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Sanghyuk was having more issues than expected adjusting to his new time schedule. He’d never had issues working the later shifts before, going out when the moon was already high and bright in the sky, patrolling until the sun was coming up on the horizon. But then, usually when he worked those shifts he slept in until dark, and he could not do that now, it contradicted his purpose for taking the later shifts.
He’d woken and gotten out of the house early enough tonight that the sun was only just setting as he walked out of a coffee shop not too far from Jaehwan’s house. Jaehwan had procured soda for him recently but he rarely had human food available, and it didn’t seem to be a current priority. The odd timing of his visit meant that he needed food, so he’d picked up a pastry to keep him going until he could get some food at work.
It had been four nights since he’d last seen Jaehwan. He’d waited, like Jaehwan had asked him to, and Jaehwan hadn’t come to see him. Sanghyuk wasn’t surprised, and neither was he disappointed. What they were doing was hard enough. He hadn’t really expected Jaehwan to come seek him out, to come talk to him of his own accord.
That was something they were also working towards. Maybe it could happen in the future.
It was fully dark when he got to Jaehwan’s house, the pastry in his hands mostly eaten. He finished it off before he descended down the ladder into the tunnels, licking the stickiness from his fingers. He tried not to think of the times that Jaehwan had lapped at his fingers thus in the past.
He took his time walking through the tunnels, giving those in the house a chance to wake up. As he padded into the living room, he was greeted by the sight of Jaehwan disappearing into the kitchen, almost-human speed. Sanghyuk followed carefully.
“Jaehwan?” he asked softly, putting his head around the door frame. Jaehwan straightened up from where he’d been bent over the fridge. He turned, holding a blood bag in his hand.
“Hello— Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said. He swallowed, and Sanghyuk pretended he hadn’t noticed the stutter, where Jaehwan had caught himself before he could say love. “I thought I would save you the trip to get this for me.”
Jaehwan looked, and sounded, sleepy, but he was dressed, in his customary slacks and a pale blue shirt. It was untucked and his feet were still bare but there was something far more solid about him tonight. He had been keeping up with his feeding, then, and not giving himself back over to misery in the few days he hadn’t seen Sanghyuk.
There was a pause, as they stared at one another, taking each other in. “You look well,” Sanghyuk finally said, then winced at how awkward he sounded.
Jaehwan didn’t give much reaction if he’d noticed. “As well as I could be,” he said blandly. Sanghyuk fought against wincing again.
“Right,” he said. He moved around Jaehwan and grabbed himself a soda from the fridge to give himself a moment to get himself together. Jaehwan, for his part, didn’t really seem like he knew what to do either.
It was hard, Sanghyuk realised, outside of the library. It had become a safe space for them, given them some structure. Outside of it they felt like strangers. There had been long months where they hadn’t spoken to each other, and it had been even longer since Sanghyuk had even thought that he and Jaehwan could maybe be friendly towards each other. He wasn’t sure how to do it, and it was no surprise that Jaehwan didn’t have a clue either.
Jaehwan gave him a tired smile, mouth quirking up on one corner. “Shall we go to the library?” he asked, and Sanghyuk felt some relief. He nodded, and Jaehwan swept his hand in front of himself in an after you motion. Sanghyuk rolled his eyes but did so, walking out of the kitchen and towards the library. He was a couple of steps in front of Jaehwan the entire way. He thought Jaehwan would flit past him, just to be an asshole, but instead Jaehwan walked human speed with him. He didn’t say anything, and Sanghyuk was uncomfortably aware of his presence. A vampire lurking in his peripheral vision.
In the library, Jaehwan folded down onto the usual chair, tucking his feet up underneath him in that way he had taken to doing recently. It really did make him look so young. Sanghyuk was beginning to think he wouldn’t ever get over the disconnect between what his eyes were telling him and the truth that his mind knew.
Sanghyuk sat down next to him, keeping his feet firmly on the ground. You could fit another person between them and that pleased Sanghyuk; there was less of an urge to reach out and touch like this.
“Last time you said you wanted to talk about some things,” Sanghyuk said.
“Yes,” Jaehwan said. Then he stuck a straw in the blood bag and began to drink. Sanghyuk tried to wait him out, knowing that this was just a way for Jaehwan to put off elaborating. He tried to be patient. It was hard. It had always been hard, with Jaehwan, but he really didn’t feel like playing around.
Eventually Jaehwan finished the blood bag and set it aside. “I apologise for not coming to see you,” he said.
Sanghyuk shrugged. “I thought you might not.” Jaehwan shot him a sharp look. “Don’t look at me like that, you didn’t come, did you? And I’m not judging you for that. I thought it might be too much.”
“I was not sure of your schedule,” Jaehwan said, which was a bad excuse if Sanghyuk had ever heard one. Jaehwan rarely knew his work schedule. He was usually in the habit of just waiting around for Sanghyuk to come home. “I didn’t want to visit your apartment if you weren’t present. It would have been— there are memories, there, that I don’t wish to revisit.”
It clicked, then. “Oh,” said Sanghyuk lamely. “Well, I just— I don’t mind that you didn’t come to me. I can come to you, at least for now. We can work things out other ways later, can’t we?”
“Yes,” Jaehwan said, after a pause. He was looking at Sanghyuk like he didn’t quite know what to make of him. Whenever the topic of later came up, Jaehwan’s face would twist, like he’d touched silver. It was as if he still couldn’t quite believe that Sanghyuk was here, and was planning on sticking around, at least for a time. Sanghyuk didn’t quite know what to say. Reassuring Jaehwan felt fake, somehow.
“Now,” Sanghyuk said, before Jaehwan let them get too off topic. “You said you regretted things that you’d given up that you hadn’t needed to give up?”
“Yes,” Jaehwan said again. Sanghyuk waited him out patiently until he added, “Friendship— socialising in general, I suppose.” His eyes shuttered in a way that Sanghyuk didn’t like at all. “And my music.”
Sanghyuk remembered, suddenly, Jaehwan’s expression when they had been together in the piano room all that time ago, the strange way he had said I used to when Sanghyuk had asked if he played. It had struck Sanghyuk as strange at the time but now that he had more of an understanding of Jaehwan, he could see where this was leading, he thought.
“It was important to you,” he said. It was more of a statement but he lilted it at the end so that it could be taken as a question. Jaehwan nodded. “Why did you give it up?”
“They were— part and parcel, I suppose.” Jaehwan shifted, like he was going to get to his feet, but he didn’t. “I was a very social creature, when I was human. My place in society afforded me certain opportunities. I had friends, I was— well liked, sociable. There would be a lot of parties that I went to and often I’d be asked to play. My musical skills were as well known as my magical skills. Perhaps I didn’t value them as much as I should have, but I did love to play. It— it felt good. I loved the attention.” He paused, and looked at Sanghyuk with a wry smile. “That doesn’t surprise you.”
