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Hongjoong had spent the better part of the 19th century insisting that coffins were impractical. "We have beds, no one uses coffins anymore," he'd huffed when Mingi, then finally out of his newborn phase and freshly introduced to their society, had suggested they keep coffins because he wanted everything 'real' vampires used. He'd had seen coffins at the Bang manor, damn Chris and his dramatic old man tendencies. Since then, four plush-lined coffins sat in their basement, draped in red silk and smelling faintly of roses and Hongjoong couldn't believe that 'he' was the one curling up in his and closing the lid over himself. For all his practicality, he couldn't escape his instincts, and no matter what, it was comforting to be enclosed in a dark space made of old wood metres under ground.
He hated phone cameras, and pranks.
Hongjoong groaned into his palms, rubbing his eyebrow in slow circles with his thumb, the remnants of instinctual panic still prickling under his skin. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate humor, he did, when it wasn’t used against him in the middle of day about Yunho bleeding out in the garden delivered by San with the frantic pitch of a soap opera widow.
2 hours ago
At 11:20 a.m., Hongjoong had been peacefully dead to the world, metaphorically speaking, when San’s voice had shattered the silence of his bedroom with the urgency of a human fire alarm. "Hyung!" He'd had screamed, voice terrified. "Yunho’s, he’s, there’s blood everywhere!"
The words had hit Hongjoong like a stake to the chest, sending him bolting upright so fast that his fangs had nearly impaled his own bottom lip. He'd jumped quickly, turning the doorknob with such force that it had broken cleanly into his grip. He'd promptly thrown it aside in his rush to run, instincts screaming confusedly at his apparently hurt and bleeding fledgling combined with the lack of the scent of blood and the time of the day. Had this happened at night, he'd have probably realised whatever Mingi and San were upto for what it had been, a prank.
But being woken up screaming by your fledgling in the middle of the day about another one being hurt did tend to render common sense out of function.
He had vaulted the bannister and skid into the hallway, his bare feet slipping slightly on the polished wood before he caught himself. The scent of blood was conspicuously absent, which should’ve been his first clue, but his brain had still been stuck in the primal panic of bleeding, fledgling dying.
He barely had a few seconds to look at Mingi standing on the side, that damned smartphone thing pointed at him, lips curled in a grin that was entirely too pleased for someone allegedly watching their mate bleed out in the garden, before he had lunged.
It hadn't been intentional, well, not entirely. But his panic had made him unable to process that the sharp cheekbones and wild eyes staring back at him in the little black circle of the back camera were his own, enhanced vision delivering the tiny reflection full sized and in full colour, a fifth fang bearer in their four person home. His claws had raked through the air, snarling, narrowly missing Mingi's arm as the phone had gone clattering to the floor.
Hongjoong had always been a sire before anything else, and the sheer adrenaline of seeing an intruder when his fledgling was 'bleeding' in the garden had sent him into a frenzy. He had tackled Mingi, who yelped and scrambled backward, pinning him against the wall fangs bared with enough force to crack the plaster. San, quickly realizing their prank had gone horrifically wrong, had yelled "Hyung! Stop, stop, it's us!" He had tried to pull Hongjoong back by his shoulders, who had been gone, pupils blown wide, instincts running rampant.
Mingi, for all his height and muscle, was still no match for Hongjoong’s centuries-honed reflexes, and he had whimpered, frozen under the weight of Hongjoong's aggression.
"Hyung, it's fake! Yunho's fine, we lied! I...It's just a prank!" San had tried, lunging forward and grabbing Hongjoong’s wrist, to try and loosen the nails digging into Mingi's shoulder, only to yelp when the he's snarled and to snap at San's hand trying to loosen his fingers.
His mind had been caught in a loop, bleeding, fledgling, intruder, and he had felt Mingi's pulse hammering under his fingers, but none of it had registered as anything but threat. He had been vaguely aware of San scrambling backward, and then the sound of frantic tapping, no, typing, followed by a muffled, "Yunho-hyung!"
