Archive of Our Own

“Hyung, I’m home!”

Jongwu’s voice carries throughout the house—the now one bedroom apartment Changdeok upgraded to just a year and a half after Jongwu went off for college. Well, left for, more like, considering how he’d taken everything like a thief and ran off without even saying goodbye properly.

A groan carries back from the bedroom. Changdeok had been napping, tired out of his mind after having to redo his rounds because he’d run into more than a few difficult customers.

“Welcome back…” he manages to say, his voice groggy and rough from sleep, his throat burning for water.

A head peeks in, higher than Changdeok remembers it to be, just shy of knocking the top of the doorframe. Jongwu smiles at him—a charming little quirk of his mouth, a little bit slanted. It’s something new; a university habit, because Changdeok sure as hell doesn’t remember the kid ever having such flirtatious mannerisms.

“Your voice sounds horrible, hyung.” Jongwu steps into the room, reaching for the carafe he’d left beside the bed, pouring a generous cup before holding it out.

There’s that, too. He used to have such a boyish voice. It wasn’t high, but it wasn’t nearly as deep as it is now. One night, back when Jongwu first returned, Changdeok had been in the kitchen, scouring the fridge for a late night snack, and he’d heard the younger boy calling for him, and felt his soul leave his body because he hadn’t yet memorized the new, much deeper cadence of his voice.

“M’ voice is fine.” Changdeok sits up, accepting the glass.

Jongwu notices that he’s shirtless, skin gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, and respectfully looks away. That, too, grates on Changdeok’s nerves. Shouldn’t he be… well… looking?

After all, his feelings for Changdeok, it’s not like they’ve—

“Hyung, did you hear anything I said?” Jongwu waves a hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” Changdeok blinks, startled out of his thoughts.

“Are you still sleepy? I said I’m gonna get started on dinner.” Jongwu’s already halfway across the room, lingering at the door. “You can rest while I’m cooking, it’ll probably take a while.”

Changdeok swallows, throat still dry. “...Right. Got it.”

Jongwu nods and gently shuts the door.

Changdeok has half a mind to bury his face in his pillow before screaming.

There’s also the matter of the bed. 

Changdeok had been ready, expecting it, even, for Jongwu to somehow charm his way into sleeping beside him.

That’s the only reason why Changdeok has two pillows and such a large comforter—but not only did Jongwu not suggest it, he didn’t even seem to consider it as a possibility! He’d glanced around the apartment, at how much larger it was, and smiled because he was glad his hyung finally learned to take care of himself.

So every night, Changdeok huddles near the edge of the mattress, the pillow he’d bought for Jongwu clutched in his arms, listening to the quiet thumps of socked-toes in the living room as they prepare for bed.

Changdeok knew, and well, that it was his fault. It was his stupid, idiotic, useless idea of getting separate futons back when Jongwu was eighteen, and now, out of respect, and perhaps, fear, too, Jongwu doesn’t dare ask for anything otherwise.

Moreover, Changdeok’s failed to question himself about it. It’s so out of character—furnishing a room while thinking about the stray he’d housed for a year when he was twenty-five.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he always assumed Jongwu would come back, and that when he did, they would… well. Changdeok has no right to even imagine it. After all, he’d been the one to reject Jongwu. He’d been the one to drive him away. 

This is probably what Tae-geum tried so hard to make him internalize back when he always asked about whether or not Jongwu was still no-contact. 

They had no formal relationship. They didn’t even have an informal one. They were Bae Changdeok, the debt collector, and Wu Jongwu, the high schooler. Two men, separated in age by six years, one human, one half-vampire, both of whom were not related in any way.

Changdeok missed Jongwu like he was a limb that’d been severed during those two years. More nights than not, he’d wake up in a cold sweat because he dreamt they were married, cohabiting, creating a life together.

And after it happened one too many times, Changdeok had to accept the truth: at some point during that one year they spent together, he’d fallen in love, and just like Jongwu had said back then, he was clutching at straws trying to get him back.

