still vaguely steaming. 

“Then why are you still being a dick?” Jisoo laughs. “Is it because you’re stupid? Because you didn’t tell him not to go on that date tonight, even though you wanted to?” 

Hansol scowls. Yeah. That is exactly why, actually. But, he doesn’t like Jisoo holding that over him. “You’re kind of a deadbeat, you know,” he says instead. “How is it possible that both fathers I have are shirkers with a thing for cars?” 

“What are you talking about? I waited around until we knew you’d live. I spent a week in that house, Hansol. It’s so loud over there, I wanted to die. But I stayed in case Jeonghan needed me. I was very responsible about it. Got you to someone who knew what they were doing right away.” 

“I thought Jeonghan was my dad for, like, this entire time, you asshole.” 

“Surprise!” Jisoo waves his hands around in a pitiful celebration. 

Hansol resists the urge to kick him. “I’m not even vampire siblings with anyone else. I thought Wonwoo was my brother, man. Not cool.” 

“I mean, technically, Wonwoo is Seokmin’s. So, he wouldn’t have been your brother anyway.” 

“What the fuck?” Hansol blinks. His entire world keeps shifting on its axis, shoving him from one side to the other. He supposes he never asked Wonwoo who turned him— he just assumed— but… 

“It’s really personal. Getting turned. That’s why it’s a big deal,” Jisoo sighs. He snuffs his cigarette under his shoe. The sun is almost gone now, the crickets beginning to sing. If Hansol could feel cold, he would. “That’s why Jeonghan handles most of it. He knows how to deal with it— I don’t. Jeonghan is good at sticking around— but as soon as I feel compelled one way, I make a break for the other. That’s why I left Jeonghan to take care of you. I’m selfish. I’m sorry, Hansol, but that’s what was best for you. You needed Jeonghan, not me. And Seungkwan needed that too. Someplace to stay— where he could be with you.” 

Hansol takes a deep breath in. He shuts his eyes, covers his face with his hands, and groans. It feels like dumping off an invisible weight. Elbows on his thighs, head in his hands. “I fucked up.” 

“It’s alright,” Jisoo reaches out and puts his hand on Hansol’s shoulder, patting him awkwardly. At least he’s trying. “Everyone fucks up. It’s kind of an incredibly crucial set of memories to lose, especially when you’re hanging out with the people that were there to watch you die, and you’re the only one that can’t remember.” 

“Yeah!” Hansol agrees, lifting his head up. “Dude, what the fuck is that about? The right before death part is the most important— because you’re doing shit you wouldn’t usually do, and saying shit you wouldn’t usually say. Deathbed deepest secrets and shit.” 

“Well, you weren’t really saying anything,” Jisoo snorts. “You were kind of just groaning incomprehensibly.” 

“Shut up,” Hansol punches his shoulder hard enough to send him falling off the car. A perk of having vampire friends. He can be rough with them, and nothing will happen. 

Jisoo pops back up from the ground with a glare on his face. “I should leave you on this hill to walk home.” 

“Aw, dad. You promised we could play catch. Don’t you love me?” 

Jisoo flips him off. He gets back in his car, leaving Hansol to scramble to get in the other side. 

The ride back to the house is mostly quiet. Jisoo plays a tape that Hansol is now sure is an album by his ex. When Hansol looks at him questionably, Jisoo shrugs. Says, “What? It’s a good album.” 

Hansol hesitates to get out when they return. All the lights are on inside, but the attic seems dark. Seungkwan must not be home yet. Hansol’s legs tap nervously. 

“Just talk to him, Hansol,” Jisoo says. “He’ll understand.” 

“Yeah,” Hansol nods. Swallows. He puts his hand on the door, turning to Jisoo just before he opens it. “Are you going to turn Mingyu?” 

Jisoo seems caught off guard for the first time all night. He quickly schools his face, though. Always so on top of it. “I don’t know yet,” he says with a small grimace. 

“I think you could stand to sacrifice a little bit for him, too— even if it feels selfish to do it. He probably feels just as selfish for asking.” Hansol hops out as soon as he’s finished speaking. He shuts the door before Jisoo can respond, waving cheekily through the window. 

“Chwe Hansol!” Jisoo calls after him, hanging out the window. 

Hansol just laughs. What’s the point of having kids if not for them to insert their unsolicited opinions? Jisoo should learn something about that. 

When Hansol gets inside and toes his shoes off, he rushes to the kitchen. He can hear Jeonghan puttering around, restocking the fridge. He slides in on his socks. 

Jeonghan turns around, eyebrows raised. “Feel better?” he asks. 

Hansol throws himself at him, wrapping Jeonghan in a sloppy hug that knocks the air from their lungs. Jeonghan goes stiff under him for a second, but then relaxes. His arms fold around Hansol’s back. He exhales. 

“Thank you, Jeonghan. I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult.” 

Jeonghan laughs. He cradles the back of Hansol’s head with one hand, holding him close. “I love you like you’re my own, Hansollie.” 

“I know. I love you too. I’m sorry I drank from Seungkwan even though you told me not to.” 

“You what?” 

𖤐

Hansol lays down in bed on his side, hands clamped between his thighs, waiting for Seungkwan to get home. 

He doesn’t have anything better to do than think about it. He figures he should think about it at least a little bit, even though he’s already made up his mind. Well, made up his mind probably isn’t the best phrasing. His mind was already made up, he just had to come to terms with it. 

He’s in love with Seungkwan. He has been for a while. He was pushing off any indication of it because the idea scared him. Then, becoming a vampire kind of fucked everything up. It set his timeline back, but also extended it. He had to remember the rest of it— remember the part where Seungkwan definitely wants him too. 

Maybe, if Seungkwan offered to go see Return of the Jedi with him after he woke up, Hansol would have realized sooner. Seungkwan wouldn’t offer something like that without loving someone. 

The whole concept of love is a little crazy. He and Seungkwan have forever, if Seungkwan will have him. 

Forever. That’s a long time. 

Maybe Seungkwan doesn’t want forever. Hansol hasn’t gotten that far yet. He’s still dealing with the first part. The fact that his body is revolting against him because he’s so jealous it’s making him ill. He had some fridge blood for dinner and almost yakked it back up right away because it tasted nothing like Seungkwan. Then he started thinking about how Seungkwan is out with someone else, and he did throw it up. It was nasty. Jeonghan looked at him like he was nasty. 

Downstairs, the door clicks. Shuts. Seungkwan starts climbing the stairs. 

Hansol’s breath hitches, he shuts his eyes, suddenly nervous. It’s useless to pretend to be asleep, but he does it anyway. He knows Seungkwan will humor him. 