Sanghyuk fought the urge to snort. “No,” he said bluntly. “Everyone knows you like to bask in the attention of others.”
“Quite. Well, after I turned there was— was less of all that. I met with people, vampires, that my master knew. He would have parties, but they were less frequent. This may surprise you, but vampire circles are not as big as you’d think.”
Sanghyuk did actually snort then. Jaehwan gave him that wry smile again and Sanghyuk bit the inside of his cheek as a reminder to himself.
“I would play for them. They were appreciative, especially my master. He always wanted me to play.” Jaehwan swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. Sanghyuk was beginning to piece together a pretty good idea of how Jaehwan’s maker had contributed to how fucked up he was. “And when my master— died, when he was gone, I did not wish to spend time with his friends, and they were, for the most part, uninterested in me.”
“It hurt,” Sanghyuk realised, and Jaehwan looked at him. “When your maker died. It hurt you, you’d lost everything all over again, what little you’d managed to piece back together for yourself.”
Jaehwan nodded his head, a jerky motion unlike him. “I disliked it, the weakness of— of putting my heart into things so easily lost. I was losing too many pieces of myself and I had, at that point, now been scalded twice. I was not about to let it happen thrice, so I— I kept my distance from the few other people I did know, precious few they were. For a long time, all I had for company, on and off, was Taekwoon.” He pulled a face, a clear sign of what he thought of that. “I made myself rely only on myself, rather than on anyone or anything else. It made me stronger.”
“That doesn’t make you strong, Jaehwan,” said Sanghyuk quietly.
Jaehwan waved his hand, dismissing Sanghyuk wordlessly. Just like he always did, like he always has done. “Say it was simply easier, then. And why then keep up with my music if there was no one around to listen to it. No one to give me attention,” he added, turning his palm upwards as if to indicate his own arrogance.
Sanghyuk sat back slowly, settling into the cushions of the couch, watching Jaehwan. “That wasn’t it,” Sanghyuk said softly after a moment, and Jaehwan shrunk away, just a little. “It was something you— you shared with people. Yes, you liked the attention, but it brought you happiness to share your music— a part of yourself— with others. And then there was no one to share it with anymore, no one to have that connection with.” He paused. “And lacking the joy you had when you were still living, I imagine playing for your maker and his— his friends rang hollow anyway.”
Jaehwan went still enough that he looked like a statue, for a good thirty seconds. Sanghyuk shifted, trying to wait it out, trying to not show the way his heart rate had rocketed. He knew Jaehwan wouldn’t hurt him— if anything, the past few weeks had proven that beyond all doubt. But that vampire stillness was still potent.
Eventually Jaehwan moved, letting his head fall against the back of the couch and then turning his face away. “Ah, l— Sanghyuk, you do know me so well.”
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk murmured. He wanted to reach out and cover Jaehwan’s hand with his own where it was resting near his thigh. When Jaehwan tilted his head to look at him, there was something dark in his eyes. It was a struggle for Sanghyuk to say, “That’s why you wouldn’t play for me, that day in the piano room.”
“I gave it up,” Jaehwan said. His shoulders moved in a half-shrug but there was something thick in his voice now. “I— I tell myself that I don’t need them. I don’t need other people, I don’t need all these constant reminders of all the things I gave up when I turned.”
“But you didn’t give them up right away,” Sanghyuk pointed out. “You still had them, for a while.”
“Yes,” Jaehwan said. It hissed a little through his teeth. “Magic was gone as soon as I woke up, but the rest—” He looked away. “It wasn’t something I wanted to give up. But it was better, that way.”
“Do you still think so?”
Jaehwan laughed, a bitter bark of laughter. “Honestly? I would be in less pain if I’d kept being like that.”
“You’d be just as miserable,” Sanghyuk said. “And there’d be no moving forward from that. Nobody wants you to be miserable,” he added. The urge to cover Jaehwan’s hand was almost physical now. “I don’t want you to be miserable.”
Jaehwan stared at him, face an open book of despair and a pathetic sense of hope. “Sanghyuk,” he said, his voice a low murmur, and it tugged at Sanghyuk’s core, his mouth falling open a little. Then Jaehwan was gone, moving so he was standing in the middle of the room before Sanghyuk could blink. Jaehwan scrubbed at his face with his hand.
“I can’t do this,” he said, into the silence that followed. “I’m— not tonight, I need to stop. It’s too much, you here, with me, like this. I want to touch you and I’m afraid that I might not be able to stop myself before long.”
Sanghyuk felt a jolt go through him, not unlike his wards going off. “Touch me?” he echoed, a little hoarse.
“You’re too— close. It’s too much, opening up like this feels too intimate, and it hurts too. I want to touch you, pull you against me, lose myself in the feeling of you—” he cut himself off, hugging himself, his hands roughly grasping his own upper arms. “I can handle it sometimes, but not now. Not now.”
Sanghyuk hadn’t realised Jaehwan had been feeling the same thing as him, that urge to touch. He should have known, really. It unnerved him, even though it should have been expected, almost as much as the realisation that Jaehwan was asking him to leave rather than give into those urges and break one of the rules that Sanghyuk had set up. Sanghyuk didn’t like to think it but he had expected Jaehwan to not entirely follow those rules. His deference to them even now when he was struggling spoke of how heavily he desired for Sanghyuk to continue coming around.
Sanghyuk shivered. “I— okay. It’s okay. I should probably leave for work anyway.”
Jaehwan stayed on the other side of the room, face turned away, as Sanghyuk gathered up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Sanghyuk couldn’t bear to leave it like this, not when Jaehwan had managed to open himself up so much tonight, so much so that he’d had to put a stop to it to preserve himself.
“Jaehwan,” he said. Jaehwan looked at him, and it made Sanghyuk ache for him. “If you wanted to play again, I’d listen.”
Jaehwan pressed his lips together, then said, “Maybe, someday.”
Sanghyuk touched the loose strap of his backpack, fidgeting with it, trying to ground himself. Jaehwan’s admonition of wanting to touch him had shaken him up more than it should have. The way he was looking at Sanghyuk now only exemplified it. “You said that last time,” he murmured, turning towards the door. “I don’t have eternity to wait, I know I’m going to be gone soon and I— I really would like to hear you play, just once before I die.”
Jaehwan’s voice was cold behind him. “What?”
Sanghyuk went over what he’d just said in his mind and felt a cold, prickling sweat break out over him, his stomach swooping sickly. “Fuck.”
“You know you’re going to be gone soon?” Jaehwan asked, tone sharp.
“I just mean— I’m human,” Sanghyuk said quickly, putting on a burst of speed towards the door. “I’m a hunter, after all, I don’t have long—”
Jaehwan was faster than him, as Sanghyuk had well known. In a moment he was in front of the door, blocking Sanghyuk’s escape. He looked like stone, hard and unyielding. “Sanghyuk,” he said, in a silky tone. “You’re not as good at lying as you seem to think you are. What did you mean?”