Sometimes, he wishes he never let Jongwu take that final parting hug.

One of the most profound changes in Jongwu is his cooking. If it was good before, it’s amazing now—so much so that Changdeok wonders if he’s using that charm of his, though he knows Jongwu’s not.

Two years ago, when Changdeok used to rush home after work to eat the dinner he knew Jongwu was making, Tae-geum would joke that food only tastes that good when it’s made with love.

Changdeok would scoff and brush it off, but when he thinks back, it really must have been made with love, considering Jongwu’s feelings. After all, it was the only way he could really express it because Changdeok shut down every other advance.

He wonders if the reason it still tastes so good to him now is because he’s eating it with love, since Jongwu’s feelings have definitely run out by now. He no longer feels the need to put over 101% effort so as to convince Changdeok to let him stay even just a day past a month. 

A part of him wants to go back and tell that younger Jongwu that there’s no need to do so much; that Changdeok will let him stay regardless. Another part of him—a selfish part he refuses to acknowledge—feels glad that Jongwu liked him so much.

“You’re good at making this homier stuff,” Changdeok says with his mouth full of juk, washing it down with the hot tea Jongwu poured him earlier. “Tastes like something an ahjumma would make—and that’s a compliment.”

Jongwu laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m glad you think so, hyung. I practiced a lot.”

“You cooked for that friend you lived with?” Changdeok says absentmindedly, sprinkling more green onions into his bowl. “What was his name again? Daegil?”

“Yeah, uh.” Jongwu pauses awkwardly, his spoon hovering over his bowl. “For a while, I guess? I moved out of the place I shared with him after the first couple months.”

“Where’d you live after that?”

Jongwu mumbles incoherently.

“Didn’t catch that, kid.”

“...With my ex-girlfriend.”

Changdeok doesn’t know why he didn’t expect it.

He’d literally told Jongwu himself—he had to get a girlfriend once he started university. It was non-negotiable. It was one of the main conditions Changdeok added in the contract Jongwu wrote to get him to consider them dating seriously. 

But what if Changdeok was ready? Back then, if he hadn’t been so dense and stupid, he should’ve changed the terms. He should’ve changed it and erased consider completely. If all conditions are met, Bae Changdeok should date Wu Jongwu seriously.

God, he’s so stupid. The contract’s already been fulfilled—Changdeok does consider dating Jongwu seriously. But nothing’ll happen now, because the contract only mentions him. Not Jongwu. 

Changdeok has to consider it, not Jongwu. There’s nothing for Jongwu to consider at all. It was all written by Changdeok cleverly because he was sure he’d never want to date Jongwu, and that Jongwu’s feelings would die out.

Now Jongwu’s feelings really have, and Changdeok’s still waiting. Fruitlessly.

He wonders what meals Jongwu cooked for that girlfriend. He wonders if he made sure her table was always full of her favourite side dishes, while Changdeok was rationing the ones Jongwu left behind for him—because Jongwu’s side dishes ran out faster than his feelings had.

For the remainder of those two years, Changdeok couldn’t stop chasing a feeling; a taste. Just like the beansprout soup Jongwu’s parents used to make, Jongwu’s food also had a particular taste.

Changdeok had been so close to developing taste blindness, and he really would have, if not for Tae-geum dragging him out to eat every other day.

He only went home to sleep, couldn’t bring himself to sit at that low, wooden dining table, couldn’t bring himself to refill the fridge with the ingredients he remembered seeing Jongwu cook with. In the end, he moved out because Jongwu's absence was too great a burden for him to bear, mostly because he knew it was all his fault.

That entire year was spent in a daze, and while he was practically going insane, Jongwu had been romping around with a girlfriend.

…

God, he’s twenty-seven now. Jongwu’s freshly twenty-one. Where does he get the audacity to think like this? He’s acting like a predator, a complete freak, preying on a kid.

He’s got no right anymore. He should’ve treated Jongwu with more care back when he actually had him. Their relationship—or lack thereof—always had an expiration date.