The bedroom door opens. Seungkwan lets out a long breath. Shuts the door softly behind him. Hansol only peeks when he hears Seungkwan digging around in their dresser, rifling through clothes. He comes out with something eventually. One of Hansol’s old shirts, a pair of shorts. He disappears into the bathroom without turning around. 

Hansol steadies himself. He unclenches his jaw, wiggles his fingers around between his legs. The sink turns on and off. Seungkwan shuffles around, letting out huffs of breath every once in a while. Hansol squeezes his eyes shut again when he hears the door open. 

The mattress shifts when Seungkwan slides in next to him, smelling like oranges and handsoap, perfectly him. 

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Seungkwan whispers. 

Only then does Hansol open his eyes to face the situation. And— god. This is scary. 

Seungkwan is on his side, facing Hansol. He’s smiling softly. The moon catches his cheekbone, a bit of glitter stuck to his skin. Hansol doesn’t want to know how it got there. He’s afraid it’ll open him up to a story that will make him sick again. Did Soobin kiss Seungkwan?

He can’t just ignore the elephant in the room, though. He clears his throat. “How was your date?” 

Seungkwan’s smile falters slightly before returning. “Good. Well—” he laughs lightly, curling his knees up a bit. “Yeah. You know. Okay.” 

“Mmm,” Hansol hums. He resists the urge to reach out and touch Seungkwan. He squeezes his hands into fists, laying them lamely on the mattress between them, mission aborted halfway through. “Just okay?”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan sighs. “I don’t know. It wasn’t… really what I’m looking for, I don’t think,” he whispers. He glances down, then. Reaches out for Hansol, prying Hansol’s fingers loose, until he can fit his inbetween. He gives Hansol a lopsided smile. “Your hands are always so cold, Hansollie. What would you do without me here to warm them up?” 

Hansol is overwhelmed by how much he feels. It’s all consuming. This thing that he’s been keeping locked up for so long without even realizing it. Seungkwan has always been right here. Right in front of him. He’s always been perfect. Hansol was slow on the uptake, as he usually is. He tends not to believe that he deserves good things. Seungkwan is the best thing in his life. He understands all of this now. Funny what dying does to a man’s psyche. 

“I remembered how I died,” he blurts. 

Seungkwan goes very still. He blinks. “What?” 

“Yeah.” Hansol nods weakly. “Um. I remembered. All of it. Last night, actually. Got really sick, too. I went out with Jisoo tonight to talk about it.” 

“Oh my god, Hansol,” Seungkwan breathes. His forehead creases up, eyes wide, horrified. He takes a short, hiccuping breath before he’s closing the gap between them, winding Hansol up in a hug. 

Hansol lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms snake around Seungkwan’s waist, hauling him closer. He buries his face in Seungkwan’s neck, eyes squeezed shut. His next exhale is closer to a sob. 

It takes Hansol an embarrassingly long time to realize that he’s crying. Sobbing, really. Right into Seungkwan’s shirt. He’s soaking the fabric through to skin, and Seungkwan is doing the same to him. His breath is hot and labored against Hansol’s throat— even as he whispers comfort into Hansol’s ear, Hansol can feel his tears, too. 

They spend a while like that. Holding each other. Crying. When they calm down a bit, Seungkwan’s hands slide up Hansol’s chest, finding his cheeks. He cradles his face so gently, keeping close. The moon reflects in his glassy eyes. Hansol doesn’t dare let go of Seungkwan’s waist. He needs to hold on to keep himself tethered. 

Seungkwan takes a shuddering breath, gathering himself. Then he spills over, everything he’s been holding back for the past few months. 

“I was so scared, Hansol. It was horrible. There was so much blood. I was covered in your blood for three days— until Seungcheol and Mingyu physically carried me to the shower. And I was screaming the whole time— and Mingyu looked so sad— but, I couldn’t— I thought I lost you, Hansollie. It felt like I was dying along with you.” Another few tears spill from the corner of Seungkwan’s eyes. He hiccups again. 

“I’m right here,” Hansol says. His throat is raw. He presses his thumbs into Seungkwan’s stomach, trying to prove himself. “I’m not going to leave you. Never. I'm so sorry.” 

“It was my idea to go out that night. And then you pushed me out of the way—” Seungkwan continues, more tears following close behind. “It was my fault. If I wasn’t there— And then I watched you get hit— and I keep having nightmares—”  

Hansol feels like he’s been shot in the chest. He feels his face twist up in abject horror. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t ever do it again,” Seungkwan gasps, trembling in Hansol’s hands. 

“I know,” Hansol assures him. “You won’t.” 

Seungkwan pulls Hansol an inch or two closer. He licks over his lips, sniffling. His fingers dig into Hansoll’s jaw. “You have to promise.”

“I promise.” Hansol nods. He’ll promise forever to Seungkwan right now. He has no hesitation. “I promise, okay?” 

Seungkwan nods. He sniffles again. Blinks. When he looks back at Hansol, his eyes drop down to Hansol’s mouth. Hansol can feel his pulse tick up just from being near to him. 

“I promise, Boo,” Hansol repeats. He draws just a bit closer, until his nose bumps into Seungkwan’s. An ask. Please have me. Please— can I? Seungkwan’s eyelashes are dark and wet. Shiny. His lips part slightly, letting out the smallest breath. Seungkwan nods so slightly that Hansol just barely feels it. 

“Okay,” Seungkwan murmurs. 

“Okay,” Hansol repeats. 

They meet in the middle, just as they so often do. 

Hansol kisses Seungkwan, and Seungkwan kisses Hansol, because they’re on the same page. It’s a bit forceful at first. Too harsh. A cork popping off a bottle of champagne. They’ve been waiting for so long. Then it slows. Hansol opens his mouth, tilts his head to fit their mouths together. Seungkwan’s hands drag back to run over his head, pressing forward to kiss him deeper. He doesn’t taste like anyone else. Just himself. 

Their cheeks are wet, because Seungkwan is still crying, but he's clinging to Hansol so tightly— as if they’ll both disappear if they stop. Hansol drags Seungkwan close, rolling onto his back so Seungkwan is half on top of him. Seungkwan squeaks, but adjusts accordingly. He melts over Hansol, warm and soft. Pliant. He hums in satisfaction when Hansol’s hands nudge under the hem of his shirt to splay over his back— just feeling him. Anywhere he can. 

Hansol has always liked kissing. He could do it for hours. With Seungkwan, he thinks he could do it for days. Learning every part of him. He does his best for now, running his tongue over Seungkwan’s teeth, dragging his canines over Seungkwan’s bottom lip until Seungkwan gasps— not quite breaking the skin. 

They kiss until their mouths are gross and tacky. Until Hansol almost forgets that Seungkwan had been out with someone else all night. That doesn’t really matter now, though. Because he’s here, with Hansol, in the bed that they share, kissing Hansol like he loves him. 