Sanghyuk bit the inside of his mouth so hard he thought he might have drawn blood. Jaehwan was watching him, watching every blink, and oh, Sanghyuk didn’t want to say this. It was only going to cause harm, more pain than either of them would know how to deal with. But there could be no lying, and maybe it would be better to get it over with. “Ilhoon,” he whispered eventually. “He has the Sight. He can— he gets feelings for things that are going to happen. He said that I would die, soon.”
Sanghyuk wasn’t sure what he expected Jaehwan’s reaction to be, but he didn’t expect him to slump back against the library door, suddenly looking exhausted in a way that Sanghyuk wouldn’t have thought possible. The last time he had looked so haggard Jaehwan had been going into weeks of not feeding.
Then in the next moment he had straightened back up, drawing himself back together. “When?” he asked, his voice harsh, demanding. It almost made Sanghyuk flinch.
“I don’t know,” Sanghyuk said. “He didn’t tell me that. I didn’t really want to know exactly when I was going to die.” Now it was Jaehwan’s turn to flinch. Sanghyuk softened his tone. “He just said soon.”
“And you kept this from me?”
“I don’t tell you everything,” Sanghyuk pointed out. “And I thought it better if you didn’t know, considering everything that has been going on. It was—”kinder, but he didn’t think Jaehwan would appreciate that.
Jaehwan was watching him. Sanghyuk thought he could see where he was holding his anger in, the edges where it was bleeding through. The tension in his shoulders looked painful.
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said quietly. “I haven’t told anyone about this. Not even Wonshik or Hakyeon. Please, don’t— don’t tell them.”
Jaehwan turned away, towards the door. He yanked it open and held it in a clear invitation for Sanghyuk to leave. “I won’t,” he said. “But I do think it best if you leave, before I do something I regret.”
“Like what?” Sanghyuk asked. “Are you going to keep me here?”
“Don’t push me,” Jaehwan said, and a chill ran down Sanghyuk’s spine.
He walked through the library door, keeping a space between them. He was halfway down the corridor before he turned back. Jaehwan was watching him go, an angry look on his face. “Please,” Sanghyuk said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
The angry look shifted into something grim. Jaehwan shut the door without another word and Sanghyuk sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before making his way out of the house and back outside.
The sky outside was fully dark when Sanghyuk came out of the alley that lead to Jaehwan’s house. He was shivering, although it wasn’t all that cold. He was grateful to get into his car and turn the heat on, just a little, as he drove, to stop the shivering.
Ilhoon’s prediction hadn’t truly sunk in for Sanghyuk yet. Maybe it was the lack of knowing the how and when, maybe it was just that he’d had too many other things on his mind. He hadn’t planned on telling any of the others, especially not Jaehwan. Jaehwan who needed Sanghyuk like Sanghyuk seemed to need air. At least for now. It was too cruel.
“Jesus Christ, who died?” Ilhoon asked, when he saw Sanghyuk walk in to HQ. “You look like you’re going to projectile vomit, or faint. Or projectile vomit and then faint.”
“Everything is shit,” Sanghyuk said roughly, rubbing at his face with his hands. “Everything is shit and just when I think it can’t get any more shit, it gets more shit.”
Ilhoon stared at him, brow furrowed. “Right,” he said, drawing the word out. He pointed at Sanghyuk. “You have desk duty tonight, so uh. Sit here in your pile of shit until I get back, then I will go buy you some chicken nuggets and we’ll talk, okay?”
Sanghyuk let out a slightly hysterical laugh, not knowing how he could even begin to explain this mess. “Sure.”
Hyunsik walked over, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Sanghyuk,” he said with an easy smile before turning to Ilhoon. “You finally ready?”
“Don’t I look ready?” Ilhoon asked, tossing his head and batting his lashes. He was wearing bronzer, Sanghyuk rather thought.
Hyunsik shook his head and looked back at Sanghyuk. “See you later.”
“Bye!” Sungjae shouted from his desk on the other end of the room. Sanghyuk watched them go, Ilhoon giving him a meaningful look conveyed with artfully filled in eyebrows.
Sanghyuk sat at his desk, and Sungjae eyed him up and down. “You okay?”
Sanghyuk sighed and pulled the nearest file to himself. “For now.” The look on Jaehwan’s face before he’d closed the door flashed through Sanghyuk’s mind and he groaned, burying his face in his hands.
——
Jaehwan knew this was going to come back to bite him in the ass, but in the end, he’d done so many things already, in the interest of keeping Sanghyuk’s heart beating. In the grand scheme of things this wasn’t even that bad, it was more simply stupid.
The magic in his veins, the spell that animated his undead form, was a bastardization of the energy that had once sparked through him, but in places, few and slippery, they crossed over enough, just enough, that he could do something with it. This particular skill his master had enjoyed, though Sanghyuk never had. But this time, he wasn’t using it on Sanghyuk.
He knew Sanghyuk was still going to be as pissed as if Jaehwan had been using it on him, again, but that point as of now was moot.
It was cold outside, judging by the frost clinging to the puddles in the street. Jaehwan didn’t like being on the ground for this, so he picked a tall apartment building, flitting up the wrought iron escape ladder. He passed dark bedrooms and light, striped curtains and floral. So many humans, living their lives. When he went by one apartment it zinged a bit at him, properly warded. It made him smile a little.
Once on the roof he took in the scenery around him, rooftops and lights sprawling around, the mountains in the distance. He went to the edge, bands holding the railing, and cast his senses out, immediately feeling Sanghyuk was towards the north, his energy rushing over Jaehwan. He always burned bright whenever Jaehwan tried to lock in on him, it was always far too easy. They were bound, had been intimate in every way two people could be, Jaehwan would always be able to know where Sanghyuk was. It made following him around far too easy and far too tempting.
But not tonight, tonight was going to be a little harder. Jaehwan blocked Sanghyuk out, tried to feel out an energy far less familiar to him. He’d never been physically close to Ilhoon, not close enough to make this easy, but the boy had a very distinctive energy signature, Jaehwan should have known even before Sanghyuk told him that he had magic in his blood.
It took some time, Jaehwan inhaling the icy night air even though he didn’t need to, trying to calm his mind enough to piece through the buzz. It was a whisper when it came, a soft spark, to the west. HQ was not there, so, Ilhoon was on patrol, or fishing. Or perhaps he was at his little human home. That would complicate things, but Jaehwan would climb that hurdle when he got there if he had to.
He turned, running over the rooftop and leaping onto the neighboring building, letting his instincts take him. He melted into the darkness, feeling fluid, feeling strong.
Jaehwan followed the tug until he was overlooking a street with three open clubs, their neon lights glaring in the night, the scent of smoke and alcohol thick in the air. So, Ilhoon was fishing, and in this frigid weather too. The show must go on, Jaehwan supposed, though he wasn’t sure that was exactly applicable here.