Changdeok didn’t let them become anything back then, and it's natural Jongwu would’ve given up by now. He’s just living with a hyung he remembers treating him well back when he was in high school temporarily now while he saves up to get an apartment all to himself.

They’re back at square one, and this time, no matter how Changdeok wishes otherwise, they’ll always stay here.

“What exactly is this supposed to be?”

Changdeok stares at the neat, crisp little envelope sitting on the dining table. A slab of sunlight streaming in from the window cuts right over it, making the cash tucked inside visible.

It’s a stack of bills that’ll undoubtedly add up to a sum that’ll make Changdeok unreasonably angry.

“Rent money!” Jongwu shakes his wet hands over the sink, reaching for a rag to dry off. “I know you said there’s no need, and you didn’t tell me how much you pay either, so I just put together an estimate after asking the neighborhood’s office what the average was.”

Changdeok’s completely dumbfounded.

“If it’s not enough, I can give you more. I make a decent salary at my part-time job, and I can always take up more shifts… It’s your call, hyung.”

“Are you actually serious?” Changdeok picks up the envelope—it’s so damn heavy. “Or are you messing with me right now?”

Jongwu laughs nervously. “Why would I be joking?”

“Did I ask you for money?” Changdeok tosses the envelope back onto the table, roughly, and it nearly slides over the edge.

“Well, no, but—”

“There you go. Pocket the money in there or go to your bank and ask them to put it back into your account.”

“What are you talking about, hyung?” Jongwu frowns. “Do you expect me to stay here without paying you rent?”

“Wu Jongwu, did I or did I not ask you to pay me r—”

“That’s besides the point!” Jongwu lets out a heavy sigh, lowering his hunched shoulders and fixing Changdeok with a difficult gaze. “How am I supposed to stay here without paying you? I’m not nineteen anymore, hyung. I’m not gonna be some—some freeloader.”

Changdeok purses his lips, raising a hand to mess up his hair, his irritation bleeding into his actions. “You’re twenty-one, and you don’t make enough money to go around giving me rent every month. You’re supposed to be saving up to get your own place. And the rules are the same as back then—as long as you cook, I don’t need anything else.”

“Why do you keep treating me like I’m still that kid?” Jongwu bristles. “Sure, I don’t have money, but I have enough to do this for you. And I don’t make much, but I save most of my salary. I’ll still be out of your hair in half a year even if I pay you rent. Cooking your meals isn’t enough, hyung, and letting me stay here like that while we have no relations would be against the law. Your landlord will catch on and it’ll get you in trouble.”

There’s so many unpleasant reminders there, and what’s worse is all of it’s true. Jongwu isn’t nineteen anymore. He’s no longer orphaned and broke; no longer needs to ration his money perfectly to avoid spending it all. Changdeok should be making him pay half his portion of rent, but he can’t bring himself to.

It feels like if he does, it’ll just completely cement the fact that they’re nothing to each other aside from temporary roommates. 

And in some twisted way, it’s how he keeps from reminding himself that that’s all this is—temporary. In six months time, Jongwu really will be out of his hair. For good. Changdeok keeps telling himself none of that’s true, that Jongwu’ll stay, because the thought of him leaving a second time makes it so much harder to sleep at night. 

But the reminder that they have no relations stings the most. It makes Changdeok feel immature with the need to lash out.

“Did you pay rent to the last person you lived with?” Changdeok knows the last person was Jongwu’s ex-girlfriend, and it’s all so unrelated, but he’s at a complete loss and can’t accept not having something to say back.

“What? No, I didn’t, but that’s completely unrelated to what w—”

“Then just treat living with me the same as living with that person.” Changdeok hadn’t really meant to say that, but his mouth moved on autopilot, now he’s stuck standing like an idiot.

“I can’t do that, hyung.” Jongwu groans. “I could accept not paying my ex rent because she said I didn’t have to, but it’s different with you.”

Changdeok’s head feels like it’s buzzing and simultaneously like it’s full of nothing but fuzz. The sinking feeling in his chest is so unpleasant, he wants to run to the bathroom and throw up all the food Jongwu made for lunch.