Hansol loves him. 

“Seungkwan—” he says, catching a kiss on the corner of Seungkwan’s mouth, and then on his cheek. His jaw. “I love you.” 

Seungkwan pulls back to look at Hansol fully. All pink-cheeked and red-lipped. His mouth is wet and swollen. His hair is messy. Hansol loves him. “You do?” he asks, small and careful. 

Hansol nods. He runs his thumb over the small of Seungkwan’s back where his hand is resting. “Yeah. I do.” 

Seungkwan bites his bottom lip. He looks down at Hansol, hands planted on his chest. “Did you remember that, too?”

“No— that’s a hardwiring thing. You’re written into my DNA, I think—” Hansol blinks a few times. He’s so bad at being romantic with his words. He’ll have to get better at that. “I dunno, I didn't pay attention in biology—” That’s a tomorrow problem. The words. 

“I know,” Seungkwan giggles. “I was there.” 

“I don’t think I really knew myself very well before all of this…” Hansol swallows. He smiles when Seungkwan nods encouragingly at him. “Or, I did… enough… but I wasn’t actively trying to figure it out. Then I had to. Just took me a while. The dying thing set me back, or else I would have gotten there sooner. I’m sorry, Seungkwan. I have so much to apologize for.” 

“No you don’t.” Seungkwan wipes at his own cheeks with the back of his hand, sweeping away a few more stray tears. Then he beams. The sun captured in his smile. It warms Hansol from the inside out. “I love you too, dummy. We have forever to figure it out.” 

“Forever,” Hansol echoes. “That doesn’t sound so bad with you.” 

Seungkwan blushes. Cheeks to ears to chest. He rolls his eyes slightly before dipping back down to get in Hansol’s space. “You’re such a romantic, Chwe Hansol.” 

“Says you,” Hansol volleys back. He lifts up to try to kiss Seungkwan, but Seungkwan backs away at the last moment. 

“Says me,” he says. Then he laughs when he sees Hansol’s petulant pout. “You owe me a date.” 

“I do.” Hansol nods. “Yeah. How about tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan’s teeth catch his bottom lip, teasing. “I just went on a date tonight.” 

Hansol’s face must twist up, because Seungkwan breaks into laughter. Bubbles over with it, rolling back to his side of the bed, leaving Hansol to roll after him just to maintain their skin-to-skin contact. 

“But my date tonight was horrible,” Seungkwan says once he calms down. “All I could talk about was my best friend. How I was worried about him. Do you know how guys who like you get when you mention other men around them?” 

“I think I have an idea,” Hansol scowls. Then he pouts again when Seungkwan bursts into another fit of giggles. Seungkwan knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He quiets eventually, letting out a long sigh. He reaches out for Hansol’s cheek. “I’m really happy, Hansollie,” he whispers. 

“Me too, Boo.” 

“I’m excited to start healing with you. I think we both need it.” 

That almost starts Hansol’s tears up again. He manages to push them down, along with the lump in his throat. He nods, managing to catch Seungkwan in a long kiss. “Me too, Seungkwannie. Thank you for waiting for me.” 

“You always catch up.” 

“I’m always running right after you.” 

Seungkwan kisses Hansol this time, and Hansol gets this all consuming, overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be okay. Forever. 

God, what a concept. 

𖤐

Hansol hasn’t been on a date in… a really long time. 

He was never, like, too serious about dating. He liked to have fun. He dated around. He’s never been on a date this serious. This is a very serious date. 

Return of the Jedi and ice cream. Hansol feels like he’s teeing up for a game-making shot on the ninth hole. (He doesn’t know anything about sports, but he thinks all of that aligns with golf.) The point is, no one Hansol has ever gone out with has been Seungkwan. 

Seungkwan is different. So much more important. If Hansol usually gets nervous for dates with acquaintances, he’s fully in panic mode for his date with Seungkwan. 

He takes two hours to get dressed. It’s a whole thing. Seungkwan is out with Mingyu, and he’s going to pick Hansol up so they can go— just after sunset. They’ve got a plan. 

Hansol takes two hours to get dressed, flipping between casual and a little bit dressed up before he just lands on exactly what he’s been wearing all day, anyway— a band t-shirt and his favorite jeans. He’s pathetic. 

But, it doesn’t really matter, because as soon as Hansol slides into the passenger seat of Seungkwan’s car he doesn’t know what he’s been worrying about at all. He sinks against the seat, letting out all the air in his lungs. Seungkwan giggles. He’s already blushing, and they’ve just begun. He’s wearing what he always wears when he’s off work and it’s hot out. A fitted tank top and those shorts that make his ass look insane. Hansol is probably going to lose his mind, actually. 

“Boo,” he says. “I was really nervous, but you look incredible—” 

Seungkwan cuts him off with a barked out laugh. “I look how I look every day!” 

“Yeah. Beautiful,” Hansol grins. 

He reaches across the console and grabs Seungkwan’s chin, bending forward to steal a kiss. Seungkwan squeaks, but it melts into a hum as he kisses back. His cheeks are hot under Hansol’s fingers. When they pull apart, his face is on fire. He swats at Hansol’s arm. 

“What are you nervous about? You’re so…” He waves his hands around frantically. 

“So what?” 

“God, you’re just—” Seungkwan huffs. He turns back to the front, shifting into gear. “I don’t know if I’ll survive it, Hansol.” 

“Don’t worry, I found a way to cheat death.” 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, but his lips are pulling up, and Hansol smiles so wide he can feel his jaw ache. 

Hansol doesn’t know why he was nervous, because it’s perfect. Seungkwan is perfect. Hansol feels like a fucking dumbass for not realizing it sooner. Every once in a while he’s hit over the head with the thought of— oh, fuck. I can’t believe I fumbled this for so long. 

Seungkwan slips his hand into Hansol’s as soon as they get out of the car. He gives Hansol a shy smile. Hansol feels like he has butterflies in his stomach. It feels like a first date, even though they’ve done this so many times before. 

Sneaking through the back door, because Hansol knows how to get in through the alley, and he’s never had enough money to see as many movies as he wants to. Sliding into the back row just as the movie starts. Perfectly timed. Seungkwan hugs Hansol’s arm over the armrest between their seats. He rests his head on Hansol’s shoulder, just like he always does when he’s coming along with Hansol to see a movie he’s not particularly interested in. But this time it’s different. 

This time, Hansol puts his hand on Seungkwan’s thigh, warm and soft. His fingers splay over skin, slowly creeping upwards the entirety of the movie. By the time the credits roll, Hansol’s pinky is making a lazy back and forth underneath the line of Seungkwan’s shorts— right at the inside of his thigh— and Seungkwan is clinging to him like he’s going to combust. 