The first question of the night was, was Ilhoon the bait or the backup? Backup would be easier to corner, but Jaehwan wasn’t so blinded by affection for Sanghyuk that he hadn’t noticed Ilhoon was exceedingly attractive. Most likely, he was bait, and Jaehwan rather sensed his energy coming from the direction of the club on the corner, the one that proclaimed itself as club Envy in emerald green letters.
Which meant that the first order of business of the night was finding the backup and incapacitating them.
From his perch on a balcony, Jaehwan scanned over the people on the street, quite a fair few of them, most in a state of dress definitely not appropriate for the weather. It didn’t take too long to find an energy signature he recognized, though feebly. There was a boy leaned up against a closed pastry shop, attractive in a way Jaehwan didn’t personally find appealing. He vaguely remembered seeing him out with Ilhoon and Sanghyuk and Sungjae. Hyunsik, he thought his name was. Sanghyuk talked about the three of them enough that Jaehwan really should remember their names.
Hyunsik wasn’t staring at the club, but he was within sight of it and definitely, well, doing his job, acting as backup. The street had too many lamps and too many people tripping around for Jaehwan to just swoop down and grab Hyunsik, so he’d have to resort to plan B.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, gold and clunky with a hematite stone. It was as cold as the night air, but when Jaehwan slipped it onto his forefinger, it immediately warmed, coming to life. Jaehwan felt the charm settle over his skin like clumsy armor, making his movements less smooth, dulling the strange shimmer over his skin. Turning him, at least to look upon, into something almost human.
Jaehwan ran his tongue along his upper teeth, doing a fang check to ascertain they were not currently out. There was only bluntness, so this was as good as it was going to get. He jumped off the rooftop, landing in the shadows before straightening.
Hyunsik was half a block away, and he’d been leaning, lax, against the darkened window of the pastry shop, but now he was standing, trying to look casual but there was tension in his spine. He was subtly scanning the area around himself, the group of girls tripping past in their high heels, the pair of stoners unfortunately upwind. He could clearly sense something, though he hadn’t cottoned on it was a vampire just yet.
Jaehwan walked up the sidewalk toward him, not bothering to stick to the deep shadows, letting the yellow light from the streetlamps wash over him. The girls passed him, giggling and too drunk to care, to notice anything amiss. But Hyunsik noted his presence, and once he saw him, he didn’t look away. The boy froze, still not realizing that Jaehwan was undead and also clearly unsure what to do, how to handle this. Jaehwan sauntered up to him, stopping in front of him directly and smiling.
“Hello,” Jaehwan said, and he put glamour into the word, tugging, and Hyunsik jerked, hand reaching for his pocket and then stuttering. He clearly didn’t know what to do, they were in the light, there were people, witnesses. He hadn’t been trained for this.
Jaehwan stepped in and Hyunsik put his hands on his shoulders, his wards sending out a sharp jolt that tingled over Jaehwan’s skin. Hyunsik’s eyes were wide, and he was too caught off-guard to remember not to look at Jaehwan’s face, his eyes.
“Hyunsik,” Jaehwan said, and was immediately rewarded by Hyunsik’s eyes glazing over. Knowing the human’s name made it all so much easier. Jaehwan’s smile widened, and he had to work to keep his fangs in check. “Hyunsik,” he said again, gently coaxing, “be a darling and come with me, will you?”
“Yeah,” Hyunsik mumbled, eyes still glassy.
Jaehwan took his hand carefully and led him down the street with a purpose. He tugged him into the first abandoned alleyway he could find, trash and vomit and all.
Hyunsik was blinking, dazed but coming around, so Jaehwan whirled and grabbed his face, forcing him to meet his eyes once more. “No,” Jaehwan murmured, pulling Hyunsik’s consciousness back to him, “come back to me, yes, good.”
Hyunsik’s skin sparked against his hand, and Jaehwan couldn’t help feeling fond over it. He blamed Sanghyuk. It was practically Pavlovian at this point.
“You’re not going to remember any of this,” Jaehwan said, ordered. “You’re going to wake up and have no memory of how you got here, no memory of me. Okay?”
“Okay,” Hyunsik whispered.
“Sleep,” Jaehwan murmured, then leaned in close, feeling Hyunsik’s breath ghost over his lips as he whispered the words of a spell, the magic rolling out of his body in a sharp way that was almost painful. Hyunsik’s eyelids fluttered and he slumped to the asphalt, and Jaehwan swayed a little in the aftermath of the magic, feeling a little nauseated. He shut his eyes, waited for it to pass, and then once he had control of himself again he moved Hyunsik so he was hidden behind the hulking dumpster.
“Now for part two,” Jaehwan murmured to himself. He sauntered to the edge of the alleyway and leaned against the corner of the building, watching the front door of club Envy, waiting.
It didn’t take very long for Ilhoon to come stumbling out. He didn’t even look Jaehwan’s way, too caught up in his masquerade. Ilhoon very artfully leaned against the building as he walked, heading for the street corner and then turning around it. So, a risk taker, going out of sight of his partner. If his partner was conscious and where he was supposed be, that is.
Jaehwan followed, trying to move human enough so as not to alarm the people loitering around. As soon as he turned the corner, things got darker, less lamps along this road, less people. He came around just as Ilhoon was tripping into a narrow alleyway. At least there was less vomit over here.
Ilhoon’s heartbeat was strong in Jaehwan’s ears. By the time he made it to the mouth of the alleyway, Ilhoon’s back was turned, and he had one hand braced on the side of building as he hunched over a bit, like he was going to be sick. Jaehwan knew this trick. He also knew Ilhoon could sense him by now, but possibly not fully, so he slipped the charmed ring off his finger, letting Ilhoon know, letting him feel.
“Let’s not play games,” Jaehwan said, stepping up behind the hunter. Ilhoon’s shoulders tensed and he stilled, all pretense of drunkenness dropping away. “I know what you are, there’s no need to keep up this charade.”
Ilhoon whirled, fast for a human but not faster than Jaehwan. Unlike Sanghyuk, he used a stake, apple wood with a lethal silver tip. He swung it in a beautiful arc towards Jaehwan’s chest but Jaehwan swerved out of the way, grabbing Ilhoon’s wrist firmly so he couldn’t swing again. Ilhoon’s wards went off, and Jaehwan got his first surprise of the night when they hurt. The energy skittered over him, feeling like needles digging into his skin, his palm where he was holding Ilhoon’s wrist felt like it was burning. It didn’t hurt enough to make him let go, nor did it weaken him more than a twinge, but that they had done even that much surprised Jaehwan immensely. Ilhoon was stronger than perhaps he even realized.
Ilhoon was moving his stake to his other hand, so Jaehwan grabbed that wrist too, and the slight shock that went off again had Jaehwan hissing, his fangs extending. He backed Ilhoon to the wall, pinning his wrists and bringing them face to face. Ilhoon was squirming and snarling, but Jaehwan caught his eye, felt his consciousness brush against his own. He reached out, pulling gently, trying to calm Ilhoon’s mind so he could drag him under and get the answers he wanted.