But it’s different with you.

That’s all he needed to hear.

He wills himself to open his mouth. “I’m done talking about this now.” He turns around, already checked out of the conversation. “Keep your money, because I’m not taking it. I have to go back to the office for a bit.”

And like that, he’s the one to walk away once more.

Tae-geum has a real good laugh about it when Changdeok tells him everything that just went down at home.

“I’ve never met an idiot like you in my life!” He rudely slaps his knee, practically falling off his chair. “God, I’m tearing up! Bae Changdeok, you really are one in a million! What is poor Jongwu gonna do with you?”

“Are you done, hyung?” Changdeok scowls from the couch in the middle of the office, looking half-dead. “You’re getting ruder the older you get.”

“‘Least I’m not getting stupid.” And he laughs again when Changdeok groans. “It’s been exactly a month since he came to live with you again, too, right? Just imagine him punching the amount of money he thinks he needs to pay you for rent into an ATM. That’s just way too freakin' cute.”

Changdeok wants to die.

“What else was I supposed to do? We would’ve kept arguing in circles and gotten each other angrier. He’s a polite kid, but God knows what he’ll do.”

“You’re just scared he’s gonna leave again.” Tae-geum leans back, his chair creaking. “Honestly, you’re such a coward compared to him. He was terrified you were gonna throw him out back then, but he still told you how much he liked you earnestly.”

Yeah, he did. It makes Changdeok feel like shit.

“I think you should confess,” Tae-geum says, and continues quickly before Changdeok can curse him out. “If not to actually start dating, since his feelings’ve run out, then to get rejected in the same way you rejected him two years ago.”

“What?”

“I mean… if I were Jongwu, I’d think it was all really unfair, you know? He pined, couldn’t take it and confessed, and got rejected in the meanest way possible… shouldn’t you go through the same thing? Only makes sense to.”

It does. By God, it really does. It’s not fair at all to the nineteen-year-old Jongwu what Changdeok’s doing right now. Jongwu’s efforts bore no fruits until it was already too late, and Changdeok isn’t even doing anything about it anymore.

But he should. Maybe if he does, just like Jongwu, he’ll be able to let it go.

“The longer you choke on your words,” Tae-geum starts again. “The more you’ll be prone to death. If that makes sense. Just tell him now, like a reasonable, earnest person, so you won’t let it spill out like an idiot at the worst moment.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Changdeok scoffs.

“Really? ‘Cause if we look back on what happened today… seems like you’re prone to idiocy.”

“You’re always so nosy.” He abruptly stands up, shooting Tae-geum a nasty look. “Why do you remember all this stuff, anyway? You’re too concerned with my love life.”

“Huh?” A look of shock comes over Tae-geum’s face. “Hey! You’re the one who told me everything! Why do you go from zero to a hundred so quickly all the time?!”

Changdeok slams the door in his face.

“Hey! Ugh, that kid…”

“Uh, hyung?” Jongwu starts, sitting at the table with a thawed blood bag he pulled out of the freezer—he's been keeping them there because the regular fridge is packed full of food. He nervously fidgets while snapping open the straw, the condensation from the PVC dripping onto his lap.

“What’s up?” Changdeok ladles a portion of soup into his bowl, getting started on eating to avoid looking Jongwu in the eyes. “Spit it out.”

“I think… I think I’ll stay with a friend for a few nights.”

Changdeok glances up enough to see the way Jongwu has his fingers curled around the blood bag, his pale fingertips turning pink from the cold.

It makes a colour that looks like strawberry jam, and it’s the same colour that would sometimes take over Jongwu’s cheeks back when he was nineteen, sneaking glances at Changdeok while he changed out of his work suit.

He’d do anything to see that same look on Jongwu’s face again.

“Sure,” he replies, not even really present. “Whatever you want.”

Contrary to what Changdeok believed, the fridge was stuffed full of ingredients, not actual food. 

Not a single leftover.