Honestly, Hansol was kind of too focused on the movie to realize how bold he’d gotten, but he’s not embarrassed about it. He likes seeing Seungkwan like this. All flustered and pink. Undone by his hands. It’s the hottest ego trip in the world. 

After the movie, Hansol takes Seungkwan to get ice cream (even though vampires can’t eat). Seungkwan loves it, and it was part of the plan, and Hansol loves Seungkwan. So. 

Seungkwan lets Hansol chat about Star Wars. He lets him explain all the little details, and why everything came together how it did. He smiles through it, too, even though he probably doesn’t care. He just likes listening to Hansol talk— he’s said that before. 

It hits Hansol then— after he’s finished his rant about how Seungcheol is such an asshole for spoiling the plot for him— when Seungkwan gets a smudge of strawberry ice cream on the corner of his mouth— Hansol is so, desperately in love with him. 

Hansol reaches out, holding Seungkwan’s head still, his thumb cleaning up the mess. He shifts, and Seungkwan unrolls his tongue, allowing Hansol to press his finger into Seungkwan’s mouth to suck it clean. Hansol watches the way Seungkwan’s lips close around him— feels his tongue over his nail. Hansol loves him. Seungkwan is everything good in the world. He’s everything Hansol has ever wanted, and needed, and all that other dumb, romantic shit. 

The realization has only grown from the memories he regained a few days ago. Now, it consumes every thought Hansol has. He can’t quit thinking about it. Tracing the paths of everything he’s done and how it all leads back to Seungkwan. How it was always going to be Seungkwan. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seungkwan asks after a long stretch of Hansol staring at him. 

Hansol blinks. “It’s just a little crazy how much I like you.”

Seungkwan scoffs. He rolls his eyes, blush burning up his chest at a rapid pace. “Come on, Hansol.” 

“No, I’m serious,” Hansol says, very seriously. “Like, fuck. I’m in love with you.” 

And that’s how Hansol ends up in the back of the car with a lapful of the love of his life. 

He decides then that he’s absolutely killing this date thing. He’s so good at it. Who knew? All the other dates didn’t work out because he was never meant to be there. He was always meant to be here. 

He swallows thickly, looking up at Seungkwan, hands spreading greedily over his ass, hiking him a bit closer. Seungkwan’s head is almost hitting the ceiling, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s leaning down to kiss Hansol again, and Hansol is opening his mouth to let him in. 

Kissing Seungkwan is like breathing. Second nature. Something Hansol thinks he needs to survive, even though he doesn’t really. Vampire metaphors. It’s cool. 

Seungkwan gets a little sloppy when he’s making out. His mouth is wet, and hot, and he’s making little noises. Gasps and mewls, soft breaths of Hansol’s name. All of it is going straight to Hansol’s gut, coiling there, his dick filling out embarrassingly quickly. 

He palms at Seungkwan’s ass. Sucks on his tongue, his teeth getting close to breaking skin, but never quite making it. The windows in the car are completely fogged up from Seungkwan’s body heat alone. Hot breath spills between them every so often. 

It’s not until Seungkwan rolls his hips down— very purposefully— that Hansol gets choked up. His skull is filled with the thick, heady scent of oranges. Seugnkwan’s blood hums under his skin, the most delicate parts of him grazed by Hansol’s teeth, never digging in. 

“You’re hungry,” Seungkwan breathes, his lips swollen, hair messy. He looks wrecked. Hansol got him there. “Bite me.” 

“Seungkwan,” Hansol groans. His hands grip into the soft flesh at Seungkwan’s hips, trying to hold back from doing something stupid. 

“Come on.” Seungkwan leans his head to one side, exposing the column of his throat. 

The light is low— just the soft glow of parking lot neon through the fogged up glass. It makes Seungkwan look even more irresistible. Sweat rolling down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. Hansol lets out a pathetic noise, eyes tracing a drop as it falls. 

“You— the neck is different,” Hansol manages. He blinks. His brain is going fuzzy. 

“I know,” Seungkwan admits. He’s gone shy again— even as he’s sitting in Hansol’s lap, presenting himself to take. “Dad and dad gave me the vampire sex talk too.” 

“And you—“ Hansol chokes out. 

“I think it’s hot,” Seungkwan says. He chews on his bottom lip. “I want you, Hansollie. How much more clear can I make it?” 

Hansol’s arms move first. He drags Seungkwan in, one hand cradling the side of his head, keeping him close, the other at the small of his back. He sucks in a long breath, a little drunk on the smell of Seungkwan. The weight of him. All of him. 

Seungkwan lets out a dreamy sigh. He drags his fingernails over Hansol’s scalp. “I love you,” he says, nothing more than a whisper. Incredibly sincere. 

“I love you too, Boo,” Hansol returns. He noses at Seungkwan’s jaw, lips brushing skin. He can taste the salt of Seungkwan’s sweat, tongue dragging over Seungkwan’s pulse point— just to tease. Seungkwan turns to putty in his hands. He whines. 

“You’re sure?” Hansol asks against Seungkwan’s throat, hovering over the spot he’s chosen to make Seungkwan his. 

“Hansol,” Seungkwan pleads. He presses his hips forward to prove his point, already hard in his shorts. Needy. 

Hansol nods minutely. He takes one more breath before he bites down. His teeth sink into Seungkwan’s skin with little resistance. Seungkwan shudders under him, and then his body goes lax. He moans, high in his throat, just as Hansol tastes him.

It’s different, that’s so immediately obvious. This is nothing like the wrist. Nothing like the picnic. This is all fire— it’s lusty, and all consuming— Hansol loses himself a little bit, his hips kicking up, grabbing Seungkwan’s waist so tightly he might bruise. It’s sexual— but not in any way Hansol has felt before. It’s more than that. The best sex he’s ever had, multiplied by a thousand. A million. He doesn’t know. It’s just… unreal.  

They find a rhythm. Hansol drinks, Seungkwan grinds against him, arms folded over Hansol’s shoulders, breaths growing more labored. Hansol’s cock strains against his jeans, desperately seeking any friction, throat warm as he swallows every drop of blood Seungkwan affords him. 

It’s slow, and then all at once. They unravel together— connected. Seungkwan’s nails bite into Hansol’s back, rocking forward as he cums, and Hansol half-growls into his neck, pressing up, feeling hot all over as he follows. 

He feels warm in his own right for the first time since he was turned. He pulls off Seungkwan’s neck, kissing the small marks left behind. The crescent of his bottom row of teeth. 

Seungkwan’s palms find his cheeks, directing their foreheads together. Then, Seungkwan laughs. A fragile, trembling thing. He’s smiling, too. Hansol can feel the ghost of it against his lips. 

“Thank you,” Seungkwan says shakily. 