Ilhoon headbutted him in the face and Jaehwan heard the crack of his own nose breaking.
Jaehwan shrieked, a high noise he wouldn’t be proud of later, and stumbled back, letting Ilhoon go in favor of holding his nose. There was blood pouring down his face, down into the back of his throat. “Fucking hell,” Jaehwan shouted thickly.
“Don’t touch me again,” Ilhoon said, and Jaehwan squinted up at him. He was half lowered into an offensive crouch, stake held firmly in his right hand. Jaehwan could see he was shaking, but he was holding it all together remarkably well, considering.
Jaehwan expected Ilhoon to jump at him, maybe try to escape, but he held his ground, back to the wall, eyes sharp and drinking Jaehwan in. He reeked of alcohol but there seemed to be none at all actually in his system.
He seemed a little too aware.
Jaehwan held his hands up in a peaceful gesture, his nose having healed. “You swung first, might I remind you.”
Ilhoon’s gaze was too sharp, Jaehwan was getting slightly unnerved. Magic users were so exceedingly creepy, and Jaehwan wondered if he’d been the same, when he was a sorcerer.
“I know who you are,” Ilhoon said lowly.
Jaehwan got chills. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ilhoon said simply. He was still staring, like he was dressing Jaehwan down, seeing through him.
Jaehwan wondered what he could see.
“Oh?” Jaehwan said. “Pray tell, who am I?” Let the boy prove how much of a Seer he was.
“You’re Sanghyuk’s vampire bedmate,” Ilhoon breathed, and Jaehwan couldn’t hide his surprise. “He told me about you, but I already knew. I saw you and him together. I recognize your face.”
Sanghyuk told him? Didn’t the boy ever learn, Jaehwan thought. “Then you should know why I’m here,” he said.
Ilhoon shook his head, not taking his eyes off Jaehwan. “I know it must be about Sanghyuk,” he said. The way he said Sanghyuk’s name, there was an air of protectiveness there.
“You’re a Seer,” Jaehwan said, remembering why he was here, and an edge of coldness came over him. “You saw Sanghyuk’s upcoming death. You are going to tell me everything you saw.”
A flash of surprise passed over Ilhoon’s face, but then he was shaking his head again. “That isn’t how it works, I don’t get visions, just feelings, and even if that weren’t the case,” Ilhoon spat, “it isn’t any of your business. You’ve torn Sanghyuk up enough. To be honest, once I realized Sanghyuk was going to die soon, I assumed you were going to be the one to kill him.”
“Soon,” Jaehwan repeated, the word coming out broken and harsh, “how soon?”
“I don’t know,” Ilhoon shot back, growing angry. “Not within the next month, but in less than a year.”
Jaehwan stepped forward. “How?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Ilhoon said, his free hand coming to brace on the wall behind himself as Jaehwan moved closer. His heart rate was speeding up.
“Try harder,” Jaehwan growled, “I refuse to believe that is all you know.”
“Fuck off,” Ilhoon spat. “You can ask him, if you want to know the answers.”
“He doesn’t want to tell me,” Jaehwan said, face twisting at the memory. The look on Sanghyuk’s face as he’d realized he’d slipped up.
“Then neither do I,” Ilhoon said. “You don’t own him, don’t have a right to him.”
“I am exceedingly invested in keeping him alive,” Jaehwan said softly, dangerously. “Don’t make me force it out of you.”
Ilhoon laughed, and he had no fangs, but somehow, his teeth glinted razor sharp in the moonlight. “You won’t hurt me. Not if you don’t want Sanghyuk to hate you.”
Jaehwan moved quickly, snatching the stake out of Ilhoon’s hand and throwing it to the far end of the alleyway faster than a blink. Then he had Ilhoon by the shoulders, dragging him to the ground so he could kneel over him, knees on Ilhoon’s shoulders, pressing him down hard into the concrete. Ilhoon gave an alarmed scream, wriggling, but he couldn’t get any leverage like this. Jaehwan braced his hands on either side of Ilhoon’s head, leaning down so he could whisper in Ilhoon’s ear, “Do not underestimate the lengths I would go to, to keep Sanghyuk safe. He hates me well enough as it is, and I have done many atrocious things already, to protect him. I will do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if he hates me utterly, I will swallow it down so long as his heart keeps beating.”
He pulled away, and Ilhoon was pale faced, a backbone of defiance in him, but decidedly shaken. He gazed up through wide eyes at Jaehwan, forgetting not to look Jaehwan in the eyes, but Jaehwan wasn’t going to glamour him, not now.
“It was you, wasn’t it,” Ilhoon whispered, “the— the thing. The thing killing all those vamps. Ripping their hearts out.”
Jaehwan stilled. He could deny it. But if Ilhoon was the Seer he seemed to be, it would be pointless. Still, he didn’t want to confirm it either. So he just stared down at Ilhoon’s pale, pretty face, and waited.
“You love him,” Ilhoon finally whispered, almost wonderingly, “in your fucked up, toxic vampire way.” Jaehwan growled, fangs glinting, and Ilhoon shivered. “It’s your fault.”
“What is?” Jaehwan asked, fingertips tigging into the cement.
“His death,” Ilhoon said, eyes boring into Jaehwan’s. “I don’t get visions, I just get feelings. I know he is going to die soon. I know it is going to be bloody. And now I know it is your fault.”
Jaehwan reared away, snarling. “I will not let this happen.”
Ilhoon sat up slightly, hair falling over his eyes. “You can’t stop it. It is his fate.” He looked away. “No matter what you or him do, it will simply keep you on this track.”
No, Jaehwan thought. No.
“I will kill every vampire in a one hundred mile radius—” Jaehwan began, choking it out, before he realized he couldn’t. Numbers aside, Wonshik and Hongbin, well, existed. Oh, god, what if it was Hongbin—
“Fucking don’t,” Ilhoon spat out, getting shakily to his feet. “You’re drawing too much attention to yourself, which puts Sanghyuk in danger, from so many sides. Not to mention that once he finds out that you were behind the other killings he is going to flip—”
Jaehwan strode forward and grabbed the front of Ilhoon’s stupid leather jacket. “You will not breathe a word of any of this to him,” he said, dangerously low, “not of the killings, not of the fact that I came to see you. None of it. I will rip your pretty throat out if you do, I do not care who you are. Do not test me.”
Ilhoon was looking at him like he thought him quite mad. Jaehwan was possibly inclined to agree with this sentiment.
He let Ilhoon’s jacket go and then flitted away.
——
Sanghyuk was trying his very best to not fall asleep on his paperwork when Ilhoon and Hyunsik came back from their fishing trip. They were later then he would have expected and at the sight of them he felt a small thread of relief wind its way through him. Then he noticed how pale Hyunsik was, and the slightly wild look in Ilhoon’s eyes.