And the worst part is that it’s all stuff he bought. Expensive gochugang because he thought maybe Jongwu would like cooking with the nicer stuff. Fresh vegetables because he thought maybe Jongwu would like to use the leftovers to make broth. A whole array of sauces because he thought maybe Jongwu would enjoy having a variety to use.

Their fridge tells a story, and the story is that Changdeok’s no better than a teenage girl chasing after a guy she knows doesn’t like her like that.

God, he’s pathetic.

It’s been three nights, and he’s been eating nothing but convenience store ramen. He hasn’t told Tae-geum about it yet, knowing all the older man’ll do is laugh at him and give him unpleasant, useless advice, but he’s sure his hyung’s caught on anyway.

Tonight, too, he crashes in front of the TV, the scent of Jongwu’s cologne filling his nose, leaving his heart empty and dry.

There’s some trashy sitcom playing on low volume when Jongwu sneaks in.

Changdeok glances towards the digital clock on the wall—3:06AM. What’s he going to do with this kid?

Slowly, he sits up, groaning as a joint in his neck cracks. Jongwu, just standing at the entrance to the living room, gasps so hard he drops his backpack, plastered against the wall and staring at Changdeok like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Are you serious?” Changdeok groans. “Turn the light on. I can’t believe that scared you.”

“I’m used to the living room being empty at night!” Jongwu tries to defend himself. “And you moved so abruptly! And the glow of the TV made you look scary!”

“Are you five?”

Jongwu’s quiet for a moment. “...Plus sixteen, yes.”

A little laugh leaves Changdeok’s mouth at that.

Encouraged by the seemingly light atmosphere, Jongwu picks up his backpack and sits on the other edge of the couch. “How come you’re sleeping out here, hyung? Is it too hot in your room?”

“Something like that.” Changdeok leans back against the cushion. “How come you’re sneaking in like a thief in the night?”

Jongwu lets out an embarrassed little whine. “My friend brought his girlfriend over without warning me. I got so scared, I ran out without thinking.”

“What, can’t handle overhearing sex?”

“Hyung!”

Changdeok kind of understands why Tae-geum gets such a kick out of teasing him.

“It’s not like it’s anything exceptional. You do it once and it loses all the magic; stops being embarrassing. You probably know, right?”

Jongwu’s completely silent.

“...Right? You have had sex, haven’t you?”

“I’m—I’m a virgin, hyung.” Jongwu’s face is completely red.

“You’re kidding.” Changdeok’s jaw goes slack. “You’re twenty-one, in college, and lived with your girlfriend for a whole year. What the hell do you mean you’re a virgin?”

“Is that so weird? S-Sex is—it’s personal! You’re becoming completely vulnerable with someone! It’s like—like your animal! You don’t just give that to someone. You have to be earth-shatteringly in love with them! And first times are special!”

Changdeok had no idea he was housing a poet. It’s seriously so in character for someone as sensitive and empathetic as Jongwu, he could cry. What the heck is he talking about, ‘animal’? How does that even make sense? 

When Changdeok lost his virginity, it was to the daughter of the landlord of the old place he used to live. He was probably the same age as Jongwu, and she’d been twenty-eight, about to marry some pathetic, loser of a man.

It wasn’t meaningful at all, and Changdeok sure as hell didn’t think about it so carefully.

He lets out a long sigh. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that you’ve never kissed anyone, I swear.”

Again, Jongwu’s completely silent.

“You have to be fucking joking right now…”

“I’m just saving it,” Jongwu says, all haughty, but his face is so red, he could start competing with Mars. “Like I said—it’s special. I’m going to give my first kiss to the person I love. To the person I love earth-shatteringly. And then I’ll have my first time with that person, too. I won’t do special things like that in half.”

“Oh, yeah? And what if there’s never a person like that? Some people die without ever experiencing romance, you know.”

“There is a person like that. I’m nearly there. I just need to work harder to charm them, but I’m nearly there.”

Changdeok’s heart sinks all the way to his stomach and he remembers how they got here in the first place. There is a person like that. So there’s someone Jongwu loves to an earth-shattering degree? Then what about him? What about all the poetry he waxed about Changdeok two years ago?