Hansol kisses him. He kisses Seungkwan with the taste of him still on his tongue, and Seungkwan kisses him back. Hansol is pretty sure there’s cum soaking through his jeans, but he doesn’t really care. He cares about this. Seungkwan. That’s all he ever cares about. That’s the whole reason they’re here. That he’s a vampire. That Seungkwan is in his lap. 

It’s worth it. It’s all so worth it. 

“We should go home,” Seungkwan says through a little giggle. “Curfew.” 

Hansol snorts, catching a kiss on the corner of Seungkwan’s mouth. Jeonghan threatened a midnight curfew when they left. He was being a bitch about it, too. Posturing like the father of a human. “He was joking,” Hansol says, kissing over Seungkwan’s cheeks. His nose. 

“I don’t think he was,” Seungkwan sighs. 

“Baby,” Hansol murmurs. He smiles when Seungkwan shivers. 

“God. I didn’t think you’d ever call me that again. It seemed like a fluke.” 

“It packs a punch. Special occasions only.” 

Seungkwan gasps incredulously. “And what special occasion is this? Disobeying house rules?” 

Hansol kisses him instead of answering. 

They get home twenty minutes past midnight. Giggling and tiptoeing, trying to sneak in without being noticed. 

It feels like they’re teenagers again— slithering in after going out drinking, trying not to wake Seungkwan’s sister. Except, this time, they’re both completely sober, and they’re in cum-stained pants because they failed to keep their hands off each other. 

“Well, well, well.”

“God damnit,” Hansol hisses. They’d just made it past the living room. He thought they were home free. He tangles his fingers with Seungkwan’s, freezing in his tracks. 

“Turn around. Come here,” Jeonghan orders. 

Hansol sighs, but he does as he’s told. He and Seungkwan back up, stepping into the living room, standing shoulder to shoulder, still holding hands. 

Jeonghan is sitting in his armchair, a book in his lap. Apparently, he’d actually been waiting up for them. His glasses are low on his nose, eyes narrowed. He tips his chin up, taking a long sniff. His jaw unhinges comically fast. 

“Chwe Hansol, you didn’t.” 

Oh. The smell thing. Damn. Hansol didn’t think about that. It’s biological. It’s the reason why Mingyu smells gross to every other vampire that isn’t Jisoo. (Not as gross as he smells to Hansol, but gross enough to deter them from finding him palatable.) 

Neck drinking is a claim. It says my human. It lets other vampires know to tread lightly. 

“Uh,” Hansol says intelligently. “I didn’t mean to?” 

“You didn’t mean to put your penis in him, Hansol? How is that physically possible? Don’t be daft.” 

Seungkwan gasps. “No penis went inside of me!” Then, quieter, after a glance towards Hansol. “Not yet, at least.” 

“You’re lucky he’s not dead on the ground, Hansol!” Jeonghan continues. “You could have killed him!” 

“But I didn’t! We both ended up better off than we started!” 

Jeonghan brings his fingers to his temples, shutting his eyes. He takes a deep breath. Lets it out. 

Somewhere in the distance— probably in the basement— Mingyu laughs. Hansol’s ears perk up. 

“Woah, Mingyu is here? I didn’t even smell him.” 

Jeonghan lets out another long, suffering sigh. “Of course!” he mutters to himself. “Of course. That’s just great.” 

“What?” Hansol blinks at him. 

“You claimed Seungkwan, and now your smell problem has cleared up,” Jeonghan says. “You’re definitely bonded.” 

“Bonded?” Seungkwan cocks his head, shooting Hansol his cutest confused look. 

“We’re, like, soulmates,” Hansol explains. “That’s why everyone else smells bad to me. Or— they did…” 

Seungkwan’s face screws up. Hansol kind of expected a sweeter reaction— a laugh, even. But Seungkwan just looks put out. “And it still took you that long to realize you liked me?” 

“Well…” Hansol winces, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That's what I said,” Wonwoo says, just passing through as he walks down the hallway. 

Upstairs, Soonyoung’s footsteps pound across the wooden floors, Chan hot on his heels. Seokmin shouts something nonsensical from the other direction, and Seungcheol calls Jeonghan’s name. 

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan says, standing up from his chair. “There’s too many goddamn people in this house.” 

“We’re not technically people,” Jihoon says. Apparently he’s been here the whole time, just observing from the corner. Hansol gives him a little wave. 

“You guys should really go shower, you smell like you fucked in a car,” Junhui laughs, slithering in through the door and clapping his hands on both of their shoulders. 

Minghao snorts, right behind him. “That’s because they did.” 

“Oh my god, no way! I told you my nose never lies,” Junhui laughs again, full of himself. “Jihoon, I know you’ve been gallivanting with werewolves, I can smell the wet dog on you.” 

“What?” Jihoon scowls.

Between the chatter, Hansol and Seungkwan slip out unnoticed, hand in hand.

They have forever to spend time with family. 

𖤐

Hansol is pretty sure that he and Seungkwan are doing this relationship thing a little bit out of order. 

Like, they said I love you before they kissed, they kissed before their first date, and then they had sex during their first date. And they still haven’t gone all the way, because they’re kind of caught up in the rest of it. 

Not that Hansol is complaining. He’s having the time of his life. He just thought it would take longer for Seungkwan to ask to be turned. Like, Mingyu and Jisoo have been together for over a year and Mingyu’s still kicking. But, maybe doing things out of order is okay for Seungkwan and Hansol. They’re different. It’s fun.  

One month into being boyfriends, while Hansol is recovering from the best blowjob of his life— Seungkwan laying against his bare chest, a sweet little smile on his face like he didn’t just suck Hansol’s soul out through his dick— Seungkwan asks. 

“Before my birthday,” he pleads. “I don’t want to be older than you forever. I want us to be exactly the same.” 

And Hansol can’t really argue with that. Sounds like good logic to him. He just doesn’t know how to ask Jeonghan about it, because he knows Jeonghan will be weird. 

Technically, he could ask Jisoo, but Jisoo would be even weirder, because he’s currently grappling with his own hesitation on whether or not to turn Mingyu, and Hansol doesn’t want to cause his brain to short circuit. 

Jisoo has been good for other stuff, though. Stuff Jeonghan can’t help with, unrelated to the awakening thing. Like, when Hansol needs advice on the intricacies of being a vampire with a human boyfriend, Jisoo teaches him how to cook Seungkwan a grilled cheese sandwich. So, really, Jisoo isn’t a total deadbeat these days. Hansol is pretty sure he’s even paying Jeonghan child support, because Jeonghan asked for it, and Jisoo is too petty to laugh off a joke. 

Hansol is going to talk to Jeonghan about it. Really. He will. But, he’s just not ready yet. He doesn’t know why. He’s just not. 