“What is it?” Sanghyuk asked them as they approached, half rising out of his chair. He looked them over, trying to see any obvious signs of trauma or harm, but they appeared, bodily, to be sound. He heard something clatter behind him and then a brush of heat against his arm; he glanced over and saw Sungjae had come to stand next to him, his eyes wide.
“We’re fine,” Ilhoon said. He rolled his eyes, but the grim line of his mouth and the tense set of his shoulders undermined that. He gripped the back of his chair, not seeming to notice how white his knuckles turned. “Well, Hyunsik here might need to go to medical for a bit.”
Sungjae surged forward and began patting down Hyunsik, apparently not trusting his eyes to see wounds. Hyunsik batted him away and sank down into his own desk chair, rubbing the side of his head, brow creased.
“I blacked out,” he murmured shakily. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You blacked out?” Sanghyuk repeated, looking over at Ilhoon in confusion. “How?”
Hyunsik shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I was doing my job, watching for Ilhoon coming out of the club, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up down a nearby alleyway.”
Sungjae drew in a sharp breath, and Sanghyuk felt goosebumps rising on his arms. “What— Jesus, anything could have happened, you’re lucky to be alive,” Sungjae said, and Sanghyuk couldn’t help but agree. The thought of it made him shudder.
“Yeah,” Hyunsik murmured. He rubbed at his arms and for the first time Sanghyuk noticed he was shaking a little. Sungjae disappeared for a moment and then came back with a blanket that he kept in a drawer in his desk. He draped it over Hyunsik’s shoulders. Hyunsik gave him a grateful smile.
“What about you?” Sanghyuk asked Ilhoon. “Did anything unusual happen to you?”
Ilhoon lifted one shoulder. It wasn’t quite a shrug; it looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with his body. “Nothing other than a completely dry hunt. I didn’t get anything. When I came out and saw that Hyunsik wasn’t where he was supposed to be— well, that was—” He broke off, pressing his lips together.
“Could someone have knocked you out?” Sungjae asked. Hyunsik shook his head.
“I don’t think so. At least, there’s no sign of it. I feel— fine. When I woke up I was groggy but that was it.”
“Could it have been an ‘ubi?” Sanghyuk asked. That wasn’t their job, so he didn’t know much about them.
“I— maybe? I don’t know. I had all my clothes on when I woke up. Nothing seemed— amiss.” Hyunsik was blushing a little.
“It could have been some other kind of demon,” Sungjae said, biting his bottom lip nervously.
“I think you should definitely go down to medical,” Sanghyuk said, taking in the shadows under Hyunsik’s eyes now that he was sitting and safe and starting to shake harder. “They can check you over, see if you’re really as alright as you seem to think.”
“Yeah,” Hyunsik said, rising to his feet again. “I probably should do that.”
Ilhoon put his hand against Hyunsik’s elbow, looking like he was helping hold him up. “I’ll take him,” he said. His brows were furrowed, and he avoided looking at either of the other two. “I need to go look into something anyway. I’ll be back later, okay?”
“Okay,” Sanghyuk said, and Sungjae echoed him. Ilhoon led Hyunsik away and once they disappeared out of the office, Sungjae sat down on the corner of Sanghyuk’s desk, looking at the door. “Hey,” Sanghyuk said, touching his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Mmm?” Sungjae looked at him and then shook his head like he was trying to clear it of cobwebs. “Oh, yeah, sure. Just worried, you know?.”
“Yeah,” Sanghyuk murmured, squeezing his hand against Sungjae’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m pretty sure Hyunsik will be fine, though.”
Sungjae gave him a smile, some of the worry fading from his eyes. “What about you?” he asked. Sanghyuk looked at him in confusion. “You’ve been off, and you’ve starting moving your shifts around too much, I’ve barely seen you.”
Sanghyuk fought hard not to wince. “Yeah, I’ve just been taking some time for myself, you know? I’m fine though.”
Sungjae waggled his eyebrows. “New boyfriend?”
Sanghyuk laughed aloud at that. “Quite the opposite, actually. But nice try. Don’t you have your own desk with your own paperwork you could go sit on?” He tugged at a sheet of paper under Sungjae’s butt to prove his point.
“Nope,” Sungjae said, making the ‘p’ pop. “I’m finished for the night. I’m going home to bed.” He hopped down off Sanghyuk’s desk, waggling his fingers in Sanghyuk’s face. “Have fun stuck here for the rest of the night.”
“There’s barely any night left,” Sanghyuk retorted, but he smiled fondly as Sungjae walked back to his own desk to gather up his things. He returned Sungjae’s wave as he left and then turned his attention back to his work, fighting off his exhaustion.
He wasn’t sure how much longer it was when he felt someone tap at his shoulder. He glanced up to see it was Ilhoon, who definitely should have gone home already. The tenseness was back in his body. He looked even more grim than before. Sanghyuk felt a sharp spike of alarm.
“Is Hyunsik okay?” he blurted out, not sure what else to ask.
Something softened in Ilhoon’s eyes. “He’s fine. I just need to talk to you.” He looked around and then leaned down. “In private.”
Sanghyuk swallowed. “Sure.” He stood and followed Ilhoon to a small meeting room, off the main set of offices. They were unlikely to be disturbed here but Ilhoon locked the door after them anyway. There were a few files spread out against the table between them.
“Sanghyuk,” Ilhoon said, his voice soft but not gentle. “I lied, earlier, about what happened on my fishing trip. Something did happen. That vampire, the one you’ve told me about, the one I guess is in love with you— he kind of assulted me.”
Sanghyuk felt like all his air had been punched out at him and he swayed. “What, but you said—” Ilhoon had said he didn’t have anything wrong with him, what—
Ilhoon winced and looked away. “Well, okay, he threatened to assault me, and that’s the important thing. He wanted to know about what I knew about your upcoming death, wanted details.”
Sanghyuk’s head felt like he was spinning. He had to put out a hand against the table to steady himself. Of course, of course he should have expected— but how could he have done? The thought of Jaehwan seeking out Ilhoon, confronting him about what Sanghyuk had said, had never even occurred to him. When he’d asked Jaehwan to not do something stupid, he had meant something stupid in trying to keep Sanghyuk safe, not this.
“I’m sorry,” Sanghyuk choked out. “I— slipped up and told him, but I didn’t think— I didn’t think this would happen.”
“You could have warned me, at the very least, that he knew,” Ilhoon said, curt and unhappy.
Sanghyuk looked up sharply. “You’re not hurt.”
Ilhoon spread his arms. “No, I’m not. I’m not sure what he did to Hyunsik, but he didn’t hurt him either. Apart from terrifying him,” he added, voice going a little dark.
“He was careful,” Sanghyuk said, “careful to not harm either of you.”
Ilhoon raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t give him too much credit.”