“I kinda just like everything about you. I mean it. At some point, I just started liking you without even realizing it. It’s hard to pick just one thing I like, because I like it all.”

And the contract? All the insistence that he’ll like Changdeok forever? It’s stupid to feel so upset over something a nineteen-year-old boy said without knowing better, but during those two years, it’d all meant so much to Changdeok.

Too late.

“Did university turn you into a liar, or were you already one when you were living under my roof?” It slips out without him meaning it to—he’s never said something so cruel to Jongwu before.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Changdeok frowns, soldiering on because what else is there left to do? “Two years ago, it was me. Who is it now? Are you struggling to pick one thing you like about them, too? Do you like it all?”

Jongwu’s mouth falls open. He’s in complete disbelief. Did his hyung really just say that to him? 

“What—what are you talking about?” 

“You’re really fickle, aren’t you? I mean, I should’ve expected it—you were nineteen, but—”

Jongwu smacks a hand over Changdeok’s mouth. “Hyung, I’m serious. What are you talking about? What do you mean ‘who is it now’?”

“Exactly as I said.” It comes out muffled, so he forces Jongwu’s hand away from his mouth. “Two years ago, you liked me so much you’d get upset whenever I said your feelings would change. You even made me write up that stupid contract for you. What happened to all that, Jongwu? What happened to your feelings?”

“Are you stupid?” Jongwu looks completely dumbfounded. “No—are you crazy?!”

“Are you?” Changdeok spits out. “You’re living under my roof again, and this time, you have the audacity to tell me you like another.”

“Oh, my God.” Jongwu scrambles, reaching for his backpack on the floor. He frantically shuffles through his folders and notebooks, pulling out a file folder with frayed edges.

From inside, he pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper, slamming it into Changdeok's chest.

It’s the contract from two years ago, practically falling apart with how crinkled up and yellowed it is.

All the air rushes back into Changdeok’s lungs—air that’s been missing for two years.

“Hyung, are you seriously crazy?” It’s Jongwu’s turn to tear into him. “Do you know how insane I went trying to meet the conditions? I got into university like you asked, but do you have any idea how hard it was trying to get a girlfriend? All I could think about was you! I felt like a complete jerk when I was giving girls my number! In the end, the girl I dated just looked like you, and I never even did anything with her!”

“...You seriously—”

“Im not done!” Jongwu looks close to tears. “You’re so unfair. You’re seriously so damn unfair! The only reason I left was because I liked you so much, I wanted you to like me, too! The more distance you put between us back then, the more I wanted you, so I thought it would work on you the same way! I left, I met all my conditions, and I came back! And you don’t even remember anything! You didn’t even bring it up! All you’ve done so far is put more distance between us, make me want you more, and I can’t even leave again to make you want me because—because—” 

Jongwu stops, covering his eyes. His lips, just as they’d been two years ago, are cracked and dry, but now glistening with saliva from each time he’d nervously licked them during his tirade. They’re trembling, and Changdeok’s never seen lips tremble so much before, nor has he seen Jongwu cry in such a heartbreaking manner; opening his mouth to suck in air, to stop himself from letting out any sobs.

Still, he’s persistent. “If it’s been two years, and you still don’t want me, that means I’ll never have a chance. I’m only staying with you now because it’s so hard letting you go… even if we can’t be anything more than—than this, I just want to stay with you…”

There’s a hand. Changdeok doesn’t know where it came from, but he knows that it’s just reached towards his chest, sinking painfully beneath his skin, crushing the once-strong, now turned delicate bone of his sternum, to graze his heart, wrap completely around it with an iron-like grip, and tear it out, veins and all, spilling onto the ocean-like distance between him and Jongwu. 

Distance that’s a direct result of Jongwu’s newfound cowardice, and Changdeok’s forever inability to stop himself from repressing his emotions.

Though in the end, it’s love for both of them, isn’t it? How scary is it to love someone so much, you bite your tongue to keep them safe from you.