Yunho? Hongjoong's brain had asked, Where?
Upstairs, Yunho had groaned, rolling over in his velvet-lined bed, the matching velvet curtains drawn tight against the midday sun. His phone had buzzed insistently again, the screen flashing San's name.
He had blinked blearily at it, frowning. Why was San up at this hour? He'd declined the the call, turning to snuggle into Mingi when he'd noticed the other side of bed empty. "Jagiya?" he'd questioned, sitting up when the sound of Hongjoong snarling had made the hairs on his hand stand up.
San had been inching closer to Hongjoong, who had still been snarling at Mingi, fangs terrifyingly close to Mingi's bare neck, claws pricking through his shirt. "Hyung!" he tried again, voice wobbling.
Hongjoong’s head had snapped towards him, pupils blown black, his lips curled back over his fangs. San had taken a step back when he'd heard Yunho's door open, the rapid footsteps over the stairs, he'd turned just in time to see Yunho launch himself at Hongjoong.
Yunho had seen Mingi pinned against the wall, Hongjoong's fingers digging into his shoulders, his mate's face pale with fear, and his instincts had ignited like a match thrown into gasoline. He'd slammed into Hongjoong with enough force to send them both sprawling into the hallway table, sending a vase of dahlias crashing to the floor. Hongjoong had snarled, twisting under him, but Yunho had caught his wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand while the other pressed firmly against his chest. "Hyung," Yunho had growled, his own fangs bared. "Look at me."
Hongjoong's pupils had still been blown wide, his breath coming in sharp pants, but something in Yunho's voice, familiar, grounding, had made him still. Yunho! It was his Yunho! He was safe. Hongjoong’s focus had zeroed in on Yunho’s face, his fledgling, unharmed, alive. His instincts, which had been screaming danger, intruder, fledgling in peril, had stuttered to a halt, replaced by confusion. He blinked rapidly, his fangs retracting slightly, his muscles relaxing. "Yunho? Y...You're alright?" he rasped, voice rough.
Yunho had exhaled sharply, his grip loosening slightly on Hongjoong's wrists. "I'm fine," he'd soothed, running his thumb over Hongjoong’s pulse point in slow circles.
Hongjoong blinked again, his pupils finally shrinking back to normal. "San said..." he started, voice cracking.
"I don't know what those idiots were planning," Yunho finished, glancing over his shoulder at San, who had been clutching Mingi's arm with a death grip. "But we're all indoors and safe, all doors closed, everyone's safe, hmm?" he'd said, burying his face in Hongjoong's neck, allowing Hongjoong to run his hands over him to reassure himself.
Hongjoong had inhaled shakily, his fingers tightening in Yunho's sleep-mussed hair before finally pulling away to glare at the other two.
San had gulped under the weight of that stare, shuffling half behind Mingi. "We just wanted to prank you for Yunho-hyung's birthday," he'd mumbled. "We didn't think-" he'd trailed off as Hongjoong's expression had darkened further. Mingi, still pressed against the wall like a pinned butterfly had tried to explain. "We, uh, thought you'd just go check on Yunho and wake him up, o...or run to the garden in your pajamas." he'd admitted weakly, rubbing his shoulder where Hongjoong's claws had dented his shirt.
The adrenaline had ebbed then, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and the creeping realization of just how badly this could have had gone. His gaze had flicked to the shattered phone on the floor, its screen spiderwebbed from the impact. "Why did you think that waking me up screaming about one of you dying would be funny to me in any way," he'd asked.
Mingi'd elbowed San before he could speak.
Yunho'd sighed, rubbing his temples. "You two are lucky I did not have my phone turned off," he'd muttered. "Because seriously, what the fuck?" He'd reached down, hauling Hongjoong upright with effortless strength. He had wobbled slightly, but Yunho had steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, "I think you should drink a bit and go back to bed hyung".