Sanghyuk chewed on his bottom lip, not answering. It wasn’t giving him credit, it was acknowledging a truth that Ilhoon wasn’t aware of. It would have been very easy for Jaehwan to hurt either Hyunsik or Ilhoon, particularly Hyunsik, since he was spare baggage as far as Jaehwan would have been concerned. He could have tortured Ilhoon to get the information out of him. He hadn’t. That was important, in some way Sanghyuk didn’t want to think too hard about.
Ilhoon was continuing. “He did, after all, say that if I told you he’d come to see me, he’d rip my throat out, so.”
That did sound like Jaehwan. “You’re telling me anyway.”
“Yeah, well. I didn’t say I thought he was actually going to assault me for it.” Ilhoon touched the folders in front of him. “I couldn’t— look, Sanghyuk, he said a lot of things, and he— I think he’s the— the thing that’s been killing the other vamps.”
“What,” Sanghyuk said. His voice went embarrassingly high with shock. Images of those dead vamps, blood on concrete, flashed through Sanghyuk’s mind. “What do you mean, what did he say?”
“Sanghyuk—”
“What did he say, Ilhoon,” Sanghyuk interrupted, the intensity of his own voice shocked him. “Exactly.” He was aware that his breathing seemed to be coming just a little too fast for comfort. Ilhoon looked like he was aware of it too and before he could comment on it, Sanghyuk said, “Please, Ilhoon.”
“He said that he’d done terrible things, horrible things, in order to keep your heart beating. That I shouldn’t underestimate him and he’s done things you would hate him for, to keep you safe. I don’t know, Sanghyuk, it was more just— a feeling. I asked him if he’d been the one doing it and he didn’t deny it.”
Sanghyuk tried to control his breathing, tried to take it all in. This was— it seemed unreal, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, as horrific as it seemed. He had been the first to find one of the mutilatred vampire corpses. They had cropped up in his hunting ground, or near places he might have been likely to go. And it had all started after he and Jaehwan had been on the out, when Jaehwan wasn’t close enough to keep him safe himself—
“Fuck,” Sanghyuk said, gritting it out between his teeth because he felt if he opened his mouth he might throw up. God, those bodies— some of them had been clean kills but some of them had been so very ugly, monstrous, torn to shreds. The idea that it had been at Jaehwan’s hands— “Fuck, what do I do, I don’t—”
“Sanghyuk,” Ilhoon said. It seemed like he had the files out to show Sanghyuk, in case he needed convincing, but now he was gathering them up and sliding them onto the chair next to him, as if to hide them from Sanghyuk’s view. “I didn’t tell you so that you could do something about it. I just thought you’d better know what was going on. I don’t know what you could possibly do about it. It’s not your responsibility— it’s not your fault. You know that, right?”
Sanghyuk shook his head. Ilhoon didn’t know, not really. It was Sanghyuk’s responsibility, his fault, he’d made it so. He had known Jaehwan was unstable, dangerous, all through those long months leading up to that final collapse.
The worst part wasn’t realising that Jaehwan had been the one responsible; it was realising that it was shocking, but not out of the realms of imagination, for Jaehwan to do it.
“Sanghyuk,” Ilhoon said. He reached across and lay his palm against the back of Sanghyuk’s hand. “I just wanted you to know. You needed to know exactly who you’re dealing with.” Something passed across his face, a shadow that made Sanghyuk shudder. He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. When he did speak, he said, “Don’t do anything stupid, please.”
Sanghyuk almost laughed. That’s what he’d said to Jaehwan, and Jaehwan hadn’t listened either.
——
The sun had been creeping over the horizon by the time Sanghyuk left HQ, so he’d had to put off confronting Jaehwan until it went down again. He’d barely managed to sleep, and by the time he was opening the grate to Jaehwan’s house and slipping into the tunnels, he found he was just as angry and hurt and horrified as he’d been in the moment he’d found out. Sanghyuk couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.
He didn’t knock, he never did anymore, striding right into the living room, back straight and shoulders tense. His hands were curled into fists, nails pressing into his own palms.
Jaehwan had flit out to meet him by the time Sanghyuk was passing his horrid maroon couch, no doubt having felt him come in. “Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said, his voice sounding unsure. His eyes moved over Sanghyuk’s face and whatever he saw there made him narrow his eyes. Well, Sanghyuk had never thought Jaehwan was stupid. His voice went silky, a little cold. “I hadn’t expected you.”
“Ilhoon said that you attacked him,” Sanghyuk said. He was surprised by how flat his voice sounded.
Jaehwan seemed taken aback by how blunt he was, although he really shouldn’t be, at this point. “I did not attack him. I spoke to him. And he was not supposed to tell you that.” He frowned. “Perhaps I should have been more creative in my threats.”
Sanghyuk sucked in a breath. “Is this just— just a joke to you?”
“I assure you,” Jaehwan said softly, face grim, “I am not laughing.”
“Why did you do it?” Sanghyuk asked, face searching. “What could you possibly have thought to gain from it? You can’t—”
“I wanted to see if I could fetter out any information that could be utilized in keeping you from dying, as you seem fucking resigned to it,” Jaehwan spat out. “I told him and I will tell you, I will go to great lengths to keep you from harm. Surely you have figured that out by now? Surely you know why.”
“And betraying my trust is fair game in that?” Sanghyuk cried. “So long as my heart keeps beating that is all that matters— who fucking cares how much you hurt me in the process? How miserable your actions make me?”
Jaehwan’s mouth twisted, and he swallowed thickly. “I do not wish to hurt you, I don’t. I am only trying to do what must be done to make sure you remain safe.”
“And killing those vampires,” Sanghyuk whispered, “that is alright, in the interest of keeping me alive?”
Jaehwan’s mouth shut with an audible snap. His hands curled into fists at his sides and all Sanghyuk could think of was those hands drenched in blood, soaking in under his fingernails. When Jaehwan spoke, he seemed like he was trying to sneer and couldn’t quite manage it. “Ilhoon was certainly not supposed to tell you that.”
The fury welled up in Sanghyuk hard and fast, rushing through him, mingling with the stomach churning horror until he felt like he might throw up. “Jaehwan, you can’t be serious. Those vamps— they were mutilated.”
Jaehwan turned his back on him and strode off a few steps before he whipped around, face twisted. “You have no concept, none, of how very much Icannot let you die.”
“You ripped their hearts out—”
“It was horrible and I know that,” Jaehwan said, snapping it out sharply. “I knew it at the time, but I wasn’t— I wasn’t in a good place. It was the only thing I could think of to keep you safe, and I’d lost you in every other way.” His voice dipped until he was almost whispering. “I couldn’t lose you like that too.”