It’s not like we can’t, Changdeok thinks, mimicking the hand that just reached into his chest and grabbing the front of Jongwu’s hoodie, tugging him close and crashing their lips together. 

Their lips slide against each other wetly, filling the room with the very same kind of ear-aching filth that made Jongwu leave his friend’s apartment in a hurry. 

Changdeok has little patience and more experience, so he doesn’t bother being shy about darting his tongue out, licking a long stripe along the seam of Jongwu’s closed mouth. The younger boy parts obediently; a small whimper, but sounding more like a groan with how much deeper his voice has gotten, escapes, and Changdeok greedily sucks it in.

But compared to a young and fresh twenty-one-year-old, his stamina can’t hold up. By the time there’s saliva dripping down both their chins, Changdeok’s completely melted. This time, it’s Jongwu who reaches out, cradling the back of Changdeok’s head, fingers sinking into his soft, unkempt hair, thumb brushing his earlobe, his other arm snaking around the older man’s waist.

He presses close—too close, suffocatingly so—until their chests are flush, both their hearts hammering so violently it feels as though their bones will break and they’ll really begin to merge together. Until they’re one.

Jongwu doesn’t realize until they’re already at the point of losing their breath that he’s been hard the entire time, his erection snug against his hyung, and he pulls away because he still has enough shame left to be bashful.

“I’m—I’m sorry—” Even his voice sounds filthy; all breathy, like something straight out of a girl's bedroom fantasy. “I just—I’m so happy… I didn’t realize…”

Changdeok’s panting, his stomach doing somersaults—he feels like a teenager. “...Your happiness sure manifests in odd ways…”

Actually groaning this time, Jongwu drops his head onto Changdeok’s shoulder, hiding his face. “How can you tease me even now? That’s not fair, hyung.” He looks up, and neither of them realized before, but Jongwu’s eyes are as red as strawberry jam, same as his cheeks, his fangs peeking out—it’s an expression Changdeok’s missed so much. “Well, actually, none of this is fair. You have to tell me why you just kissed me…”

Playing the blushing virgin in place of the one who should actually be playing it, Changdeok pointedly looks away.

“...I think you’re a little too old to act like a new bride…” Jongwu grabs his chin and guides his face back until they’re staring at each other again.

“And you’re getting too comfortable…” Changdeok scowls, flicking Jongwu’s forehead—ouch, hyung! “I’ve finished meeting my conditions for the contract, so now it’s your turn to exercise the terms.”

Jongwu furrows his brows. “Exercise the terms…?” After a long moment, he gasps. It’s a terrible, loud, choking sound. He has to cough into his elbow a few times before turning back. “You—are you saying—?!”

He slumps over, patting around the floor for the contract that fell somewhere when the supernova erupted between them, and plucks it off. Jongwu reads it over a few times. Once, twice, thrice. He glances at Changdeok, then reads it a fourth time. His hands are shaking, all cold; it’s like he’s nineteen again, unfolding the paper for his CSAT results, reciting the number over and over, glancing over the scoring board like a madman looking for whether or not he passed. Whether or not he fulfilled the first term.

“Consider…” Jongwu says very slowly. “What does that mean, hyung? Are you—are you thinking of me? But we just kissed…” The gears move at a snail’s pace. “Is it like—a modern relationship, then? What are they called? Situationships?” 

“...What?” Changdeok’s too old to understand all this slang.

“Please say no.” Jongwu lowers the paper, his face devastated. “I don’t want to be that with you. It’s such a half thing. And it’s usually not exclusive…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Changdeok deadpans. “I’m too old to know this stuff, kid.”

Jongwu pouts. “Don’t call me ‘kid’ when I’ve just had my tongue down your throat.”

For that, he gets another forehead flick.

“Ugh…” Jongwu rubs at the redness rapidly forming on the center of his face. “If it’s not that, then what is it?”

“...You already know.”