Hongjoong, still processing, still had the lingering instinct to check his fledglings overriding rational thought. He'd reached out, grasping Yunho’s wrist, pressing his thumb against the pulse point there. Steady. Safe. He exhaled shakily before turning towards Mingi, who flinched.
"Did I hurt you?" Hongjoong'd asked, voice low. Mingi had shaken his head, though the red marks peeking from under his collar had suggested otherwise.
He remembered calling Mingi closer softly "Come here". Mingi had hesitated, but Yunho nudged him forward with a reassuring hum.
Hongjoong had grabbed Mingi’s chin, tilting his head to inspect the shallow punctures along his throat, his fangs hadn’t broken skin, and the bruises were already disappearing. Mingi had whimpered when his thumb brushed the skin. "Idiot," Hongjoong had muttered, pushing him towards Yunho.
San, sensing Hongjoong’s exhaustion, had scrambled into the kitchen and returned with a warmed blood bag.
"Hyung," he murmured, uncharacteristically subdued. Hongjoong had punctured the seal with his fangs and draining it in slow, deliberate swallows.
The warmth had settled in his stomach, soothing the frayed edges of his nerves.
Hongjoong had tossed the empty blood bag into the bin as he'd trudged back towards his room. Only when he'd reached for the handle out of habit had he realised. Right. He’d ripped the damn thing clean off in his panic earlier.
He remmebered staring at the gaping doorway. realising he couldn’t sleep like this. Not with the hallway light bleeding in, and the sounds of all the appliances, every little click, buzz, rustle loud to his enhanced senses.
San who had hovering in the doorway had suggested and idea. "Hyung," he'd murmured, hesitant, "you could... use the coffin?"
He'd wanted to snap, to remind San, again, that coffins were obsolete, that they had perfectly good beds now, that he wasn’t some stereotype. But the exhaustion had been clinging to him like a second skin, and the thought of the basement’s cool darkness, the plush lining, the scent of roses and old wood, had been suddenly unbearably tempting. His instincts had hummed in agreement. Safe. Enclosed. Dark.
So Hongjoong had swallowed his pride with a grunt, turning on his heel towards the staircase.
And that's why here he was now, despite his 'anti-coffin' agenda.
'His' coffin sat nestled between Yunho’s and San’s, the red silk draping slightly askew from when San had last borrowed it for his centurial portrait. He smoothed the fabric absently, fingertips brushing the plush velvet lining inside.
The coffin groaned softly under his weight as he climbed in, the hinges creaking in protest before he pulled the lid shut with a definitive click.
Darkness enveloped him instantly, thick and absolute, muffling the distant hum of the refrigerator upstairs, the occasional creak of the house settling. Only the faint scent of roses and aged cedar lingered. He curled onto his side, pressing his cheek against the cool silk, fingers flexing against the velvet until he fell asleep, to the sound of his own breaths or somebody else's, he didn't stay awake long enough to know
Other than that mishap, Yunho's birthday had gone well, all traces of aggression gone from both him and Mingi when they'd all woken up in the evening at a more appropriate time.
He had cut the cake Yunho had asked for, blowing candles that Mingi had insisted on adding to it and Yunho had smiled at him with bright eyes, fingers curling tightly around Mingi’s waist and San had clicked a picture of the moment before Hongjoong had snatched the phone away.
San had protested, but Hongjoong had only growled playfully at him before pulling him closer by the waist to press a kiss to his forehead.
Things had been back to normal since then, with Hongjoong ignoring San’s teasing. That little minx had extracted the recording up until the phone had gone flying and in retrospect, it did seem silly to have attacked a phone lens. He hoped that he'd be able to return the favour one day but he doubted Mingi or San would ever react like he had, cosidering that everything scary sent them cowering behind Hongjoong and Yunho, seriously, what kind of non-aggressive vampires had he sired?
If only he'd known then that he'd given San a life long reason to tease, and Mingi, an effective weapon to annoy him with, he'd have banned smartphones from their manor forever.