Sanghyuk scrubbed a hand over his face. He felt so frustrated and sick that he could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyelids. “Jaehwan, I’m human. Even if you kill every vampire on Earth, I’m going to die, in the end. There’s nothing you can do to stop that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Jaehwan said, voice rising in despair. His voice broke in the middle of it. It made Sanghyuk start and stare at him. “I just, I couldn’t let that happen, not— not when I thought I could— stop it, maybe, protect you even for just that little bit longer— and now to find out it didn’t matter— you’re going to die, you’re going to be laid in the ground within the year—”
Jaehwan seemed to reach out for him but then a moment later he was sinking to sit on the edge of the couch and burying his face in his hands, palms pressed against his eyes. It wasn’t until Sanghyuk saw the shaking of his shoulders that he realised Jaehwan had started to cry, almost silently.
Sanghyuk brought up a hand and pinched the skin at his elbow, trying to ground himself. He felt lost in revulsion and that guilt, still so present, despite everything that Ilhoon had said to try to convince him he had no responsibility for this. He wanted to comfort Jaehwan, but there could be no comfort from this, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of touching him, not now, not when all he could think of were the mutilated corpses those pretty hands had created.
“I can’t believe it was actually you,” Sanghyuk whispered numbly, as he looked down at Jaehwan with his face still in his hands. “I can’t believe you would go so far.”
“Please, Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said, begging, voice thick with tears. “I need you to understand.”
“I— I don’t know if I can,” Sanghyuk said.
Jaehwan rubbed at his face. He seemed to be almost scratching himself. “Ilhoon said that it would be my fault,” he said. “That when you die, it will be bloody and it will be my fault.”
Sanghyuk felt a little jolt but didn’t say his first thought, which was that it was entirely possible Ilhoon had said that just to rile Jaehwan up. Instead, he said, “Jaehwan, even if that were true, that is so fucking broad. I could be coming to see you and get run over by a bus and that would be very bloody and technically your fault. You— we don’t know what will get me, in the end.”
Jaehwan looked up at Sanghyuk, cheeks streaked with blood and expression thoughtful, surveying. Sanghyuk felt apprehension begin in his stomach. This felt too much like the last time Jaehwan had broken down. Sanghyuk couldn’t help but worry about what could happen now, like this.
“I am aware,” Jaehwan said, voice stuttering in the aftermath of his tears, “that we cannot know. That I cannot control you. I could keep you here—” Sanghyuk’s heart juddered. There were so many rooms in this house that could hold a single human. And he wouldn’t, at this point, put it past Jaehwan to smuggle him away and lock him up in a misguided attempt to keep him safe. Sanghyuk took a step backwards, although it would be pointless, he knew that, and Jaehwan’s eyes skittered over him. “I don’t wish to do that. That’s not what I want. It would be pointless besides. Hongbin lives here and all it would take would be one bad night.” He gave Sanghyuk a smile which looked painful and bitter. “This is agony.”
It struck Sanghyuk that this was incomprehensible to him. He had known Jaehwan loved him, loved him enough to finally snap and confess it, after three hundred years of repressing his emotions, after everything. Loved him enough that being rejected had almost destroyed him. But he still hadn’t realised that Jaehwan could feel love to these depths. Jaehwan, he was finally seeing, was utterly out of his mind with it.
It was terrifying. It was, also, perversely flattering. This was what he had feared Jaehwan would do to him, at the start, when Sanghyuk had been fearful of falling in love. He had taken Jaehwan and destroyed him, completely, wrecked him utterly. He hadn’t even known he was doing it.
But he was scared, for Jaehwan, for them both. “HQ are looking for you,” he said softly. Jaehwan’s eyes widened and Sanghyuk quickly amended, “Well, the thing that killed those vampires. They don’t know it’s you. But you’ve made yourself a target, Jaehwan.”
He found his hands were shaking at the thought. He didn’t want Jaehwan captured or killed. The thought chilled him to his very core. Which, he had to admit, was somewhat ironic, considering just a few months ago, he had been thinking, quite seriously, of staking Jaehwan himself. Now, as then, it would make Sanghyuk’s life so much easier. Things would be simpler if Jaehwan was dead and out of his life.
The thought made the sickness rise up in him again, visceral and unavoidable. He didn’t want that, at all, and that thought made him realise that— it had happened. The thing, that he had been doing his best to avoid, had happened.
Jaehwan had seeped back into him again.
He almost laughed, high and hysterical and horrified. God, it was just like what Hakyeon had been afraid of. He hated that, hated that Hakyeon was always proven right in the end. Of course, none of this would happened if Hakyeon hadn’t asked him to come back and tend to Jaehwan in the first place.
This was terrible. He could feel it now. It was like poking at a cut on the inside of his mouth, sore and impossible to resist. All the parts of himself where this soft, vulnerable version of Jaehwan had managed to get into, those cracks that he’d been trying so hard to seal up before he was dragged back here by the others. Fuck, he hated it all.
“No more,” he heard himself say. “You can’t kill any more vamps for me. The trail ran cold, it’s been cold for a while now, and they’re losing interest. If there are no more attacks, they’ll let it go. No more, Jaehwan.”
“Why would it matter,” Jaehwan said. His voice was dull, but the question was defiant enough.
“I don’t want them to find you. You know what they’ll do to you, I know you do.”
“If I died,” Jaehwan said, softly, “you’d be rid of me.”
It was so near to what Sanghyuk had thought moments before, and it make Sanghyuk feel horribly guilty, like Jaehwan had been able to read it from him somehow. “I don’t want you dead,” Sanghyuk said harshly. “I don’t want you captured so they can experiment on and kill you. The thought of them torturing you— it makes me feel sick. I don’t want that.”
Jaehwan looked surprised. Sanghyuk ached inside with it. Fuck. “I know that you say you care,” Jaehwan said, “just like I know that you’re coming around here to help me because of it. But you’re also here because I need to function, in some sense. This is necessity, is it not?”
“Necessity?”
“Yes. I thought you wanted me out of your life. I thought that was the point, so that you could get me on my feet so that you can leave.” His voice was hollow.
Sanghyuk almost started crying himself. “There is a difference,” he bit out, “between that and wanting you dead, Jaehwan. I don’t want that, so please— please no more.”
Jaehwan looked up at him, eyes searching. “No more,” he murmured, an agreement, and Sanghyuk sobbed, turning away.
“Thank you,” Sanghyuk said, voice breaking around the edges.
There was the sound of shifting, and when Sanghyuk turned to look, Jaehwan had stood once more. He’d tried to wipe his face off, but there was still blood streaked thickly over his skin. “What exactly do you want, Sanghyuk?” he whispered. “If not to see me dead, do you still wish to walk away?”
Sanghyuk couldn’t speak for a moment. He didn’t know. It was too confusing, his head hurt with it all. He had many things that he could probably say, but they were all things he may have cause to regret later, or that he might have to take back, and in doing so, risk hurting Jaehwan even more than he was already hurting. That wasn’t what Sanghyuk wanted either.
He wanted it to be easier to love Jaehwan. He wanted Jaehwan to be someone worth loving. He wished he could go back in time and have all of this be better for them both.
“I don’t know, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said. “I don’t know.”