Jongwu leans close, nuzzling his nose against Changdeok’s reddened cheek. “Can’t you just say it? I wanna hear you say it…”

Changdeok can’t believe he’s getting played like a fiddle, and by a kid still wet behind his ears, no less! With all these playboy-esque behaviours, Changdeok seriously doubts Jongwu was actually studying in university—seems more like he was partying around and adopting habits to make his life easier.

Because he’s made Changdeok so, so easy for him. It’s humiliating. 

“...You…”

“Hmmmm?” Jongwu cups a hand around his ear, making a show of getting all close. “Didn’t quite catch that, hyung…”

“...Date…you…”

“I think an indoor voice is typically much higher than that, don’t you think?”

Changdeok grumbles, shoving Jongwu away. “You little… ugh.” He drags a hand down his face, gathering all his courage. “I’m done just considering it. I want to date you. Seriously.” 

The answering smile on Jongwu’s face is the prettiest thing Changdeok’s ever seen in his life. “I’m so happy right now, I think I could die…” He wraps his arms around his hyung and squeezes him tight, and his heartbeat really does feel like he could die.

“You’re so dramatic…”

“Well, I waited two years! I’m allowed to be dramatic!” Jongwu pulls away, briefly, to press a chaste little peck against the corner of Changdeok—against his boyfriends!—mouth; and then he giggles nonstop for a good two minutes or so. “We should do something to commemorate, hyung. This feels too special for us to just be curled up together on a lumpy couch.”

“My couch isn’t lumpy…” Changdeok mutters, his hand moving towards the collar of his t-shirt, tugging the flimsy cotton aside to reveal a good stretch of his neck and collarbone. “That—” He points to Jongwu’s fangs and bright-red eyes. “Won’t go away unless you drink blood, right?”

Jongwu’s pupils blow so wide so fast, the black completely overtakes the red.

“Tae-geum hyung told me lovers feed off each other. You waited two years to date me, but three years to try my blood, isn’t it? I think you’ve earned it.”

A shaky, gasping little breath escapes Jongwu’s mouth. “Hyung, I’m gonna explode.”

“...Try to keep it in your pants.”

“Don’t worry—” He moves closer, kissing the junction where Changdeok’s neck meets his shoulder softly, then licking, prepping the area. “I’ll treat you well…”

“Quit talking about it like it’s se—”

But the second Changdeok feels Jongwu’s teeth sinking into his skin, he understands. It’s overwhelming. Obviously, at first, there’s a tiny prickle of pain—fangs are sharp, after all—but immediately after? It feels like his body’s overflowing with endorphins and every other feel-good chemical imaginable.

He remembers Tae-geum’s words.

“It feels like you’re having sex, but still even better. That’s why doing it with your lover is the best—it totally feels like getting high for the first time.”

When he feels his blood flow to the surface, hears the sound of Jongwu drinking it in, panting, practically moaning from how good it is, a sound escapes Changdeok’s mouth, too. A sound he’s never made before. It’s too high, sounds too dirty, and completely uncharacteristic. 

And they keep escaping until he’s slid down the couch entirely, laying completely on his back, the heavy weight of both Jongwu and his pulsing erection pressing down on him. Tears spring to his eyes, and his head falls back from the overwhelming pleasure.

After what feels like way too long a time to drink blood, and Changdeok’s all lightheaded and hazy, Jongwu pulls away. 

His fangs are gone, but his eyes are still red. Still aroused. There’s blood splattered and drying from the tip of his nose, all the way to his chin. He looks like a cannibal, like he’s just devoured his lover whole in an attempt to become one with them.

“...How… how was it?” Changdeok manages to say, brushing Jongwu’s sweaty bangs away from his face with sluggish movements.

“Like I just died and went to heaven…” His voice is ruined from lust.

Changdeok somehow pulls his lips into a grin, but the edges of his vision quickly turn black, Jongwu’s face becoming swirls of red and pink and whatever colour his too pale skin is.

“Don’t worry, hyung.” Jongwu licks over the bite wound on Changdeok’s neck. “I’ll make you oxblood soup for dinner.”

And Changdeok completely checks out.