What he does know is that Chan and Soonyoung are his last choice for advice. But they also both happen to be incredibly nosy, and they’re always extremely up to date on everyone else’s drama. 

They’re in the basement playing Rummy, because Seungkwan isn’t home from work yet, and Hansol doesn’t really have anything better to do while he’s avoiding talking to Jeonghan about the logistics of turning his boyfriend into a vampire. 

“You should turn him yourself. It makes the sex better,” Chan says, drinking blood out of a twisty straw as he openly looks at Soonyoung’s hand of cards. They’ve been cheating the whole game. 

“So true. We have crazy sex.” Soonyoung nods, reaching out his fist for Chan to bump. They both grin afterwards.  

Hansol scowls, picking up a card. He’s definitely going to lose. “I don’t want to hear from you two— you fucking voyeurs.”

Chan drops his cards (face up) and raises his hands in the air in surrender. “Okay, to be fair— neither of us knew that vampire sex included neck drinking! We just thought it felt good!” He almost sounds like he’s pleading with Hansol. He probably is, because Hansol won’t stop bringing it up. “We kept cumming in our pants, but, like, in a totally platonic way!”

Soonyoung nods emphatically, “Yeah, Jeonghan didn’t give us the vampire sex talk until after that. We’re totally innocent.”

“Did you stop after the sex talk?” Seokmin chimes in, laying down a nearly full-handed run. Damn. Hansol is definitely going to lose this hand. 

“No,” Chan snorts. “God, no.”  

“Well, Hansol— it makes better sex unless you’re Seungcheol and Jeonghan,” Seokmin says. He discards his last card, ending the hand. “Apparently, Seungcheol tried to turn on How Am I Supposed to Live Without You by Michael Bolton— which is super gay, by the way— and before they could even get their clothes off, he was crying in Jeonghan’s lap. They didn’t even have sex.” 

“I told you that in confidence, Lee Seokmin!” Jeonghan shouts from upstairs. 

Seokmin rolls his eyes, leaning towards Hansol and lowering his voice, “He’s got selective hearing for Seungcheol’s name, I swear to god.” 

“Do you think he knows that Seungkwan wants to be turned?” Hansol whispers, as quietly as he possibly can. 

“Nooo,” Seokmin shakes his head, lips puckered up. 

“Yes, I do!” Jeonghan yells. “We’re going to have a talk about it later!” 

“I’m not going to be here later!” Hansol shouts back. He hopes it hurts Jeonghan’s ears. 

“Yes you are!” 

“No I’m not! Seungkwan and I are going back to my old place!” 

“Are you going to stay there forever? No. I don’t think so.” 

“Maybe we will!” Hansol isn’t proud of how petulant his voice gets, but Jeonghan brings it out of him. 

“I feed you. I put a roof over your head. I take care of you all by myself because your father is a good for nothing loser— and this is how you repay me?” 

Hansol rolls his eyes. 

“Hah! Chan wins!” Soonyoung announces, finished adding up everyone’s totals. 

Seokmin frowns. “That’s because he was cheating the entire time.”

“Do you guys think I could fit through the cellar window?” Hansol asks. 

“Chwe Hansol!” Jeonghan howls from upstairs. 

Hansol does fit through the cellar window. 

𖤐

“Are you nervous?” Seungkwan squeezes Hansol’s hand, bouncing up and down in place, standing outside of the door at Hansol and Mingyu’s old place. 

Seungkwan was a little confused when Hansol ambushed him in the driveway before he could get out of his car saying they need to go over to the apartment, like, now. But, he went with it. He’s been begging Hansol to get this done, anyway. It’s a chore Hansol’s avoiding, because he doesn’t really want to think about whatever he’d left behind. It feels so far away now. Remnants of a past life. 

Apparently, Jeonghan made a deal with the landlord of the place— paid him a lump sum to keep it as is for a while. Just until Hansol was ready to go back and figure it out. Mingyu has moved in with Jisoo by now, and as far as everyone else knows, Hansol is dead, so. 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Seungkwan pokes Hansol’s stomach, looking up at him expectantly. 

“I’m not nervous… it’s just…” Hansol scrunches his face up. “Weird.” 

“Yeah,” Seungkwan encourages. 

“Like, after this… that’s it?” Hansol stares at the doorknob. “Like. That’s it. We’re done with whatever life used to be. We’ve fully committed to the new stuff. And— it’s cool— it’s great— but…” 

“It’s a little sad,” Seungkwan finishes for him. 

Hansol swallows, his throat raw. “Yeah. It’s a little sad. I liked what we had, Boo.” 

“Me too, Sollie.” Seungkwan turns to face Hansol more fully, catching Hansol’s other hand, tangling their fingers together. “I understand.” 

“I was kind of stoked to be human with you forever. But now that’s not an option. And don’t get me wrong— this is even better— like, we figured our shit out, and we’re in love, and—” 

“Hansol,” Seungkwan cuts him off before he can ramble them both to death. He drops Hansol’s hands in favor of cupping his face. “You don’t need to qualify it. You can mourn what we lost and still love what we have.” 

Hansol swallows again, a bit of tension releasing from his shoulders. “Damn. How are you always so rational?” 

“I know how that big brain of yours spins.” Seungkwan grins. He leans forward and kisses Hansol’s nose, but pulls back before Hansol can kiss him for real. “And, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. A whole month longer than you. And I’ve had all my memories for a lot longer than that.” 

“Right,” Hansol croaks. “That makes sense.” 

“Besides. No one is asking us to hurry. Jeonghan has so much money. He’s ancient. He can pay the rent on your shitty, human apartment for a bit longer if you need him to.” 

“Yeah.” Hansol nods dumbly. He’d probably agree with anything Seungkwan says, because Seungkwan is always right. 

Seungkwan smiles out of the side of his mouth. “Ready to go in, then?” 

“Yeah,” Hansol repeats. He takes a long breath. Exhales. Seungkwan turns around and unlocks the door. 

Hansol half expects something bad to happen. Something horrible, and scary, and life-ruining. 

But, nothing happens. 

No bats fly out, and there’s no overwhelming smell of death, or dust. It’s just… how he left it— minus Mingyu’s things. 

He takes a cautious step in, Seungkwan taking his hand again. The door shuts behind them. The apartment stays still. 

“Huh,” Hansol says. 

“Huh,” Seungkwan echoes. 

“It’s… kind of lonely in here.” 

“Well,” Seungkwan bumps their shoulders together. “We packed up all the love and moved it over to the new place.” 

It’s overwhelmingly cheesy. Hansol rolls his eyes, but he smiles. He detaches from Seungkwan to start poking around. 

The cabinets are empty— not that he’d need any of his food stuffs anymore. The table has an old doily on it— something Seungkwan brought home once that just never moved. The kitchen table and four chairs, where Hansol used to sit to peel Seungkwan’s oranges before work. The stain on the carpet where Hansol spilled a bottle of black nail polish. Seungkwan’s Donna Summer tape— the one he bought just a few days before Hansol died— is sitting right where Seungkwan left it that morning when they left the house. 

Hansol traces it with his index finger. He turns to look at Seungkwan over his shoulder. “You haven’t been back either?” 

“Felt too hard without you.” Seungkwan hugs his arms to his chest. He smiles sheepishly. “A lot of things did.” 

“Ah, Boo.” Hansol crosses the room in a few easy strides, wrapping Seungkwan up into his arms. He sucks in lungfuls of his scent, sapping his warmth through his chest. He squeezes Seungkwan tight. This is all that really matters. Not this stupid apartment, or the shreds of their old life. Hansol might think about it for a while, but he won’t miss it. Not really. “You’re right. Everything worthwhile is right here.” 

“And you say I’m cheesy,” Seungkwan giggles. He manages to snake his arms up around Hansol’s neck. Pulls him down for a sweet, lingering kiss. Hansol sighs into it. 

“Boo,” he murmurs, lips still brushing Seungkwan’s. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m glad it was me and not you. I don’t think I’d have survived it. Not that well.” 

“Don’t say that, Hansollie,” Seungkwan breathes. He frowns so severely that a crease appears between his eyebrows. Hansol reaches out and smooths it out with his thumb. “What a horrible thing to even think about.” 

Hansol runs a hand up Seungkwan’s back. “You’re stronger than me. Always have been. I would have made Jeonghan’s life hell if you were asleep. I’d have tried to kill him.” 

“Who’s to say I didn’t?” Seungkwan asks, just the barest hint of teasing in his voice. 

“Did you?” 

“No. I was too worried about you.” 

Hansol grins, he drags his thumb over Seungkwan’s cheek, pressing into the hinge of his jaw before he kisses him again. Seungkwan makes the prettiest noise. Lays it right onto Hansol’s tongue. 

His arms tighten at Hansol’s neck, hips pressing forward so they’re flush together. Hansol has so much to say. Thank you. I love you. I’m so grateful. Forgive me. I’m sorry. He does his best to convey it all, pouring himself into Seungkwan, giving all he has. Seungkwan kisses Hansol back like he understands. You’re welcome. I love you too. I know. I do. It’s okay. All of it, it’s there. 

Seungkwan is warm. He’s needy. Desperate. Hansol starts on fire, and he doesn’t think he’ll stop anytime soon. It’s a natural reaction to being near Seungkwan. 

“I kind of had ulterior motives for wanting to come here,” Seungkwan says between kisses, breathless and beautiful.  

Hansol hums out a question as he kisses down Seungkwan’s jaw, not quite done with tasting him. 

“I didn’t want our first time to be in a house full of ten other superhumans,” Seungkwan gasps when Hansol drags his teeth over his pulse point. His next sentence is soft, “I want it to be just for us.” 

“Oh my god,” Hansol half-groans. He pulls himself away from Seungkwan’s throat. “If you told me you wanted to come here to have sex, I’d have gotten it done a lot faster.” 

Seungkwan laughs. His eyes shine, and his cheeks swell— all blushed red. “Well— we still need to clear everything out, too.” 

“Later,” Hansol mumbles, fitting their mouths together again and moving them in the direction of the bedroom. 

They only make it a few, clumsy steps before Hansol gets impatient. He’s super strong for a reason. The reason is to pick Seungkwan up and carry him to bed. Seungkwan squeaks when Hansol grabs his thighs and hoists him up, but then he grabs Hansol with even more of a fervor, locking his legs around Hansol’s hips and moaning into his mouth. 

“God— vampires are so hot,” he says, almost like he’s put out by the idea. 

Hansol bites his lip in return, drawing the smallest bit of blood. He laps it up like the monster he is, and revels in the feeling of Seungkwan’s half-hard dick pressing against his stomach. Hansol kicks into his old bedroom, dropping Seungkwan on the bed unceremoniously, going for his clothes right afterwards. 

He doesn’t bother to look around. It’s just as it was. He only cares about Seungkwan. 

Seungkwan— laughing as Hansol struggles to pull off his pants and underwear for him at the same time. 

Seungkwan— wrestling free of his shirt, tossing it to the side.

Seungkwan— turning over and crawling up the bed to open Hansol’s nightstand for condoms and lube, only to find a metric fuckton of handwritten notes that he left Hansol in their past life. 

“Uh—” Hansol stutters, his shirt hanging around his neck and his jeans halfway down his legs. 

“You kept all of these?” Seungkwan asks, fingers rifling through paper. So much paper. Hansol doesn’t remember there being that many notes. He did keep all of them, though. No matter how inconsequential— because they were from Seungkwan. To him. They were for him. 

“Yeah. Of course. You wrote them for me.” Hansol shrugs. His jeans fall the rest of the way to the ground. 

Seungkwan blinks his big brown eyes at Hansol. He reaches over and shuts the drawer. “Hansollie, where is the lube?” 

“Oh, shit. Right,” Hansol wiggles out of his shirt, tossing it to the side. He steps over to the dresser. Pulls out the bottle and a condom. 

“Great. Now— fuck me. I’ve never been so turned on in my life,” Seungkwan says. Demands.

He leans back against Hansol’s pillows, spreading his legs. The look of him makes Hansol choke on his own spit. Seungkwan’s cock lays heavy against his stomach, head shiny with precum, the soft skin of his thighs leading straight to— well…  

Hansol shucks down his boxers, climbing onto the bed and fitting himself between Seungkwan’s legs. He kisses him as he gets him ready— slicked up fingers teasing at Seungkwan’s rim until he’s begging to be fucked. Hansol smiles into his mouth and presses into him. 

Slow. One finger at a time. Making sure Seungkwan can take all of him at once. Hansol wants it to feel good for Seungkwan, too. Wants him to remember this as the best he’s ever had. Until next time, at least. It’s a good standard to set. 

“Are you going to bite me?” Seungkwan gasps, Hansol crooking his fingers up, straight into his prostate. 

“No,” Hansol kisses his jaw. His ear. His neck. “I want this to be just for us. Is that okay?” 

Seungkwan exhales shakily when Hansol pulls out of him. He nods. Smiles, already wrecked. “It’s perfect,” he says. “There’s always next time.” 

Hansol grins. “There’s always next time.” 

It doesn’t take long for Hansol to roll the condom on. To slick himself up. Shove a pillow under Seungkwan’s hips to keep him comfortable. He lines himself up, looking down at what he has. He has to take a breath to steady himself. To remember that this is real. 

“God,” he says, eyes raking down Seungkwan’s body, drinking him in. “I love you.” 

Seungkwan’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, doing nothing to hide his smile. “I love you too.” 

Hansol presses into him then. He holds Seungkwan steady by his hip, goes slow, letting Seungkwan’s body pull him in. Hot, tight, perfect. Seungkwan’s lips part into a pretty little o— a trembling exhale spilling out. 

When Hansol bottoms out, he almost loses himself. His mind goes blissfully blank, only a weak coo of, “Baby—” leaving his throat. Then, even weaker, “Seungkwan— fuck—” 

“Hansollie,” Seungkwan returns. His hands find Hansol’s arms, begging them closer so he can lace their fingers together. It sends Hansol careening back to reality. 

He presses Seungkwan’s hands to the mattress as he starts fucking him. Slow, shallow movements working up to full thrusts. Sticky heat and the smell of orange-soaked blood fills the room. Hansol steals every noise he earns straight off of Seungkwan’s tongue. It’s all for him. He’s all for Seungkwan. 

Hansol can feel Seungkwan tightening around him as his orgasm builds. He breathes praise into Seungkwan’s ear, one hand sliding between them to curl around Seungkwan’s weeping cock. 

“C’mon, baby, let go,” he soothes. 

Seungkwan looks up at Hansol as he cums. He lets Hansol watch him as his body shakes— tells Hansol to keep going after he comes down. 

“Inside— please—” he begs, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. “I want you, Hansol. Make me yours.” 

A silly thing to ask when he already is. They belong to each other, in a way. Hansol follows directions, anyway. He wants Seungkwan to have everything he wants. 

All it takes is a few, jerky thrusts before Hansol is pressing into Seungkwan as deep as his body allows, spilling into the condom. He falls forward, claiming Seungkwan’s mouth, kissing him with as much warmth as Seungkwan has afforded him. Everything he has. 

Their noses bump together. They’re both smiling. Seungkwan is limp, and jellied, and he’s giggling, and Hansol’s dick is still inside of him. This is how it’s meant to be, Hansol realizes. He knows that now.

“Fuck,” he laughs, nothing more than a huff of air. “I’m so— in love with you.”

“God, dying made you so soft, Chwe,” Seungkwan grins, the force of the sun held in it. Hansol doesn’t have to miss sunshine too much— he’s got it right here. “I thought it would make you more… hardcore.” 

“I’m super hardcore.” 

“Mm,” Seungkwan giggles. He rubs his nose against Hansol’s, teasing. “You are. My super hardcore boyfriend who loves Star Wars and dragons.” 

“Don’t forget the dungeons,” Hansol mutters. “Dungeons are super hardcore.” 

Seungkwan laughs, and Hansol kisses it off his lips— and this is something he knows he’ll never get tired of. For as long as they live. Forever, if that’s really what’s happening. 

Rad.

𖤐

Jeonghan teaches Hansol how to turn a human into a vampire one week before Seungkwan’s birthday. 

It’s a non-impressive day, all things considered. A Monday. It’s snowing outside, and Seungkwan is laying flat on the table they use to play D&D. He looks a little nervous, but he’s got Hansol’s walkman blasting in his ears to distract him. That Madonna album he’s been playing on repeat since it came out, fed straight into his skull. 

This whole thing has been a long time coming. Jeonghan wasn’t about to let them just… go for it. 

There was a shitload of very terse conversations with Jeonghan. And then with Jisoo. And Seungcheol, too. Months of them. Jeonghan made Seungkwan think about it for three months before he committed. He wanted six, but Hansol insisted on it being done before Seungkwan’s birthday. So, three month it was. 

The process is pretty straightforward, actually. Hansol has to drink Seungkwan almost dry, and then puncture his own hand and feed Seungkwan back some of his own blood. Jeonghan says it in more scientific terms, but Hansol is a little too antsy to think too hard about it. 

Jeonghan goes to sit off to the side, keeping a bit of distance. He nods at Hansol. 

Hansol reaches down and pulls Seungkwan’s headphones off his head. “You ready?” he asks. 

Seungkwan smiles at him. He grabs the front of Hansol’s shirt and drags him down to kiss him. “I was born ready.” 

“Born ready to die?” 

“Isn’t that the title of that Springsteen album?” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. “Ah, whatever. Make me yours, Chwe.” 

So, Hansol does. He’s always been good at following Seungkwan’s lead. Chasing after him. 

All in all, Seungkwan’s awakening is quick and painless. He closes his eyes, and his heart stops, and he opens them again. But, for Hansol, time goes a bit slower. 

He takes a second to mourn Seungkwan’s heartbeat, his hand splayed over Seungkwan’s chest. The last bit of whatever they used to be. He doesn’t need to qualify it— he can have that, and this, too. All of it. He can love Seungkwan, want him forever— and still be sad that Seungkwan has to die to make it happen. 

Being a vampire holds many nuances. It’s a gift, but it’s also a curse. Most of all, it’s so incredibly enshrined in love. There’s no truer act of devotion.

Hansol mourns Seungkwan’s heartbeat. He takes a deep breath, even though he doesn’t need to breathe to live. He lets it out, and Seungkwan opens his eyes. Hansol smiles. Seungkwan smiles back. Then he grabs Hansol and kisses him stupid. 

Pulls Hansol down so hard that they nearly break the table. Hansol falls over, on top of him, and kisses back. He gets the shit bitten out of his lip— but he kisses back. 

Jeonghan scoffs. He gets up, ruffling Seungkwan’s hair on his way out, giving Hansol a pointed look, silently telling him to behave. 

“Please tell me I didn’t miss Footloose,” Seungkwan breathes, pulling Hansol’s attention back to him. His very first words after he’s died. 

His hands are cold. He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. They’re going to be okay. 

“Well,” Hansol grins. He’s kind of crying a little bit, but he doesn’t really care. It’s Seungkwan. “It’s January ninth, nineteen eighty four, so we’ve got about a month to wait.” 

“Thank god.” Seungkwan brings his hands to Hansol’s cheeks, swiping away his errant tears with his thumbs. “Why are you crying, baby? It’s okay. We’re going to be alright.” 

“I’m just—” Hansol chokes on nothing. He laughs. They’re still laying on the table, but he doesn’t even care. “I’m just happy. But, also, I don’t know who’s gonna warm up my hands now.” 

Seungkwan kisses each of his cheeks. His nose. His lips. “I bought us mittens. They’re upstairs already.” 

“I’m so in love with you.” 

If there was one thing Hansol was worried about, it’s the loss of warmth. But, he never has anything to worry about with Seungkwan. Not really. 

“I love you too, dummy,” Seungkwan says, smile splitting his face in two. Sunshine warm.